#but what stood up to me about the show was how uhhhh like there's so much ship bait everywhere

[cherrymoonvol6]

.

[last-starry-sky]

Simon constantly teases you about how short/small you are. It upsets you, makes you feel singled out, weak, incompetent. Turns out he’s just dying to know how well you can fit him, how big his cock would look next to your hands and feet. Won’t shut up about it during sex either. A dash of mean Simon + his untapped size kink

eeeeee im gonnafuckining explode OKAY FOR REAL I WAS DYING WHEN I SAW THIS. thank u, beautiful, patient anon, for blessing me with this prompt!! I hope I did it justice!

ghost x petite!f!military!reader

(MDNI - NSFW uhhhh grossly inaccurate military stuff, creeper, bully simon :), i’m using “petite” as in “shorter and smaller than the average woman” trying to keep everything as open and vague as possible, oral, deep throating, ghost has a raging size kink, unprotected piv, also this is LONG (5.6k) 💀 i'm sorry!!! skip to the end for smut if that's all you want!❤️) 

It’s been the same fucking comments from your lieutenant all week. Day in, day out and it’s starting to wear a sore spot into your hardened skin. 

“Muzzle up. Arms tired already? ‘s a big rifle for someone your size to carry.”

“Keep pace with the group. Your short legs aren’t their problem.”

“Shoulders back! Chest out! Some’ve y’ need all the height you can get!”

All you can do is grit out a “yes, sir” or “no, sir” and push yourself even harder to keep up with the taller and stronger men and women around you. The massive Brit in charge is running your training group. While you expected this to be hard (your CO hadn’t been mincing words when he pitched it as “advanced”) but you never expected this. 

First of all, from the very beginning, he seemed to have a problem with you. Only you. There were a handful of women in the group, but you were unfortunately the shortest and smallest. Not that it bothered you. You’d spent your whole life this size. You were used to it. It was everyone else, especially the wanna-be, alpha males that flocked to the military like flies, that gave you grief over it.

The second you all lined up off the transport, you could feel his eyes on you. You tried not to stare back while the other Brit, Captain Price, gave a short introductory talk. You hadn’t heard a word of it. He stood there, flanking the captain, in a black, skin tight t shirt, with his obscenely muscled arms crossed over his ridiculously broad chest. A buzzing filled your ears as his black eyes bored into you. His stare so hot and heavy it made you sweat. His eyes were all of his face that he left uncovered, the rest was hidden by a skull mask and balaclava. You tried to ignore him, but you swore you saw the ink on his arm flexing as the captain introduced him: Lt. Ghost.

From the first training exercise, a simple one on one spar, he pulled you of all people from the women’s group to demonstrate on. What could you do? Refuse? He had at least a foot and close to one hundred pounds of muscle on you. You tried not to shake as you squared up at the opposite end of the mat. 

He told you to rush him, to “show him what you got”. Well, you tried. Once he gave signal to start, all you could do was try to fake him out. You ran at him before quickly darting to the side, trying to get behind him using your short stature to your advantage. Unfortunately for you, he was crazy agile for a large guy. He pivoted on his foot, watching you as you tried to fade to his left. You steeled yourself when he caged you in his arms, sweeping your feet off the mat. Your world was a blur until he slammed you roughly down onto the mat. Your breath was knocked from you, your vision spinning. You heard the crowd around you let out a collective “OH”. It took you a moment to realize he had you pinned. Your legs and hands held painfully down with his own. 

“‘sat all y’ got? Givin’ up already?” he grunted out with a gravely laugh while he stared down at you. He leaned down until his chest was pressed to yours, that stupid mask just grazing your face. “Or y’ got some fight left in y’? 

Hell yeah you still had some fight in you. You managed to slip out one leg from under him, jamming your knee quickly into his side. A kidney hit was dirty, you knew that. You wouldn’t dream of doing it in a normal spar, against an evenly matched partner, but he deserved it for picking on you; for picking a woman when he could have easily dominated any of the men in the room. He reacted exactly as you expected: crumpling forward in pain. You didn’t waste a second pulling your hands and legs from his grip. Another cry rang out from the crowd when you rolled out from under him, ready to jump on his back and make the pin.

“Olright, olright,” he said rubbing at his side, sitting up with a grunt before you could pin him. “I yield, y’ cheatin’ lil’ git. Next up.” 

He pointed at one of the other soldiers to come forward and take your place. The man gave you a fist bump as you left the mat and you told him “good luck”. You knew he would need it. When you turned around you saw that Ghost’s gaze had never left you. 

-

You walked back to base on Friday with your blood boiling, failure weighing heavy on your psyche after a long, hot afternoon of sniper training. You had given all you could; had put up with extra hard, extra long training, with comment after comment about your size and strength. 

Shorty. Shrimp. Rifle looks like it weights more than you. Gonna manage that?

Up early, in late everyday, almost too tired to eat and shower by the end. You had a mind to march right into Price’s office and tell him you were leaving that night. You’d made it a week, that was good enough for you. You would rather face hell from your CO back home than endure another hour of this. The second you sat down on your bunk, however, you passed out.

The exhaustion must have snapped something in your brain. You woke up a few hours later groggy and sweaty, your bunk mate snoring away. You were half on your bed with your feet still in your boots. You rolled onto your back with a groan, wiping the dried tears and dust from your cheeks. 

You let your weak arms fall over your face. You felt pathetic. You honestly wanted to just lay on your thin mattress and cry in the dark until the day started. Another day of enduring that British cunt with a superiority complex calling you short and weak, of singling you out in front of your peers, of making you question your career up to this point. He was eroding the very core of your person at this point, and you didn’t know how much long you could take it. 

You let out a sigh and, with more than a little effort, pull your sore, battered body out of bed. What you really needed was to shower, to think this out, and then find Captain Price to talk. No good would come from rushing into a decision in this state. 

You enjoyed your shower. It was nice to have all of the hot water and the whole communal space to yourself. You took your time getting dressed back into your rumbled clothes in the empty locker room. Nothing but the sound of dripping water echoing off the tile around you. 

Leaving the showers, you looked up and down the bare corridors, only enough of the overhead fluorescents left on to avoid a safety hazard. Your hair dripped onto your shoulders while you stood in the center of the hall. Price’s office had to be somewhere around here.

You wandered out of the barracks, down hall after hall of the same, painted block walls and plain tile floors, until you started seeing name plates posted haphazardly on the wooden doors. Your eyes wandered from door to door until you found what you were looking for: a sheet of 8.5x11 paper taped crookedly outside an office with Cpt. Price scrawled across the middle.

You let out a sigh of relief as you brought up your hand to knock on the door. It was almost over. The captain seemed like a reasonable man. He would surely be willing to listen to you, maybe give you some sound advice on whether you were actually cut out for this level of training. Before your hand could land on the door, a gloved hand came out from the shadows of the hall in front of you to rest above yours.

“What’re you doin’ here?” he whispered harshly.

You didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. You closed your eyes in annoyance, balling your hands at your sides. Of fucking course he was here. Right at the last hurdle. Right before you could seek relief from a superior, his superior too. You let out a long breath through your nose before you opened your eyes to face him.

“I came to talk to Captain-” you started speaking with a wavering voice before he cut you off.

“Not in. Not yet, at least. Had a long night.” 

He leaned against the door, starting down at you again. God, he fucking annoyed you. You’d never had a CO that frayed at your nerves like he did. How dare he come off so cool, gripping his oversized biceps with his stupid skeleton gloves. 

You stepped back from the door. “I’ll come back when he’s in then. Sorry-”

“Can help you if you need somethin’” he interrupted you again, casually canting his hips forward, moving his hand to the door handle. 

You shook you head. While you really wanted to give him a piece of your mind, you would prefer not ending this with a disciplinary, so you bit your tongue. 

“I don’t need anything from you,” you answered with just a bit of venom.

He heard it, you were sure of it. He clicked the door open, letting it fall open to reveal the dark room inside. 

“No. I think you do, small-stuff.” When you didn’t make a move, just let another angry breath out your nose and furrow your brow deeper, he shifted to the side and pointed inside the room. “In. Now. That’s an order.”

You clenched your teeth and did as you were told. Not that you had an option now. 

-

You walked up to the desk at the back of the room. Price sure did keep his office in a state. Papers and folders were piled across his desk. A landline phone and old desktop computer were shoved to either corner of the desk. More folders and binders piled over the keyboard and hid the keypad of the phone. You heard Ghost’s boots squeak lightly on the tile behind you, then the door shut with a click. Another, soft click followed. He flipped the light switch, illuminating the spot right above you with hazy, yellow light. 

You turned to face the man who’d gone out of his way to made himself your nemesis for the past week. He silently sauntered up to you, stopping behind one of the chairs in front of the desk. You crossed your arms defensively over your chest and tried to make your face placid while he pulled the chair out. He took a seat, well, he tried too. He could barely fit his massive fame in the little chair. It groaned underneath him as he mirrored your pose, arms crossed and legs spread. 

You sat silently staring at each other before he asked, “Well?” with a roll of his shoulders. 

You picked over your words, trying to detangle everything you had thought up in the shower. Ghost bouncing his knee pulled you back to reality. It was like the threatening hiss of a rattlesnake's tail. Better to just get it out than keep him waiting.

“Do you have a problem with me?” you squeaked out, eyes on you boots. The direct route it was, then. 

“What?” he asked, confused.

You looked up at him, exhausted, eyes pleading. “Look, I know I’m short and not as strong as the other guys . . . especially the guys, but the way you talk to me-”

“Don’t have a problem with y’,” he said throwing his arm across the back of the chair, readjusting while he raked his eyes up and down your frumpy form. Probably looking for something to complain about. “If’m bein’ honest-” he started before cutting himself off and turning his head. 

You uncrossed your arms, letting them fall to your sides. “What . . .” you questioned, gesturing with your hands in front of you. “Then why do you-”

He jiggled his knee a few more times before turning back to face you. “Little thing like you,” he said darkly, so deep and low you almost didn’t hear it. He clenched his fingers on his pants as he cleared his throat. “You keep up with the rest’ve ‘em well enough. Ain’t got a problem.”

“Little thing,” you whispered, repeating him sarcastically. 

Ghost groaned at that. Honest to god groaned in front of you, sending a shiver up your spine. You froze as his heavy eyes found their way back to you. 

“Yeah. You sure are,” he said scraping his fingers down his pants. “Spunky, too. Used t’ fightin’ for your place. Like that. Makes me wonder-” he trailed off as his large eyes wandered down from your face to your chest. 

You were shocked. No way. You had to be misinterpreting this. Maybe you were still sunstroked from yesterday, because there was no way you were reading him correctly. 

“Wonder what?” you piped, blush pinching at your cheeks.

“Wonder . . .” he said rocking his head back and forth, trying to tie a sentence together. “Wonder if y’ can be sweet, too.” He let you stew in wide-eyed disbelief for a moment as he gestured at you. “Wonder what you look like underneath all that.” Your stomach clenched as he tilted his hips forward, spreading his legs wider, to palm is cock through his pants. “Wonder if it matches what I’ve imagined.”

You would be lying if it was just your stomach clenching after that shameless display.

It was crazy how it all made sense now. The constant attention. The names. You thought he was being overly hard on you, picking at you, trying to get you to drop out. You rubbed a hand over your heated face. He was a grown man (a large one, too) that was acting like a little boy with a worm on a stick, chasing the girl he liked around the playground. You thought he hated you and all this time he was actually getting off to you. You felt like an absolute moron. 

“Doesn’t have t’ leave this room. If you’re interested,” he said in that deep gravel, still trying to keep himself together. 

You let him sit in silence for a long, tortuous, moment. 

“And if I’m not?” you finally asked. 

He nodded to the door behind him with his head. “Then leave. Talk t’ Price in the morning. No harm.”

“No foul,” you finished his phrase, running your fingers over your bottom lip. 

Silence hung between you for a hot moment in the cold, stale air of the office. You had a hard time believing he would just let you go at this point. Not that you planned to, the danger intrigued you too much to walk away. This line of work had made you a wholly different animal, it’s why you were here. You ran into war zones, battlefields, hostage negotiations, the places others couldn’t run out of fast enough. You’d been dealing with the people that most couldn’t stomach, the ones that couldn’t function in civilian society, for so long that they had worn a place under your skin. This lieutenant, Ghost, he had been in this just as long, if not longer, than you. He had to feel the same. Fuck, he had be worse.     

“What . . . what do you want?” you finally managed to ramble out. 

He let out a rough hum of satisfaction. You hated how you responded to it. You rolled your thighs together and, fuck, you were wet. You let out a small, shuddering breath. You’d gone a week with no praise, no kindness, and now here he was, the big, bully Brit who’d made your life hell practically purring over you. 

He trained his hungry eyes on you and motioned up with a flick of his fingers. “Wanna see ‘em. Don’t even have’t take your shirt off.”

A part of you wondered if this was all a trick as you slowly rucked your t shirt up to expose your stomach. That would track with how your week had gone so far. He was so blatant and open though, gripping the chair beneath him like he was about to launch out of it at a moment’s notice. He groaned as you pulled your shirt up to reveal your plain black sports bra. It was nothing special, standard issue, but it kept you strapped down. Not that you really had all that much to contain. 

He ran his hand over (what you assumed) was his mouth under the balaclava. He waited a moment for you to continue before urging you forward. 

“Come on, love. Don’t get shy. Wanna see ‘em.”

You slipped your fingers underneath the wide band at the bottom, hesitating only a moment before you pulled everything, shirt included, up over your head. You stared down at your chest while you balled your clothes in your hands.

“Not much to see,” you whispered, watching your nipples perk and skin pucker under the AC.

“Fuckin’ hell” was all he said. You dared to look up. “Fuck,” he continued, “Fuckin’ . . . get over’ere. Just fuckin’ dyin’ t’ get my hands on you.”

You dropped your clothes on the floor, closing the few steps between you quickly before falling forward into his grasp. You weren’t sure if you were ready for what this desperate, mountain of a man was about to unleash on you, but fuck did it excite you. Once he had you between his legs, gloved hands scraping up your back and around your waist, testing his fingers as he held you, but he didn’t do anything but look. He stared at you like you were made of glass. 

You stared at him, too. You hadn’t been this close since he’d pinned you on the first day, and you were pretty sure you’d been half-concussed then. You could see where he had eye black painted carefully around his eyes to fill the holes in his mask. You could see his long eyelashes, clumped together with that same oily black paint. It made the whites of his eyes stand out vibrantly. His large dark irises darted back and forth over your chest. You wondered what he was planning, what he was thinking. 

He didn’t leave you wondering for long. He pressed you forward, mouthing at your nipple through the mask. You let out a short whine, pussy clenching as his large hands kneaded at your waist. The feeling was like nothing you’d felt before. The fabric between you muted the translation between his actions and your pleasure. You could feel how eagerly he bit and sucked at you, but you were denied half of it. It made you dig your fingers into his shoulders in frustration.

“Want more?” he said haggardly, pulling off of you. He tugged at your belt, not waiting for an answer. “Then get these off.”

You did your best to undo your belt and pants despite your shaking and moaning while he dove back in, working harder at your other nipple. Once you’d dropped your pants down to your ankles he pulled you forward to step out of them, wedging you into the spread of his legs. You toed out of your shoes and then he kicked everything behind you, your boots banging loudly against the steel desk. You heard papers shift and fall, but couldn’t find a reason to care. He held you, running his gloved hands over your exposed skin while you shivered in font of him in nothing but your panties. 

He palmed his cock again before fumbling around to find his belt. You heard him click it open, the metal jangling as it went slack. 

“On your knees,” he ordered breathlessly. “Wan’ see what that little mouth can do with this.” 

You complied immediately, viciously curious as to what he was packing. If the tent in his pants was any indication, you had your work cut out for you. He popped open the button of his fly and then slowly unzipped. You couldn’t see anymore through his briefs than you had in his pants, but still, you leaned forward. You curled your hands on your knees, biting your lip, willing him to give you permission. 

“Go ahead,” he said giving himself one lazy, squeezing pump.

You put your hands on his inner thighs, right above his knees, testing the waters. When he didn’t say anything, you slid your hands up his legs, a soft, swishing sound following. You stopped at his crotch, pulling yourself forward before tentatively, gently, smoothing up his clothed cock. 

He groaned, covering your hand with his, forcing you to grip his girth. Your thumb just barely met your ring finger. 

“Fuckin’-” was all he could get out before pulling your hand off. 

He used his other hand to pull his dick out before pressing your hand to his hard, burning length. You gave him another pump, feeling how the skin stretched beneath your hand, then squeezing to feel how goddamn rigid he was. The tip of his cock made your mouth water. 

It was crazy. On you knees in front of him like this, you weren’t a competent soldier, a woman who held herself with poise and respect in front of her colleagues. He wasn’t an expertly trained, battle-hardened, special operative of the British Army. You were both human. Both hungry. 

You tipped his cock toward you to lap at the underside of the head. You met his eyes just as you closed your mouth around him, sucking the salt from his slit. He shut his eyes with a groan, letting his head fall back for a moment as he reached his hand up to grip at your skull. He opened his eyes to watch as he slowly bobbed your head down his cock. 

He gripped himself at the base, forcing your mouth to take him until you met his fingers. You did. Just barely, gagging as his head slid against the roof of your mouth to the soft palate at the back of your throat. He didn’t let you pull back. Instead, he traced the inside of your lips with his thumb, drool coating his black gloves.

“Lookit’ that,” he groaned as your throat pulsed and burned around him. “Little thing takes it all s’fuckin’ well.”

He let go of your head, letting you pull off of his cock. You stared at it with heavy eyes as your head spun from lack of oxygen, it glistened with your spit in the harsh light. He gave himself another languid stroke, watching you force air into your lungs while you sat practically naked on the floor between his knees. 

“Think you can take it in that little cunt a’yours like that?” he asked, stopping his stroke at the head.

You bit your bottom lip as you looked up at him. You gave him a slow nod. Any fear or paranoia you had before was long evaporated. You were wet, horny, needy. You needed him to give you something, and if he was going to give you a choice, you could do worse than getting railed until you couldn’t remember your name. You clenched, hands clawing at your thighs, as you watched him pump another stroke up that monster cock of his in front of your face before grunting out his order.

“Get up then. Against the desk.”

You scrambled up to your feet. He followed you, rising quickly from his chair to tower over you, pressing you backwards into the steel desk. Your hands reached out for purchase as he roughly gripped your thighs, throwing you on top of Price’s paper-laden desk. Folders and binders clattered to the floor, papers swirling across the tile as he shoved you down, ass right on the edge. 

He stood between your legs, hips flush to yours, his cock laying across your standard issue panties like a weapon. He pressed the weight of it against your skin with a groan, head spreading precum into your stomach. Quicker than you realized, he reached behind his back, coming back with a knife. It was almost invisible palmed in his large hand, only the tip of the blade winked from the tip of his thumb. With two quick flicks, he cut up the side of your underwear. He slid the knife back to wherever he had taken it from, like it was the most normal thing in the world, before pulling the now useless scrap of fabric from between the press of your bodies. 

He held the scrap of fabric in his hand for a minute, investigating it under the light before tossing it to the floor.

“Really are beggin’ for it, eh?” He said sliding his cock up the seam of your pussy. His easy, fluid movements as he rocked against you answered for you. “Fuckin’ wet just from that?”

You nodded, lacing your legs around his hips, trying to pull him closer. He pressed his hand into your stomach in response, squishing you against the desk hard enough to make you squirm. He pulled away enough to notch the head of his cock at your entrance.

“Needy little fuckin’ thing,” he said with a punch of his hips, nails biting into the soft skin of your stomach as his tip danced perilously on the edge of holding inside you. “Want it so fuckin’ bad? Want this inside y’?” 

He took himself in hand and watched as he pushed inside. You both groaned. You let your head fall against the desk with a dull thunk, eyes shut and legs shaking as he pushed deeper and deeper inside your slick hole. 

“Fuck.” He was breathless for the first time since you had met him. “Fuck are y’ tight. So fuckin’ small. Even gonna fit it all?” He rambled to himself as he took hold of your hips and watched himself fuck slowly in and out of you; hypnotized by the clutch of your greedy pussy pulling him in, resisting as he pulled out. 

You let out a small cry of frustration, tears pricking around your eyes. He was big, but that wasn’t the problem. You had taken your share of dick, you could take him. It was killing you how slow he was. He was lost in his own world, watching his cock slid in and out of you as you lay there silently begging for him to just fuck you already. 

“Quiet,” he whispered with a half-hearted harshness, hand trailing down to your pussy. 

You almost jumped as he began to rub a wide circle around your clit. Your slick barely dulled the rough texture of his glove. You shuddered, clenching around him, whining as he found a rhythm with his thumb and cock. Your clench punched the breath out of him. He fell over you, bracing himself with his arm. You could hear the hollow sound of his breaths behind his mask as he gave up trying to pump into your vice of a pussy. 

He nuzzled the cold plastic of his mask against your ear. “Not gonna’ last long doin’ shit like that,” he grumbled. He held himself up, pulling your face to look at him with a hand under your jaw. “Wha’d’y want?” 

You stared back at him with confusion. 

“Where d’y want it?” he clarified.

If you had a brain cell still functioning, you would have told him to pull out. It was the safer of the options he was giving you. 

But you didn’t. You moaned out, “Fuck. Inside me. Please,” like the absolute whore you had become once he’d whipped his cock out. 

Not one to question, apparently, Ghost was back in position the moment he heard you. He pulled your hips back to meet his, cock punching all the way in until you winced as the head hit your cervix. He took hold of one of your legs, hand running up the length of it, positioning it until it lay unfolded up his chest. He gripped his fingers around your ankle, starting at it as his other hand squeezed your waist.

