#so maybe after I sprinkle it in little by little I'll get used to it

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

The landing | joel miller x f!reader, 13.2k

Summary: You feel him before you see him. He’s still taking up space in your micro-universe. His sole presence creates ripples through the atmosphere as he walks towards you, softly nudging you to turn your head from your spot to look behind you. Or The one where your orbits finally collide for the final showdown.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, NO SPOILER (read A/N), ANGST, cheater!joel, discussions of infidelity, mention of food consumption, yelling, crying, the briefest mention of smut thoughts, sprinkle of fluff (blink and you'll miss it), as always let me know if I missed anything 👀

A/N: Ok, *deep breath* I know I can't make everyone happy unless I write alternate endings 😅 and I understand that infidelity can be a very triggering concept. I gave them the ending I felt they both deserved, but if you're looking for a story where they are at each other's throats for 13k words, maybe this is not for you and you are more than welcome to kindly move on. I won't spoil the ending in the Warnings, so proceed with caution, you know what the main theme is all about. All I can tell you is that this part of the story is divided into two main scenes because I didn't want to drag it out with one little scene after another. *she says after spilling 13k words🙄sorry about that👀* As always, I would love to read your thoughts on the last part and please keep in mind that writing is almost always self-indulgent.

P.S. I want to thank each and every one of you for the love I received for this mini-series, I never thought it would engage so many people. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. You've all been so kind and sweet to me, so this journey filled my heart with joy! I love you all, take care of yourselves and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! Oh! My asks are always open if you want to know more about their story. I could even write drabbles or one-shots about anything you'd like to know in particular. Ily, bye 😘

P.S. I deliberately left the last two lines without clarification of who says what, I leave that up to you. 🤍

Dividers by @cafekitsune @saradika-graphics @plum98

previous |

FOUR YEARS AFTER THE FALL

Are you still falling?

You’re not sure anymore. Maybe you’re just used to it. Or maybe you just learned how to fly. It certainly feels like everything has slowed down. Sometimes it feels like floating. As if you’re a feather, so lightweight, swirling around aimlessly. But you can never touch the ground. Gravity can’t quite pull you down. Every time you feel like you’re finally landing, a force of nature pulls you back up.

Maybe it is a soft, warm, summer breeze, a memory of Joel.

Maybe it is a whirlwind, a contact from the lawyers.

Maybe it is a snowstorm, sign the papers, please.

Maybe it is the whispering of a gentle wind, the possibilities of what might have been, or the lack of real closure.

But it’s nice here. Even between the earth and the sky.

You never thought you’d enjoy leaving the big city and making a home for yourself on a ranch. But you loved it. You loved the peace and quiet, you loved this new community of people, you loved taking care of the horses, riding them, being around them. And then there was the house. A place you could almost call home. It was beautiful, rustic, warm, inviting, lacking none of the comforts a modern house needs, because you can’t quite get the big city girl out of you. The entire land had a soft, yellow-golden light enveloping every tree and every rock, everywhere your eyes reached, as if the sun shone differently here.

The days are easy. The chores are more than enough to keep you focused, there’s always something to do around here. It feels good to be busy, to keep your mind from dwelling on the past. You welcome the exhaustion of a full day’s work that accompanies your body when night comes.

Evenings are mostly good. You shower the day off, you cook, you chill on the couch with a good book or a film and more often than not, as the time passes and you feel more comfortable sharing the privacy of your home, you have friends over for dinner and drinks.

Nights though, nights are hard. At night, you pray that you are tired to the point of exhaustion so that you can sleep through it peacefully. Sometimes it works, but most of the time, not so much.

Time has intensified and lessened your emotional burden simultaneously.

The sharp pain that feels like thick acid being poured into you mellows in an inexplicable way. It still hurts, the pain oozing out of your every single pore even in a physical way. Only now, it has transformed into a sweet, slow poison conquering every hollow of your body, every vein leading from your heart to the ends of your limbs.

It’s almost a welcoming feeling, this pain, reminding you that you’re still alive, that he was real, that everything that happened was real. Because sometimes, sometimes, when you let yourself relax, when you let your guard down, all of this feels like a dream. Sometimes, you wake up in the middle of the night, confused, reaching with your hand for the other side of the bed and finding it empty. And for a split second you get that feeling. The feeling of how it used to be with him next to you.

Then you remember.

You know why this is happening and who’s responsible for it. This is a mix-up. This is what your treacherous brain does to mess with your resolve. It blends the bad stuff into the good, creating the strangest of concoctions. The clear image of black and white, neatly and perfectly hung in the center of the walls of your mind is now splashed with colorful memories from your life together, like a Pollock painting. You do your best to resist, to bring back scenes from all the vivid recollections of the night your life changed forever but your uncooperative brain pops another memory up, a good fuckin’ memory, like a projector, illuminating those bare imaginary walls with laughter and touches and whispers and scents and warmth. It’s relentless.

This dichotomy creates an uneasiness inside you, you choose to reject and pretend not to notice. Which in turn leads to self-contempt because, as always you can’t lie to yourself. You may lie to others but deep in your core you have to be honest with yourself. That is something you’re owed. To be aware, present in the reality of your life. So, you know, you know, you just sweep things under the carpet as a copy mechanism. You know what you should do.

You should confront him. You should demand answers and then finally say what you need to say to him. Not for him, not for his sake, but for yours. But you can’t. You've lost count of how many times you've picked up the phone and your thumb hovered over his contact to call him but you just can’t bring yourself to do it. And every time you tried to text him, to start a conversation, it felt too awkward. The only acceptable subject of discussion initiated by you was the progress of the divorce papers. You were unable to even remotely insinuate a more meaningful encounter. And he didn’t make any advances either. Not that you gave him any room to try and talk to you, but still, he seemed more settled with that, rather than not.

Maybe that fact itself was your cue to let it all go. He’s probably moved on. You don’t cheat on someone so blatantly and then want them back. Obviously, this whole delaying of the divorce is a power play, like everything else, it seems.

Good, yeah, that’s it. That’s it.

Now, let go. Move on. You solved it. Let go.

But this annoying little voice is scratching the walls of your weary brain, nudging the limits of the carefully made up serenity that’s hanging by a thread.

You should confront him. For your peace of mind, for your equilibrium.

But it’s nice here. Even between the earth and the sky.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

It’s early in the evening and you’re in the garden in front of the house near the porch, on your knees, plucking a few weeds from the ground. The fatigue of the day’s work has begun to take its toll on you, your shoulder is slightly trembling as you rest your weight on one palm to dig around with the other. Sweat covers your torso, rolling down between the valley of your breasts and the hollow between your spine, leaving your t-shirt clinging to your skin, your hair sticking to your forehead, which is lightly covered in a thin layer of dirt at some places as you keep wiping your forearm over the little beads of salty water that concentrate over your brows.

You feel him before you see him. He’s still taking up space in your micro-universe. His sole presence creates ripples through the atmosphere as he walks towards you, softly nudging you to turn your head from your spot to look behind you.

There's an overload of sensations before you shift your body around to confirm what you already know in your bones. You can smell him, taste him, feel him on your suddenly tingling skin, all at the same time.

You turn slowly and your breath hitches on your throat. You just stay in place, frozen, time infinitely stretching as you take him in from where you kneel on the ground. He stops abruptly the second his eyes meet yours and you could swear he’s holding his breath, his face completely unreadable.

He looks.. he looks like your Joel and nothing like him simultaneously. Soft yet imposing. Handsome yet battered. Determined yet lost. His clothing is simpler, dark jeans, green flannel over a black t-shirt and laced boots, as if he just returned from a working site. His curls are longer, framing his handsome face in a ridiculously good way, more white hairs nestle in his beard that is not that trimmed. Neither of you speak quite yet, taking each other in.

Your mind, your bizarre, ridiculous mind is working on figuring out what day it is. Why does it matter? Did you have an appointment? This is unexpected and a long time coming all at once, regardless of the day of the week. What comes next? Do you draw up an astrological map to determine if it's a compatible date for you to meet? Get it together.

Your facial expression must be pretty funny because Joel smiles awkwardly while scratching one side of his bearded cheek; hey, it’s me.

No, shit, you mentally respond, as if you could ever forget him. Furious is the word that best describes you because these are his first words? Hey, it’s me? And that feeling escalates into an explosive retort because you now realize that you had expectations. His first words? Who cares what his first words are? Were you expecting a tearful reunion, masterfully staged and executed like a romantic film? The guy betrayed you in your own house, sorry, his house. Wake the fuck up.

“Did you sign the papers?” you spit as you rise from your spot and he reacts as if you have punched him in the stomach. His face falls; you see a series of micro-expressions pass over his features before he settles on the last one. Has he been hurt? Did you hurt his feelings? Did he also have expectations?

“Uh-”, Joel raises his brows in genuine surprise, things probably not going the way he expected or hoped.

“It’s nice to see you, too.”, he replies with mild mockery.

Your eyes snap shut and you laugh in anger, lowering your chin to your chest and then looking back up at him, your eyes blazing, your brows mimicking his previously surprised expression, “Are you serious right now?” you cross your hands defensively over your chest.

You stare at each other for a good minute, both of you taking a moment to compose yourselves and regain your balance.

You break first, dropping your head back to your chest, looking down at the heel of your shoe scraping the ground beneath you, exhaling audibly.

“Hey,” Joel tries again, after speaking your name tenderly, your name on his lips, his head dipping down and to the side to try and get your attention back to him, his gaze filled with a mixture of warmth, regret and fear, “hi.”

You shake your head from side to side in repentance, what a great start this is, you keep thinking, “Hi.” is all you give him, still not looking at him.

“Hi,” he repeats, “it’s really nice to see you, bab-, shit, sorry.”, he winces, covering his mouth with his palm, embarrassment creeping into his features. You let out a quiet laugh, exhaling through your nose. You don’t comment on the slip of endearment that leaves his mouth, you don’t correct him, accepting privately that you liked it, you missed it, you longed for it.

Joel studies your face, but makes no comment on your silence. “You look...” he pauses for a split second before deciding to continue, “you look really good.” He hesitates, he doesn't want his compliment to come across as a feeble attempt to patronize you, because he really means it. You do look good, all sweaty and muddy and human and real. You are real. If he took a few steps forward, he could actually reach out and touch you, feel your skin under his fingertips, smell your heady scent, perhaps discreetly lick the remnants of your sweat from his thumb after carefully removing the strands of hair sticking on your forehead. But he doesn’t do that. He doesn’t do any of that.

You don’t quite know how to respond to that, any answer crossing your mind seems stupid or cheesy or dismissive. How do you respond to a compliment from the man who made you worship in his altar, only to have your faith ripped out of your heart?

His eyes keep roaming over your face, your figure, memorizing everything he can, like a blind man who has finally found his light, while he fidgets with an envelope in his hand which reminds you-

“Did you sign the papers, Joel?”, is what escapes your lips before you can think twice.

“No.” and now it’s his turn to lower his head, his eyes avoiding your gaze, as he looks down at his feet.

“Joel!”, you exclaim infuriated, rolling your eyes at him, knitting your brows together in a sign of frustration.

“No, no, it’s not like that. I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you want.”, Joel raises a hand in your direction to stop you from what seems to be a fair assumption, his palm up, facing you in an unspoken surrender. “I thought that- me, not signing, was a way of showing you how deeply sorry I am, how much I wanted to fix our marriage, but I understand now,” his voice wavers slightly, “that I need to respect your wishes. It’s the right thing to do. If this is still what you want, I’m gonna sign it.”

You don’t reply to that last part, only pointing out that “You didn’t have to come all this way to tell me that.”

“No, I didn’t.” Joel agrees.

“Then why are you here?” you insist, reluctant to entertain the idea that he has actually come all this way to apologize.

“Because I owe you an explanation.” is his honest and direct answer, sending little jolts of electricity through your nerves.

“Joel..” you sigh in exasperation. Not in warning or frustration, not really, but in something else. A feeling you can’t really put a name to, the closest you can come to describing it is that of a burden, woven deep into your heart, blossoming rapidly with each beat. There are so many things left unsaid; it makes you feel helpless, like you’re drowning. You want the dam you’ve built around your soul over the years to break so everything you've been holding back can finally pour out of you, but there’s just so much of it, of everything, that you’re terrified. Will the overflowing tank of emotions be completely empty? Will there be anything left unsaid? Untouched? What if the remnants left behind keep licking around your wounds, their waves pushing, shaping what’s left of you into something new, unrecognizable?

And what if, the tank will indeed be completely empty? What you’ll be left with, then? Nothing? Just.. empty? Will you remain empty? What, if anything, will take its place? Will you recognize your new self? Will you like yourself? Will you be able to live in harmony with this shell of a person? This you; you know. You hated and pitied and caressed and comforted and forgave and nurtured you into some version of a new you. But this? Everything will be torn apart, the wounds will be freshly opened, accessible to be examined in detail, plucked and bled and bruised in an all-too-familiar way.

Joel’s voice snaps you out of your trance, “No, I do. I owe you more than that, actually, but that’s the least I can do. And I wanna do that while I’m still your husband. I want to explain myself as your husband. Apologize to my wife, as her husband. Then I’m gonna sign anything you want me to.”

“And if I don’t wanna hear what you have to say?”

“Then I’ll just sign the papers and leave you in peace.” Joel confesses in all his honesty.

You just nod, looking down on the ground. You take a deep breath to ground yourself. You can do this. You want to do this. You need to do this.

You walk towards the house and sit down on the steps of the porch, as he looks at you awkwardly, not knowing where to stand. You gesture with a tilt of your head for him to come sit next to you. You can do this. You realize that you didn���t invite him into the house and you feel a bit rude for that, but it's beyond your empathetic capacity to deal with him being here and to let him into the house as well. “I just like it out here, it’s calm and-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, whatever makes you feel comfortable; I know you don’t want me here any longer than I have to be..” he interrupts you as he sits down next to you, his one side pressing against the end of the stairs, where the railing begins. He places the contract between your bodies, on the wooden floor.

It makes you uncomfortable, his statement, you always want people to feel welcome and relaxed around you. You internally chastise yourself for worrying about his feelings instead of yours, but you can’t help it, it’s embedded in your DNA. “It’s OK, Joel, I don’t mind, we can talk.”

Joel nods, but he remains silent. You don’t break the silence, giving him time to collect his thoughts. He chuckles defeated, shaking his head while rubbing his hand over his face.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, you don’t look that mighty to me anymore.” you blurt out before you can stop yourself and you immediately regret it. It didn’t sound so insulting in your head. You only meant to say that he doesn’t intimidate you anymore. Which is sort of a lie and a truth at the same time. You used to find him imposing, even his mere presence had the ability to make your skin crawl, your heart flutter and your words get catch in your dry throat, you were in awe of him. Every time you laid your eyes at him, even when you were straddling his lap or gazing at his profile as he slept beside you, you always felt as if you were looking up. You admired him.

His heart loses several beats to that. He can read between your lines now. He has lost your respect. Your admiration. The time when you looked up to him in awe is long gone.

“You know, my therapist warned me about this.”, he chuckles bitterly.

“Your-” you can’t hide your shocked expression from him as you search his eyes for any sign of him joking around, but you find none. “You’ve been in therapy?”

“Yeah, I-, I spent two years hating myself,” he chuckles deprecatingly, “and then I realized it was time for me to stop being an arrogant prick, so I spent another two doing it all over again with the help of my therapist.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at that and it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen in his entire life. “OK, somebody’s off to a good start. Go on.”

“You mean about the therapy?”

“I mean about you admitting you are an arrogant prick”, you say playfully.

He really laughs now, his eyes crinkle up at the sides. You used to love that. You feel your heart warming up. “You can thank Maria for that.”

“For what?”

“For kicking my ass and pushing me to help myself.” Joel admits. “She’s a good friend.”

“Yeah, she is.” you agree through your laughter, the image of Maria actually kicking Joel’s ass is priceless.

“I missed that sound.” Joel is looking at you softly, as if his gaze could break you.

“Hm.” you simply smile at him, not finding it in you to respond with a snide remark. The time for that feels like it has passed, like it’s irrelevant at this point. All you really want is to have an honest conversation, irony be damned.

You both look at your feet in silent consideration for a minute or two. “I thought you’d be mad at me.” Joel reveals.

You exhale through your nose, the edges of your mouth turning up in a gentle smile. “Four years is a long time to be mad at anyone, Joel. Even you don’t have that kind of power over me.”

“Good. I have enough burden on my shoulders as it is..”, he mumbles and you decide to change the subject.

How do you admit that you are still mad at him but in a different way? How do you describe the deep scar his existence has carved into your soul making it almost unbearable to even exist without him? How do you explain that you’ll always carry him with you, no matter what? How do you instill in him that you still believe in the best version of him, the best version you know he can be, the best version of him you once lived with. Yes, you’re not mad at him for the reasons he thinks you are. You’re mad at him because the way he made you love him is stronger than any hurt he’s ever caused you.

“So, what did your therapist warn you about?”

“She, uh- she tried to prepare me for this.”

“Oh? What did she say?”

“That I should not be prepared.”, he laughs in earnest. “That I should not obsess about what I want to say and just be open and have an honest interaction.”

“I like her, already.” you say with a straight face.

He smiles softly, looking down at his boots, while he rests his elbows on his knees, one palm encircling the other. “Yeah… I had some digging to do; I still do for that matter and will be for a long time it seems.”

“Anything you wanna share?” you reply, raising an eyebrow as if you had no idea why he was here.

“Oh, boy-” he squirms in his seat, already overwhelmed by the turn of the conversation, his chest almost vibrating with anxiety, he can barely swallow, small beads of sweat starting to form around his temples. You reluctantly reach for his forearm, trying to calm him down. “Hey, Joel?”

His whole body stiffens at your touch and he wishes his clothes would evaporate so he could feel your skin against his. He fixes his eyes on your delicate fingers lightly squeezing his tight muscles underneath the fabric. “The worst part has already happened four years ago, so-” you shrug, “just breathe.” Joel keeps his eyes on your hand, his heart rate dropping slightly; you ground him. You retract your arm and keep your hands to yourself in an effort to maintain a respectable distance between you. You shouldn’t have touched him at all.

“I think- I think I understand now.” he begins, still feeling the ghost of your touch on his forearm. “How I made you feel, what your words meant. You always did that, you know. And I found it so fascinating and so exhausting at the same time.”

You look at him, confused. Joel continues, “You always chose your words carefully. You had a reason for every single thing you said. In retrospect, I realized that you were handing me everything on a silver platter, but I was too self-absorbed to see it at the time.”

You nod in agreement, gesturing with your head for him to keep going.

Joel takes a deep breath, holding it inside his lungs for a while. His exhalation is controlled, measured. “Fuck. Okay. It was not just the fact itself. It was not just the cheatin’.”

Your stomach clenches violently at his words. The time has finally come and although you know what happened, you where there, when the words come out of Joel’s mouth it's as if you're pulled back to that threshold all over again. It really happened. You feel your hands sweating. “Go on.”, you pronounce carefully, already anxious your voice is going to betray you. You can do this.

“I don’t want to sound all full of myself-” Joel hesitates.

“You won’t.” you interrupt him with conviction. The truth has never frightened you. You welcome it. It feels like a form of catharsis, it feels like you’re finally being seen. Every nerve in your body is on fire. You’re ready for this, for the truth, if only he gives it to you. Please, set me free.

“I was your everything.” he whispers, almost embarrassed, his eyes not meeting yours. You don’t respond to that, not until he looks at you, although the admission shoots straight through your heart. You stare at the side of his face, almost forcing him to turn to you. He does.

“You were.” Simple. True. Clear as the light of day.

“And I ripped that from you.”

“You did.”

“In the worst possible way.”

“Hmhm.”, you don’t trust the stability of your voice.

“And no matter what I say, I can never take back what I did. I humiliated you, our home, our relationship, everything. I-” his brows furrow in an expression of disgust, “I disrespected myself. I burned everything down. I left nothing for you to hold on to, nothing for me to hope for, nothing.”

His chin trembles and his voice wavers as he continues. “The words to describe how sorry I am have not yet been invented. And even if they had, they still couldn’t take the pain away; what’s done, is done.”

He closes his eyes and rests his head on the railing. “I don’t know what I wish for anymore. That you had never met me, so you could be spared all this pain? But I can’t. I can’t wish that, because I’m so grateful to have met you. I married you, I had you. That is what has comforted me all these years, what has got me through all those sleepless nights.” He looks absolutely devastated, desperate.