“Lookit, fuck. Lookit that,” he said as he pistoned into you. You cut off the loud moan that he punched out of you. The change in angle was . . god it was like nothing you’d had before.  

“Like that?” he said, letting your foot dangle on his shoulder while he held your waist with both hands, driving into you mercilessly. 

If you could have answered, you would have spoke truthfully. You were sure. You would have moaned about how good it was, how he was so big and filled you so well. As it was, his powerful thrusts jarred you against the cool metal of the desk too much to do anything more than moan and hold on as more papers flooded the floor. 

“Got y’self off at all this week?” he asked, panting breathlessly.

You shook your head, a small whine of anticipation falling form your lips at the thought.

“Gonna nut just thinkin’ about you cummin’ on my cock,” he mumbled, trailing his hand back to your clit.

You let out a sad whine, bucking into his thrust as he touched you. You were close. So fucking close.

He began to circle your clit like before, finding that delicious rhythm with the pound of his hips that pulled you higher and higher, tighter and tighter, until dazzling sparks lit up your core. You reeled back with a cry, clenching his cock, arching as he worked you through your peak. 

His hand ripped away from you sooner than you’d like. He fell over you, both hands biting into the skin of your hips as he pounded into you as your pussy pulsed, any semblance of cadence or love-making gone as he chased his own high. You dug your fingers into his t shirt. The sweat drenched fabric was almost too slippery to hold on to. 

“Fuck! Too fuckin’ hot ‘n, fuck, tight. Fuck, ‘m gonna-” His weak series of sighs and groans, followed by the distinct feeling of his cock flaring inside you told you what he couldn’t.

He lay over you for a moment, panting as you both caught your breaths. You wondered if he was also stewing in the monumental realization of what the fuck you had both just done. You’d just broken so many rules. So much was at stake. He’d just cum inside a subordinate on his bosses desk, and you didn’t work for the same country. This was going to be a mess. You were sure of it. 

He pulled away from you, pulling himself out with a smothered whine. You crossed your hands over your middle as you watch him zip back up and adjust his mask. It was wild how he was back to normal within seconds. You half expected him to walk out the door and just leave you here like this. At least all of your clothes were here, save your sliced up panties. 

But he didn’t leave. He held out a hand to you, only letting you stare at it dumbly for a minute before he flicked his fingers toward himself, urging you to act. You took his hand and he pulled you up easily. He even let you slump against him after you sat up. You’d forgotten how tired a good lay made you.

Again, you expected him to leave you now that you were conscious and able to dress yourself, maybe leave you with a heavy warning (read: threat) to not talk about this. As you tried to shuffle to the side to try and get off the desk, he stopped you. His hands gripped both of your shoulders suddenly.

“The fuck y’ doin’?” he said, forcing you back in front of him.  

“Getting . . . dressed?” you answered with unease. 

“Funny,” he said with a single, dry, laugh. “You’re a funny lil’ thing, too.”

His hands skimmed down your sides before quickly seizing you by the hips, throwing you over his shoulder like a backpack. You gasped as your stomach landed on his solid shoulder, punching the air from your lungs.

“Think we’re done already?” he said, turning around. 

You watched as the desk, and the messy you had made on and around it, including your scattered clothing, circled back into view, then slipped away. He palmed a whole cheek of your ass in one hand, spreading you open enough for cold air to chill your leaking core, as he stalked toward the door. He probed a finger into your pussy, swirling the cum you felt leaking out across your folds. 

“Got a whole day off, y’know,” he said matter-of-factly as he opened the door. Completely ignoring that he had a naked woman slung over his shoulder like a caveman. “Think we should go back to mine. Relax. See what else that little cunt’ve yours can take.”

[elliespeach]

no chances part six | ellie williams

pairing: ellie williams x afab reader synopsis: you and ellie are on rival volleyball teams and after letting your competitive nature get the better of both of you, tensions are high on and off the court. warnings: 18+, foul language, implied sexual themes, no smut, fluff after the angst, ellie is a little mean to herself in this part, mentions of weed uhhhh i think thats it? if i missed anything pls let me know authors note: this is the last part guys :)) i wanna do an epilogue but it wont count as a full part really but expect that!! thank you guys so so so much for all the love for this series it really means a lot you have no idea. my bad it took me so long to get this part out, ive been quite busy with life and being sickly but i am so happy to share this with you guys finally !!! i hope it's everything u wanted and more <333 w peace n loveeee

somehow you had managed to keep yourself collected until the end of the game, returning to the gym after splashing some water on your face. ellie never made an appearance, instead remained sulking in her car at how she had treated you. she knew you didn’t deserve that and it haunted her while she drove, alone and in silence. with her absence your team had taken the win but you found it hard to be in a cheerful mood, instead putting on a fake face for your teammates while they were over the moon. the bus ride back was loud and full of energy, everyone was complimenting each other on how they had played, and congratulating each other on a glorious victory. 

at the beginning of the season this would have never bothered you so much. ellie’s words did little to affect you then, but now it took over your mind and her words echoed in your head. her decision to sit out because of you weighed on you heavily and it felt like you were about to burst into tears at any moment. not only sit out, but not show up at all. you’ve always hated her, but the past few months have felt different. felt lighter and more playful, rather than how it was in the beginning. 

staring out of the window, watching the blurry trees zip by while the bus went down the highway, you thought about the hotel. the one little moment you two had shared that wasn’t driven by lust. you weren’t sure what it was that night, but you remember how nice it had felt. seeing her in a completely different light for the first time, wrapped in her arms and just feeling at peace. a tear fell from your eye and you quickly wiped it away, shaking your head and deciding to not think about it right now. 

when you got back into your dorm room, peeling off your clothes and jumping straight into the shower you finally broke down. letting out any and all emotions you had about her. you remained in the shower way longer than you had to, just letting the hot water just run over you. it didn’t bother you until the memory of one of the nights ellie and you had come back here flooded your mind. you had felt extra sweaty from the game and wanted a shower, and ellie didn’t hesitate to join you. she had laughed while stepping into the small shower, “we should conserve water, y’know?” 

that night had been the same as the rest, after the shower she promptly went home, leaving you satisfied but missing something. and that something vanished the second she closed the door behind her. 

with that you ended your shower, stepping out into the cold of your small bathroom. a shiver went through you while you looked in the mirror, seeing how disheveled you looked. it was pitiful to be honest. you thought about texting her, telling her all of the things that crossed your mind as you stood in front of the mirror. how could you say that to me? i was just trying to help. 

only to realize that you didn’t even have her phone number. it made some sense, there wasn’t a need to anyway as you only spoke at games. still, the realization burned in your chest like wildfire and you quickly made a decision. “fuck it–” you said to yourself, throwing off your towel and replacing it with comfortable clothes. thankfully, during one of your new found traditions with ellie, she realized she didn’t bring any of her stash and you had looked a little too disappointed for her liking. she offered her dorm up almost instantly, following it up with a quick and faulty reasoning. you knew exactly where to go. 

within seconds you were in the stairwell, keys jingling in your hand and the sound of your slippers echoing off the walls. you went down three floors all the while rehearsing the speech you were going to give her the second you laid eyes on her. because of me? you didn’t play because of me like it’s my fault that we’re in this fucked up situation? you trotted down the last few steps leading to the exit door. you’re vulnerable enough to have sex with me every week but a conversation is far out of your realm of capabilities i guess. you pushed open the door with a huff. you’re too stupid to realize that we might actually hav–

“can you hold the door for me–” the sound of her voice made you look up from the ground, your pace diminished and you took slow steps out of the door. it shut with a click behind you while you looked into those familiar green eyes. “oh, fuck,” ellie said nervously, she defiantly wasn’t expecting it to be you. 

“what are you doing here?” your eyebrows furrowed, but your tone remained neutral. suddenly feeling the burning in your chest start to evaporate. the lamp posts cast a dim light on her standing on the sidewalk, playing with her fingers nervously and often shifting her weight on either foot. 

“was waiting for someone to let me in–” 

“no i mean, like why are you on my campus?” you asked, swiftly putting your keys in your pocket.

she hesitated, looking down to the ground before back up to you. “i uh, wanted to talk to you–” 

“thats a first,” the words spilled out of your mouth with a sarcastic laugh. 

ellie’s face contorted into a grimace and she shook her head, “whatever, i knew i should’ve just went home.” she spun around, taking only a few short steps down the sidewalk. 

involuntarily your eyes rolled and you jogged to catch up to her, pulling her wrist and turning her back around to you. now only being a few feet apart,  ellie could see the redness in your eyes from crying. being embarrassed you looked to the side and let go of her wrist. “if you wanna talk, let’s talk.” 

she gestured to your pocket where you had placed your keys, “i don’t wanna keep you from wherever you were going,” she tried to deflect.

you blinked, quickly trying to come up with anything besides telling her that you were on your way to give her a piece of your mind. although now standing in her presence everything felt too harsh, all the words you had prepared slipped away from you. “it wasn’t as important,” you shrugged, offering her a faint smile, “we can talk.” 

“so i’m important?” ellie teased, her lips curling at the ends slightly and she stuffed her hands in the pockets of her sweatpants. seeing your smile ignited something inside of her that made her feel softer, more comfortable. 

“didn’t say that,” you quickly rebutted while walking leisurely past her, expecting her to follow you and she did. 

“yeah but, you implied it.” she quipped, coming up beside you and keeping your pace. the lamp posts did little to illuminate the world around you and most of the walkway was dark until you were directly underneath the light. 

you sighed lightheartedly, “yeah, whatever,” you began, taking a beat between your thoughts. “so are you like, gonna apologize for being a total asshole?” 

ellie sucked in a deep breath, looking straight ahead. the cool night breeze was comfortable, but it didn’t stop your face from growing hot with anticipation. “yeah, i’m sorry ‘bout that,” ellie’s voice dropped, the amusement in her tone vanishing with the wind. “i shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.” 

“then why did you?” you asked genuinely, your voice matching hers. your eyes were glued to your feet as they scraped the cement below. 

“i don’t know,” she responded, taking a quick look at you but you didn’t meet her eyes although you could feel her gaze. “i do know that whatever this is between us is confusing–” 

“i’m not confused,” you admitted, playing with your hands. “i don’t think you are exactly that confused either. that conversation by your car a million years ago? you all but told me how you felt, so why is it so much harder for you now?” 

“because someone like you doesn’t need to waste their time with me,” ellie’s eyes diverted to the field beside the sidewalk, staring into the darkness while you finally glanced over to her. “i’ve been awful to you, even before our–” her hands gesture in front of her, “you know.” 

“we’ve both been awful to one another, ellie. somehow none of that changes anything for me, does it for you?” her eyes found yours, now under the glow of the lamp posts her green eyes bore into yours and her expression was one you hadn’t seen before. 

“i don’t want it to,” she started, keeping her gaze on you as you two remained walking forward. her mind was racing, she had been too focused on how she treated you that she didn’t even take into account that it was a two sided street. if she was being honest with herself, she never paid mind to how mean you could be right back to her. it finally registered that no matter what you did to her, her feelings for you would never dissipate. “i meant what i said that night.” 

“about what?” 

“about not wanting to see you upset,” her feet stopped, and you only took another step before noticing, turning to stand in front of her. there was a moment of silence as you looked at her trying to find her words. “i really am sorry for everything.” 

you approached her, standing just inches away. “i’m sorry too,” her eyes wandered up from the ground and into yours yet again, “we really were assholes to each other, huh?” you chuckled lightly, trying to alleviate the heavy mood that had settled around both of you. 

ellie couldn’t help but laugh as well, “yeah, we were.” your hand reached up to her cheek gently and she leaned her head into your hand. “but that all stops, okay? i promise.” ellie’s hand grabbed the wrist that was holding her cheek, rubbing her thumb across your soft skin. 

“i’m not promising anything,” you joked, the tone in your voice going up. “it’s fun to see you all flustered.” 

“oh, so it’s like that?” ellie’s lips turned up at your words and she grasped for your hips but you snaked away. you giggled, playfully turning around to escape her grasp. you made it only a few feet before she had come up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist. you both fumbled over one another, rolling into the grass beside the sidewalk all while laughing at each other. 

“ellie!” you giggled again, the grass tickling every part of your exposed skin. ellie had landed on top of you, her arm planted firmly in the grass beside your head as she looked down on you and the smile on her face never faltering, along with yours. 

in this moment, it was only you and ellie. everything around the two of you seemed to disappear as you longingly stared into each other. a piece of her hair had fallen from her tight bun and you gently tucked it behind her ear, running your hand along her cheek again. “can i take you on a date? a real one?” she asked in a whisper, never taking her eyes off of you. 

“you don’t even have to ask,” you answered her in the same tone, your chest swelling with her every word. ellie leaned down and planted a soft, loving kiss on your lips. something unlike she had ever done. every kiss you two had shared was sloppy, desperate and full of lust. but this time, it was sweet, slow and passionate. her hand cupped your cheek before she finally pulled away, resting her forehead on yours. 

“if our coaches could see us now,” she laughed, which made you do the same. you wrapped your arms around her neck as you always do, the warmth from her radiating like the sun. 

“bet they’d still try to bench us–” another spring of laughs came from the both of you before ellie finally pulled herself off of you. standing up she stretched her arm to help you up, which you took happily. “do you wanna stay over?” 

the question was like music to ellie’s ears, “i’d love to–” she planted a delicate kiss on your cheek. 

“good good,” you trailed, turning around to look at your dorm building which was easily more than a few yards away by now. being around ellie brought out the competitiveness in you yet again but this time it was more playful. “wanna race?” 

“seriously?” she turned her head, the smile on ellie’s face was now permanent in your presence. 

“what? you scared?” you mocked her lightly, tapping her shoulder and she scoffed at the accusation. 

“you know what? yeah, let’s race. i bet you–” 

you took off sprinting, even in your slippers you had managed to get a great head start. you could hear ellie’s footsteps behind you, slowly catching up. “hey, that’s cheating!” she shouted from behind you. while she watched you win the childish bet, she felt stupid for not allowing herself this type of happiness before, but if she had the chance to go back and change anything, she never would.

epilogue

[warmaidensrevenge]

It's not a never.

Pairings: Eddie x fem!best friend Plus size reader

A/N: Happy Sunday loves. Here I present the final part in this series. It's a bit steamy if you ask me. So ready your naughty bits. As always thanks for reading. Please feel free to share and comment your thoughts. It really gives me a boost of dopamine that I crave. So anything is awesome. Kay love ya. Byyyyyeeee.

I do not give permission for my work to be posted anywhere else. Please respect all creators. Also, all pictures and songs are from a Google search and found on Spotify. A huge thank you and credit to the original posters and artists.

Word count: 3,824

Warnings: 18+ No minors please. Angst, language, sexual implications, sexual situations, p&v, oral (both receiving), unprotected sex and mentions of alcohol use. Not proof read

Part 4: Right now

Summary: Time goes by. But feelings still remain.

The farewell was in fact unbearable. It hurt Eddie like hell. But what hurt the most was a year after. College life became hectic for you. Which caused letters and phone calls to lessen. 

Then the guys got a big break. It was a small record label with very little rapport. But it was one he had a good feeling about. They made a deal for one full album and a few shows to promote it. 

It was a very busy year that turned into two. Then three.

Before any of them knew it, they were playing sold out shows. 

Things were working out. His dreams were coming true. But he never forgot about that girl with the sweet little smile. Though it has been some time since he saw it. He was fortunate enough to see it again one summer night in that third year.

The band was performing at one of their favorite places one hot night. They loved it because it was on a rooftop. Where they could see most of the city.

Tonight though, Eddie could only focus on the pretty girl with the small smile he almost forgot if it weren't for the prom picture he kept in his wallet.

The second the set was over, he jumped off the stage and ran to you. Obviously dodging the groupies and fans asking for autographs.

You yelped when he embraced you. Surprised when he picked you up a little.

“ Oh shit! I can't believe this!” He said when he planted you back down. 

You giggled. “Hi Eddie.”

He leaned back a little and grinned like crazy. “ When did-” He was cut off by the rest of his buddies.

He took a few steps back to let everyone have their turn with you. To be honest he needed the minute to get over the shock of seeing you. 

One thing led to another and you guys went out for drinks then ended up back at their apartment.

The whole night you guys were hanging off each other. Loving glances were shared and every word you said sounded like a love spell to him. And that didn't end when it was just you two.

Everyone else went to bed and he wasn't tired at all. So why end the night? Who knows when he was gonna see you again.

“ Ehem. So Eddie?” You said, putting your half empty glass on the coffee table. “ How many times do I have to squeeze your thigh to get you to kiss me?”

He laughed nervously.

You gave him a sexy sly grin. “ Common I've been flirting with you all night.”

He cleared his throat and smirked while you moved closer to him. It was true. You were flirting. He was too. And he shouldn't have. 

You reached up to move his bangs to the side. After you rested your hand much closer to his genitals. 

He quickly put a hand on yours. Just in case you decided to touch him further. “ Ummm…” he mumbled and met your beautiful eyes.

If things were different, he wouldn't question a damn thing and take you right here and now. Maybe even on the floor and the kitchen counter. Definitely fuck you in the shower and again on his bed. But he couldn't.

He exhaled. “ I'm kinda seeing someone.”

You practically jumped back. Pulling your hand away in the process. He could see how red you were getting from embarrassment.

“ Crap! Ed- I'm…uhhhh I'm sorry. I should go.”

You stood up and without thinking he grabbed your arm and stood up too.

“ No! I mean. Please don't go.”

You looked at him and shook your head. “ No I should. I've embarrassed myself enough for a lifetime.”

You tried to go but he gently pulled you back and cupped the sides of your face. 

“ Common kid. Don't be embarrassed. I was flirting too.” He hung his head a little. “ I shouldn't have but…it's you.”

He felt your warm soft hands on his. Making him meet your eyes. 

“ Eddie I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to come and -”

“ No. You did nothing wrong. It was me. I should've said I was seeing someone sooner…but seriously, don't go. I-I've missed you…So fuckin much.”

You bit your lip and nodded. “ Okay. But you have to sit on the other side of the couch.”

He dropped his hands and held onto yours. “ Yeah, or I'm gonna have to make a phone call and become single.”

Your eyes widened. “ I'm flattered, but probably don't do that.”

You both grinned at one another before returning to the couch. Talking until the sun came up.

For Eddie it was heartbreaking saying goodbye to you that next morning. You were still that funny, sweet, affectionate girl from highschool. You were still the person he could talk to for hours without a care in the world. And he remembered the love that he still had for you. 

What he learned last night was that you were so busy with school that you didn't have time to date. He also found out that college was much harder than you thought it was gonna be. So hard that you changed your major twice.

Eventually, you found something you really saw yourself doing. Career wise that is. And he was happy for you. Just like how you were happy for him and the guys. 

Still, there was still something between you two. Something he wished he could explore. Something that just flowed with you. It was as if you guys picked up from where you left off.

It irked him. It bothered him so much that he actually opened up to his girlfriend about it. 

At first she was quiet, then she got pissed. Eventually, she calmed down and broke up with him. And to be honest it didn't really affect him that much. Sure he liked her. She was fun to be around. But after talking to you, he realized he never had a decent conversation with her. It was just partying and sex mostly. 

It wasn't her fault though. It was him. He never cared to open up to anyone besides his friends. Maybe it was because he thought no one would understand or get him. Get his quirks or quips. They probably wouldn't get his music tastes or like his nerdy side. Or maybe he didn't want anyone to. Perhaps it was because he still had hope for you. Hope that was instilled in him over the best pancakes in the world.

Either way it would be another 4 years until he would see you again.

…

Jeff was getting married. To Connie, in Hawkins. Everyone was invited and Eddie, Gareth and Grant were his groomsmen. They were all his best men cuz he couldn't choose one. 

Which was such a grueling task. Helping with the wedding and planning a bachelor party took up a lot of time. 

But besides all that, Eddie was looking forward to seeing one guest. One very important guest. The pretty girl he's been corresponding to for the past four years. 

He got in touch after you left New York. And kept up contact. He didn't want to disconnect again. Lose you again.

Though nothing was ever said about getting together, he anticipated that after the wedding he was gonna leave with you. Finally getting to that right now you had mentioned seven years ago.

-

He was near the entrance of the church, saying his hellos with the rest of the wedding party when he saw you. 

Everything around him seemed to slow down as you exited the car and fixed your royal blue dress. You looked around and smiled at the people you knew. Then you went to help your mom out of the car. 

He absolutely could not look away. You were a knockout. Absolutely gorgeous. 

What were the chances he could sneak you out of the party and make love somewhere? Maybe he could convince you to leave early. 

He suddenly felt a jab in the ribs. 

“ Ouch! What the fu-” he groaned as he looked at Gareth who was nodding towards Jeff's grandma. “ Oh right!” He uttered, holding out his elbow for her. “ Hello there young lady, I am to escort you to your VIP spot.”

She hit him with an ohh you and took his arm. He looked back to see if he could catch your eye. But it wasn't until the ceremony that he did. 

With a big smile you lifted your hand. Giving him a little wave. He smirked and looked down. Continuing down the aisle. 

Damn! He thought. He really wanted you to be a part of the wedding party.

Originally you were, but you had just started a new job and couldn't get away for rehearsals or any planning. So you opted to only be a guest. Which sucked for him because now he had to look at the happy couple instead of staring at you.

Once he got to the altar he met your gaze again. He knew he must look crazy grinning the way he was. But he didn't care. The girl he was in love with was in the same town, at the same place he was. And he was gonna make sure he left with you.

-

The vows and I do’s were said and the pastor gave the bride and groom the go ahead for a kiss. 