It feels genuine, because he’s not directing it at you, he’s not trying to convince you, he’s not trying at all. “I have not thought about my pain or what I want from all this for a long time. All I pray for is-” his glistening eyes are searching frantically on the ground, his brows knitted together in a painful grimace. You rest your head on the palm of your hand, your elbow on your knee. Watching this moment like an outside observer, you realize that he's trying to live up to your standards, reminding you of a child trying to impress his parents, only to fail regardless of the outcome.

“Look, Joel, couples break up, divorce, all over the world, all the time. And I guess, they all thought their partners were their everything until they finally weren’t.”, you rationalize, putting everything that has happened into some kind of perspective. It is not the end of the world. It is the end of your world. He doesn’t have to carry this burden on his shoulders for eternity. All you need from him is to understand, to acknowledge what he's done to you, how broken you’ve been.

But if he acknowledges that, if he truly comprehends the tremendous pain he’s put you through, won’t all that anguish be transferred to him? Isn't it unbearable for a truly repentant man to know that he has deliberately caused so much pain?

“But, you see; I wanted that, I needed to be your everything.”

“It certainly fed your ego..” you grin at him.

“No, no- I craved that- that look on your face when your eyes were on me, like there was nothing else, no one else around you, but me. You drove me to be better, to move forward; I felt I had a purpose. You were my purpose.”

“Well I didn’t do much of a job then, did I?” you smile defeated.

“No, honey, this-” he’s determined to make you understand that it wasn't your fault, even if it is the last thing he is going to do. He licks his lips trying to formulate his thoughts, “-what happened, had nothing to do with you, I- I was just- I got in my head..”

You shake your head dismissively, “It’s a terrible burden to put people on a pedestal and expect them to-”

“But you see, baby, that’s the thing. You didn’t.”Joel dismisses your comment and if a bucket of ice-cold water was thrown over your head you wouldn’t feel so frozen. You search his eyes for meaning, because deep down it stings to hear that you could give more. Is that what he’s saying? You didn’t love him enough? Joel catches on and rushes to explain. “You-” god this is so hard, he’s struggling, can’t he just rip his heart open and let you examine it? “You loved me so much, baby and you never asked for anything in return. You let me be who I was. You accepted me completely. You set me free.” His eyes are blown wide, burning into yours with intensity. You look so lost, how does all this fit in with what he did then?

“Darlin’,” he expands further, “we live in a competitive world. Everyone aims to control each other, from business partners to lovers and spouses; everyone manipulates, everyone tries to tell you where to look, what to do, how to act, how to fuck, how to love. Except for you. You let me be. You put your heart in my hands and you set me free. And I took advantage of that and I am truly sorry. I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know. That’s how fucked up I am.” you look at him dumbfounded.

“I can’t connect the dots; I don’t get it, Joel, I’m sorry, I-” you run your fingers through your hair, scratching your scalp in frustration. What does he mean?

Joel winces mid-sentence because he can’t escape what’s coming. This is his last resort. And he knows it is going to sound cruel and he doesn’t even mean the first part the way you're going to perceive it, but for lack of better words, for lack of the better person he could have been, a person who should have never put you in this position in the first place, here goes.

“She made me feel wanted; you made me feel free.”,

he spits out in a hurry, praying to whatever god is listening, that you won’t even catch it, knowing full well that these may be the last words you'll ever let him speak to you.

You are utterly, completely, perfectly shocked.

Then you feel it for the first time in what feels like ages. That old friend consuming you. Rage. It burns your lungs, twists your guts and pierces your heart like a thousand needles. Everything becomes crystal clear. You’re so infuriated, that your mind goes blank. A million words and nothing at all come to your mind simultaneously.

“Let me- let me rephrase that, because actually it was never even about her, I just-” Joel begins, in a vain attempt to stop the tide from crushing you both.

Your palms become clenched fists in front of your mouth, pressing against it, crushing the velvety skin of the inside of your lips against your teeth until you draw blood, in an effort to control yourself. You inhale sharply, keeping your eyes fixed on the land in front of you, blurred by the tears gathering in your waterline.

“She- what?” are the only words you manage to choke out.

“Baby, it doesn’t matter, it was never about her, she was a means to an end and-” your eyes bulge out of your sockets at the statement, “I know- I know how that sounds- just-” his palms come together in a prayerful gesture, begging you to give him a chance to explain.

“A means to an- what the fuck are you talking about, Joel?” the veins on your forehead swell under your skin, creating a map of the river of wrath flowing aggressively through your body.

“It was never an affair sweetheart, but a transaction; one I initiated. She was only a boost to my ego.”

..she made me feel wanted..

..a boost to my ego..

It's all starting to make sense now, and it's the last thing you expect to be confronted with. You've always imagined either a heated affair, a secret love story, him realizing he had found his soul mate in someone else, or him getting bored with you, finding you too much or too emotional or too unlovable. It turns out that you were accused of the one thing you never were.

“Are you-, oh god,” you can hear your heart pounding in your ears now and it takes every ounce of strength not to vomit, “are you saying that you fucked someone else; you fucked your secretary for fuck’s sake, you fuckin’ cliché of a man, because I wasn’t jealous of you?”. Your throat is so swollen, you try to scream your words at him but they only come out in wrenched whispers.

You stand up abruptly, dizziness causing you to close your eyes tightly as you see a million white dots behind the blackness of your eyelids. Your whole body vibrates with rage. You steady yourself on the railing and then begin to pace back and forth, your hands unable to stay motionless, but moving over your face, through your hair, lowering and squeezing the sides of your waist as you lean slightly forward in a subconscious way to soothe yourself.

“Oh my god, oh my fucking god,” you laugh hysterically now, as angry tears run down your cheeks, as if you've been let in on an inside joke. “It’s my fault, everything is my fault-”

Joel is frozen in place, he’s not sure if he should get up and try to reason with you or stay where he is.. or run for the hills. He’s witnessing the unleashing of a caged animal. His tongue feels heavy and numb in the cavern of his mouth but he dares to speak again, “That’s the exact opposite of what I said, sweetheart,” he tries to explain in vain, “I’m sorry if that’s what I-” but you’re not listening to a single word he utters.

“People kept telling me, urging me on, all my life;” and you slap your palms on the sides of your thighs, looking at his direction, but not really looking, “I should be more controlling, more pushy, more..” your voice begins to fade, muttering to yourself through your teeth. “They warned me, you know, that the lack of pressure in any kind of relationship would be perceived as a lack of interest.”

Don't trust completely; hold something back; men like the illusion of power; show them you need them; make them jealous; be jealous, like a manual to a pre-installed setting.

Do you agree to the Terms & Conditions?

Press ‘Enter.’

“But I didn’t listen. I never listened. Because in what world do we choose a leash over freedom?” You turn to look at him now, addressing him as if you were talking to a third party, an outsider, asking for advise or affirmation.

Maria’s words come back to Joel’s mind, words that he had long forgotten about, finally fitting like missing pieces of a puzzle to the bigger picture.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”

“I was really stupid, was I not? What on earth made me think that this time would be any different, what made me think that you’d be any different? You’re just- you’re just another man-” you spit your vile angrily as your eyes sweep over him. The look in his eyes is devastated, he feels shuttered, reduced to nothing.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid little girl. When the fuck will I learn? When the fuck am I going to accept that I don't really belong? When?”

Joel is staring at you bewildered, he never felt more helpless in his life. A thousand new thoughts and questions form in your head, things you didn’t even begin to imagine would cross your mind.

“Did you use her?” you ask with renewed vigor, a surge of energy running through your body.

Joel’s cheeks burn with humiliation but he has already admitted it once, what will it do to him to say it one more time? “Yes, I never had any feelings f-”

“No,” you interrupt impatiently, you don't care about his feelings right fuckin' now, “that night, did you use her? On purpose?”

Joel looks lost for a second but the cogs in his head finally turn and “NO! No baby, I wasn’t even aware of you coming home earlier than expected, no. Don’t even entertain this idea; it wasn’t intentional, I swear to god.”

Oh. There’s a new question for Joel. Why did you leave your business trip early? He had never thought about it before, solely focused on everything else that had happened, which now made him wonder, “Did you- did you know?”

“What?” you frown, lost in your own thoughts, not following his line of logic.

“Did you know? Is that why you came back early from your trip?”

You’re still a bit too far gone in your head to think clearly and try to prevent the next question from coming, “Of course I didn’t know, Joel, did it look like I did?” is all you say with a bite, annoyed.

“Then why-” Joel insists, pressuring you for an answer, but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

“I- fuck- I need a minute.” you declare and start to walk towards the house.

Joel waited on that porch for almost an hour, watching the sun set behind the mountain, afraid to move, barely breathing in case you stormed out and threw him back where he came from as if him standing still would somehow make him part of the landscape; as if he belonged.

And you certainly delivered.

He hears the screen door open, his back still to the house. You are standing behind him, your arms crossed stiffly over your chest, your face tilted down, to avoid his gaze. He could see the red-rimmed and swollen eyes of yours, despite your efforts to hide them.

“I can’t do this-”

“Please,” his whole face contorts in agony, “please, hear me-” you both speak at the same time.

“-tonight.”

“What?” his voice matching the look of confusion on his face.

“Maybe another time, but not tonight.”

“I-” he doesn’t know how to articulate his thoughts without sounding like an idiot. He drove all this way, four hours straight, to finally get things straight. His brain has short-circuited, unable to put a plan into action. Should he check into a hotel or a motel or whatever the fuck is around here in the middle of nowhere? Should he go back to his place? Do you really want to talk again? You sort of said you did. You said maybe. Fuck. What does he do?

But honestly, what did he expect? That this would be over in the course of one evening? Of course he would have to come back. His eyes are fixed on yours like a deer caught in the headlights. “I came all this way-” he mumbles, choking on the last part, already regretting the words that came out of his mouth.

“Well, too bad.” you spit emotionless as you turn and head for the safety of your house, leaving him stunned on the goddamn porch.

Joel returned the next evening, but you weren't there. He made the four hour journey and came back empty-handed. And you weren't there the next evening, or the evening after that. But he kept on driving the miles, hot wheels under the Texas sun. He didn’t check in anywhere near your small town. He went back home and then back to you again.

The last time he found nothing but a closed door, he finally got the message, so the next time he left the house, before he turned on the ignition, he texted you, as a sign of respect for your boundaries.

Is it all right if I come and see you?

Backspacebackspacebackspace

Is it OK if I come and talk?

And the answer was

Not today.

So, every day he texted you. He didn’t mean to be intrusive, he just wanted to remind you that you were never far from his thoughts, that he was always ready and eager to finish what he started.