Eddie looked over at you and you had tears of joy falling from your eyes. He pulled out his  handkerchief and took a few steps towards you. Asking for the person sitting in front of you to hand it off. 

You blushed and wiped the tears away while he went back to his spot. Gareth nudged him, but he didn't care. He had to make sure you were good. 

At this point he would do anything for you. He would give anything to be with you. He'd say anything and everything he could just to see you smile. And for a second he pictured what his life would be like with you.

Applause broke out and he clapped along as Jeff and Connie walked back down the aisle together. Once they were at the end, the guys and bridesmaids followed. 

He looked at you again and you were talking to your dad. However, you met his eyes as he passed and mouthed a thank you. 

He nodded and planned on circling back around so that he could get to you. Unfortunately, he had to go in the limo as soon as they walked out. 

Apparently word mysteriously got out that Jeff was getting married. So there were paparazzi and a handful of fans waiting outside the chapel. 

It was a good thing that they had security on standby just in case this happened. 

Everyone was escorted into the car and rushed off.

Jeff was pissed but Connie calmed him down. Saying that to not let it ruin their day. 

Eddie smiled to himself. He was happy for his friend. Jeff had found the girl he was meant to be with. Even with the band getting bigger and the crazy schedules. One of his best friends got to spend the rest of his life with someone who calmed him. Who accepted him for all that he is and truly made him happy. 

Eddie was a little envious of it. Still, he was completely overjoyed for his buddy. 

He wanted that. More than anything, he wanted you. So it was his prerogative to be with you.

-

Everyone had to show their invitations to get into the dance hall. But once in, the music was going and drinks were being served. 

Eddie waited patiently by the door. Nearly jumping up and down. Excited to finally get to talk to you. 

While giving security your invitation you locked eyes with him and smiled from ear to ear. 

You looked away for a second then followed your parents in. 

He said hello to everyone as they made their way down the line to the newly Weds. Finally it was your dad's turn. They shook hands and your mom was next.

“ Why hello there, gorgeous. You are a vision.”

Victoria blushed and gave him a playful smack. “ Stop it.”

He laughed and gave her a hug. 

At last, it was your turn. 

“ Hi Eddie.”

He stood there with his lips together and an eyebrow raised. Giving you his flirtatious smile. “ Hi baby.”

You tilted your head to the side and raised both brows. “ Baby?”

He beamed at you and grabbed your hand. Pulling you closer to him. “ Yeah. You're my baby girl now.” 

Before you could say anything, he pulled you into a long warm hug. Rocking you from side to side. Making you laugh.

Grant cleared his throat. “ Alright Munson, you're holding up the line.”

You pulled away but he didn't want to let you go. He gave your hand one last squeeze before releasing it. His eyes never left you as you finally made it down to Jeff and Connie. 

He smiled as you took Connie's hand and twirled her around. Clearly admiring how beautiful she looked in her gown. Then you gave her hug. Moving on to the groom. He chuckled seeing you and Jeff do your nerdy handshake before hugging.

Afterwards, everyone sat down to eat. Eddie of course didn't want to sit with the rest of the party. Not while you were just a few feet away. He grabbed his plate and his beer and went to sit next to you. 

“ Eddie…Connie's is gonna kill you.” You warned.

He looked up at the head table and saw Jeff and Connie just enamored with each other. Not really paying attention to anything or anyone else but each other for that matter.

He put a hand on the back of your chair and scooted closer. “ I don't think they care.”

He watched you as you glanced at your friends and smiled.

“ Awww I love them.”

He reached up and moved your hair behind your shoulder. Causing you to look at him. “ Want to get out of here?”

You jerked your head back. “ Dude! It's our best friend's wedding.”

-

As the night progressed you guys were practically inseparable. You danced, drank, and talked. It was as if nothing had changed between you two. He made you laugh and you made him nervous. 

It felt right.

Even the approving nods he got from his friends and family assured him this was it. He could do this with you. 

Your parents were about ready to leave a couple hours later and you along with them. What could he do to get you to stay?

“ I-I can get you a ride home later if you want.” He offered.

You shook your head. “ No, I have some work to do so I better get going.”

He frowned. “ But we hardly got to hang out.”

You looked down, clearly to him, trying to think of something. When he came up with something first.

“ I uhh I should probably try and find a hotel for tonight.”

You met his eyes with yours. “ Why?”

He nudged his head towards the door. Where there were paparazzi hanging out with cameras at the ready. “ I was gonna stay with my uncle, but I don't want those guys to bother him.”

“O-oh… ummm well you know my parents still have the pull out in the basement. I could...if you want, I could sneak you out? But what about everyone else?”

He shrugged. To hell with them for the night. “ They're adults, they can figure out something I'm sure.”

You softly laughed. “ Alright. How about you go out the service entrance and we’ll circle around for you?”

He smirked. “ Let's go.”

-

He was laying there in his boxers trying to figure out how to sneak past your parents room and get into your bedroom. Sure it was probably a stupid idea to try and have sex while your parents were across the hall. However he needed you. He craved your lips, and your warmth. He wanted your body next to his.

So he decided to grab something to drink, then see if your parents had gone to bed.

What he found was even better. 

You were in the kitchen grabbing a Popsicle. Wearing nothing but a long shirt and tube socks.

When you turned around you jumped. “ Eddie!” You half whispered. 

He grinned. “ Sorry baby. Was thirsty.”

He went for a glass to pour himself some tap water. Paying attention to your movements. You had gone to sit at the table and started sucking on the ice cream. All the while reading a manuscript. 

He gulped down his drink and went to sit next to you. Pulling the chair as close to you as possible. 

You did your best to ignore him and his advances. But the way he played with your hair made you shift closer to him. 

You had gotten so overcome by his light touch on your thigh that you squeezed your legs shut. You then flipped the page you were working on and licked the Popsicle that was melting all over your hand. Some of the sweet syrup dripped down your chin. And before you could wipe it away he grabbed your hand with one arm and lightly held your chin between his index finger and thumb with the other. He then licked a fat strip from the underside of your chin up to your bottom lip.

He smirked to himself hearing your breath hitch. He had you right where he wanted. 

He stood up and grabbed your hand. Stealing your sweet treat and finishing it off before leading you down to the basement. Of course locking the door behind you. 

When he got you on the bed, he finally took that kiss he'd been dying for all day and everyday for the past seven years

Wet and needy. Tongues dancing together. Exploring tenaciously. With hands doing the same.

He started needing your breast and was surprised by something hard. Curious, he went under the shirt and felt two small metal balls on either side of your hardened nipple. 

He groaned against your lips. “ Fuck baby. I like this.”

You laughed softly and whispered. “ I knew you would.”

He grinned while he played with your piercing. After a bit he kissed his way down your body until he reached your underwear. But instead of taking them off. He moved the damp cloth to the side and spread you a part. 

He was addicted as soon as his tongue touched you. The sweet, sweet nectar that poured from you drove him mindless. But even more so feeling your hand get lost in his curls as the other covered your mouth. Trying to conceal your pleasure.

He stared up at you, enjoying your contorted face as he sucked and licked and swallowed like there was no tomorrow. 

Then he added fingers. Doing a come hither motion. Wasn't long after that. Your body trembled as an orgasm hit. Your pussy throbbed around his fingers. Coating them generously with your wetness.

He waited patiently for you to come down before climbing back up your body and crashing his lips into yours. And when he did you sucked in his bottom lip. Causing him to push his hardened length against your soaked undergarments.

You pushed him up off of you and got on your knees before him. He watched in awe as you wrapped your hair up and freed his cock from its cotton prison.

You teased him at first. Giving his head little kitten licks and kisses. It was maddening. Feeling your slick tongue swirl around the tip before retreating back into your mouth. 

“ Baby please!” He begged.

You looked up with darkened eyes and a less than angelic smile. “ Shhh. You have to be quiet.”

He pouted. Pleading you with his eyes. 

Then you did it. You took the whole damn thing. Making him reach for the back of your head and lifting his hips to go deeper. 

The hum in your throat had his eyes rolling back and toes curled until they hurt. 

A few seconds passed by and he felt your throat close around him as you started to choke. He loosened his grip and let you back off. 

He opened his eyes and focused on you. Watching you catch your breath before taking him in again. This time not so deep. Adding your hand into the mix. 

It was fucking amazing. Every slurp, every gag, every teasing lick around his balls nearly had him cumming. Even more so when you forced him in every once every other stroke. Building up his confidence and his orgasm.

“ Sh-shit baby…got-gotta stop.” 

You let him go with a small pop and had a concerned look in your eyes.“ Everything okay?”

He licked his lips and swallowed. “ Yeah. Fuckin perfect. Just don't wanna cum yet.”

He leaned forward and pulled you into a kiss while helping you up. 

You stood before him and used his shoulders for balance as he peeled off your panties. 

Once they were at your feet you kicked them off and straddled him. Slowly lowering yourself on his shaft. 

Your mouth fell open and your eyes screwed shut and his tip pushed through. 

“ OH MY GOD!” He moaned. 

Your warm tight pussy clinged to him. Hugging him like no other has before. Feeling you flutter around him as you rocked back and forth had him focusing on not cumming. 

He buried his face in your bosom and concentrated on his target. That one special spot that made you cry out his name. That spot that not only drove you over the edge but made him see heaven.

Sure enough he found it. But at this angle he couldn't touch it as much and he wanted to. 

So he wrapped his arms around you and held on tightly as he flipped you over on your back. 

You giggled in the process and stole a kiss and he repositioned himself. When he looked at you, you were grinning up at him.

“ Oh Eddie. So serious.”

He narrowed his eyes at you and rammed himself in. Earning that yelp/ moan. He reached up to cover your mouth as he plowed into you.

“ This. Is. Serious.” He grunted. 

Your eyes got lost in the back of your head as he thrusted hard and steady. Your moans turning into whimpers and sighs as he fucks you into the bed.

And within moments your body and his reacted to the immense pleasure. 

The climax washed over you like a wave of ecstasy.

Once it passes, he rested his forehead on yours panting with you. Letting his hand fall away from your mouth. 

“ I've missed you so much.” He whispered.

You nodded in agreement that he was also missed. 

He kissed your forehead. “ I'll go find something to clean you up.”

He then pulled out slowly and put on his bottoms.

When he came back he had a warm washcloth with him. He gently cleaned between your legs then himself before pulling you to lay in his arms.

You had started tracing his tattoos. Making him smile.

That's when he found himself writing something on your arm.

‘Marry-me-yeah?’

You sighed lightly and snuggled closer to him. Tracing your answer on his chest.

‘Okay’

He raised his head to look at you. " Yeah?"

You nodded. " On one condition...You have to break the news to Grant."

Eddie threw his head back into the pillow and smacked his forehead. " Shit! He's gonna kill me."

You giggled. " Yup."

…

@salenorona23 @browneyes528 @ohmeg @eddiesguitarskills @trashywormeateroffics @eddie-is-a-god @crookedcrone

[be-my-ally]

"...Elvis has left for Graceland."

This is, uh, what I did with some *generally helpful information* about mirrors in Graceland (although tbh there's not even that many references to them here) and bde withdrawals. I lied - I thought my empty promises wip would be out first, but when inspiration hits and a shorter fic just pops out of your fingers - and the alternative is the dreaded editing, you end up with this instead! Enjoy my lovelies - this is also a little (ok a lot) for @thatbanditqueen - enjoy the references to red Graceland, the correct suit for the exact date, and even his exact upper of choice in spring summer ’74! Oh! and the dress pictured below is YSL from 1973 xx (and also @ellie-24, and @whositmcwhatsit for encouraging me! Surprise! We were discussing films and I was writing this!)

summary: you’re elvis’ girlfriend circa ’74, and have a lot of fun congratulating him after his recorded show in Memphis. 

pairing: afab!reader x elvis (of the big daddy flavour)

warnings: 18+, thigh-riding, the ripping of an expensive rental dress, big daddy elvis in all his big daddy-ness, yet again - reader sucks his tits idk man I didn’t think was gonna be a kink for me but clearly it is, v. minor references to his drug abuse, p in v sex, uhhhh…. Oh mirrors! I know Graceland wasn’t as, uh, dirty as Hillcrest but I think he still had enough fun there, Elvis keeps his jumpsuit on. this is essentially unedited so pls ignore any typos - I'll give it a look over in the morning!

wc: 4.1k - We did it baby! Concise smut!!

March 20th 1974 - Mid-South Coliseum Memphis

“…Elvis has left for Graceland.” 

You’re delayed in leaving - a problem with the valet, or the sound, or something that someone has to sort out - so despite the fact that Elvis himself has left you are stood, waiting, with a couple of the mafia boys for the other car to be brought around. Undoubtedly to be stuck in the hordes of fans and traffic on the way out. You hated being stood exposed like this, it made you feel like people’s wandering glances weren’t just sizing up the King’s new girlfriend, but laughing at you - at how you’re no more special than the rest of them. Stood in much the same way they all were. Left behind while he was whisked away to his palace. 

The temperature had dropped since you’d arrived here earlier, and you wished you’d thought to bring a jacket but the weather was just starting to warm up and you’d been thrilled to be able to wear a little strappy number - a little part of you, or maybe a large part, wanting to show off a little for the home crowd. Silver and diamanté straps that held up the draping gently twisted fabric that flowed in a column, brushing your curves - it was, expensive and flashy in a subtle way - it was almost too much for the concert. But, as always, you’d been outshined by Elvis’ own crystals - the stark white of his sparkling jumpsuit brighter than any of the stage lights. You’d worn it mostly for him though, despite the fact that he’d barely glanced at you in it.

By the time you’re all loaded into the car, heading the barely ten miles towards Graceland, the novelty of passing down Elvis Presley Boulevard from an Elvis Presley concert to go and see Elvis Presley still hadn’t waned. You smile a little at yourself and you can feel Charlie laughing from the other side of the backseat of the car, “God makes me laugh every time I see that damn sign - as if he needed a bigger head!” You laugh with him, but you can hear the affection in his voice - as if you were being let in to a joke of the inner circle; the joke about his large head being simultaneously true but also at odds with his nerves mere hours ago. Despite your traffic fears you make quick progress and it’s mere minutes before you’re pulling up to the drive, parting the crowd and through the gates. You’re quick out of the car but you’re surprised not to see or hear him when you walk through the front door, until Billy, coming around the corner, sees you and points upstairs. You nod and thank him but, not seeing the point in rushing if he’d gone to bed, you head to the kitchen - fetching a drink and take your time finishing it. You start to slowly make your way up the main staircase, stopping to check yourself out in the large mirror on the wall, reapplying a little lipstick just in case he was awake. 

When you walk in, he’s pacing at the bottom of his bed, still in the sweaty white jumpsuit, walking back and forth, he gestures past his padded doors, towards the landing and the huge mirrors he’d recently had installed on the ceiling to match those on the walls. “Saw you take your time, something more important than me baby?” You frown, shaking your head - you forget, when at Graceland, that his eyes are everywhere; even as much as in Hillcrest. 

“Course not babe, of course not!” He tuts, but you’d not been expected him to look so awake so you hadn’t thought you’d had to rush up to him; despite your desire to see him, and congratulate him on the show. So you have no words to your defence - you can’t exactly tell him you expected he’d be half out of it by now. You glance over at the gold foiled nightstand on his side - the orange bottle for his dexedrine open and on display. He follows your gaze, his own eyes hardening a little, tiny little lines forming on the edge of his still-linered lids. Neither of you mention his sudden burst of energy and where it came from. He turns back to you, hands on his hips. It draws your attention to his outfit. He’d not even changed from his stage jumpsuit - a rarity since he was almost always in his robe by the time he’d passed through his bedroom doors. It strangely matches well in the dark, red, interior of the room - red crystals of the fire suit almost the exact colour of the carpet. But it also, oddly, made him stand out even more - the crystals seeming like they were everywhere, like he was made to be stood in this room; reflecting across the mirrors, and emphasising the white of the jumpsuit - his skin jumping out. The zipper was low, as it had been all night and you rake your eyes over his exposed skin. He’d been exceptionally physical tonight, the showmanship spectacular and it was displayed in his chest and stomach shimmering with his still drying sweat. You feel yourself growing wet. 

“Shut the door honey,” You do as you’re told, he’s gruff, almost as if he feels he should be apologetic but would never admit it, “Not had time lately have we, huh, baby?” You shake your head in response, uncertain what to say -  you hadn’t, he’d been so busy worrying about these concerts, and then afterwards about the live recording - about the intricacies of the sound, of how the crowd noise will be isolated. It meant that as excited as you were to see him perform in Memphis, in his home - you were more excited to get past it to the month long break he was going to have. But you also knew how privileged you were to get any time with him at all, and you knew how quickly his moods changed lately. Unwilling to say anything that might make him reconsider his plans and head back downstairs, leave you alone, waiting and wanting while he entertained. 

“Well. We’re here now.” He moves over to you, determinedly catching you in a kiss. You squirm a little, eyes closed, trying to will away the thought that you weren’t the only woman he’d kissed this evening, force away the images of him with the girls in the front row. There was fewer than normal, chaste pecks on the cheek - he didn’t want to mess up the recording after all. But still, you’d felt the envy growing in you, jealousy burning through your veins. He makes you forget this though, as he rubs his hands down your arms, warming where they’d already grown cold in the frigid air of his bedroom and his tongue slips deeper into you. You can taste the gatorade of the night, mixed with the sparkling water he’d probably downed along with his uppers - the faint tingle of the carbon dioxide still present. He kisses down your cheek to your throat, leaving traces of your freshly applied lipstick from your own lips before he turns you around, facing the headboard, and walks you towards the bed - your legs bump against the end. He tugs at the straps that cross on your back, impatient. You wince, trying to stop him; 

“Elvis, baby, it’s a - a rental, gotta be careful, it’s one of a kind -“ 

“Fuckin’ fancy shit - get it off then, fuckin’ hate when you don’t just let me buy you -”  Despite his harsh words he kisses across your shoulder in between his words. You cut him off, 

“It’s not for sale El, so you couldn’t have even -“ 

“You tellin’ me what I can or can’t do now mama?” He toys with the strap, you think fast trying to stop what you’re sure is coming - 

“El, seriously - I didn’t mean it like that I just - ah!” He pulls the chain clean off - square crystals spilling over the bed. 

“Fuck - E!” He yanks the other one, this time accompanied by a little tearing noise as the seam rips from the back. Before you have time to protest any longer he’s pushing down the twisted top, your breasts popping out. He grabs your chin, pointing it towards the back of the bed - where the large mirror hangs - you can see yourself reflecting from the mirrors on the other walls too - the glances of different angles almost overwhelming. 

“Look at yourself.” He maintains his grip on your chin while palming one of his simultaneously thick but still sleek hands across your boob. He twists a nipple as you gasp, pulling it out a little. He pushes you up with his other hand, forcing you to balance on your knees on the end the bed, his own thigh coming in between to force them further apart and support some of your weight as you sink down a little. He hikes the long length of the dress up, grabbing your wrist and forcing you to hold it up yourself although the maxi-skirt still drapes and covers your modesty. He lets go of your face, pulling you back against him harder with both hands, and his stomach, more pronounced than before, bumps against your back. You stare, mouth open, as you watch his large hands span across your waist. His head is bent over into the crook of your neck, sucking a bruise onto the dip of your collarbone, his sweaty, fluffy, hair tickling your chin. He moves his leg a little, bending his knee onto the bed too, forcing it further into your crotch, allowing you to grind down on him. 

He pushes you down himself, hands on your hip bones and the soft flesh there, moving you in little circles feeling you rub against him. He suddenly, frantically, pushes the dress up further - exposing you entirely. You gasp, as he unveils your little secret of the night - not only had you not bothered with a bra - the dress being far too revealing for it, but the soft slippy fabric had clung to whatever underwear you had tried, ultimately leaving you to go commando for the night as well. He grunts against your skin, looking at you in the mirror over your shoulder, 

“You been like that all night, honey?” He traces a finger over the undercurve of the swell of your tummy, tickling a little, as he rotates it in little circles - teasing you in its pattern that’s reminiscent of how he often touches you. 

“Ye-es, they - they showed through,” He tucks your ass into him, his belt digging into you, and preoccupies himself with stroking a finger the length of your vulva, his thigh slightly getting in the way until you push yourself up a little more. 

“Surprised you ain’t already ruined that dress, how wet you are - bet you were drippin’ all over the place. Watching me.” He presses a finger into you, just the very tip, gently, his other hand coming back up to your nipple - you clutch at his arms; “Weren’t you?” 

“Probably, probably E - can’t help it around you, not when you’re performin’ looking so good -” He laughs, pulling his finger away, crooking it as he pulls it up - knocking one of his huge rings against your clit. He draws you back - his body moving with his laugh causing you to bounce you on his thigh. You let out a gasp that quickly turns to a moan, 

“You think I look good darling?” You meet his eyes in the mirror, they’re bright and impish; a smug little smile on his face. Any other time you might have teased him - but not today. Not with your angle changing slightly when he pushes you forwards a little, his broad, large thigh pressing firmly into you again, you can feel your labia spreading against his jumpsuit, tight weave of the dancer’s gabardine rubbing against you. You bob your head quickly; 

 “Of course, of course E - you look, looked amazing; don’t want you to take it off.” He laughs, as if you’ve given him an idea - or perhaps confirmed something he thought before, 

“Well, don’t be shy - prove it to me baby.” You gape at him, trying to twist around to do something - although you’re not sure what, to prove it to him, but he stills you with both hands holding you in place. Before he lifts you, manhandling you where he wants you as he pulls you off of him - moving to sit down on the fluffy circular chair in the corner, he keeps a hold of you as he goes, but allows you to turn, before yanking you back onto his lap. Resting your legs on either side of one of his thighs. You can feel the crystals on your inner thighs, rubbing against you and you’re sure you’re gonna have a weird form of beard-burn by the time you get up, but you don’t let it stop you and you rock back and forth on him. He takes a second to strip your dress completely off, leaving you completely nude where before your belly button had been afforded a little modesty but nowhere else and you brace yourself with hands on his shoulders to arch your back, pushing your tits out and grind down on him.

“That’s it baby, show me how much you love this ‘suit, want you to get me all wet darling, not letting you up till there’s a spot on me,” You can feel your heat rising just from his words, and the rough material under you provides just enough friction for you to feel yourself getting close. 

He pulls you closer to him, so that you’re rocking your body practically into his crotch, and the movement is pulling the jumpsuit off of his chest a little, the tiniest hint of a nipple peeking out. You lean forward, rocking against him and shifting your balance with your arms around his neck for stability. You can feel every part of the chest section of the jumpsuit rubbing against your skin, pinkening it with the feel of the stones but, as your own nipple catches between a group of them with a little prickle of pain, you can’t help but moan, it only adding to to your building pleasure. He lets out his own little grunt as you move your head to his neck - causing him to fall back against the chair further. You’re practically horizontal now, although his feet remain on the floor and it puts your cheek in contact with his chest. You nuzzle into him, unable to resist licking when he’s so close - so shiny, so tempting. He bucks his hips as you do as if you’ve unlocked a hidden sensitivity of his. It only spurs you on more, moving to suckle on his little pink nipple, one of your hands coming away from his neck to stroke his chest hair. You only realise you’d zoned everything but his chest out when you feel a hand in your hair, pulling your head back and you suddenly realise he’s been talking, babbling at you, the whole time but you’d had such a single-minded focus you’d not even noticed. 

“Lord baby, you gots a hot little mouth, hot fucking little lips. God baby, your tongue, where’d you learn to do that, huh? Liable to make a man cream his pants like that, honey, and wouldn’t that be a waste?” He strokes your face and you smile, looking up at him, as he lets go of your hair and rubs his hands down your sides again. It’s only a moment later when he’s hauling you off of him, struggling to his feet. You stand there, flushed but growing colder in the frigid air with every moment that passes without being pressed against his burning body heat, your nipples pebbling. You watch as he surveys the room for a moment, his own arousal more than a little apparent in the stretchy fabric of the jumpsuit - before sighing, 

“Simple’s the best. Right honey?” 

“Sure, I’m - I’m sure that’s right El,” You agree, but not really knowing what you’re answering and he catches you by the arm pushing you backwards onto the bed, you gasp and scrabble backwards at his insistent pushing. A moment later you understand as he’s pulling the belt off, unzipping himself finally and, - oh, he’s not taking it off, he’s just unzipping the suit all the way, pulling his cock out. You groan, head falling back against the mountain of pillows. You’d never, never have mentioned how much you wanted this, to have his thick powerful body still encased in his jumpsuit as he fucks you. His magnetism, the sexual energy from the concert and his presence on the stage being impressed upon you with every brush of your naked body against the fabric - against the rhinestones. 

He pulls himself back a little before slipping a finger into you, ring bumping against your folds, it sinks in easily - you’re already so ready, just from bouncing on his thigh, and to be honest you’d been wet enough from the moment Also Sprach Zarathustra had turned into See See Rider. He hums, pleased that you’re soaking for him, and he doesn’t wipe off his finger before pushing it into your mouth, 

“That’s it baby, suck it off, taste yourself on me,” You obediently do as he says, sucking down - hollowing your cheeks, eyes wide. He pulls it out to balance himself on one hand, grasping his cock in the other, pumping it a couple times before lining himself up with your entrance. 

“Better be ready for me honey - ‘cause I’m sure as hell ready to sink into your tight little cunt.” You gasp as he doesn’t even wait for a reply, pushing himself into you. He’s pressing into you from all angles as you slowly adjust to his length within you, his soft tummy - crystals pressing into you from above, his musky chest just below your eye-line and his arm bracketing you into him from the other side of your neck. He stills for a second, before leaping into motion, struggling slightly to move himself more upright, keeping himself in you and pulling you close against him with a hold on your hips. You’re on your back while he kneels up now, allowing him to lift your butt a little, and thrust a little deeper. You squirm on him, little moans and gasps being released - you’ve not yet been able to get past having had the bedroom next to your parents growing up. He grabs your hips now, rings pressing in tight, to move your body onto him as he pumps into you. He’s talking the whole time - the man’s unable to stay quiet any moment he’s awake - 

“Oh god darling, never gonna be able to wear this suit ‘gain, Lord how’re you, so -” He thrusts in, hard, to punctuate his next sentence - “so - fucking - tight.” His breathing is already growing heavier, “How’re you so goddamn tight - like Lil’ Elvis is caught in a - ah - fucking vice. God, look at you.” 

You look up at him, fresh sweat starting to form at his chest and brow, he’s not even looking at you though, and you wonder who that last comment had been aimed at as he’s staring at his own reflection in the mirror. You’re glad though, when he smiles - eyes bright when he does glance back at you; whatever he’d seen had clearly cheered him up and out of his self-conscious mood, enough to encourage a sudden burst of energy again. He drags you back, lifting his own hips enough to spear into you at just the right angle. As he hits that perfect spot inside of you repeatedly he moves his hand from where it was still clutching your hip to stroke down across your mound, it’s a slightly awkward angle but he manages to swipe his thumb perfectly across your clit - your leg jerking, and your back arching in response. 

“Oh - Elvis, oh god, I’m so fucking close - babe you gotta, just keep -” He grunts above you, his thumb keeping pace, and his cock thrusting in at the same speed. It’s mere seconds, 

“Fuck - baby, you’re squeezin’ ‘round me so fuckin’ ti-ght, that’s a good fucking girl, my good girl.” Before it’s enough to send you over the edge, clenching down on him and shuddering, your mouth agape and your eyes shuttering closed as the waves of your orgasm crash over you. 

“Oh, oh - god, Elvis -” His pace changes, and it drags you back from floating, as he just goes for it at a rapid pace, fingernails clawing at your skin, before his hips are stuttering and he’s quickly pulling out as the first streaks of his ejaculate shoot across your pussy, he pulls himself up, pumping it across your tummy, and you moan at the sight - him looking goddamn regal - sparkling in the dim light as he shoots across you. He moves one of his hands to rub it over you, between your folds and over your stomach -  into your belly button. Before he collapses on top of you,  practically smothering you, in an effort to reach your mouth to kiss you - your legs are so tired and tense but you can just about lift them up to come around to grasp at him, barely noticing the now-familiar scratch of the rhinestones, locking your ankles over his back. You’re probably smearing cum all over the jumpsuit but you don’t care - too desperate to feel him close to you. You lock lips for a long moment, letting him take whatever he wants, underneath him like this it’s difficult to feel anything but utterly submissive and at his mercy. Your lips are bitten and raw by the time he pulls away and rolls off of you, and you can’t do anything but lie there, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. You look over at him, and he’s in practically the exact same position, soft matted chest hair wet with sweat and his little rounded tummy poking out of the unzipped suit with his now soft cock resting outside too, but smiling up at the ceiling - 

“Wish I still had my scarf - wouldn’t even have to get up to find something to wipe us down with,” You laugh with him, just barely getting the effort yourself to stand, on shaky legs, you’re sweaty and damp yourself and you can’t imagine how he feels - going straight into this after a two hour long concert, so you chivvy him up, 

“C’mon then El, I’ll run us a bath - we can get all clean together,” He hums, sounding as if he’s close to his come down already, 

“ ’S-ok little one, I can - just need a, a, wipe down.” You frown, you like his musk but no way in hell are you getting back into bed with him like this, but you’re not quite sure how to say it without starting an argument, when strangely, for once - Elvis seems to sense your reluctance, “Alright, alright, fine. But only if I get you all wet and warm in my lap,” he laughs to himself again, “well - warm and wet again - huh, darlin’,” You giggle with him, walking gingerly to put the bath on, and as you stand up he’s already stood behind you - crowding you against the dark bathroom wall, stroking your sides with his thick fingers, he tips your chin up to look you right in the eyes - “Thank you for that though little one, needed - needed to see how much you like me, see me again, been - I’ve been so distracted I ain’t had chance to even look at myself in weeks.” You smile, 

“Of course Elvis, I’m all yours - anytime.” You pause, wondering if you should mention it, “Seriously though - we’re gonna have to get Bill or Ciro -  someone’s gotta fix that dress,” He just laughs at you, shaking his head - 

“Honey, I told you - I’ll just buy it.”

[inchidentally]

Your favorite moments from Lando and Oscar's challenges?

I HAD TO STOP DOING THIS BC I WAS LOSING HALF MY LIFE REWATCHING THE VIDEOS

so an incomplete but already exhaustive list:

is it just redundant to say Finish the Lyric at this point bc it's confirmed landoscar lore now. specifically the way that Lando keeps wriggling and leaning into Oscar's space is an underrated part but honestly it's the prime example of Oscar watching Lando's every move and Lando playing up to Oscar's attention every way possible. special mention for Lando's immense pride at Oscar singing for the first time ever in front of him.

honestly same for Garden Games - self-explanatory but the sheer squeakiness and giddiness when Lando was (secretly hoping) asking if Oscar would go between his legs while saying Oscaaahhh launched so many fic moments OH and Lando once again being so proud that Oscar did his first Like and Subscribe

Red Flag/Green Flag "I'm a Scorpio and lemme tell you all about it" and "maybe it is me" because Lando uhhhh truly let his flag fly in this one and Oscar had a blast. they do SO much better with challenges that are more freeform because Lando likes to act up and Oscar loves it.

Lie Detector test is SO FLIRTY. the fact that they keep trying to almost touch hands by awkwardly leaning the machine right in the middle when they don't have to. the way it feels like a first date. but the "you've got quite big arms" is the moment for me. and I mean yes, Oscar does have quite big arms.

Who Said What because of the sheer fondness but also "you like having fun huh?" "I do like having fun" - oh and the incredibly fond look Oscar gives Lando when Lando puts his hands in the air to celebrate at the end

Who's Most Likely To precisely because Oscar keeps trying to avoid showing that he already knows every fact about Lando but slips up a lot. my favorite underrated moment is when Lando tells the story about having to sneak back into his own house as a kid (he had told this during a Max stream? or Quadrant? video already) and babes we KNOW Oscar already knew about that one too. oh and let's not forget the Hair Touch. this was also classic bc Max watched it on stream and stood up for Oscar every time.

Iconic Toys - Lando marching Barbie over to Oscar is too fucking adorable, especially the fact that Oscar lets it happen and keeps talking but also began a habit Lando had for a while of stretching over to Oscar's chair for some reason

Build Their own Dream F1 Team - Mahk Wibba is obviously a great moment but my favorite is how Lando keeps butting in on Oscar's choices and Oscar is the dutiful husband saying yes dear and as always Lando getting impatient when Oscar takes too long (even though Lando takes lots of time to answer)

Theory Test - this little moment of "right? right" was so cute bc it was so early in knowing each other but Oscar is already reacting to Lando's 'I'm an absolute little shit' expressions and same goes for Oscar patiently walking Lando through one sentence so patiently and saying "there you go"

Fact or Phish - because we found out Oscar's heritage but also found out that Lando doesn't understand the difference between nationality and heritage - we also had Lando for the first time ever in any McLaren or honestly even Quadrant challenge history, remember something about someone else's past besides his own which honestly was legendary

dear god help my life since you sent this ask anon bc I've basically eaten gone to the toilet worked and watched landoscar challenges and NOTHING else

there are so many more so I might return to this but I have to stop myself for now

(please rb with your own anyone who sees this!)

[ghostlynighty]

You want request?

Can I get uhhhh PtN Cinnabar (and/or Zoya) with a fem!chief (or gn) who is insecure about their body weight?

Zoya with sinner fem!reader who is insecure about their body weight.

parings : Zoya x sinner fem!reader

requested? : yup

warning(s) : talking about body insecurity, i might have not talked about it well in this fic, might be ooc zoya

uh hey there, thanks for the request! I decided to make reader a sinner since I would like to make chief her own character. I also only picked Zoya since I do not know much about Cinnabar yet. I hope that is okay.

also, please do tell me if i wrote anything wrong with this. making fics with these kinds of topics is really hard for me.

The monthly check up, the moment you don’t really like. It's where the MBCC would conduct a routine check up for all of the sinners to see if something is wrong. This monthly routine check up is mostly for sinners but staff get check ups too.

You are a sinner that has been arrested by the MBCC and unlike sinners who resisted, you did not. You are going to be locked up forever and be “used” by the chief sure, but at least the food is free and there is a not so comfy bed to sleep on. There are so many of these “routines” that the bureau conducts, one of them is this medical check up. This was no problem to you at the start, you actually wanted to know if something is wrong with you and is always compliant but as of the recent ones however, you started to feel nervous about this, anxious even. It's not like the doctors and staff abuse you, it's just that recently, you’re starting to feel a little insecure about yourself, especially with your body and weight. You guessed that being locked up alongside these beautiful sinners with amazing bodies made you like this.

Your girlfriend, Zoya, the commander of the Legion, has started to notice this. You no longer wear your usual outfit that shows your skin, you now wear sweaters and long sleeved clothes which is not a problem to Zoya, she finds you really adorable in these actually. Her only problem was, it gets very very hot in the bureau, especially in the afternoon when you and her would go to the outdoors area to hang out. Zoya noticed right away what the cause was and she was determined to let you know that you shouldn't be thinking about those things. 

At the moment, you were waiting in line for the check up, you tried hiding your anxiousness. You tried not to think about the doctors weighing you or only being in your undies while they check up on you.

Oh god, please make this stop-

Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt someone pull you away and lead you to a room. Looking up, you saw that it was your girlfriend.

“Zoya? Why are we here?” Your body acted into its own accord, hugging Zoya to calm yourself down. Your girlfriend could feel how much you were shaking and instantly wrapped her arms around you.

“I saw you were having a hard time there, is everything okay?” Zoya asked you as gently as she could, knowing that this topic is sensitive to anyone who is going through this. Your girlfriend does not want to force you into telling her what’s wrong, but you can see from the way she looks at you that she already knows your trouble.

“I’m just…I just don’t feel…good?” You tried to tell her vaguely, hoping that she would get it immediately. Zoya pulled away from the hug, looking into your eyes.

“Babe, it's okay, you can tell me and if you don’t want to, that’s also okay. I just want to help you in any way I can.”

Closing your eyes with a deep breath, you released it all to Zoya. How you don’t feel confident in yourself and in your body anymore, how you think you’re so heavy and that you need to lose weight, everything. You told Zoya everything while she listened, wiping your tears from time to time.

When you were finished, you two just stood there, arms wrapped around each other.

“Look and listen to me, you are beautiful. You always have been. There’s nothing wrong with having a little weight, you know? Believe me when I say you’re so fucking hot. I mean, have you seen some of those sinners who look at you?” You chuckled, wiping your tears as you remember those moments when random sinners would flirt with you, making Zoya annoyed that she would always let them know that you are hers and hers only.

“I’m not really good at these, but what I’m saying is, there’s nothing wrong with you. You are perfectly fine, perfectly healthy and…perfectly beautiful.”

“Thank you Zoya and I’m sorry that I only told you about this now.”

“There’s no need to apologise, but know that I am always here, okay? Now let’s go for your check up. If you want, I can come with you during your turn.”

It took you a couple of seconds to reply, not believing that a violent person like Zoya could be so gentle with you. You grabbed her cheeks, placing a soft kiss on it.

“I would love that.”

[yourheartonfire]

Six months. The protagonist wasn't usually one who cared overly much about silly, made up milestones like 'six month anniversaries' but this time, this felt different. This partner was different. Never had the protagonist felt so seen, so valued. They'd been watching the clock all day, fizzing with happiness, looking forward to their evening and the "big surprise" their partner had promised.

Until their partner crashed through the plate glass window of their apartment two hours early, bloodied and in a half-destroyed villain costume, eyes wild with shock to see protagonist sitting there.

"NO!" their partner - the villain? - howled, staring at the protagonist as if they were the one who'd just smashed their way through a fourth story window. "It's not possible!"

The protagonist sat stunned at their stupid little home office desk, jaw dropped and excel spreadsheet half done. They had no resistance as the villain (their partner?!) stormed up and yanked them to their feet, searching their face like it was suddenly unfamiliar territory.

"How? How!" the villain raged, thumb dragging across the protagonist's cheekbone as their other hand held them tightly in place. "Shape-shifting? Super-healing?"

"Uhhhh...?" the protagonist said with thrilling eloquence. Their partner - the villain - had always been touchy, deliciously touchy in ways that thrilled the protagonist. This was different, but so, so frighteningly close to the same.

Their partner spun away, grabbed up the TV remote to turn it from background music to cable news. There was their city's hero live from the aftermath of some fresh disaster, charming the members of the press interviewing them. Blood dripped from under their mask from a thin gash across their face.

"How?"the villain exclaimed, no longer meeting the protagonist's eyes. "Delayed tape? A body double?"

Slowly, the protagonist sat back down in their dumb little office chair. "You thought I was [Hero]?" they whispered in a tight, high voice.

The villain threw the remote into the television. It stuck in the middle of the LED screen in the middle of Hero's forehead. "You are [Hero]!" they shouted. "You have to be!" They grabbed protagonist by the forearm, turned their wrist to show the scar running up their arm. "January 3rd. Compound fracture of the radius and ulna."

"Yeah, in a car accident," the protagonist said. "You thought I was [Hero]?"

"May 7, another broken arm." The villain's eyes were wide and wild. Their hand shook around the protagonist's wrist. "July 29, a stab wound you got them to record as a burst appendix."

"It was a burst appendix." The protagonist jerked away, wrapping their arms tightly around themselves. "And I didn't break my arm again, it was a complication."

Their partner fell silent. The protagonist dropped their eyes, face burning. In the sudden quiet, the hero's tinny laugh echoed from the broken television.

The villain swore and sat down on the couch. As an afterthought, they threw the paperweight off the coffee table. It smacked into the television off button with pinpoint precision.

"I should've known this was too good to be true," the protagonist said. Now the tears were coming - overflowing, to add bloodshot eyes to that red flush. Real ugly crying, the protagonist was sure, but that hardly mattered now. "Now you're gonna kill me-"

"No!" the villain snapped, jerking their head up. "I would never hurt you! You're my... um."

"I'm your what?" The protagonist wiped their nose on their sleeve and stood. "You clearly have no idea who I am if you thought I somehow had time for a crime-fighting alter ego!"

"Hey!" Their partner stood too. "You didn't know who I was."

The protagonist picked up their mug of pencils and threw it. Not hard, just to the ground, but partner had the right idea. It felt good. "Of course I knew!" they screamed. "You can't date someone six months and not notice when they disappear mysteriously on a regular basis!"

The villain blinked. "No," they said, but with uncertainty in their eyes. "You're a fundamentally decent person - that was part of the profile. You wouldn't date me."

"Well, I disagree with your methods but think you have some valid points," the protagonist sniffed. "I figured we'd talk about it when you were ready to tell me, your completely normal civilian partner. I didn't think you thought I was some fucking goody two shoes narc!"

The villain - their partner - was staring. Tilted their head the other way. Eyes bright and over-focused in that x-ray look they had. "Well," their partner said, in that deep voice that always sent shivers down the protagonist's spine. "Looks like I was wrong about who had the surprise for whom."

"Stop it," the protagonist said in a hitched voice. They turned away, back to their stupid spreadsheet blurry through tears. "You're just being mean now. You didn't want me, you wanted-"

"To trap [hero], I was thinking I’d outsmarted myself there for a while. But I fought [hero] today and I felt... nothing." The chair spun back around. The villain caught the protagonist's chin in their hand, studying them with a thoughtful look they got when they were ready to take the protagonist apart. "Looks like I trapped something else instead."

The protagonist slapped the villain's hand away. Their breath suddenly felt compressed in their lungs, like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. "Don't you dare. I'm not a consolation prize."

"Definitely not. A flexible moral code, a gale force personality, an absolutely slamming body," the villain mused. They straddled the protagonist, the springs of cheap desk chair squeaking in protest at the weight settling precariously over the protagonist’s hips. "This feels - how did you put it - too good to be true? Clearly further investigation is warranted. If...” The villain cleared their throat. For the first time since the protagonist had met them, they actually looked just a tad shy. “...if you want.”

The protagonist swallowed. But there was no question. There never had been. “You owe me,” they said with a jut of their chin, “a conversation, and some very fancy take-out.”

The villain grinned and pulled out their phone to order.

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

season of the witch - j. miller

a/n: first joel fic! got super into this one, and it's super long. uhhhh hope you enjoy and happy october! also want to give a huge shoutout to @luveline for her au writing and her luna lovegood!reader which was a huge inspiration to this fic. love you jade!! warnings: spooky themes, kissing, mentions of yearning, don't think too deeply about the dialogue sometimes i kind of hate this ok, ellie and reader being best friends, dana struggling, like kind of horror stuff, some angst, burns, mentions of murder word count: 5.1k summary: you've lived in the small town of everbrook for a while now, and you thought nothing could shock you anymore. you're wrong. paring: monsterhunter!joel x witch!reader now playing: season of the witch - donavan "you've got to pick up every stich/oh no, must be the season of the witch"

Ever since you moved to Everbrook, you could tell everyone around you thought of you as odd. You were twenty-two, what were you doing living in a small old cabin outside of town? Didn’t you want to go to parties, do drugs, whatever it was that kids did these days?