You denied him for quite some time. You couldn’t bring yourself to face him again. The confessions he made have knocked you off your axis. Just when you finally felt like everything was falling into place, he dropped this bombshell, making you rethink everything you thought you knew and had sorted out in your mind. You just couldn’t wrap your head around what you’d heard coming out of his mouth. How could he think like that? Why couldn’t he just talk to you? You used to talk about everything; what the fuck happened? How did you not see that coming?

You were sure that he would give up, that he would stop bothering to contact you at all. Was it the monster of self-deprecation? Was it a deep disappointment in human beings and their general lack of persistence in trying to nurture and repair a relationship, or at least trying to give it a proper closure? You didn’t give it much thought afraid of the answer you might get. But you kept saying Not today, until one day, for some reason-

Can we talk?

Yes.

Joel’s heart is beating through his chest so rapidly, he has to cough to regain some of his composure. He almost drops his phone, trying to confirm the most convenient time for you before you change your mind.

That was the first Yes after the day you saw him again. You weren’t sure what you wanted to talk about; if you could pick up exactly where you left off. You weren’t even sure you could look him in the eye again, but you had to see this through.

When you hear the sound of his engine and tires on the dirt road, you take a deep breath and walk out of the house to wait for him on the porch.

“Come on in, I’m cooking dinner.” you announce as you open the screen door for him to enter the house.

“Are you sure?”, Joel is taken aback, he thought the inside of your house was strictly off-limits to him. You were also cooking dinner as if he was an old friend visiting you. He couldn’t help but wonder if he should lower his defenses or not but with the way you looked tonight you didn’t give him much of a choice.

You’re wearing a pair of warm cream jeans, paired with a white front tie shirt, the first few buttons left open, giving him a glimpse of your tanned sternum. It almost looks like a man’s shirt, just messily tied up over your soft skin, revealing bits of your stomach. Could it be another man’s shirt?

You are barefoot. The nails of your toes are painted in a fresh glossy black color. Your hair is casually tied up in a messy bun, loose strands falling around your beaming face. Joel has to restrain himself from pushing you against the wall and fucking you on the spot, by clenching and unclenching his fists. His mouth is salivating at the sight of you, excitement building in his groin. It's been so long since he's felt this way, a different kind of hunger is growing in him at a rapid pace, as if something buried deep inside his masculinity has just awakened from hibernation.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you quirk back at him, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, what you’re both doing. “I’m starving. Coming?” you leave him at the entrance and go back into the house.

“You have a beautiful home.”, Joel admits as he takes in his surroundings, thinking that this is going better than he expected. He also can't help but prepare himself for the fact that this might not end the same way.

“Thank you.” you laugh nervously.

“What?”, he catches the note of disbelief in your voice. “I'm serious, the light is just right, it’s open and warm; it actually reminds me of you.” he says matter-of-factly.

“No, no, I know you mean it, it’s just- I guess it’s high praise, coming from you.” you admit. You always admired what he did for a living and how good he was at it and him seeing your place for the first time gave you another reason to feel kind of nervous.

“Oh, come on, none of that now.” he dismisses the compliment, his voice wavering slightly at the praise.

“Well it’s true, you are excellent at what you do, I mean, the house you built is a work of art and that’s a fact.”

“Which one?”, although he knows exactly which one, he presses on.

“The one we used to live in, together.” You can’t call it your house. You cannot. The mere thought of it makes your tongue feel like it’s on fire.

“Oh.”, Joel smiles as he presses his lips together in a thin line, “You mean our house. It was built out of love, that's why. It's the one I'm most proud of.”

“Hm.”, is all you give him. Déjà vu brings back memories out of the closet -pun intended- for both of you.

“Ok, now you really have to tell me. What is it?”, Joel crosses his forearms over his chest. He has to know.

“What do you mean?”, you try to buy some more time, cause you’re not so sure you want to go in there.

“You had the exact same reaction when I mentioned that, four years ago.”

“Ah, that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“It’s just- it always felt like it reflected your personality rather than mine. Or at least ours.”

Joel looks at you perplexed.

“I’m not complaining, I mean, how many people can claim that their husband built them a house the size of a small hotel as a wedding present?” you chuckle while you continue as nonchalantly as you can muster, “I would have lived in a cave with you, Joel, you didn’t have to go to these lengths to house two people. If you want my honest opinion, this was an ego project. I let it slide because it made you happy. And I liked you happy.” Joel looks stunned, his eyes darting back and forth between yours.

“Baby, I- I wanted to make you happy, to give you the best I could-”

“Joel, I’m not judging you. I am not. But you didn’t show me a single blueprint while you were designing the damn thing. You didn’t ask me what I wanted or how I imagined it. Sure, you equipped it with all the best stuff money could buy, but you never asked me what I thought about it. Not really.”, you see the hurt in his eyes and it unsettles you, but now the rabbit is out of the hat. “Again, I’m not judging you and I’m not being ungrateful, all I’m saying is that for some reason you needed your shinny new wife to live in a shinny new castle. It was a prestige thing. Just think about it.”

“Jesus..” Joel mutters, pinching the sides of his forehead with one hand, feeling defeated.

“Hey,” you give him a wry look, “I tried to avoid answering that question for four years. You were the one who insisted.” you defend yourself, clearly amused by his reaction.

“What else do I need to know?”, Joel wonders in a desperate manner.

“Well.. for how long can you keep coming back?” you joke absentmindedly.

“For the rest of my life..” Joel answers a little too quickly, not a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Your heart tightens at his eagerness, forcing you to admit a consideration that you have had more than a few times before. “You know,” you look over at him, lost in thought, almost like reminiscing, “sometimes I wish I had met you before your company took off.” You snap out of your daydream and consciously look at him and he looks pained as if some kind of realization has hit him. You change the subject for the sake of both of you. “Anyway, speaking of which, how is work? I heard you closed that deal, after all.” you grin mischievously.

“Yeah, I did.”, his voice takes on a strange timbre, almost like regret. But you’re not so sure about anything these days, so you let it pass. He puts the envelope with the contract on the counter in the kitchen and sits down in the chair next to the table already set for dinner.

“Good, that’s good. Let me guess, you’re all over it? First in, last out? Is it almost done?” you word vomit to cover your nervousness.

“Uh,” Joel rubs the back of his neck, “I wouldn’t know.” is all he gives you, clearly trying to avoid getting involved in the discussion.

“Um, you don’t know?”, you laugh lightly in confusion. “How is that possible?”, you ask stirring the vegetables in the pan.

“I’m not involved in the project and I have no idea about the status of the construction;” Joel answers your question and continues, revealing, “I quit. Sold my shares and got out.”

“Yeah,” you draw the vowels, still not looking in his direction, “right. Big, mighty Joel Miller left his enterprise-” you laugh mockingly, but you are met with silence. “You’re joking, right?” You turn to look at him, not believing what you have just heard. You feel your blood freeze in your veins.

Joel shakes his head in denial, “I’ve actually left the city and the only reason I haven’t sold every asset in my name is in case you want to claim any of them. They’re all yours if you want ‘em.” Your mouth is slightly agape, as you try to process what has just been delivered to you.

You open your mouth to protest but he beats you to it, by raising his hand to stop you. “I know you don’t want anything from me, but that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want them either. Not without you. Just take them. Burn them for all I care, liquidate them and use the money as you see fit.”, Joel insists, trying to find ways to convince you.

“You can do that yourself, Joel.” is all you say; you don’t give a damn about his money. Joel nods and leaves it at that, he knows better than to talk about money right now.

You’re curious where he lives now, but you’re not sure it’s appropriate to ask, so you don’t. You prepare dinner and make small talk about simple things like your lives over the past four years. Joel asks you about the ranch, the horses, the chores; you ask him about Tommy and Maria, their newborn son, whom you haven't had a chance to meet yet. None of you dare to break the bubble of normality in which you have effortlessly found yourselves.

It feels like coming home after a long day, the way you both fall into a comfortable silence. Joel speaks your name softly, drawing your attention and your gaze back to him. “What are we doing here?”

“We’re eating?” Just a little longer, let me have it just a little longer.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “no, I mean, what are we doing?” he gestures with his fingers between him and you.

You look at him and then at your plate, playing around with your food, lost in thought. How do you acknowledge that? How do you confess that you’re trying to stretch time? How do you admit that you’re scared out of your mind of how it's all going to end? How do you even come to terms with the fact that you’re not sure you want any of this to end? How do you accept how natural it feels to have him back in your life? How do you admit that after four years the pain has never stopped, but the force, the roughness of it has changed into something softer, yet persistent; never quite going away, lingering.

How do you admit that all the good memories are emerging, because that’s what the mind does, that’s how it protects you, that’s how it helps you survive another day, that’s how it tricks you into falling back into a comfortable routine with him. Even if what binds you together now is his betrayal. How do you admit that you’re afraid of what will become of you once you've finished confessing your truths?

Will he cease to exist for you? Will you cease to exist for him? Will he ever bother to contact you again? Do you really want him to? Will you matter to him or will he move on, start again and shake off the last vestiges of your life together?

Or maybe- maybe he has moved on with his life and that's why he's doing all this, putting all this effort into it. Maybe he is preparing a new, clear path for himself and whoever is in his life right now. Is it her? Is it still, her?

You’re spiraling, lost in your thoughts, biting your lower lip anxiously, like a snake eating its own tail. “Baby?” his baritone voice snaps you out of it, he must have called you several times before you heard him, suddenly aware of hot, fat tears streaming down your face, his thumbs gently brushing them from your cheeks.

You let out a shuddering breath; it’s the first time he’s touched you, in so, so long. And here he is again. The familiar, old friend. He’s pounding on your door now, relentless as he is, screaming for you to let him in, lead the way, take charge, take care of you. You can almost feel his maniacal banging, vibrating through your chest, let me in, let me in, let me in.

Let me in, better angry than scared.

Better angry than scared.

Your shoulders slump, your head feels unbearably heavy. The world has stopped moving. The world is moving too fast. You savor his features as he leans further in, his intoxicating scent filling your nostrils, his eyes pleading, the brown of his irises inviting you to let him in. Joel’s face is that of a man still in love as he continues to caress your skin and you let him.

You let him, because you are a weak person.

You let him because you have been deprived of his touch, of any touch really, for far too long.

You let him because you want to have something for yourself, selfishly.

You let him, because for once you just want to take. Take, take, take.

You let him because you just want to be held and touched and loved.

And even though your mind knows that you shouldn’t want all that from him, your heart allows you that little moment.

“Joel, I’m tired.” you begin, your voice breaking as fresh tears run down your face and onto his thumbs. “Tired to my bones. All I want is to be honest with each other. Do you think we can do that? Can we talk like two adults with nothing left to lose? Can we just be truthful to each other? I know there’s too much history between us, too much hurt and resentment but we both have to try and put it all behind us. I can’t go on like this.”

There’s a stillness in him, realization and clarity dawning on him. He thinks he understands now and it shocks him somehow, as a fact, that there are still things to uncover, to revel in, to acknowledge. Every time he thinks he’s reached the end of this journey, a new sun rises over the horizon.

You don’t need the specifics of his action, at least not right now, or not anymore. What you need is closure. True, honest closure. And that can only come from him baring himself to you. “Yeah, yeah, we can do that. We can do anything you want, baby.”, he squeezes his eyes shut, knowing where to begin, but resisting the thought. He leans back in his seat, dropping his hands from your face as he lets out the breath he seems to be holding in and begins.

“Remember that night before your business trip when you came to my office?”

“Uh, yeah? I guess.”, what a strange thing to mention, you think confused. “What about it?”

“You came to me for sex.”, Joel says bluntly, no need to beat around the bush. This is it. This is how he loses you. Once again.

You stare at him and then, for some reason, look down in embarrassment. You’ve fucked him in almost every way you can think of and now the very admission of that fact makes you feel like an exposed nerve. It dawns on you, how far away this era has slipped away. You feel vulnerable as if you’re talking to a total stranger about your most intimate moments. At the same time, you still know exactly how to touch him, how to please him and a light warmth begins to shimmer inside you.

“Well, that’s one way of putting it, but- yeah..”, you admit, still nervously picking at your food with your fork.

Joel sees your apprehension but he presses on. This is what you asked for. “And I refused you.” The look on your face betrays your confusion. Where is he going with this? Only now, he sees more. He can finally see more. The hurt. The disappointment. “What happened next?” is his next question and does he really think that you can remember all these years later? Does he honestly believe that you can recall yourself leaving his office defeated and crying yourself to sleep? “I don’t remember.” you lie, shrugging your shoulders as convincingly as you can muster.

“You said you loved me and then you left.”, Joel reminds you.

“You- you remember all that?”, your eyes are wide and the look on your face vulnerable, Joel wants to pause it all and hold you in his arms.

“I can’t seem to forget anything about you,” he reveals, “believe me, I’ve tried.”

“What’s your point?”

“Why did you do that?”

“Uh.. why did I do what?”, you narrow your eyes in confusion.

His eyes are piercing yours, provoking you to figure it out on your own.

“Loved you?” He shakes his head almost imperceptibly.

Your eyes widen again, in surprise this time, as you finally see what he means.

“Walked away?” You’re fucking shocked to the core, your voice choked, you’re not sure you spoke out loud.

“Why didn’t you insist?”

Your mouth is wide open, you’re speechless, you flatter your eyelids in search of the right words. This is your second encounter and once again he says what you least expect him to say.

“You refused” you remind him now, “and I respected that.”, your hand moves to rest on your chest, palm open, to calm your racing heart.

“I didn’t want you to.”

“You know how that sounds, don’t you?”, you mock with a nervous laugh.

“Oh, please,” Joel is quick to respond, his brows knitted in a dismissive frown, “like you could ever force yourself on me.”

You genuinely are at a loss for words, your gaze unable to stay in one place, your mind running a million miles an hour.

Apparently you both are, because Joel is no better at explaining how he feels. “I wanted you to-”, he stops, his eyes still searching yours for the right words, pleading with you to feel him.

Oh my god. Oh. My. God.

It dawns on you. All at once. You see it all playing out. You know exactly how this conversation is going to go. “-claim you? You wanted me to claim you?”, your voice rises, as does your tone. You feel the presence of your abandoned friend again. You don’t want him here. But he creeps in through your veins, nonetheless. He is not giving up. If the pounding doesn’t work then he’ll poison you, slowly and persistently.

“From who? You were supposed to be mine!”, you exclaim exasperated, immediately correcting yourself “-not that I owned you, you know what-”

“That! That’s what I’m talking about!” Joel points his finger at you, “That’s what I needed. To be yours!”

“But you were! Are we really haggling over semantics? Of course you were mine! I just never wanted you to feel suffocated by me. You were not my possession Joel, you were my partner!”

“I swear to you, I would die a happy man, baby.”

“I- I tried so hard to control myself-” you mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes back to your head as you shake it in denial, “-all that hunger inside of me, eating me up-”

“What?” is Joel’s turn to look like a lost puppy. What the fuck is going on here?

“You,” you point a finger at him, “you were my first and last thought every passing day, it wasn’t even healthy anymore, Joel. But- I saw that look in your eyes sometimes, a hunger, one I thought mirrored mine and then it was gone in the blink of an eye and I thought that something was holding you back; I- I was holding you back. I thought- maybe I was undeserving..” you divert your eyes from him, embarrassed at your feeling of inadequacy, “So, I accepted what you gave me if it meant I could have any part of you.”

“Oh, baby..” Joel’s hiding his face in his palms and his heart breaks as he realizes where you both stand. How did the two of you get to this point? How could his judgment be so clouded, how could he be so blind to what was happening under his own roof? How could he be so arrogant as to seek validation, one he didn't even need, from someone else? Someone whose validation he didn't even care about. It didn't matter to him. She didn’t matter to him. How could he not sense the insecurity tantalizing your very core to the point of feeling inadequate? If only you had told him sooner.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you mirror his thoughts with your voice.

“What should I say to you? I couldn’t put it into words, even now I'm not sure I can. It was an all-consuming feeling, an absolute necessity, an overwhelming need that was impossible to handle. I wasn’t mentally or emotionally prepared to deal with it. I loved you with such force that it became an obsession. I couldn’t even entertain the idea that you might not want me back in the same way. I felt helpless, vulnerable. How could I come to terms with this? With the realization that I had fucked someone else just to get a rise out of you or to prove to myself that I didn't need you that much after all?”

Joel’s palms are clenched into fists on his thighs, trying to keep himself from pressing his lips against yours. Feelings and desires that had been buried in his subconscious for too long came back as he tried to make you understand.

“A r- so, you did fuck her on our bed on purpose.”

“You asked me that before, darlin’, I promise you I did not.”

“Then how would you provoke me if you didn’t mean for me to find out?” you look at him incredulously.

“I-” Joel winces, “it wasn’t a conscious thought, I just kept fantasizing about you finding out and burning the house down for me and that single image made me so h-” Joel shuts his mouth abruptly, not the best idea to describe to you how fuckin’ hard he got, fantasizing about you while fucking someone else. You, bursting into the bedroom all raging and furious, turning the whole place upside down reclaiming what was rightfully yours.

Him.

What a sick fuck he was. “I swear to you, no. I’m not that fucked up. It was a gigantic lack of judgment, I was fuckin’ drunk, my mind was a mess at that point. That whole week was-” he’s biting his tongue hard to stop himself while rubbing his forehead with his fingers, “I was just being an idiot.”

“The week I was gone?”

“Yes.”

“What about it?”

“Nothing, ‘snothing.” and he doesn’t elaborate. “Just a bad fuckin’ week.”

The atmosphere suddenly feels suffocating, as if all the words that have spilled out of both your mouths are hovering over your heads like a black cloud. You need some air to clear your mind, so you make your way out of the kitchen without looking back and walk slowly to the porch, sitting on the steps at the bottom of the stairs. You know he will follow. Your bare feet touch the soft soil beneath you and you try to ground yourself through the little patch of earth you call your own. It doesn’t quite work. There’s a beautiful golden glow, a last gift from the parting sun, warming your soul. Everything is going to be all right.

“Strange fantasies we both had.” you say as Joel seats down next to you, the contract once again a barrier between you. “You kept fantasizing about me finding out about your affair-”.

“It wasn’t an affair-” Joel corrects you. “Fine, fine. You imagined that, while I kept fantasizing me holding you so tightly while we fucked that our flesh became one; that’s how deep I needed you inside me, that’s how obsessively I wanted to carry you with me all the time, isn’t that totally fucked up?” you laugh dejectedly.

“I guess we are the same kind of fucked up. If only we could admit it to each other..”

“Did you really feel that I didn’t love you enough?” you whisper, almost too scared to be heard and to get an answer.

“I think we loved each other too much. I think we were both too afraid of losing each other. I think,” Joel pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts and calm his voice, “in our efforts to keep each other we did the exact opposite. More me than you, for sure. I have handled things badly and badly is an understatement.”

“You were always so patient with me. You’d always wait for me to come to you, to take my time. I needed the savage in you, or I thought I did at the time. That desperate thing I felt creeping out of you in stolen glances or bitten lips between your teeth, or when we fucked; no one has ever fucked me like you did. I did see all of you then, you know. And I think you saw all of me. If I made you feel confident or safe enough, you would have talked to me. And if I wasn’t so self-absorbed I would have asked.”

You never thought you’d hear these words from Joel, but all this time of self-reflection has changed him in a way that reminds you of the Joel you fell in love with. The one you could see behind all those layers of self-protection, the one you’d always hoped would emerge for you. And then he goes on, and you wish you knew what was coming so you could protect your heart from being torn to shreds.

“Maybe-” he closes his eyes looking pained, “maybe I was a narcissist. Maybe you gave me all you had and I kept wanting more, maybe I needed every part of you for myself. Maybe I needed you on your knees, on a leash, at my mercy, just to have the illusion of the certainty that you would never leave me. Maybe freedom is for those who can bear it, after all. Hell, maybe I was the one who needed the leash in the end. Maybe you gave me too much credit, my love, when you deemed me worthy of freedom.”

His words are earth-shuttering, obliterating, final. There’s nothing left to be said, at least nothing of substance. Final. The fucking word plays over and over in your head. Final. This is final. You could swear that you have felt every possible kind of pain during these four long years but new depths of agony are being discovered right now. The acid in your stomach makes your throat constrict. You feel petrified.

Joel can sense your distress, his words have been of no comfort to you. Your skin looks pale, covered with a thin layer of cold sweat; you look physically ill. Your forearms rest on your knees and he gently cups your elbow to check in on you. Are you OK? You smile weakly at him, the expression not reaching the corners of your eyes.

“You know I would give anything to take it all back, right?”

Your laughter is more lively now, not with malice or sarcasm, but with a sense of humor.