Maybe that’s why you loved Everbrook, it felt like time had stood still even now, years after you had visited as a small child. There was something charming about it, as if you had stepped into a fairytale. Only fairytales had less gossip than Everbrook did.

You had frequented Everbrook every Halloween as a kid. Your grandmother had lived in your cabin once, and much like you, she had a house and a mind full of secrets and spells. Your grandfather died before you were born, and that was when your grandmother hauled all her things to buy this cozy nook of Everbrook.

And every Halloween, she would whisk you and your siblings away to celebrate. The town loved Halloween and was known for its fairs and parades. And it’s dark corners.

To tourists, just like you were as a kid, whispers of vampires, ghosts and witches were just silly ways to get them to buy merchandise.

But your grandmother swore by these stories, telling you to be careful of how you spoke ill of the supernatural. And it was only on your fourteenth birthday did you truly find out why.

You could never describe it, why your grandmother showed up on the dark and stormy night that was the eve of your birthday. It was like she knew something was going on, something bigger than just turning fourteen.

When you woke up the next morning, you couldn’t control anything. Things flew off your shelves before you could fully grab them, candles lit with nothing but a gentle blow of wind from your mouth, and when you went to school that day, an infamous bully had decided to pick on you the wrong day. You just glared at her, telling her to “eat frogs.”

As the first frog hopped out of her mouth, you stood horrified. Then the next one came. And the next one.

You didn’t stop running until you got home, where your grandmother sat, swirling her spoon in her cup of tea. Her hand didn’t touch the spoon. She told you that day of the truth. That every other generation, a child is chosen to become a witch in your family. Your father missed it. And she told you the story of your grandfather, a monster hunter sent to kill her. But something had happened on that mission, something no one could explain. They had fallen in love.

And for years, your grandfather was able to tell the entire hunting community that she was off limits. When he died, he told her to move to Everbrook.

“Why Everbrook?” You had asked, and she looked at you, with this mischievous smile.

“Surely you understand, my dear.” When you said nothing, she chuckled. “There’s magic there. Magic that keeps hunters from going anywhere near the place. That’s why there are so many monsters there today. Witches, like me and you, we’re harder to find. But vampires, ghosts, demons. They’re all real. And a lot of them live on sacred land like Everbrook.” She explained. “That’s why we must go, and I must teach you how to control your gifts—”

You stood up, seemingly horrified by this idea. You weren’t some kind of freak; you were totally normal. You had no reason to go with her.

“I’m not going with you! I’m nothing like you!” You stormed off to your room, inclining her to drop the topic for now.

Time and time again, your grandmother would encourage you to let her teach you. Instead, you sheltered yourself away from the world, focusing on maintaining the abilities you had. They terrified you. You were just a kid, how could you be a scary witch, something that was made up to scare small children into behaving?

So, you never went to your grandma’s house again. And you didn’t celebrate Halloween, and for a long time, you pretended. Pretended you were normal, when you went to college, in your relationships.

But the past eventually caught up with you when your grandmother passed away. She had left you her house in Everbrook, as well as a small sum of money. She had written you a letter, begging you to move there, to read her old books and to embrace who you were.

It took you almost a year, but you did.

That was a long time ago, and yet, it was also yesterday.

You lived a peaceful life in Everbrook. You learned how to at least properly manage your magic, not yet totally mastering it. You planted a garden and made sure your vegetables and herbs were always taken care of.  

You made friends with various groups of monsters, your favorite being a ghost that haunted your favorite coffee shop in town. You live a good life, one devoid of people chasing you and trying to kill you for what you could do. You were simple the village crazy person, always on the outskirts of town in your own little world.

Sure, Everbrook was a small, quaint town. A little too small at times, but you loved your small crazy time. Nothing went exceptionally wrong here.

That is, until you meet a monster hunter named Joel.

• • •

Okay, you don’t know he’s a monster hunter when you meet him. He doesn’t know you’re a witch, so what did it matter?

He had moved to Everbrook with a kid, Ellie. You wondered why. Why a man in his late forties, early fifties, would adopt a teenager, and why they would move to this strange little town, away from everything.

You meet him in the bookstore. You, in between tending to your garden and learning spells, are determined to learn how to bake. You’re a good cook, but baking doesn’t come nearly as easily to you.

He’s shopping for comic books when you see him. You note everything about him, letting your head tilt to the side as you examine him. He wears this green and black flannel, appropriate for this time of year. His jeans are this dark blue, and his boots have leaves sticking to the bottom of them. The roots of his hair, and small pieces of his beard, are gray.

You bite your tongue.

You’re suddenly seventeen years old, with your first real crush on a guy. He was your older brother’s best friend. You suppose you’ve always had a thing for older guys, then. It was just a habit you’ve picked up on. Not that you weren’t of an appropriate age, but there was still a gap.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you it was rude to stare?” He asks, not looking up from the comic he’s inspecting. Your head turns, trying to tell if he’s talking to you or someone else. Besides the bored employee at the front counter, you’re the only two people in the store.

“How’d you know I was staring?” He chuckles, looking up to you for the first time, and he’s struck by your appearance. You’re wearing these dangly crystal earrings, with lavender flowers sticking out of your belt. You wear boots too, although they’re much less dirty than his, and sticking out of them are bunched up woolly socks. You’re holding a basket, with a loaf of bread inside, as well as a jar of jam and some chocolates. Your shirt is this deep purple, and the sleeves become nice and flowy after your elbows.

“Just had this feelin’, darling.” Your cheeks flush at the nickname.

“This feeling?” You mutter to yourself, not really asking for clarification. You take a few steps forward, flipping through the comic books. You don’t look at him. “Looking for anything specific?”

“Comics for my... for a friend. Turnin’ fourteen, figured I should get her something.” He tells you. You cringe at the age, remembering your horrible fourteenth birthday.

“You have a friend that’s a fourteen-year-old girl?” You question, a light teasing tone to your voice. He gives you this look, one of sarcasm and disbelief, without a touch of annoyance or anger.

“Will you just give me a suggestion, or are you going to keep asking questions?” He asks.

“Touche.” You say, before pulling out a cool sci-fi one that had been recommended to you. “Here, get her this one.” You hand it to him, and he examines it for a few minutes, seemingly trying to get a grip on what it is and what the plot was. But, he figures his friend will enjoy it, so he glances back at you and smiles.

“Thank you,” He pauses, asking you for your name without asking for it. You tell him, and he still has this small smile on his face. “I’m Joel. Joel Miller. Am I gonna be seein’ you around?” He asks. You shrug.

“I live on the outskirts of town, in this little cottage. I only come into town every so often.”

“The old brick one with the overgrown garden?” You frown. “I live in that area, in the cabin with the blue mailbox.”

“My garden is not overgrown, Mr. Miller, it’s just full!” You defend. But it perplexes you, no one except introverts and people who want to stay hidden live in that area. You wonder what Joel Miller could possibly be hiding but convince yourself for the moment that Joel Miller is just an introvert. After all, that’s what you tell people when they ask about you. He chuckles, shaking his head.

“Then I’ll see you around, Darlin’.” He hums, and nods to you, “Thanks for the help.” Then he goes to the counter to pay for the gift, and then he’s gone. You must have this perplexed look on your face, because the woman at the counter, Angela, just smirks as she rings you up.

“He’s handsome, huh?”

“What?”

“The guy you were talking to.”

“Well, I can’t say he’s not handsome.” Your face flushes. She laughs, although not maliciously. \

“Even fairies who live on the outskirts of town like you deserve love.”

“’m not a fairy...” You mumble as you make your way out of the shop, head turning down the sidewalks to see if you can spot Joel. When you can’t, you begin your long walk home, disappointment stabbing at you the whole time.

• • •

The next time you see Joel, you go to his house.

You don’t go to see Joel, but you made these homemade chocolate chip cookies, and they turned out a lot better than you expected. You want to share your creation with someone, so you head to the cabin with the blue mailbox in hopes of finding the young girl he lives with and giving her them as a birthday present.

You decide, on the off chance that you do see Joel, to wear this cute dark green jumper, with a black layered skirt, as well as your standard black boots. You put your hair up with a bandana and head over to your destination. It’s colder than it was the other day when you met him, but it’s nice.

In your basket, you keep the cookies, as well as a bundle of flowers from your garden. You knock on the door, and a young girl answers, her hair pulled back. She wears ripped jeans, an Adventure Time tee shirt and a long-sleeved black shirt under it.

“Uh... Can I help you?” She asks.

“Hi! Does Joel live here?” You’re sure he does, but you want to make sure just in case. The girl gets this smirk on her face, and you feel your ears go red.

“You’re the one from the bookstore.”

“…He told you about me?”

“Won’t shut up about you. I’m Ellie.” She smiles, and opens the door further, inviting you to come in. “He’s upstairs, I can grab him for you—”

“Uh, I’m actually here to see you.” She stops and looks at you. “He told me it was your birthday, and I decided to give you these.” You pull out the cookies and the flowers and hand them to her. She gasps at the sight of the cookies, delicately putting the flowers down before grabbing a cookie. She hums, looking to you.

“These are amazing! I haven’t had good cookies in so long, Joel isn’t much of a baker,”

“Neither am I, honestly. I’m still learning, but I figured it was your birthday and you deserve some.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” She hums, finishing her cookie.

From the top of the stairs, you hear a familiar voice yell out, “Ellie, who was at the door?”

“Come down here and find out, old man!” You laugh, but quickly stop laughing when he comes down the stairs. His hair is wet from the shower. You want to scream at how good he looks. He just stares at you, and neither of you says anything until you decide to go first.

“Uhm, I brought cookies.” You say, “I’m sorry for the intrusion.”

“No, no, you didn’t intrude... I just, wasn’t expecting you is all.” He says honestly. You begin to look around a bit at your surroundings and realize that Joel and Ellie have been living the bachelor life, and there aren’t many boxes. You wonder if they had any boxes to begin with, since it seems they’re close but there’s something off about the whole dynamic. You can’t put your finger on it, but you see that Ellie clearly isn’t here against her will.

But who are you to judge? You live a witch’s life, and that isn’t something you share on a first date.

“Well, help yourself to a cookie,”

“Hey! You said these were my birthday cookies!”

“Ellie!” Joel scolds, looking back at you. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“Sure, that would be nice.”  You smile, and he gets you one. “Would you like to go outside to talk?” You ask softly, and he just smiles and nods, grabbing a cookie before going out with you and your coffee. You lean against the porch railing, sipping your coffee. You wait for him to begin the conversation, suddenly quite nervous.

“So…How long have you lived in Everbrook?”

“A while. Are you gonna be here for a while?” You ask.

“I think so. I like it here, nice, and quiet.”

“Yeah, it’s nice.” You hum. “How’d you wind up with Ellie?”

“I uhm… I adopted her. Knew her folks.”

“Oh, I’m sorry...”

“’s alright...” He smiles gently and sips his coffee. “She liked that comic book you recommended, so thanks...”

“No problem. She’s a nice kid.” You smile.

“So, what’s your deal, Darlin’?”

“My deal?”

“You’re always dressed in these crazy outfits, and you have this dazed look about you. Like a little bunny.” Your face flushes, and you laugh.

“I just like living the simple life. So, what if I dress a little eccentrically? You dress like a lumberjack all the time, am I gonna see you chopping trees?” You tease, smiling gently. He laughs and it makes you all warm inside. Maybe he really likes you.

“No, no chopping trees for me.” he said gently, leaning against the banister.

“Well, what do you do for work?” He pauses and stares out into the forest ahead of him.

“I used to be a hunter.”

A chill runs down your spine, and you begin to think. It would make sense, his sudden showing up in Everbrook, his interest in you. But how does that connect back to Ellie? Why would he adopt a teenager in his line of work?

Why hasn’t he killed you, then?

“Yeah. My grandfather was a hunter. Until he met my grandmother, then he couldn’t do it anymore.”

Joel stays silent, sipping his coffee.

• • •

About a week goes by, and Joel shows up at your door. The top part of your door is swung open and you’re cooking dinner when he walks up the path through your garden. He calls your name into the open door, and you quickly appear. You grin at him, and then you notice the bouquet of wildflowers he holds in his hands.

“These are for you.” he says softly, and you take them, a large grin on your face.

“Thank you. They’re gorgeous.” You tell him.

“Pretty girl like you deserves pretty flowers.” He says, and your cheeks flush.

“Please, come in.” You tell him, opening the bottom of the Dutch door. He steps inside, and notices how warm it is. Not temperature wise, but there’s this feeling to it. Warm yellow lights, plants everywhere, the smell of dinner cooking on the stove. Somewhere from deeper in the house, music plays.

“What’re you cookin’?”

“Oh, I’m making chicken parm…Do you want to stay for dinner?” You’ve never asked anyone to stay for dinner, it’s a bizarre feeling.

“I’d like that.”

“Alright, good. Then set the table, and then we can eat.” You tell him. He hums and goes to do as he is told. Eventually, you manage to plate and serve dinner, sitting across from him. You watch him for his reaction to the food, and after a few bites he just hums lowly, and looks at you, pointing to the dish with his fork, not saying anything. You grin. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Thank you for having me for dinner. I came over to apologize, really.”

“Apologize?”

“I didn’t mean to tell you I was a hunter. I know how off putting that could be for someone, to hear I hunted animals.”

You can’t confirm your suspicions that he was hunting more than just animals. So you let it go, in favor for him not pushing you and finding out that you were a witch.

“It’s alright, Joel. Everyone has to make a living somehow, right?” You hum. He smiles and nods. “So, where’s Ellie tonight?”

“Eh, I wanted to give her some time to herself.”

“Good man.” You smile, continuing to eat your food.

“Where’d you happen to come upon this little cottage?” He asks you, tilting his head.

“I inherited it from my grandmother.” You told him, a soft smile on your face, as there always was when you thought of her. “She was a good woman. She passed away when I was twenty-one.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He tells you, and you can tell by this look in his eyes that there’s something more to his sentiment. That this is a man who has known grief well and is haunted by it. You wonder if he toured the country killing people like you before or after he became good friends with grief.

“It’s okay. I got to move here and live a good life.” You confess, and this makes him smile again. Then, you can’t help but ask. “Why’d you move to Everbrook, Joel?” He tenses at your questions. You can tell he’s contemplating what to tell you. You know whatever he tells you will only be a half truth no matter what.

“Ellie got into some trouble where I used to live. Figured a place like this would be good for her. Safe.” You can tell it’s not a lie, but you aren’t satisfied with it. That’s when you realize you have to know. You do know that all hunters have the same tattoo, right above their inner elbow on their biceps. It’s always a bow and arrow, with the hunter’s initials incorporated into the arrow. You also know the tattoo is protected by some sort of seal that burns most creatures to the touch. You have to know. So, with a wave of your hand, subtly, the glass of wine Joel drinks from spills all over his flannel, and he huffs.

“Oh my god, here,” You start handing him napkins as he attempts to clean up the mess. He glances up at you, and his eyes have this look about them. Like he knows you were the reason it spilt. Then, he starts to unbutton and pull off his flannel before he suddenly remembers that you would see his Hunter’s mark. You realize he knows your plan and stand, going over to him and dabbing his flannel with your napkin.

“C’mon Joel, take the flannel off.” You sigh, and he says nothing. He slowly begins to pull off the flannel, but before you can really look for a tattoo, his hands are on your waist, pulling you between his legs.

He leans up and kisses you before you can see the tattoo. You put your hands on his cheeks and kiss back, bringing yourself closer to him. He hums into the kiss, standing up and walking, so that you’re up against your counter tops.

His hands are roaming your sides, and you groan softly into the kiss. The desperation you’ve had since you met him, it all comes to a head. Your hands first go to his hair, where they play with his hair, including the grays that threaten to push you over the edge.

Despite your suspicions that he wants to kill you, you want him desperately. You groan as he bites your lip, tugging it a bit, and you just moan. Your hand runs down his arm, because just for a moment, you forget the context of the kiss.

You pull away when your hand starts to burn, letting out a yell.

He looks terrified that you’ve found him out. Tears prick your eyes.

“I knew it..” You whisper softly, turning to run your hand under cold water. Joel’s tattoo glows, as it always did when anything supernatural touched it. “I think you should go.”

“Darlin’, I—”

“Go, Joel! I don’t want you here, just fucking kill me when I’m walking home from the market! Don’t kiss me like you want me when you’re here to kill me!” You snap, tears running down your face. He doesn’t say anything after that. He steps forward and kisses your shoulder gently.

He turns and leaves, and even though you tell him to leave, you turn back hoping to see him.

The worst part is that nothing makes sense anymore. He’s stronger than you. If he wanted to kill you, he could have. And how does Ellie fit into the situation, why would he move to a magical town with a teenage girl?

You’re frustrated, and your hand is burning. You cry some more as you attempt to clean the spilt wine, frustrated that it stains the rug that the table stands on. You were such an idiot, why would you let him kiss you? Why would you kick him out after?

You decide a cup of tea will help clear your mind, but you don’t stop crying all night.

• • •

The full moon looks beautiful tonight. You’ve charged your crystals and have done your monthly rituals to enable a prosperous month ahead. So, at around midnight, you go for a walk through the woods. Even though you know how dangerous it is. The woods, on nights like tonight, are full of werewolves. But most of them live in their own woods across town, so you don’t expect to have any problems.

As you’re walking, you’re thinking about Joel. You can’t help it, your kiss has you yearning for more, and you’re just desperate for him. You’re too deep in your thoughts to hear footsteps behind you, until someone grabs your arm and you’re pulled behind a tree.

And when you see Joel, you’re even more mad at him.

“What’re you doin’ here?!” He whisper-yells, and you glare.

“What are you doing here?! I’m allowed to go for walks whenever I want, you aren’t the boss of me!”

“Always so damn in your own mind, could you consider for a moment that I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay?!”

“You’re here to kill me!”

“I’m here to make sure Ellie doesn’t kill anyone or get herself killed!”

You stop.

“What...?” That’s when you hear it, a howl. It sends a shiver down your spine. And that’s when it all clicks. Joel isn’t hunting you; he isn’t here to kill you. Ellie isn’t a kid he adopted from a friend, she’s someone he’s assigned to protect. He used to hunt, but not anymore. “She’s a werewolf.” You look at him.

“And you’re a witch, are we all caught up now?”

“How’d you know?’

“Before the mark burnt you and you spilled my wine? I just knew. I hunted people for years, but you witches, you always have these cabins in the woods, and you’re always baking, and you always have flowers. It’s like y’all are one big stereotype—” He’s cut off by your lips on his, and his hands are on your hips again, pushing you against a nearby tree. You hum before he pulls away, starting to kiss down your neck.

“Joel...” You say softly, your hands in his hair.

“I’ve got you, sweet thing...” He mutters, biting down on your neck, leaving a mark.

Ellie howls again, closer now. It snaps you both out of your trance and you look to each other. He grabs your hand, and you make your way through the woods, back to your cabin. He’ll make sure you get home safe, and then he’ll continue to look after Ellie. But he hears it before you—Panting, pattering steps behind you.

“Run!” He tells you and you both take off. Twigs scrape the bottoms of your legs and your arms as you run, never letting go of Joel’s hand. Your skirt catches on one of these branches and you topple over, letting go of Joel’s hand. Before he can reach you, Ellie is on top of you—She’s smaller than other werewolves you’ve encountered but the weight of her fur is too much. She has you caged in, and she has this snarl on her face.

Then, the strangest thing happens. She starts to sniff your skin, as if trying to figure out who you are.

“It’s me, Ellie. It’s just me, ‘m not gonna hurt you, honey.” You tell her. And it’s as if a lightbulb switches inside of her head, and suddenly she’s licking your face, happy you’re here. You groan at the slober, and gently push her head away from you.

She backs off, letting you get up. You kneel back down to scratch her head.

“Why were we running if we knew she wouldn’t kill me?” You ask.

“Didn’t know that. She doesn’t attack me, but she’s attacked others.” He tells you. You hum, picking up a stick and waving it in front of her face, before throwing it as far as you can. She runs off to get the stick. It makes you laugh.

You stand fully now, glancing back to Joel.

“So…”

“I gotta finish looking after her. She’s my mission now.” You nod, stepping closer to him.

“Well..” You start, your hands on his shoulders. “You could at least kiss me again.” He grins and leans down, kissing you softly before pulling away.

 “Like that?”

“Hmm, I was thinking something with a little more passion...” You shrug. “It was okay, I guess.” You tease, and he smiles, then brings you in for a longer, deeper kiss.

You spend all night with Joel, looking after Ellie and kissing until dawn. When the morning comes, you go out in search of Ellie on your own, a blanket and some pajamas in hand. Joel’s searching the other way. You find her, cold and alone, huddled up by herself. You frown.

You crouch beside her and wrap the blanket around her, frowning softly.

“Sorry I licked you.” She says softly. You recognize the tone of her voice. Her shame in who she is. You empathize with it, remembering how horrible it was to be fourteen. You smile and hand her the clothes.

“Don’t worry about it.” You turn so she can get dressed, but the blanket remains wrapped around her shoulders. You realize she doesn’t have shoes on. You frown and pull off your boots, kneeling in front of her. You gently put your socks on her feet, and then your boots. You lace them up, and make sure they’re nice and tight. “There. Nice and warm.”

You glance back up to her, and you see tears running down her face. You frown and bring a hand to cup her cheek. She doesn’t have to say anything, you know she feels ashamed and embarrassed of her newfound abilities.

“Oh, honey… You don’t have to apologize. I was bitter and angry when I became a witch, and it destroyed me. You come from a very long line of werewolves, and—”

“I’m the first one. I got bit six months ago.” You frown. That’s why this wasn’t Joel’s first time watching over her on a full moon. And you’ve heard of werewolves biting kids before they’re fourteen and starting a new line of the creature.