“Yeah, yeah, I think I do.”, you shake your head in twisted amusement, tilting your head up, to let the last rays of the sun warm your face, maybe bring back some of your lost color. It's getting dark now, the day is coming to an end, the curtains of the last sunlight are almost closed. Your eyes are closed too, your head still tilted back as you laugh to yourself, “You did that backwards, too, you know.”

“What?”

“You have burned everything to the ground, only to realize that you want to get it all back in one piece. I mean it’s- it’s-” you struggle to find the right words but Joel offers one of his own.

“Ridiculous..”

“I was gonna say pointless.. But that’s the thing, Joel. Choosing to be with someone is like faith. You believe because you just know. You don't have to find evidence to prove your choice at every turn, otherwise it’s just exhausting. You choose to trust yourself.”

“Trust me as your partner, you mean, not yourself.”

“Joel, it was never about trusting you..”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand..”

“I’m not sure how to explain it- uh..”, you raise your shoulders and your brows in unison as you shake your head slightly, searching for the words. “Trust is a personal journey. ‘Trust’ doesn't mean ‘trust in you’, I’m not trusting you. No one can be sure of anyone. ‘Trust’ means that I have faith in myself, that even if you hurt me, even if you abandon me, I will not fall apart. And..” you shrug your shoulders, hugging yourself with your hands, “look at me, Joel..”, you finish, suggesting that you’re still here, still standing.

“I am, baby; I am..” Joel replies, taking in the sight of you as if it were the last time he’ll ever have the chance to, utterly compelled by your inner glow.

“I’m not mad at you Joel, not anymore. And I believe you, I really do. But I can’t get that scene out of my head. I just can’t. I can still hear the sounds, I can even recall the way you smelled when you were standing next to me.”

His hands are shaking.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, really.”

“I know.”, his voice is barely audible.

“I think you’ve done enough of that yourself. Maybe it’s time to forgive yourself?”

“Do you?” Do you, really? Do you forgive him after all that has been said? Do all these confessions illuminate the facts from a different perspective? Does it change what he did and what you went through? And if so, does that mean you're letting him go? Are you leaving him behind? Is he leaving you behind? Why is it so hard to let go? Why do you choose the safety of the known, even when it hurts you?

You choose not to answer and instead firmly insist, “You have to forgive yourself, Joel, it’s okay.” Be the better person. If not for him, then for yourself. Let him go.

“I can’t do that.”, Joel is adamant, shaking his head while he rejects your request.

“Yes, you can.” you urge him again. “As I can and do.” Let him go.

Joel never thought he would listen to those words coming out of your mouth. He doesn’t deserve them. He hasn’t earned them. “You forgive me?”, he repeats in utter shock and disbelief.

“Yes.” Loud and clear as daylight.

“I- You can’t- I don’t- I don’t deserve that.” Joel feels like he’s drowning in your so graciously offered Holy Grail, desperately trying to keep his head above the waters of your absolution.

“I can’t be the judge of that, Joel, hell, I can’t be the judge of anyone. The way I see it, you chose your actions and I chose mine. You chose to hurt me and I chose to walk away. We both lost something. Have we not suffered enough, Joel?” you ask him honestly.

“I don’t want to presume, but- isn’t it a great burden to carry on your shoulders when you try to move on? All this anger, all that bitterness?” you search his eyes for an answer but he doesn’t give you one.

You continue, hoping to get through to him. “Your feelings are your burden Joel and it doesn’t matter if I forgive you. That’s why it is you who needs to forgive yourself.”

His eyes still refuse to meet yours, stubbornly glued to the ground. “I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing this for me. We need to move forward, both of us.” is the last thing you say to him, not knowing if he even listened to half of what you just said.

You both fall into a thoughtful silence, but something you said is bugging him. He can’t quite figure it out, so he turns to look at you, to savor you while he still has the chance. He knows that his time is limited.

You’re just sitting there with him, trying to comfort him, you of all people. You seem lighter now, fidgeting absentmindedly with your fingers as if some of your burden has already been lifted. And as his gaze sweeps over you, he sees it again. He sees the white shirt hugging your body and he knows what’s troubling him.

I don’t want to presume, I don’t want to presume, I don’t want to presume.

His heart beats rapidly in his chest, panic rising inside him.

“I’ve been with you for the last four years.”

“Excuse me?” your hands freeze as you turn to face him, clearly confused.

“You said you didn’t want to presume anything and I need to set the record straight. There was and is no other woman in my life except you.”

“Joel,” you blush shyly, “this is none of my business, you are free-”

“No. No. I need you to know this, it’s important to me. I meant everything I said. You have done nothing wrong. My feelings for you have never changed-”

“Joel, please..” you beg him to stop, you can’t have this conversation now, it’s too soon. No, you’re wrong. It’s too late; too soon means there’s a future ahead of you. A future where you both fit in the same universe.

“I don’t want you to think that I came all the way out here just to tie up some loose ends and move on. That is not what this is about.”

“If you expect me to tell you about my personal life..” your what now?

“No, I don’t. And I don’t think I could handle it, anyway. You are a free woman and you deserve the world. Unlike me; I don’t deserve anything and I’ll never be free of you.”

Your chin is now trembling and you bite your lower lip to stop the involuntary muscle contraction. You can’t decipher if it’s from anger for the way things came to be or from deep, excruciating sadness for how Joel feels. For how he makes you feel.

“Free woman, huh?”, you whisper bitterly, looking down at your feet, willing yourself not to cry.

“Yes, free, as you should always have been and I’m sorry I couldn’t see it sooner.”

Joel then picks up the divorce papers from the floor next to him as he’s fishing a pen out of his pocket. He stares at you and then at the blank space where his signature should be, next to yours. He splays his palm over the last page as if to straighten it out, but it almost looks like he’s caressing it. He brings the ball of the pen to the white surface and for a moment his hand lingers over it. He doesn’t dare look at you again, his resolve is not that strong. Finally, finally he signs, filling the empty spot and he hands you the contract. It’s a strange moment, the one before the signature and the one after it.

Everything seems to be the same; it is just a signature.

Everything feels completely different; it is not just a signature.

Your fingertips brush his as you reach out to take it, the touch sending shivers down your spine. Your slightly trembling hands hold the papers gently, not sure you wanna hold on to them or scatter them on the ground. Your thumb swipes softly over his signature.

You feel it, now. You feel the ground beneath your bare feet, the warmth of the earth, the weight of your footing. The falling has stopped. The feather finally rests. You have landed.

Joel moves to stand on his feet, as you keep staring at the drying ink, when you feel something fall from above onto your thumb; but you can’t see anything as it is immediately absorbed by the hungry pores of the paper, slightly smudging his signature. You look up to catch him as he dries his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“Free as a bird, baby, ready to fly over the world.”, Joel smiles at you with a look of reverence and devotion in his eyes.

You picture the floating feather in your head and smile back at him with a serenity he hasn’t seen in a long time.

“I think I just want to walk for a while. One step at a time.”

He nods, his eyes still full of emotion and you watch as he begins to walk slowly towards his truck, when suddenly he turns his body to face you but continues to walk backward in the same direction.

“Hey!” he calls to you with a mischievous smile, raising his chin to you.

“Yeah?” you answer, your voice wavering slightly as you try to hide your smile.

“Can I take you to dinner sometime?” he asks as he reaches for his driver’s door and opens it, waiting for your answer, which never comes because you think he’s joking. But he continues to stare at you, with no expectations, quietly, earnestly, sincerely, with a soft, shy smile on his lips. Oh.

Oh.

“Joel..” is all you breathe out, closing your eyes for a moment before you look at him again, because his name is all that is left in your very being right now. Joel.

He seems lighter, too.

“Maybe, one day..?”

“Yeah.. Maybe, one day..”

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Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre @leggtostandon @sarahhxx03

@zliteraturehoe @msmorningstaarr @gossipgirl-03 @vabeachazn @joeldjarin

@sofiparallel

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fandom #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #fanfic #joel miller #joel miller angst #infidelity joel miller #joel miller au #joel miller tlou #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo #hbo the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x original character #joel miller x oc #joel smut #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel x you #joel x oc #angst fic #cheater joel miller

[jarofstyles]

could u please do a quick lil fluffy one about heavily pregnant y/n and harry at an event like maybe an award after party or something? and her just not feeling great so he takes her home and they have a cute little cozy night in and just him taking care of her

Yes I can, sweet dove!

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-----

"Y'alright?" His voice was quiet, but loud enough for her to hear over the loud chatter and music. His eyes were vigilant on her the entire night and he could visibly see her start to wilt a little bit in the last few minutes.

When she had agreed to go to the show with him, she hadn't anticipated how tiring it would be. How many people she would speak to, how many people would want to touch her belly. The congratulations had been so, so lovely- but if one more person touched her, Y/N would probably cry.

But this was Harry's event, his work, and she wasn't about to risk anything by complaining. She used to attend everything- the rehearsals and late night shows and signings, but with the arrival of their first baby looming over them and the trials and tribulations of a first time pregnancy, Y/N had been down for the count for a bit.

She did well, all things considered. She had stayed active and ate as well as she could -though the powder sugar mini donuts, sprite and salty French fries sprinkled with sugar had been her weaknesses- and ultimately had a smooth pregnancy. However, nearing the end now, her hormones were shot, her body ached, and her feet were swollen.

Sucking it up all night, she had kept a nice face and leaned into Harry's embrace. His hand had rested protectively over her bump, the swollen stomach his pride and joy as well as his most worried about asset, and he had been a doting father to be all night- but she didn't want to ruin anything for him.

It was nearing 1 in the morning, though, and she was shot. Preparations had begun at noon, making it more than 12 hours of hustle and bustle. Y/N craved mint chip ice cream, crisps, and the couch.

"Feet are swelling." Her response was mumbled into his shirt, but she knew he would understand. "Feels like m'standing on needles."

"Darling." His concerned tone matched the cute little furrow of his brow, making her smile. "Should have said something earlier."

"Didn't want to interrupt. This is work, and I got to eat my sweets earlier." That had been part of the incentive, as well as the goody bag. It was wild what people would send celebrities that could easily afford all the products, but Y/N was a woman who took what she could get!

"You're more important than the lot of them. Our son is napping well inside your stomach." He shook his head. "Cmon. We can go home, let me just say goodbye."

"Kay. Can we get my foot spa out when we get home?" She asked as she followed him to grab their coats. He had gotten her one that heated the water and acted like a mini jacuzzi for her aching feet and it had been one of her favorite things ever.

"Course. I'll get the nice smelling lotion and rub them after, hm? Need you comfortable too. Did you want to stop and get some chips?" His thoughtfulness made her tear up, sniffling before she cursed the hormones. This was common and irritating but she couldn't help it.

"Y-You read my mind. Milkshake too?" She peeped, wide, teary eyes looking up at him with hope. No good fast food run was complete without it.

"As if I could say no to you, my darling." A kiss was pressed against the side of her head as he called for the valet. "Your wish is my command."

#jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #dadrry #dad harry styles #dad Harry #harry fluff #fluff blurbs #Harry fluff blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff imagine #harry styles fluff blurb

[ambrosiagourmet]

Rin Masterpost

Rin! Rinsha Fana! Beloved side character I think about far too much (or maybe not enough?)

I decided that it might be nice to put together an informational post about Rin, since she has some of my favorite background details of any character in Dungeon Meshi. This is partly as reference for myself, and partly for anyone else who might be interested in her but not know where to chase down the tidbits we we get of her, both in canon & extra materials. There’s also a little bit of theorizing and analysis sprinkled in for fun.

If anyone spots something I missed, please let me know and I will add it in!

Alright. Time for ultimate #rinposting

History and Timeline:

We don't have an official timeline for Rin (even in the expanded Adventurer's Bible, sadly), but we can put a lot of pieces together based on Kabru's timeline & their respective ages.

Rin is 2 years older than Kabru, and they met when he was 9. Assuming that he met her soon after she was taken to the elven capital, that means that the elves took her when she was 11.

Before that, she lived on the Northern Continent. Interestingly, when Mickbell asks about Shuro, Rin says she was born "here."

Since "here" doesn't mean the actual Island itself, it must mean simply "not the east." She is described in the Adventurer's Bible as having "no real knowledge of or attachment to the East," so maybe that's why she draws a "there" verses "here" line.

I'd also like to add a note here that the elves don't seem uh... they don't seem great about respecting the value of other cultures, especially those of short-life species. Milsiril seems to have discouraged Kabru from eating or remembering food from his hometown, at least, and that's even as an adoptive parent who cares (at least in some way) for her child. As I will touch on later, the "care" that Rin was under probably had even less respect for her history or ties to either Eastern or Northern culture.

That is all to say, considering that Rin spent many years with the elves, I'd take her having "[no] attachment to the East" as more of a comment on how she feels now, and less as a definite choice she made. She may genuinely have chosen that approach and opinion for herself, she may have been pushed towards it by the elves, and she may have had little choice at all in the matter - all are valid interpretations, though I personally lean towards the thought that it's unlikely the elves didn't have at least some hand in it.

Anyway, Rin does seem to know at least a bit about her heritage - she can presumably name and identify the specific island her parents are from, and she recognizes that "Shuro" isn't a name used there. She also knows that different places from the Eastern archipelago speak different languages, so she knows at least a little about the other islands as well.

Some additional extrapolations I'll make based on these facts: she never mentions, and probably isn't in contact with, any family from her island. This may be because her extended family died, because her parents didn't (or weren't able to) maintain contact, or because she lost contact when she was taken by the elves. Somewhat relatedly, she also prooobably doesn't speak the language, at least not fluently, though her being able to comment on the state of language in the archipelago makes me think that she at least learned a little as a kid.

Anyway, Rin's parents were refugees from the archipelago, though we don't know what specifically caused them to leave. There is this little tidbit of info we get (from the cover of chapter 48, of all places), though:

So yeah, that seems like it would be the backdrop of Rin's parents fleeing. As I said earlier, it's unclear if Rin might have any living family left back on her island. The listing she has for “family” in the Adventurer's Bible is just a dash, but so is Izutsumi's, for instance, and we know that she was taken from her family with no knowledge of who might still be out there. It's possible everyone else was killed, it's possible they were separated... it's possible that Rin's parents didn't even know.

As an additional note, and this is speculation on my part, but I think there is an argument to be made, with this tidbit from the cover as well as the Nakamoto clan's specialty in espionage and use of ninjas, that the politics of the archipelago are partially based on Sengoku era Japan. Not necessarily super relevant here, but I think it's interesting context for all... of the archipelago characters, honestly.

(Especially considering it seems like the Nakamoto clan is in a relatively comfortable position, and yet clearly are involved, or at least prepared to be involved in larger conflict. How stable is their position, really? How is Shuro's father viewed by the wider region and archipelago as a whole? What about his lord? NOT THE POINT THIS IS A POST ABOUT RIN. BUT IT'S VERY INTERESTING TO THINK ABOUT.)

Okay, back to Rin's parents.

Whatever caused them to leave, they made their way to the north, where they made their living with their magic for a time. There are no specifics about what kind of magic they used, but we know at least some examples of jobs that magic can get you, based on the flashback to Laios and Falin's childhood in chapter 26. Laios proposes that Fain could use her magic to be a priest, gravekeeper, or wandering exorcist. Though these are specific to Falin's affinity with spirits, they give some idea of the shape of the work that might be available. It's important, but it is also on the outskirts of society - not necessarily admired or appreciated by the average person.

And Rin’s parents were killed by vigilantes for that magic. It's not entirely news that superstitious villages in the area would sometimes kill magic users - we see a small drawing of people being burned at the stake in a panel towards the end of the manga:

Nonetheless, Rin is the only person in the main cast who has experienced this brutality firsthand. And she did experience it firsthand, having been found by the elves as the sole survivor within the burnt ruins of her home.

It is unknown exactly how she survived, or what happened to her parents before and during the fire. Rin lived, and they did not.

The elves came some time after the fire, intending to investigate reports of ancient magic. They (and we) don't know if Rin's parents actually did use ancient magic, or if the reports and murders were simply spurred by general fear and superstition. Rin was the only piece of "evidence" that remained, and so she was taken back to the west with the elves when they left.

We don't know much about her time on the Northern Central Continent (where the elves/Canaries are based), but it doesn't seem like she was adopted or taken in by anyone the way that Kabru was. According to the Adventurer's Bible, after being taken into custody, "under their care she was treated as a captive animal would be." I would guess that means very basic food and shelter, little to no education. Probably the most social contact she got was from Kabru, as well as maybe, occasionally, from elves treating her as a curiosity, such as in this bit in the Adventurer’s Bible:

Assuming she left with Kabru (which seems like it is the case, there's no info about them having separated during that time), she spent 9 years with the elves, and has been with Kabru on the Island in the 4 years since then.

She also stays in the Golden Country after the end of the story, apparently working as an alchemist.

Additional Details (& Speculation):

What does she remember of her family and home?

I'd like to take a moment here to explore a little of what Rin might remember of her parents and home.

For reference, we can look at Kabru. The canaries came to Utaya when Kabru was 6, and he arrived in the capital when he was 7. He remembers the events of the tragedy in his home, and has some memories of his mother and life in Utaya, including memories of local dishes.

Rin lost her parents and home at 11, so she presumably has much clearer memories of the events that lead to her being taken by the elves... or she might, assuming that they haven't been completely blocked by her trauma from the event.

Yeah, I am fairly damn sure that she's got some memory issues from trauma and PTSD. For one, this is the state she was found in:

As already mentioned, she was also treated like something of an animal by the elves. She probably didn't have a lot of contact with other people, which would further perpetuate that sense of isolation and dehumanization. What I'm getting at here is that Rin probably didn't have much to help pull her out of this place, or heal these wounds. She had Kabru, who was also a kid and even younger than her, and she had herself.

Obviously trauma leaves different scars on everyone, and everyone responds and copes in different ways. But I do think it is interesting that we never hear anything about Rin's parents or life before the elves, and there are no real details about it given in the Adventurer's Bible the way we have for Kabru. What's presented is more surface level facts: they were refugees, they made a living with magic, they were killed.

I'm inclined to believe that things are laid out this way because that's how Rin holds on to these things. She knows things about them, but possibly remembers them more as things she was told/knows to be true, rather than actual memories she can picture herself experiencing.

Rin's Magic

In an interesting counterpoint to her potentially spotty memory, I do actually think Rin may have learned magic from her parents (or started learning, and was self-taught from there). She never attended a magic academy, and actually has a bit of grudge against people who did - owing to the social protection afforded to "upper-class mages," which her parents did not have. She also almost certainly wouldn't have been taught by the elves, who not only treated her as an animal but also knew her parents may have been involved with ancient magic.

Falin began to show signs of magical talent at 8, and was sent to the Magic Academy at 10, and that was as someone who had absolutely no guidance about or exposure to magic in her home town. Raised by two mage parents, I think Rin absolutely could have been learning some things by the time she was 11.

In terms of continued learning, I'll add that Rin is able to identify Marcille's magic as being A) from an Academy student, and B) cast by an elf:

This makes me think that she continued to study magic on her own while held by the elves, and probably even more so after leaving with Kabru. They didn't form the party until two years after they left the elves, which would give Rin plenty of time to try and learn from other adventurers on the Island, or to study up on her own. She'd probably be able to pick up some dungeon-crawling basics (like the water walk spell), as well as become familiar with the skill level and expression of skill common in different people with different backgrounds (hence why she is able to comment on the "textbook" academy wards).

Much like Marcille, Rin also seems to rely on a 'one size fits all' Big Boom method of dealing with monsters: lightning. We see the best example of its power in the fight with Chimera Falin:

But we also see her cast it pretty recklessly in a few other places, including the end credits of the new anime ED, which I think provides a good example of the downsides to such an approach...

Yeah, it is very much a 'get out of the way or get zapped' spell.

Especially since Marcille's offensive magic is self-taught and works very similarly, this definitely reinforces the idea that Rin figured most of this stuff out herself.

Outfit and Character Design

Dear sweet Rin of the Red And Black... how I love her design.

First of all, her clothes are damaged. Despite the fact that Rin looks relatively well put together overall, her outfit is worn out. I have some theories on why this is that I'll get to in a bit, but for now I'll just touch on what this design communicates in general about it.

I think, just like with Kabru's horribly messy room, it creates a sense that there is something more complicated underneath the surface. Something that isn't being addressed or seen to, just as the dress hasn't been mended or replaced.

It also reflects her not caring a ton about her appearance. She's neat, but she's not concerned about being pretty, so she doesn't bother with fixing up her outfit after her dungeon crawls. This also fits with her perpetual scowl (which I will talk more about in a bit), and slightly disheveled hair.