“Then I’ll teach you. How to live this life, how to be happy in your own skin. It won’t be easier, but embracing who you are is so much easier than ignoring it. I’ll be here every step of the way, and so will Joel. We’re not gonna leave you to deal with this on your own.” You tell her, and when you stand up finally, she hugs you tightly. You smile to yourself and hug back.

“You two okay?” Joel asks when he finally finds you two. Ellie wipes her tears and smiles at him.

“Yeah, let’s go home. I’m sick of these woods, and I want breakfast!” she declares. You laugh, rubbing her back and beginning your walk to their cabin.

This is it, you decide. This man and this girl, they’re it for you. They are your happy ending, your family. Sure, it’s not the most conventional family, what, with a werewolf, a witch, and a monster hunter. But it’s yours, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t thrilled to have them.

You have spent so many years longing for someone to see who you are and love you despite your freakish abilities. But all along, you were meant to be around freaks who are just like you. You are designed to be each other’s family, and you were always destined for the fate of your grandmother—To fall in love with a monster hunter and live a quiet life in Everbrook as you perfect your spells.

Joel looks back at you for a moment with this perplexed look on his face.

“Darlin’, where the hell are your shoes?”

[lovesickheize]

in front of the river ⊹ ࣪. ｡༻

lee juyeon (the boyz) x gn!reader angst

they met in front of the river.

he stayed there forever.

⊱ ─────────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ───────── ⊰

wc: 1110

tw: uhhhh all my fics are kind of triggering, but i dont think this is as bad as the other two,, the only thing that could be considered triggering is the mention of a suicide, but there aren't any details about it.

he was sitting on your bench.

your. bench.

it wasn't yours, but it was yours. the place you visited whenever life didnt treat you well. the past few months had been really hard for you, every day you sank deeper into the anxiety that had been torturing you. so your visits to the bench in front of the river were getting more and more frequent. noone really sat there, which is pretty normal considering it was a single bench in the middle of nowhere in front of old houses and apartments.

so why was he there?

that's what you thought to yourself, staring at the man that was sitting on your bench.

"take a picture, it will last longer." his deep and raspy voice echoed between the not so well-maintained buildings.

"you're sitting on my bench." you replied, refusing to reply with sarcasm. you were too invested in your misery to have energy for that.

he didn't reply. he didn't even turn to look at who had been staring at him. you weighted your options and decided against letting him have his way. he was the intruder after all, that bench was your home in a way.

so you sat next to him, your eyes admiring the reflection of the moon and the stars on the water. "why are you here?" he asked you.

you turned your head to his direction, a confused look on your face. "i come here often." you answered, not wanting to start a conversation, just trying to take in as much of the landscape in front of you as possible. "i know. i've seen you. why do you come here so often?"

it was getting serious. you turned your whole body towards him, hugging your knees that were between you and the boy. "it feels safe. silent and isolated, a great place for bad days." you told him. "why are you here, though?"

"i'm always here." he replied, lifting his arm and pointing at a rooftop with his finger. "i go there on bad days. and i can see you coming here and sitting for hours on this bench with your headphones on and a coke zero next to you. it felt kind of comforting to have someone around that seems like they are on the same page as me. so i decided to come here and wait for you. ask you what's wrong."

your painted with confusion face softened up, after hearing the boy talk. he had a really beautiful voice. "i'm juyeon." he murmured.

"y/n." you whispered back.

"can you take me there?" you continued, your eyes on his. he stood up, taking your hand in his and intertwining his fingers with yours. it didn't feel weird. it made you feel,, safe?

you followed him, your jacket and coke on your other hand. you noticed there were no stairs to actually get on the rooftop and paused. "wait, how do we get there?". "just trust me." the boy you now knew was named juyeon told you.

he unlocked the door of the building and showed you the stairs, chuckling at your weirded out face. "hey don't judge me, i'm not the person who decided to hide the key under the doormat!". he said, while placing the key where he found it.

you laughed at his words. his hand made its way to your mouth in seconds, "shhhh, what if they hear us?". you nodded and he removed his hand from your face. he ran to the stairs, dragging you with him and suddenly you found yourself on the rooftop.

the black haired boy walked to the other side of the rooftop, jumping above the short walls that separated the buildings. he helped you get over them and the two of you found the perfect spot on the next building's rooftop. he took of his jacket and put it on the concrete, patting it for you to sit on.

"put yours on, it's going to get cold soon." he whispered and looked at the river, avoiding eye contact with you. you smiled at how thoughtful he seemed, even though he was practically a stranger. you did as told, sitting on the jacket that was carefully placed on the floor with your back resting on a concrete cube that was probably someone's attic.

juyeon turned around and sat next to you, his eyes never meeting yours. "it's beautiful." you said, your voice so low that it almost seemed broken. a couple of tears ran down your cheek, your tiny whine audible in the complete silence for the the boy next to you to hear it.

juyeon looked at the tears escaping your eyes, his hands going on your face to dry them before he realised it. you looked at him completely taken aback, melting into the boy's touch, as you felt his hands cupping your face and his attention being fully on your tears. now it was your turn to look into his eyes, trying to read his soul. unconsciously you leaned in, until your lips were on his. he didn't pull back, giving in the subtle movement of your lips.

the kiss was slow and passionate. something about kissing the black haired boy on a rooftop under the stars made you feel less dead inside.

the kiss was followed by subtle touches, both of you exploring each other's bodies under the dim light of the moon.

you don't remember how you fell asleep, but you woke up just when the sun was noticeable but not enough to indicate it's the next day. juyeon wasn't there, but his jacket was. you got up and looked around, not seeing any trace of him around.

a sudden feeling of sadness took over your body. you removed your own jacket and put on his black one, leaving yours on that spot. maybe him finding it would give him a reason to come meet you again and take his back.

you never saw juyeon again. it was like he stole your firsts and left you, but it didn't really feel like he left you. even though you knew him for a day -or like,, a night- it felt like you knew him for years.

you still visited your bench quite often, since life hadn't gotten any better. sometimes you even went on his rooftop, always getting a very deep feeling in your whole body that you couldn't explain.

as you were walking down the one-way street to reach your bench a couple days later, you caught a sentence of the radio show playing in a car that was waiting for the traffic light to turn green.

"the black haired boy that was found dead in the river remains unident–"

[yourgoodbuck]

69 72 followers writing piece

CW For uhhhh dubcon/noncon, size kink, inconsistent size kink and pregnancy mentions. I think that’s everything? Idk those are the big ones

“Let me go!”

Given that both of her arms fit into one of his hands, she was unable to free herself. He looked unimpressed.

“You’re not going anywhere, human. You are my prize, and I intend to make good use of you.” He lifted her up, examining her while she continued to struggle in the air. “Hmm…a little thin, but we can fix that.”

She took the opportunity to spit on him. “Go to hell.”

With his free hand, he wiped his face clean and sighed. “I was going to be gentle. I was willing to go slow with you, let you become accommodated to how your new life was going to be. Evidently I’m going to have to be a little bit stricter with you.”

He let go of her, letting her fall to the floor. She grunted as she fell to her hands and knees on the cool marble floor in front of his throne.

“Ow.”

“Forgive me if my sympathies seem lacking.”

He snapped his fingers. Instantly she felt something wrap itself around her neck and settle there. 

She reached up to her neck, feeling around. “What did you do?”

“It’s a binding charm. In your case, it looks like a collar. It helps remind the others who you belong to. And, in certain cases, it allows me to do this.” He slowly squeezed his hand around the air.

The pressure on her throat tightened and she gasped for air, struggling in vain to pull it off. “Help—please—”

He let her wheeze and gasp for a few more seconds before relaxing his hold. She coughed several times, doing her best to catch her breath.

“Surely I don’t need to place more restrictions on you.” He raised an eyebrow. “Unless you’d like me to, of course.”

She slowly shook her head.

“Good girl.” He beckoned her over with his hand. With great and obvious trepidation, she approached his throne.

“Kneel.”

She did so, her head bowed.

He leaned forward, putting one large hand under her chin and forcing her face up. “Look at me.”

Her eyes flicked toward his face, and his eyes locked with hers.

“You are mine, now and always. You will always be mine, and as mine, I am to do with you whatever I want. Now,” he said, his free hand shifting and vanishing his clothes, “stand up, open that smart mouth of yours, and show me that you understand.”

She swallowed hard, her eyes darting down to look between his legs, her eyes widening at the rapidly hardening cock in front of her as she stood. “It—it’s too big,” she stammered. “I’ll break my jaw.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. She thought he might choke her again and tensed up, but instead she felt a warmth along her jawline and throat.

“I forget how fragile you humans are sometimes. Now then, if there are no more objections.” He let go of her chin and gestured to his cock.

She nodded, slowly leaning forward and pressing her tongue against the head, dragging it over and around. He was cool to the touch and she felt a shiver run down her spine as she continued to lick.

He groaned softly, one giant hand resting in her hair. “Good pet, just like that,” he murmured.

She thought about telling him to piss off with the ‘pet’ comment, then decided against it. Instead she opened her mouth—far more than what she thought she was capable of, in all honesty—and took the head in her mouth, gently sucking.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his grip on her head tightening. “Need more…”

Without any more of a warning than that, he pushed her head down deeper. She gagged, tears springing to her eyes and rolling down her cheeks.

“Mm, now that is a wonderful look on you,” he said between heavy breaths. Being that her mouth and back of her throat were full of his cock, she was unable to respond, save for a desperate whine.

“Oh, right, you need to breathe, don’t you?” He held her there for a couple moments longer before allowing her to come up.

She coughed violently, spit and drool connecting her lips to his dick. “I can’t—I can’t take it all. It’s still too big.”

“How is that my problem?” he scoffed. “And I don’t remember saying that you were allowed to talk.”

Once more he began to squeeze the air and her eyes widened as she scrambled for the collar. Gasps and whimpers came from her, each quieter than the last as her air supply ran out. Just when she thought she was going to black out, the pressure lifted and she fell forward on her hands between his legs, wheezing.

He sighed, and she felt another surge of warmth flush against her throat. “Another complaint out of you and I promise that you won’t be speaking for quite some time. Do I make myself clear?”

She nodded, a hand reaching for his cock but stopping short.

He gestured at her with one hand, the other going to rest in her hair again. “Get on with it. I’ll tell you if I need you to stop.”

His message received, she grasped his cock in her hand, leaning forward to take the tip into her mouth and sucking.

“Eyes up here, darling,” he said, his massive thumb stroking her cheek. “I want to see those beautiful blue eyes water when you’re taking in all of me.”

She groaned, reluctantly keeping her eyes open and looking upward.

He smirked down at her. “Good girl. See, I knew you could be obedient. You like pleasing me, don’t you? That’s right, no shame in admitting it.”

She tried to shake her head; in response, he pushed her down further, causing her to gag and choke around his cock.

“Oh, were you saying something?” He snickered, firmly holding her in place. “Relax your throat or we’re going to be here all day. Not that I would mind, but I did have other plans. There, just like that. You catch on quick.”

She moaned, unable to do much else. His cock was partially sheathed in her throat, but even through the tears she could see that there were still several inches to go.

He hummed thoughtfully, looking down at her. “You really do look quite nice like this. Maybe I’ll keep you here, chained to my cock in such a way that you have to have me inside of your throat at all times.”

A whimper escaped, along with a thin line of drool.

“Oh? Do you like the sound of that, pet?” He ruffled her hair. “Well, I’d still like to try out your other holes before making such a big decision, but I promise to take your opinion into account.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks and he slowly moved his hips back and forth, each thrust seeming to go deeper than the one before it. “Mmh, fuck, so warm and tight,” he groaned, finally pulling her down to the base of his cock, her nose flush against his skin.

“Fuck…such a good look for my cock sleeve,” he said between heavy breaths. He held her there for several agonizing seconds, finally releasing her when the red on her cheeks began to fade. He let her slide up almost all the way, keeping the tip between her lips.

She gasped, gulping down air.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, it wasn't that bad. Again.”

The hand on the back of her head began to push, and she put up no resistance when his cock pressed against the entrance to her throat.

“What a pretty slut,” he said with a chuckle, pushing her head down further. “So much for your earlier bravado.”

She glared at him and growled, the muscles of her throat rippling around him and making him groan.

“Fuck,” was all he managed to get out before thrusting his hips into her face. “That's right, make all the noises you want. No one's going to rescue you.”

With a sudden burst of bravery, she pulled a Hail Mary: she tried to bite him.

Tried, because the instant the pressure increased he yanked her up by her hair, making her cry out in pain.

“That's not very nice, pet.” He stroked her cheek with his free hand, her eyes wide with fear. “I'm afraid that means I'm not going to be nice, either.”

Still holding her, he moved his other hand from her cheek to between her legs. With a quick hand movement, her clothes vanished, reappearing in a pile on the floor. He let out a pleased hum as he looked her over.

“Like a little doll.” He pressed his palm to her groin and smirked. “I had a feeling you were enjoying this as well.”

He began to rub his open hand against her skin, causing her to squeak when he brushed against her clit.

“Oh, right.” He lowered her to the ground, then moved his hand down around her waist and lifted her up again.

“Pretty doll,” he crooned, resuming his rubbing of her outer lips and clit. Her face was screwed up as she tried to remain quiet, her hips shaking.

“Now, now, no holding back. I want to hear every wonderful noise.” The hand between her legs moved to squish her cheeks. “My patience is wearing thin, darling. I'd rather not make you submit by force.”

His hand left her face, and she responded with a low whine, weakly kicking her feet.

“Goodness, you are fussy.” He lifted her so she was poised over his lap, teasing his other hand between her legs to pry them apart. “That’s it, let me see how wet you are.”

The answer was “very,” with slick visible on her inner thighs. All she could do was moan at his cool touch.

Without any warning, he pushed a finger inside of her. She cried out, tilting her head back as her hips jerked.

“So warm,” he marveled. “And I thought your mouth felt heavenly.”

He began to slowly piston his finger in and out, drawing out groans and whimpers. When those seemed to be dying down, he added a second finger, curling them upward. Her noises returned in full force, her breathing becoming ragged.

“That’s it, let it all out. Let everyone know whose pet you are.” His fingers worked faster. “Call me your King.”

She gasped, unable to move much more than her hips in response to him. “My King, my King.” It had an almost musical quality to it.

“Yes, cum for your King,” he said, shifting his hand so his thumb could rub against her clit while still fingering her.

That was what undid her. With a cry (possibly of pain, more likely of overwhelm) she tensed up, her whole body shuddering as it rode out the orgasm he wrought from her, gently coaxing her walls to loosen for him.

At last she went limp, held up only by him. He slowed his fingers but did not stop them just yet. “Mm, still so tight, and gods, so warm,” he breathed, his cool breath along her skin making her shiver.

Her eyes half-opened, and to her (admittedly quiet) alarm, she could see that his cock was still at attention. In fact…did it get even bigger?

He followed her gaze and grinned. “Excited, are we? I won’t keep you waiting, pet.” He pulled out his fingers, eliciting a quiet groan from her.

“Patience, patience. I intend to keep you around for a very long time; I don’t want to go ahead and break you right now.” He positioned her over his cock, one hand holding out one leg to the side, the other still holding her by the waist.

He rubbed the head of his cock against her outer pussy lips, coating it in her cum. “Fuck,” he muttered, and after a little more rubbing, began to press against her entrance.

She moaned, weakly shaking her head. “It’s too big,” she pleaded.

“Nonsense. I believed it for your throat, but I’m going to make you take all of me,” he said with a grunt, pushing one last time and letting out a sigh as the head caught, while she barely held back a scream.

“Ooh, yes, this is going to be a tight fit. Not to worry, we’ve got plenty of time to mold you.” He smiled and pulled her down by her leg and waist. Immediately she felt her walls spreading, widening for his cock and she let out a choked-back sob.

“There we go,” he crooned, “you’re being such a good sport about this. Just relax, I’m doing all the work.” He continued to agonizingly pull her down bit by bit. Somehow, her cervix didn’t stop him; she could feel him moving past her walls and almost passed out from everything she was feeling.

At long last, he let go of her leg, which swung back to hang by its twin, both now dangling there. “See?” he said, panting softly. “Go ahead and look.”

Against her better judgment, she opened her eyes. Her womb was distended, her flesh leaving little to the imagination with his cock pulsing inside of her.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he told her, rubbing a thumb over the shape of his member. “I can’t wait to fill you with my seed.”

A look of panic crossed her face. “What — no, you can’t —”

He squeezed her midsection, causing her to cry out. “I can do whatever I’d like with my new toy. And what I’d like is to watch her belly swell from how I fill her needy womb and cunt.”

She whimpered, her legs trembling. This did not go unnoticed.

“Oh? You must really like the sound of that; I can feel your walls twitching.” Still holding her by her waist, he began to move her up and down, unabashedly moaning and thrusting his hips up into her on occasion.

“Mm, it’s like you were made for me,” he panted between heavy breaths. “I might just wear you around the palace, keep you strapped around my cock all day. Would you like that, pet? To be on display for everyone as my little whore?”

In response she whined loudly, her hips jerking violently. 

He grinned down at her. “Looks like you’re learning to be honest with yourself.”

He continued to slide her up and down his cock, suddenly speeding up with a groan. “Mm, fuck, going to fill you up —”

He slammed her down to the base with a guttural cry. His cock began to swell and pulse, and she was helpless to stop him as he filled her with his cum. This triggered her own orgasm, and she writhed as it overcame her, her head becoming light headed to the point of momentarily passing out.

She wasn’t sure how long she was out, but his cock was still hard inside of her when she came to.

He rubbed her swollen stomach, a reminder of what had just happened, leaving her whimpering in protest. “You did so well,” he murmured. “I’m going to enjoy watching you grow over the next year. That is, assuming this takes on the first try. It might be a while before you actually get pregnant.”

He rolled his hips, grinding against her. “In fact, who knows if you can carry my child? It’d be a shame if you couldn’t, but I’d still get plenty of use out of you.” He chuckled, pausing. “I know for a fact that I have an Asgardian ally who’d be more than happy to take part in your…gifts.”

A strangled sort of noise came from her as she felt her clit twitch and her walls begin to ache. “P-please, no —”

“It’s a little late for you to remember your manners,” he chided her, shaking his head. “You’re going to have to convince me as to why I shouldn’t share you among others.”

He shifted his position so she was held down against him by gravity instead of his hand. “Go on. Speak, pet.”

Her cheeks were flushed with shame and arousal. “M-my King,” and she had to pause to catch her breath as her legs clenched up, “what if, what if someone doesn’t want to give me back?”

He scoffed. “My word is law in this land. Besides…I might be amenable to some sort of schedule, or at the very least, getting the opportunity to watch them fuck you.”

Her breath caught in her throat and he smirked. “Gods, you are sensitive. Shall I make you cum by just telling you what I want to do to you?”

She weakly shook her head. “Can’t, can’t take another,” she pleaded. “P-please, no more. I can’t hold any more of you inside of me.”

“I suppose that’s true,” he mused. “And as I said earlier, I do need to get other things done today. Very well.”

He began to slowly pull her up, pausing at the halfway mark. “Although…it’s such a shame to leave your holes empty. Luckily, I have a solution.”

He pulled her up the rest of the way, and as soon as the tip of his cock pulled out, she felt something rush in to take its place, some sort of invisible presence that she could feel holding her open.

“Mine,” he murmured, moving so he could lay her against his chest. “Rest, my pet. You’re going to need it.”

[wonu-won]

Note: This is my first time writing a fan-fic so please don't judge me. You can give me your feedbacks <3 I hope you enjoy.

Word count: 610 (ik it's short. I'll post a part 2 if it gets good reviews)

Summary: What happens when you are going back from work on a Monday evening and suddenly see a sole person drenched in rain weeping at the sidewalk.

It was a dreary Monday in Seoul with rain pouring down relentlessly. Despite of low traffic, I had to drive slowly. I had to catch up on so many things at work today. Exhaustion weighed down on me. I was already dreaming about hitting the couch and snoring for the next 6 hours. As I swerved to the left, I saw a tall guy sitting alone on a bench in the sidewalk with a bouquet of carnations with rain pouring down on him with no mercy. Isn't he cold? I questioned. Maybe he broke up with his girlfriend. Despite my own problems, I was genuinely concerned about his health. I should probably help him, I thought. 

I parked my car next to the sidewalk, and approached him with my umbrella and held it above his head. His tear-stained face looked up at mine. "Are you okay?" I asked him softly. He didn't answer but cried louder. "Let's get you inside the car. You'll catch a cold at this point. Will you let me do that at least?" I asked for his consent. He nodded his head slightly. I grabbed him by his arm, made him comfortable in the passenger seat, and gave him a bottle of water. I went back to my seat and turned on the heater. 

I let him calm down for a few minutes and turned towards him to ask him his destination. "If you're ok with it, shall I drop you off at your destination? I may sound creepy, but I have no bad intentions. I'm just trying to help you out." He looked at me for a few minutes to make sure I'm telling the truth and gave up at the end. "Thank you," he said with a broken voice. I looked at him. I didn't know what to say. I'm not quite good at comforting others, but I tried to say something meaningful. "You know, everything will fall into place once you've figured it out. You don't have to question your worth for it though. It's just how it's meant to be." I smiled. That's what my mom always tells me. Everything is meant to be. He stared at me for a few seconds and told me to start the car.

I inserted the keys and turned it on when he said, "Take me to the Seoul National Cemetery." I've never whipped my head so fast in my life that I could've broken my bone. Now I regret my actions. He stirs uncomfortably in his seat. I decided not to reply to it and just started the car and reversed it. 

Throughout the ride, he faced the window and stared at the buildings quietly. I started to have a small conversation. "Now that I've realized it, I didn't introduce myself properly. Hi. My name is Hwayoung." I smiled while looking at the cars in front of me. He kept staring at my face for a long time. "Uhhhh, what is your name? May I ask?" I asked awkwardly. "I would like to keep it personal," he told me.

I was quite disappointed, but I tried not to show it. Maybe he just needs his space. After all, I'm a stranger to him, I remind myself. Looking at him as a girl, he is handsome. He is handsome enough for girls to swoon over him. His upper body is bulked up, and he has broad shoulders. Sharp chin, fluffy hair, veiny hands, smooch lips, round glasses, and a deep glare. As simple as it is, he is every girl's dream guy. I was brought back from my dreamland when he told me to stop. 

I stop outside the cemetery. He pushed open the door and sped towards the large gate. It was still pouring, and I didn't want him to get drenched again. So, I ran behind him with the umbrella. He stopped and looked back at me. "Can you give me a few minutes? I'll be back. You don't have to follow me," he said. "But you'll get we-" "I'll manage," he interrupted me, and walked towards the nearest headstone and stood in front of it. I turned around to give him some privacy. 

I could hear him crying. It did kind of tug at my heart to hear him cry. "Mom, how are you? I had promised you that I'd visit your grave and bring you flowers on your birthdays. Today is your birthday, and I was going to break my promise. I was going to take my own life, mom. But then this girl came out of nowhere, so generously. She noticed me crying in front of our restaurant and offered to give me a ride. She told me that everything is meant to be, and she probably thinks I'm crazy because I can't stop crying," he snorted. " But, I can't stop crying because her name is Hwayoung. That's your name, mom. You saved me," he said while sobbing.

Fun fact:

1. Carnations have traditionally been the official flowers of Mother's Day for many years, with each colour having a different meaning. Pink carnations symbolise gratitude and love, while red signifies admiration.

2. The meaning Hwayoung is "a beautiful flower"

- Source: Google

I got inspired to write this story by reading a real life story in Pinterest. I've been searching for that pin from 2 days but I'm not able to find it. This part 1 is truly based on the pin I've read on Pinterest. From part 2, it'll be based on truly my imagination.

[slocumjoe]

If you were to rate the Fo4 companions from most to least favourite how would you rate them?

I can't list them in order, because I have too many feelings on them....and also, I love them all! It's just...there's such a Rollercoaster of quality of writing, of character concept, of VA performance, of actual attention and care given to the meat-and-potatoes aspects...

Like, I can say I have a favorite (Danse) and a least favorite (Piper) and a dude in the middle who I give not a crap about (Deacon), but I still like these characters??? They're fun! Its just, I like my idea of them more than what's actually there.

So, uhhhh

RORY TALKS ABOUT THE COMPANIONS 2 ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

this is basically a long-post of a bunch of mini-essays, so grab a snack or nice bev and get cozy

Cait, to me, is a prime example of "this character sounds better on paper". I've already complained about her three greatest flaws; being bloated, being mishandled, and being a very confused character. If I were to describe Cait, it would be that she's a troubled young woman who was traumatized all her life, but understands that it's effected her heavily and wants to work past it and better herself.

In game, she's...an Irish Girl. She talks about drinking and fucking and fighting. If not that, she's detailing her absolutely horrific life. It gives me tonal whiplash. I feel like they were too busy adding things on rather than fleshing her out. I mean, really...what is the significance of the Tough Irish Girl type in the wasteland, where everyone acts that way? Is Cait an example of your average wastelander, someone whos supposed to show the daily life in this world? Well...no, that can't be it, she's put away from others, an outsider who doesn't fit in whatever circumstances she finds herself in. She doesn't belong with raiders, she doesn't fit into the average civilian life. So, is she about ostracization and how even after being nuked, there still is a society to ostracize people? That is brought up in text, but that's not at all Cait's thing, that concept is with Hancock.

I travel with Cait to quickly get her affinity up to speedrun her "recovery" (see the Cait breakdown to learn my thoughts on That Fucking Chair) because I want her to get better...but I don't like traveling with her that much. It's not just that she often disagrees with my usual choices, she's just rather flat. I don't get the impression that the writers really considered her psychology, what she stood for, what someone should or could take away from her.

But I like her conceptually. There's a lot of fun and emotional catharsis to be had with a traumatized character like her, someone who has to navigate life after escaping her bad situations, and not knowing what to do with the survival instincts she had to cultivate, but no longer needs.

Codsworth is inoffensive to me, and I like sassy but polite characters. I find them refreshing in settings like Fallout. I had more fun imagining his lines as thinly-veiled bitching than sincerity, though. I think he's fine, just simple. Simple is best, sometimes. I wouldn't trust Beth to give the indentured servitude robot an even remotely palatable story, given how they handled the synths and their whole thing...

But Codsworth, I like having him around. He's the lemon water to the black coffee, sugary soda, whiskey, and occasional cups of tar. He's needed at a palette cleanser.

Curie should have been a main plot companion, argue with the wall. She's a Ms. Nanny who becomes a synth, which are functionally human beings. She has a lot of narrative potential, being an example and counterargument for many different things.

Unfortunately, she's kept mostly a secret, being the most hidden companion, and she's left as a simple French maid fantasy. I'm not even sure why they bothered to make her a doctor. It has nothing to do with how she's actually handled and presented. Curie's more often blushing than meaningfully interacting with the world. She talks to Amari, she becomes a synth, and the rest of her story is just her going KYAA~ at the SS. I wish they gave her some edge, some weirdness. I like my version where she's this slightly pretentious, condescending, incredibly old-seeming entity that clearly doesnt come from around here.

Danse...my boy. My boy. I adore him. You don't need me to explain why. And you don't need me to explain why his incomplete writing infuriates me.

I've said before he's very similar to Hancock, and since I have something else I want to discuss about with Johnny down in this, I'll use Danse's slot to discuss it, very quickly.

Danse and Hancock are remarkably similar people and characters, even there is parts that drift or parallel in their differences.

Substance dependency (Hancock does chems, Danse is a canonical alcoholic)

They both struggled to find their footing and place in the world, and hate the people they were in their act 1's (Hancock's takes place during his founding of Goodneighbor, Danse's after BB)

They're fiercely loyal and protective of 'their people', even if it can take a LOT for them to consider someone 'their people'

Both are suicidal and identity plays a huge part (Hancock pretends to be someone he isn't, Danse is desperate to be the person he thought he was this whole time/hates that he isn't who he thought he was)

Both of these characters are two sides of the same coin. It's just that Danse's upbringing led him to believe in authority and control being the best way to help and take care of the wasteland, Hancock's upbringing (filled with corrupt authority and control) led him to believe in an egalitarian, we-all-lift mindset where the people have the power, he's just the guy who people talk to about any issues. It's somewhat implied that Cutler was similar to Hancock, judging by Danse's few lines about Cutler.

So uuuhhh Todd where the fuck is the last 2 arcs for danse and last arc for hancock? todd? todd where the fu

As said above, Deacon is nothing to me. I like him. I don't care about him much. I think he's fun to play with, but the moment you start getting into his backstory/angst, I slide right the fuck off.

Okay, the Barb thing. Dead wife. Fucking boring story, done to death. At the point I met Deacon, I had already met Mac, Nick, knew of Longfellow and his deal. So it was like "JESUS they really dont know any other reason for a dude to be sad, do they." But the thing that keeps me from caring about Deacon is that no one can agree if Barb is real. If that actually happened.

...his backstory is supposed to inform his character. Why is Deacon doing this? Because of his backstory. If his backstory isn't real, we know nothing about Deacon, and he is, functionally, not a character. Why does Deacon lie if Barb didnt happen? Dunno. He just...does. Why is Deacon helping synths? Uhh...we needed an RR companion? Deacon's character rides or dies on Barb. If she's real, then the rest of him makes sense. She's the windex and towel to the cloudy glass house that is the rest of him. If she isn't, Deacon...doesn't matter, in any meaningful way. He's a guy in the RR who lies about everything, which means you can't care about him. Because there is nothing to care about, because it's all bullshit.

So, that's my thoughts on Deacon, in-canon. I don't know what his deal is or if his proposed deal is genuine, so I can't click with him. But in my own canon, Barb is real, so my Deacon ken-doll does appeal to me. But in Fallout 4, in text, I regard him the same as I do Tom Bombadil. To give you an idea of how flimsy Deacon is in text, a prevailing fan theory from around 2017-18 was that Deacon was Mrs. Rosa's son. Mrs. Rosa was a pre-war neighbor. Her son was a kid. The fact that Deacon is so weird and fluid and almost omniscient isn't a plus for me, it isn't a point of fascination. It's a puzzle that I know doesn't have a finished product, so I leave and go hang out with Danse, who can't speak if he isn't being absurdly blunt.

Gage is a character that deserved a better DLC. The more I think about Nuka World the more I kinda wish it was just Gage and the handmade rifle, instead the map...but that's about Nuka World. Gage himself could have easily been a swing and a miss and fall face-first into the dirt, but he's a surprisingly well-written character? There are layers of psychology with him. You can look at an action or opinion he has, and map it to something that happened to him. You can literally unravel why he does what he does, is who he is. His writers had a concept for him, and they worked backwards to understand why he would become that way.

What really sells him is his VA. Rolston put his whole pussy into that performance. Gage has so many lines that would be utter cringe if not full-assed. The "That vault suit makes your ass look great" line comes to mind...i've seen modded followers with similar lines, and jesus christ i want to pepper spray some of them. It helps that Gage has multiple faucets to his personality. It also helps that he is intentionally distinct from the other raiders, and occasionally doesn't associate with them, himself. It gives him standards and principles, which help give him shape and dimension. Good character. He isn't my favorite, that's Danse, but he's up there.

Hancock is such a waste of a character and it boggles me no one else seems to think so.

He starts on a bad note because his core reason for existing, is Beth wanted a historical figure reference. There's a reason he gives you a history lesson about John Hancock, it's so everyone knows exaclty what Johnny Ghoulie is a reference to. It's not even so much a reference, because it is a direct mimicking. I cannot stand the moments in 4 where something exists because the team learned a fun historical trivia fact, and wanted to pepper in that they did research. I've already bitched about their love of this with the Railroad at some point on this blog.

I genuinely wouldn't mind Hancock if he wasn't pulling so limp-dickedly. It's specifically the contrivance of explaining why this dude is called John Hancock, in John Hancock's clothing. It's okay if they pull from history and allude to it, But Hancock is just...some history stuff tacked on, with no real thought or care. The clothing, the name, the catchphrase. I feel like this is Disney's Hamilton on Ice.

But moving away from that...what is the point of Hancock?

Is his character about drug use and addiction? NOPE, only Cait's addiction is noteworthy. Okay...idenity issues, since he's larping? Not really. It could be, but that's not at all of interest to the story/writing itself. The Hancock thing is an aesthetic, not a trait. So, don't have that either. Is his character about leadership, in any capacity? Kinda, I guess. He briefly mentions insecurities and guilt about it a few times. But if I said "Hancock's story is about leadership", most people would raise an eyebrow and ask why. Not because it's...wrong, it's just not prominent enough to say that's his story, definitively.

So...what is the point of him? What should I take away from Hancock? Duty to the people? Preston does that, and does it better/more explicitly. Regret about past actions? Mac does that. Protecting the people from political corruption? Piper's thing (AND WE'LL GET TO FUCKING PIPER.) What is there to Hancock that isn't done by another companion? It isn't his depression because ALL these bitches be suicidal. What is unique to Hancock? Pretending to be someone else? Deacon. Drugs? Cait. Trying to figure out who you are, removed from the expections that come with having been someone else? Nick. Leadership, and the failures of it? Danse. Struggling to navigate the world in a new, different body, as a new person, functionally? Curie.

The only thing I can think of is mentioned only twice, and is immediately brushed off; the questionable nature of your leader being buddy-buddy with you, and acting like 'one of the bros' even as they hold power over you and have resources you don't. Parasocial government, if you will. It's brought up by Finn and Bobby No-Nose and is shut down/forgotten.

So...the only thing unique to Hancock, and it's regulated to, like, 3 individual throw-away lines. 2 of which you can miss.

Great.

Again, I like him. I just like him when I'm writing him, and can actually have him work through his shit and concepts. But as he stands, he's just...hey, y'know John Hancock? New Vegas also pulled from history, but New Vegas had shit to say about it. There was debating. There was actual philosophy and politics. There wasn't some dude named Caesar who was just...hanging out. What does Fallout 4 say about John Hancock?

Here's something you can say about Hancock; Hancock owned slaves. He inherited them from his uncle, Thomas Hancock. He later freed them due to terms in Thomas' will. But the guy Fallout 4 meagerly puts up as a figure of freedom and independence, and duty to fellow man, was a slave owner, and had slave owning family.

So, what does that mean for our Hancock? Who looked up to this guy, mantled him, and this guy is, in some way, a perversion of his own ideals.

And our Hancock's favorite quote is from Lincoln. Who started the Civil War. Did Lincoln own slaves? Contested, i couldn't find any clear answers. But Hancock mantles a slave owner, using a quote from the president that would try to outlaw slavery, while pushing for freedom and independence and anarchist rhetoric.

Is that the best you can do with Hancock? No. But it's an example.

MacCready, I've compared to a can of Campbell's soup. He's simple, he's decently-done. He's not Codsworth's lemon water but he isn't Cait's tar. I often struggle to write MacCready because he's so simple. There's not much there, he isn't a complex character. He's not even a complex person. And I like that! I like that the grumpy mercenary is a normal guy, who's just going through the motions and has simple desires. His type is often tar and I'm happy to see that subverted.

Its just that his lack of complexity means there's not much to say about him that you don't already know. He's accessible, which is a good thing. Most people don't want to drink tar, but if you're reaching for a fun beverage, you're not often reaching for water, either.

I think the best thing about MacCready is how excellent he is as a romance option. I think he's the strongest romantic choice in the game, period, largely due to him being a simple guy. I would go for MacCready IRL, because he's a good dad, he has good work ethic, and he's emotionally available and isn't afraid to talk feelings, without being a clusterfuck of issues. I love Danse, but you have to talk him out of suicide before you do anything, and he himself will admit that there's going to be a lot of issues simply because he doesn't know what he's doing or what he wants out of his new life.

You don't get that with MacCready. He knows what he wants and who he is and what he cares about. He's such a solid romantic interest, and there's incredible fic potential with the Sole Survivor and MacCready both as soon-to-be grieving parents.

On the flipside, I can't understand people who romance Nick and think its all sunshine and roses. Mini-rant, but /rad-roche (i think thats their user?) has the right idea, with Nick being a hot mess of unresolved issues who is never not projecting or in denial. Nick is not fit for a romantic relationship, not in the state you see him in game. Especially not before Far Harbor. Especially if you don't get the good ending of Far Harbor. I know, bisexual women, I'm sorry. He's got more shit than Danse and Hancock combined. I write romantic Nick prompts as if this isn't the case, but make no mistake. Me giving yall what you want is not me under the impression that this is a good idea.

Anyway. Nick himself.

Dead wife. Booo. I've already complained about his dumbass quest, which i really dislike for all its contrivances. Also, I find him mismatched with the world around him, and I wish there was more attention paid to that. He's a stock character playing out in real life (in Fallout 4's real life, that is). He's a 40's noir flick detective. This character does not belong in a post-apocalypse. This is an urban setting character. Fallout is not urban.

But that doesn't mean he can't exist! I just wish they went more ham with it. I mean, how does a detective function in a lawless wasteland, full of secrets simply because there's so few people see shit happening, know what goes down? It's an information blackout, out there, and a detective is all about information. Nick deserved to be let loose and go full camp on it all. Instead, we got 2 piddly little piss stains of "mystery" side quests. With someone as clashing as Nick, you really need to either sand down the edges to make him fit, or make the fact he's so weird part of the Thing. Nick is played incredibly straight, and given that that man is clearly lgbtq+, i find that almost a waste. Let this man be deranged. This is why Far Harbor is best Nick. He's holding together in the base game, but i don't want him holding together. I want him to suffer. I want him to monolog like Hamlet before driving a cane into someone's forehead.

Now, as for Piper...

Oh, Piper.

You were doomed.

You were so fucking doomed.

I've written about Piper and her shitty paper multiple times, so if you want a refresher, go to my blog > pinned post > meta section, and find the Piper posts. My peer review of The Synthetic Truth will be your best look into what I think of Piper.

The thing is, if you removed her awfully done journalism aspect, I'd like her base form! When she isn't going on and on about shit that's either wrong, baseless, or presumptuous, she's sassy, she's community-orianted, she's mischievous, she's kinda sardonic. She has a sugar problem. She's a burnt out 20 year old with a parentification issue. There's a lot to like here! The problem is they set up the journalism, fuck it up, and then veer hard-right and crash into the "I'm raising a kid when I'm not even an adult either" thing, where it had no build up or time to unfold naturally.

In my own little world, Piper's journalism fuckups are addressed and have consequences. I don't want her smoothed out and perfect, I want her glaring flaws to be intentional and acknowledged. And that just doesn't happen in text.

Ive also got a ramble on my thoughts on Preston. I've said before I don't like his voice acting most of the time, and I actually got a lot of pushback?? But the people who disagreed didnt...disagree...they just pointed out that John Gentry had a gnarly recording circumstance. I think it was that his first takes weren't supposed to be the final product, because he wasn't really intended to be the VA? Something like that, I forget. Point is, I said John Gentry obviously had a rough time in the booth, and wasn't given a fair shot, and people went "No, his voice acting is good! John Gentry just had a rough time with his line recording and wasn't given a fair shot!"

M-ma'am. Thats...what I said.

If it makes anyone feel better, I don't like the majority of the voice acting in this game...a lot of it is very 'modded skyrim character.' Remember the Skyrim Romance Mod? Thats what most of it sounds like to me. Remember Mrs. Peabody? Holy shit. Do not let anyone involved in that cook ever again. I also have personal beef with Nate. The male VA for the SS...someone, somewhere, made a bunch of choices. It was the wrong one, frequently. (The only good male SS line i can think of is the one romancing Danse. Has some texture to it. It's shy and cute, very good)

As for Preston himself, love him, love my paragon good-guy characters. He's such a sweetheart but he's down for bloodshed. I adore those kinds of characters, those "do no harm, take no shit" types. He's treated as a fluffball by fanon (when not suffering racist ass takes or absolute disregard), but Preston has got some lovely edges to him. If you go through his dialogue page and his approvals, you'll find he can be hard at times. There are moments he approves of 'asshole' choices, which is very fun. I love this dude.

Anyway hot take. IF HE WAS WHITE, ALL OF THESE BITCHES WOULD LIKE HIM. YEAH. I SAID IT. He'd be a depressed white man who's buff and kind and snarky, and you Danse girlies, you Nick girlies, you Deacon girlies, all of them would love him too. He is tailor made for standom but nooo, he isn't #FFFFFF so I guess he's doomed to stupid ass settlement jokes.

Yall lack taste. Hawk puhtoo.

SPEAKING OF AWFUL FUCKING TASTE, LEAVE MY BABY X6-88 ALONE.

X6-88 is so unappreciated. Grotesquely so, by both Bethesda and fans.

X6-88, I've said many times, is a spoiled rich man's cat who sits all poised and hisses if you so much as look at it if you're below a certain tax bracket. He's fussy and egotistical and snippy and dislikes bugs, children, water, heights, and generally anything above ground. He gushes over Danse and thinks he's the coolest. He'll let you kill the Institute if you're Railroad or Minutemen and have high affinity with him. He'll brag about getting to travel with you with his courser buddies. He's a fucking dork.

X6-88 is a nerd/prep who could be goth if left in a Hot Topic to run wild, but until then, he's in a suit for his private school and he's going to sit on HIS bench at recess and snipe at the rival school children with his friends and then he goes home and complains that his english eacher failed him on his Roman history test for writing it in perfect Latin. That is X6-88.

If you don't like X6-88 we cannot be friends. Fuckiung look at him. He's such a little shit. He's perfect.

[hello-eeveev]

How to Rest: Director's Commentary—Chapter 1

| Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 |

Hello and welcome to How to Rest Director’s Commentary! I’ve decided that I have so many thoughts that I cannot express in the end notes or replying to comments, so I must dissect my own fic here. And I wanted to take this opportunity to discuss the fic as a whole now that it's finally finished—my thought processes, stuff that got cut, and parts I really like, the way certain things relate. I love it so much and I just want to tell you all about it!!!

We’ll go chapter by chapter, so first up is chapter 1!

(spoiler warning for the entirety of How to Rest)

“Eve, what was your goal for this chapter?”

I mean, I’m half-kidding. It’s mostly sweet, but Essek and Caleb are both awkward people and dating is awkward, so I decided to lean into it and have fun :)

The sun was just the tiniest sliver on the horizon. Its light could not reach Essek from where he stood on the hill, but it set the river below and Feolinn just beyond ablaze with reds and golds.

I chose Feolinn for a few reasons: 1) that’s where the wine Essek brought to the Xhorhouse in episode 91 is from, 2) I think Feolinn is a pretty sounding word, and 3) the Menagerie Coast seems like such a romantic location (especially if you are avoiding the two other major governments on Wildemount)

Not more than ten seconds had passed when he felt a magical shift in the air around him. He discreetly checked his timepiece and smiled. Right on time. “Hallo, my friend,” came a warm, familiar voice from behind.

For the lols I decided to roll Caleb’s teleport, and he got a 32 and then a 96, so mishap for 17 damage and then on target. I don’t think this actually happened, but it’s funny to think about Caleb getting all dressed up for this date and showing up a little bit scuffed up because Teleport isn’t fully reliable.

Also, “my friend.” This is important to me and will be a recurring theme throughout these chapter commentaries.

Essek couldn’t pretend like reaching for Caleb’s hand was something other than what it was, and the vulnerability was simultaneously frightening and exhilarating. 

Something something Essek doesn’t know the rules for physical contact now that they are like… together. He barely knew the rules for physical contact before! Now Caleb knows that Essek has feelings involved with any physical contact and that’s really scary, especially if you’re not used to feeling those things, much less expressing them to another person. 

But Essek knows his feelings are reciprocated, so even though it’s still scary, it’s something scary they are doing together and thus it becomes rewarding and worthwhile.

Caleb appeared to be going through a similar mental battle, if the way he hesitantly raised his arms was any indication. But Caleb had always been braver than Essek, and he pulled him into a hug.  It was a brief embrace. Essek barely had time to return it before Caleb pulled away, only to cup Essek’s face in one hand and press lips to his cheek. Essek froze, and he felt heat rise in his face.  “Hi,” Caleb said. He dropped his hand to Essek’s shoulder, his cheeks flushed a bright red. “It is good to see you.”

They’re both so nervous and so awkward. Like blushing schoolboys. It’s adorable. 

But let’s be real. Caleb is the first person Essek has felt so strongly about, and not only is this Caleb’s first relationship since he was 17 and since his life uhhhh changed drastically, it’s also Caleb’s first relationship that is intentional in its development. Blumentrio was a flash fire and this has been a slow burn, and Caleb is navigating the difference. We’ll come back to this next chapter.

“I thought it would be a good idea to start building a professional wardrobe now if I am aiming to teach next fall.”

*Essek will remember that. 

I plan on going into where each part of the Chapter 6 outfit is from when I discuss that chapter, but I’ll say now that Essek got the idea from Caleb mentioning that he needed professor clothes and purchased the shirt from Feolinn pretty much the next day. 

Essek’s eyes flicked between the bear claw and Caleb, unsure if Caleb meant for him to take it or eat it from his hand. Essek considered both these options and quickly realized how very poorly either could go.

Local wizard capable of manipulating gravity and time gets stunlocked by his crush handing a pastry to him. More on this at 11. 

Really, what happens is that Essek is faced with the possibility of mimicking one of the popular romantic images and feeling unsure if that’s what’s expected of him, but also worrying that not participating would be seen as a rejection. You ever misread someone’s body language re: physical contact (i.e. going in for a hug when they weren’t, or the reverse) and then the situation becomes very awkward? Essek is trying to avoid that while also dealing with romantic awkwardness.

Essek was not keen on most fruit, but he did have a particular fondness for blackberries. 

I had intended to return to this in a later chapter where Essek would bring up the time Verin filled his book with jam, but unfortunately, that ended up getting cut. But one of the reasons Essek likes blackberries is because they remind him of Verin and his childhood.

But as the raspberries popped in between his teeth, Essek grimaced.  The sickly sweet and acidic flavor shot straight up his nose and ended in a dull ache between his eyes. It took every ounce of willpower not to give in to the childish impulse to spit it out.  […] “It is like eating a headache.”

In The Shadowhand Becomes a Baker I had to describe so many foods I dislike in a positive light. This was my chance to express exactly why I dislike raspberries :)

“I am not a very picky eater; that is not a luxury I was ever afforded. When your next meal is uncertain, you will eat whatever you can get your hands on.”

Caleb’s had to eat so many unsavory things—mostly while he was on the run, but also eating food that he didn’t like as a kid because that was all his family had—that he’s rather desensitized to food that he doesn’t like. It all kind of levels out into a neutral “I’d rather not, but hey it’s food, so it’s really not that bad.”

“But in this case…” Caleb continued, as if what he had just said wasn’t deeply concerning. He popped the rest of the tart into his mouth and grinned. “I just like raspberries.”

The heathen. But that’s okay, Essek is also a heathen.

Caleb fumbled around in the dark and eventually found a rock roughly the size of his palm, which, after a gesture and an incantation, shot off into the air and tumbled down the hill.

To change the transmuter’s stone’s buff, you need to cast a 1st level transmutation spell, so I scoured Caleb’s spell list for one that seemed the most appropriate/least inappropriate for the situation: Catapult. (His only other options for 1st levels were feather fall or expeditious retreat.)

“Ah, there we go,” he said, turning back to Essek with a smile. “I can see you much better now.” Essek blinked, not understanding what a flying rock had to do with seeing better. “Oh! Your transmuter’s stone,” he said as it clicked. “It can grant you darkvision, can it not? That will be useful for seeing the stars.” Caleb nodded. “That too.”

He’s fliiiirrrrtinnnng ehehehehe

I feel like panicked!Essek defaults to very logical thought processes (and I have written it as such). So he’s thinking about what the practical, material benefit is to Caleb using a first-level transmutation spell to switch his transmuter’s stone to darkvision, and the answer is fairly straightforward: they are stargazing, which one can do more effectively if they can see more stars more clearly. 

And this is true, but it’s only part of Caleb’s purpose here. The stars are great to look upon with fondness and admiration. But Essek is too. And in my interpretation of them, Caleb is more ready/willing/able to flirt (which isn’t saying much bc hi look at them) and definitely more likely to keep his wits about him in one-on-one, interpersonal situations (hello 16 charisma), which he can utilize to flatter Essek.  

(This isn’t to say that Essek is inept when it comes to navigating social situations, he’s just the reverse of Caleb: he’s better at a distance when there are lots of eyes on him, like an actor on a stage. They’ve got two different flavors of social anxiety.)

The end result was Essek rudely baring his teeth at Caleb and brushing his lip against Caleb’s thumb, despite all his best efforts. Essek pulled away quickly and covered his mouth while he chewed. Caleb just smiled at him.  “Your thoughts?” he asked. 

This leads us into the first instance of cut content! I like this deleted scene! I think it’s really funny! But it was cut because 1) it doesn’t match the vibes of the rest of the chapter, 2) the flirtation is far too forward and doesn’t match the feeling I wanted there to be between Essek and Caleb at this point, and the reason I haven’t shared it separately 3) I was worried people would find a more sexually suggestive undertone than I intended, would assume I had intended it, and comment/banter about it accordingly. Which is a hard boundary for me. Please don’t do that. At least not in my comments/notes. Thanks :)

With that disclaimer out of the way, I really do hope you enjoy:

Cut content “fangs”:

“I forgot you had fangs.” “Yes?” Essek said. “So do you?” “Not really. My eye teeth are so short compared to yours.” “And mine are short compared to a bugbear’s, but it is still the same kind of tooth and it serves roughly the same function.” “True enough,” Caleb conceded. “But in my experience, at least with how the word is used colloquially, humans do not have fangs. Tieflings and goblins have fangs, orcs and half-orcs have tusks, and humans just have slightly pointed teeth.” “Interesting. Is it just humans that have such a low opinion of their teeth? Or does everyone agree that human fangs are too minuscule to be worthy of the moniker?” “I don’t know. I don’t often find myself asking others’ opinions on my teeth.” “You said that you consider tieflings to have fangs, yes? Let’s ask Jester.” Caleb smirked at him.  Essek arched an eyebrow back at him and cast Sending without breaking eye contact. “Jester, would you consider Caleb to have fangs?” “Um… no? Not really. Human teeth are too short and blunt. Why do you ask?” She gasped, and dread pooled in Essek’s stomach. “Wait, are you interested in Caleb’s fangs? Have you been—” Essek buried his face in his hands, blushing so furiously that he was sure even Caleb would be able to see it in the dark. “Do I want to know?” Caleb chuckled.  Essek shook his head. “Only that there is at least one opinion in your favor.” [assume some time passes, more conversation is had, etc.] “Hey, Essek! You should know that Mama said humans are still good at kissing even though their teeth aren’t sharp! Okayiloveyouhavefunonyourdate!” The end was less of a sentence and more of a garbled string of noises that Essek could understand only because he had received so many Sendings just like that.  “Thank you, Jester,” he responded. “But it was an intellectual discussion, nothing more. Sorry to disappoint.” “Well…” Caleb said to the night sky.  Essek rolled his eyes and carried on with his response to Jester. “You were right about Menagerie Coast bear claws. They’re very good.” Caleb turned to face Essek with a rakish grin.  Essek simply raised his eyebrows, refusing to give Caleb the satisfaction of flustering him. “Was I wrong?” “Not exactly. I do find your fangs very charming, though, and I don’t think that can be classified as purely intellectual.”

It just makes me smile every time. We get some worldbuilding/cultural discussions, some banter, a Jester Sending, and flirting. Very fun little scene to write.

This kind of closeness—physical and emotional—was new. He had never known people so… forthright in their affections until the Mighty Nein, much less been trusted with the fragile parts of someone else. It was overwhelming to say the least. And yet, it filled a space in his soul that he hadn’t known was empty. There was warm kindness where before he had only known cool niceties, and the companionship Caleb offered warmed him in a way that none else had. It was unsettling at times, this thing between them—untrodden and raw and vulnerable—but it felt good. 

We’ve talked about Essek’s struggles with his own vulnerability, but having someone else be vulnerable with him is also a lot. It’s a huge responsibility, and one he’s never had before. And he cares and he doesn’t want to mess it up again. But the Mighty Nein and Caleb have been so good to him that he’s actually not too scared that he will. Which is also new! Ahhh!

Good to have someone see the foolish and terrible things his hands had done and still consider them worthy of being held.

I just really like this. It reminds me of the scene in Fullmetal Alchemist where Ed tells Winry that her hands weren’t made for killing. 

Obviously, the context and conclusion here are very different (Essek/Caleb is more Hawkeye/Mustang-coded, let’s be real), but it leads into one of the main thematic elements of shadowgast: that people who have done terrible things in their pasts can do better and they can find people who help them grow and learn. They don’t have to continue the violence and pain; they can be kind and gentle. 

I mean, really it’s just the “you were not born with venom in your veins” speech again. It just set out the path for how their relationship would develop. (It was also my oh moment for realizing the potential of shadowgast and that it could be a ship I vibe with.)

Episode 97, my beloved, my guiding light. 

Essek didn’t put faith in the gods, and he wasn’t sure if he believed in fate, but whatever it was that bound lives together, he was grateful his was entwined with Caleb’s. Glad that, in spite of everything that might have pushed them apart, they were here, in this moment, this tiniest of stitches in the fabric of space and time, and chose to be together.

I had heard Matt Mercer in several roles before ever getting into Critical Role, but the role that really made me a fan of him was Chrom from Fire Emblem: Awakening. Chrom is my actual real life husband and I love him more than anything. In Awakening, Chrom says a line to the player character that I’ve always loved: “If we are all bound by these invisible ties, I thank the gods it’s with you.”

This section is both an homage to and a slight twist on that line. Essek is not a gods-person and I imagine that dunamancy somewhat trivializes the concept of fate while also… idk making it tangible? So there’s probably a weird relationship to that there. 

Regardless, there were a million different ways that Essek and Caleb could not have wound up as close as they are, and even if fate had some involvement, their choices are ultimately what led them here. And isn’t that kind of beautiful? 

“Well,” Essek said as he tucked the blanket into the basket, then turned towards Caleb.  “Yes,” Caleb said with a nod, mouth pressed into a tight line.  “I suppose this is goodbye.” Essek smiled and hoped it didn’t look as awkward as it felt.  “I suppose it is.” Neither of them moved.

Ohhh the eternal struggle of recognizing that the social event has ended but there’s still something you want to say or do, but you don’t know how so you just kinda stand there. In this case, they both would like to kiss again, but they're not sure how to broach that again since there’s no longer that huge tension of having never kissed. And then there’s the fact that goodbyes are like, a thing, which makes it more intimidating. 

Which reminds me of this cut exchange:

“There don’t have to be rules.” “But there are still rules.” “There can be, if they are useful to you. If they are not”—he shrugged—“why bother?” Essek furrowed his brow. “Why does anyone bother with them then?” “I’m not really sure myself,” Caleb laughed. “But from my observation, it is social shorthand—a way of conveying intent and expectation indirectly.” “Ah, so it is just more politicking. Wonderful.”

This one goes out to all my fellow arospecs and/or neurodivergents out there! What’s a societal expectation? Why is it so important to follow? Why is this strange, uncomfortable ritual the price I must pay for companionship???

I am very in love with the wizards doing their own thing at their own time. It’s romantic and it’s not.

“You have a crumb of something, ah—here.” Caleb took Essek’s chin in one hand and brushed something from the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “There we are.”

Does Essek actually have a crumb on his mouth or is this a ploy to touch Essek’s face? If you’ve read Miss You Dearly, you may know that Caleb is not immune to telling a little white lie for love. But in this case it’s up to you. There isn’t a right answer because I think it’s all cute :)

[gummybugg]

find the word tag!

tagged by @digitalsatyr23 here! havent done this tag in a bit, but i have more writing now so its not so difficult to find new words :'D

rules: find the words in your writing and paste a sample here

my words to find: wrong, find, dream, and cloud

(Wasn't sure if this post warrents a content warning, but it does reference suicidal ideation, dissociation, and kidnapping, so be aware.)

...

WRONG

(from my dormant wip the mice come out at night - morgana's pov/diary entry)

I was supposed to have died that day, I found myself thinking. But this thought wasn't out of scorn or hatred for the times I had made since then, it was a matter of fact. I didn't get what I had been promised, yet this time I wasn't so sure what I had expected at the time. Morgana then and now were two cherries separated at the stem. Our concept of what we thought we needed mirrored, the reflection a jarring contrast. "You must have the wrong guy," I found myself saying, cutting through my rampant thoughts. I highly doubted there was anything Vincent could be capable of lying to us about. Even if he decided to tell the others and not me, I was at least 99% certain Juniper would have spilled it by now.

FIND

(from my wip crater city - melony's pov)

Darcy looked down at his hands and the tears that fell into them. "I'm crying." He said, as if baffled by the phenomenon. His voice grew more distant, attempting to fade seamlessly into the background noise. "Look what you've made me do." "Darcy..." I began. "It feels warm and achy. But something is there. It's times like these that make me feel real. Feel human." "Darcy, you are human." "At this moment, I am. In the next few seconds, I won't be anymore. I hate it when emotions fade out of existence..." He sat at my desk with his face buried in his hands. It was customary for when his "mind checked out," as he used to say. "Your emotions don't go away. They're just hiding." He looked up at me with hollow eyes and a slack jaw. But they weren’t hollow because they were empty; they were hollow because they had yet to return. "They're just playing a game of hide and seek.” He grunted in agitated confusion. I sighed, picking up where I left off in the clutter. “Right now, sadness is 'it' and it's having a hard time finding the others. Hmm, I'd wager that anger is hiding in a prickly blackberry bush. Fear isn't always smart, so it's hiding clear-as-day behind a tree. Happiness is relaxing way up high in a tree..." I stood on my toes to prop the last textbook at the top of the shelf. The ridiculous analogy made Darcy chuckle. "It seems it found laughter first," I stuck out my tongue. Darcy came over to help, except my balance was a bit off and the book may have accidentally slipped from my fingers. It knocked him on the head before hitting the floor with a deafening belly flop. Instead of complaining about his head, his eyes lingered on the fallen book for a few extra seconds.

DREAM

Uhhhh none i think

CLOUD

(from my wip crater city - blair's pov)

I slapped the dented trunk of the sedan shut. The trunk was a briefcase from the show Steal or No Steal, and I was the pretty lady in red. But the look on Elijah’s face told me he was not fully convinced that this was the deal of a lifetime. He was starting to get on my nerves. He didn't know how to appreciate an offer of such high demand. It was honestly insulting. However, my TV show escapade was short-lived once I realized that he wasn’t going to let up. He was really upset, wasn't he? I could see it in his vacant stare: his soul had left his body. He took a step back, hands hovering cluelessly at his sides. “Uh, Elijah? What’s wrong, man?” I leaned against the creaky trunk, which snapped further shut, almost forfeiting my balance. It really needed more bungee cords, come to think if it. “This…this isn’t even one of the guys that harassed me.” “Come again?” Elijah was such a joker. “Blair…” The abstraction of my friend clutched my shoulders, causing the damp fabric to press into my skin. His hollow eyes sat constricted in their sockets, white about to burst in urgency. “It’s just some guy with green hair…” “Yeah, and…?” I raised a brow. Of course, he had green hair. What was he going on about? I saw a man with the same colored hair as one of the guys Elijah described, then I…wait, where did I even find this guy? I don’t even remember his face. And it would really be embarrassing to double-check by popping open the trunk. Had I really…? I searched the swirling green clouds for an answer. Then Elijah called my name and my wandering eyes found their way back to his.

...

gently tagging @asterhaze @ditzybitzyspider @forthesanityofsome @frostedlemonwriter @new-royston-cursebreakers and anyone else

rules: find the words in your writing and paste a sample here

your words to find: pull, back, away, and whenever

...

crater city mayhem taglist (dm to be added/removed): @writeouswriter @lyra-brie @digitalsatyr23 @talesfromtheunknowable

[the-fiction-witch]

Take My Hand P11

Media Irl x 1910

Character Thomas Brodie Sangster

Couple Thomas X Reader

Rating Adorable

Concept Take My Hand Series

|Y/n|

I had a nice hot shower luckily not many others were showering around this time so lots of hot water making sure to wash my hair and make myself smell nice. I sat on my rooms sofa curling my hair while I got my best dress on, my little blue dress I was bringing with me for after we arrived I hadn't planned to wear it onboard but this felt right, it was such a sweet dress not impressed by any means but such a sweet color with beautiful embroidery I did very little make up just a lip and some eye work as I didn't want to seem too overdressed using my little white shoes and my gloves in the hope it would bring it all together I let my hair from the curls and plaited It. I grabbed my journal and a small bag doing a final spin to check myself over.

The door to my room then knocked to I hid some mess away and opened It seeing Thomas stood rather well dressed seeming at first confused and worried but relieved when he saw me

"Thank goodness I got lost for a while there" he laughed making me giggle too "you- you look so beautiful" he smiled looking me over

"Thank you I did my best, you look handsome'

"Ohh thank you, may I?' he asks offering his hand I nodded and he took my hand giving it a gentle kiss "I got really lost for a while. I didn't realize quiet how far down it was"

"That's okay, so shall we go? If you still want to, of course?"

"Of course I do" He smiled 

I held his arm as he lead me up though the ships many decks each getting more impressive the higher we went, until we reached this beautiful deck of marble floors, mahogany fixings, electronic lights hung in beautiful chandeliers I stopped short as we arrived at a stairwell, a bustling lobby below of women dressed in diamonds and men in fine suits, I felt immediately out of place stopping short letting his arm leave my grip. He stopped half way down the stairs as he noticed I wasn't with him and he turned back to me

"I uhh I shouldn't be here"

"You're fine your on my invitation." He smiled

"I think I'm uhh a little underdressed'

"You look beautiful, take my hand I promise I'll look after you" he smiled offering his and I was nervous but I took it letting him lead me down the stairs and thought a corridor or two until we reached the glass plane doors of the restaurant, we had to show our documents to the host and immediately he pulled a face 

"This is a third class passenger Sir"

"Yes, I invited her to dinner I have it all sorted if you continue with the paperwork"

"Sir I-"

"It should be shorted. she's here by invitation" 

"Have a pleasant evening" He says handing back our paperwork and we were lead inside this beautiful well decorated dinning room with a fireplace and tables all around the room, we were given a table on our own near the fireplace there were so many sets of cutlery and a menu long enough it took up the whole page 

"Holy toad." I muttered looking at the menu "How many courses?"

"Ten"  He smiled "it's my treat. get whatever you like" He smiled 

"Uhhhh okay" I nodded "anything you recommend?" 

"The Fillet was nice last night" he smiled eventfully we ordered even if I needed a lot of help and they took our menu's, it wasn't long till the first small soup arrived "Start at the edge work your way in" He told me 

"Right" I giggled "sorry"

"It's fine, it's always sweet to see people learn it" He laughs 

we ate and chatted for a good while about everything and nothing and it was so much fun the two of us laughing and joking between the two of us the courses luckily were small so it wasn't too hard to have something from all of them even if we mostly shared what we got 

"Ahh my favourite course" He smiled as our desert arrived I got peaches in jelly and he got some eclairs but we got ice cream between us "Ummm that's good. One thing I will say about the first class kitchen's they make good pudding"

"Umm it is really nice, never had peach jelly before"

"How is it?"

"Here" I smiled offering him a spoonful 

"oohh? that is good." He smiled "Ohh here." He smiled giving me half of his éclair 

"Thank you" I giggled "Umm very nice"

"Ice cream's good too." 

"I've had better"

"Ohh? enlighten me?"

"There is this little farm close to where I use to live they make the best ice cream,"

"You'll have to take me someday"

"I'd Love too" 

Once dinner was done with we went for a walk across the deck in the darkness 

"I had a lovely time Thomas"

"I had an amazing time with you too" 

"Ohh I stole this from the hosts cart before we left" he smiled grabbing a menu from his pocket "for your journal" 

"aww thank you so much" I smiled adding it to my journal for tonight 

"May I say something that might sound rather insane?"

"...Of course."

"I really like you y/n"

"Ohh" I blushed hard "I uhh I really like you too Thomas." 

"do you think I could come see you again tomorrow?"

"I'd like that" 

"You would?"

"I would" I nodded 

"Okay...Did you want me to walk you back?"

"If you wouldn't mind"

"not at all, I want to make sure you get back to your cabin safe" He reassured 

"Okay"