Next: the gloves. At first I thought they might be a sort of uncomfortable-with-touch thing, but after skimming through the manga and some bonus content, I have another theory. Rin takes the gloves off to eat, as well as a few other instances, such as when working on a spell with Holm and Marcille in chapter 36

This one is especially interesting because she has them on in the next chapter, during the fight with Falin. Since she also isn't wearing gloves during some of the Daydream Hour art of her outside of the dungeon, that leads me to believe that they are specifically for combat.

What does she need them for, though? Most other casters we see don't wear gloves. Well... just look at the other half of the page where she attacks Falin with lightning:

She is enveloped by this spell. I said it before was pretty reckless magic, but maybe its not just a problem for her teammates, but for her as well.

So here's my theory: maybe the gloves are rubber, or some other electricity-resistant material? They might help protect her from her own magic. I don't know why a caster would need gloves for combat otherwise.

I also think this might be why her dress is tattered at the bottom, by the way. Especially since the Daydream Hour genderswap design doesn't have a similar problem with his outfit, since the tunic isn't as long.

I will admit this is a bit of stretch/guess, but I think it's a fun one, and I wanted to share. I do think I'm right about the gloves being for dungeons/fighting specifically, at least. That seems pretty consistent throughout all of her appearances.

I also mentioned her scowl, so I'll touch on that briefly as well. The (fairly confirmed) explanation for Rin's expression is that she intentionally wears a frown to prevent her other expressions from showing through. I think it's important to emphasize that it's not just smiling that she is trying to suppress here - it's any strong emotion:

Anyway, because I can, here is the art of Rin smiling.

Rin and Kabru

I have talked a bit about Rin and Kabru's history, but I think it deserves its own section.

I think it's very interesting that Rin is pretty much the ONLY character in all of Dungeon Meshi that has explicit canonical romantic interesting in someone. It's literally part of the main summary sentence in her character profile.

This could be sort of reductive as a way to describe a female character (and in some ways it still is), but I think in part the simplicity and directness of it actually is part of what makes it so interesting. Especially when on the very next page we see the comic about her backstory. "This mage is in love with Kabru" -> one page of a horribly traumatic event and a child frozen in shock with no one to comfort her. What does that do?

Well, in my opinion, it shows how much Rin focuses on Kabru as something to keep her in the present. In contrast with the immense loss she has experienced, her love for Kabru is current and alive. He has presumably been her anchor for years, and I think that her love is part of that anchor.

Adding to this, in contrast with how explicit her feelings are, she never seems to actively pursue Kabru. She complains about his potential interest in other women, but she doesn't really flirt. She doesn't let herself smile around him any more than anyone else, and she doesn't hide her bitterness or anger from him to present a more appealing persona.

As much as she craves Kabru's attention, and has stayed by his side for years, I don't know that she really wants to possess him. He seems to know about her feelings, more or less, and she seems to know that he knows. Maybe she believes he doesn't reciprocate and is respecting that, maybe she's afraid of what she could lose if she tried to change things, or maybe the change itself frightens her. In any case, though she's not exactly happy with the way things are between them, she doesn't seem to be trying to change that status quo.

A specific thing I'd also like to talk about with their relationship, beyond Rin's love for him, is her fear for him. As the Adventurer's Bible puts it, "she worries that his knack for dealing with whatever life throws at him might lead him to get too full of himself and end up in serious trouble."

Rin is an interesting mix of restrained and explosive, herself. Her magic is destructive, her temper seems to run hot (she gets annoyed easily, at least), and her feelings for Kabru are apparent. At the same time, she doesn't let her emotions show on her face, she is the one who bluntly states that the group has hit the limit of their abilities, and she doesn't act on those obvious feelings for Kabru. It's interesting, then, that what she fears for Kabru is that he won't restrain himself.

And a small personal idea about that as well: I wonder if she somewhat blames her parents for getting killed. Again, this is very speculative, but I think it's interesting that her fear for Kabru is that he will get too full of himself. Take up too much space. It's never really stated what Rin thinks of her parents, but it can be easy in grief to search for control, and control often means blame. If they hadn't been so confident, so flashy, would they still be alive...?

I don't know if she's ever thought like that, and it could well be that her fears for Kabru come from a totally different place. But it's an interesting connective thread between her past and present - the idea of "getting in trouble" for taking up too much space and being too confident in one's own abilities.

Miscellaneous Tidbits:

On that note, I'd like to wrap up the main part of this post, and move on to a few extra things that I couldn't find another place for.

Rin plays with her hair when she's stressed

Using stressed as a pretty big umbrella here, because I think it's hard to perfectly pin down all the emotions at play, but it is a habit of hers. Best displayed in chapter 32, but it shows up in other places, too.

Her design contrasts with Marcille

This is a small thing, but I just love how much they are visual opposites.

Rin wears red and black and has dark hair, Marcille wears blue and white and has light hair. Marcille cares a great deal for her hair and puts it up in elaborate hairstyles, and Rin's is mostly loose and a bit messy. Marcille was even educated at the Magic Academy, which Rin dislikes. They both have little capelets. Also they both look very cute in each other's clothes.

Rin knows Flamela (and they meet again in canon)

Nothing much is done with this in canon, but I think it’s super interesting that Flamela's squad are the ones that find Rin as a child and take her away to the west, and then they end up stuck in the dungeon together for a bit.

Two days??? I'm so very curious what things were like between these three.

Aaaand I think that's all I have to say about Rin! For the time being at least. There's a lot more analysis that could be done about her and Kabru especially, but for this post I wanted to keep things at least somewhat anchored to canon facts, with only a layer or two of speculation on top.

If it isn't already obvious, I think Rin is a super interesting character with a ton of potential depth to explore. She mostly interacts with Kabru in canon, but has ties to a bunch of other characters: she and Marcille fill similar roles in their parties but have differing personalities and histories, she and Falin (and Laios) have been tremendously shaped by xenophobia and fear of magic common in the Northern Continent, her parents fled from conflict in the same region Shuro and his retainers are from, and she has history with Flamela and some of the second canary squad.

Her temper, her fear, her love... her repression and passion - they all inform her character, even in small ways, even with as little time as she spends on the page.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #rinsha fana #rin dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #dunmeshi analysis #thank u to anyone who takes the time to read this ♥️♥️♥️ I love rin and lot

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Tease

Park Seonghwa x fem reader

a/n: yikes i went overboard- this was originally supposed to be a small drabble but the hwa brain rot is so real. i saw this photo and I STARTED THINKIN THOUGHTS I HAD TO GET THEM OUT-

You decided to tease your boyfriend, but you soon find out that what goes around always comes back around.

✫彡wordcount: 2.5k

(>ᴗ•)genre:

smut, p w/o plot, fluff sprinkles

ಠ_ಠwarnings/contents:

soft dom+teasing seonghwa, established relationship, implications of nudes, use of sex toys, edging/orgasm control, cunnilingus, begging(lots tbh), praise, dacryphilia, unprotected penetration(wrap it up yall), lots of pet names, hair pulling, light name calling, profanity, scratching, one(1) chomp, big dick hwa, belly bulge, cream pie, and forehead touches(obv) and i think that's it ... i told you i went overboard ..damn this is wild 😭

SMUT UNDER THE CUT MDNI

"You wanted my attention all day, Sweetie. Why are you crying now? You've got what you wanted..." Seonghwa looks down at you with his eyes glazed over in lust, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning down to where you sit on the floor in front of the couch. Your legs spread, face warm and wet with tears, cute pantie set pushed to the side to give him a good view of your wet hole clenching the toy. "You've got all my attention, sweet girl."

"Please-"

"Nuh-uh." He cuts you off, cupping your face with a soft smile that hardly matches his next words, "you take it. This is what you get." You adjust yourself on the floor to sit on your knees, and he watches you with a hint of amusement.

You brace yourself on his thighs, gripping the fabric of his sweats. "Please, Mars... Touch me. God- please give me more. I need to cum. I'm s- I'm sorry!" You sob, leaning your head onto his lap. You feel his hand gently pat down your undoubtedly messy hair, then you hear him chuckle.

"You're always sorry until I let you cum, huh?"

"No, I'm really sor-"

"Teasing little slut," he groans, tenderly tugging your hair by the roots to pull your head up. You've left a stain of tears just above his knee. "Tell me," he begins, "do you think I enjoyed a hard on during practice? You think I got to cum after you teased me with those pictures?"

"No," you admit, tears slowing. He notices, and reaches to his phone, abruptly turning the device from six to twelve. They return full force, your legs clench themselves together and you cling onto Seonghwa for dear life as moans rip through you. "I'm sorry, Hwa! Please, please, it's too much," you croak out.

"Too much?" He coos with a smirk. "I thought you wanted to cum, Princess?" Your eyes widen at the implication of his words, and he only smiles back down at you. "Get back down there and maybe I'll let you."

You all but fall back into the shag rug of your apartment, hiccuping as your tears free fall. "Please, I'mma be good, Baby. I promise, I pinky swear, with a fucking cherry on top!" You almost forget to spread you legs, when his foot knocks down one of you knees and reminds you. You expose yourself to him as you revel in the feeling of the intense vibrations inside you.

It's never enough to make you cum, though. And Seonghwa knows that. That's why he's looking down with a smirk.

"Can't see you, Sweetie." His voice alone makes you cry out in a moan, writhing as you try to get any friction on your clit with the lace panties you used to tease him. "Take them off." Your tears blur your vision as you blink open your eyes, staring up at the ceiling as you hook your fingers under the fabric. You follow his instruction, pulling them down as quickly as you can and leaving them discarded to an unknown corner of the room.

"There's my good girl," he all but moans as he slinks to the floor in front of you. "Where've you been all day, Angel? I've been stuck-" he runs his hand over your calve, making you twitch- he laughs heartily. "I've been stuck with an attention whore all day."

Unbeknownst to you, his smirk only grows as he comes closer and sees the fat tears that still run down the sides of your face. "I'm so-" you cry out as his hands find purchase on your hips, holding them in place. "I'm so sorry, Hwa! I'll never tease you again, I swear! I'm gonna be good! I'm your good girl, I promise!"

He hums, pushing you back so he can lay flat on his tummy. "I know you are, I know. We all have our days. Isn't that right, Princess? You were just extra needy today, huh?" His thumb ghosts over your swollen clit, and you begin mumbling incoherent pleas and apologies: gripping onto the carpet like it owes you money.

"Isn't that right?" he asks again, reaching one of his hands up to grip your hand and ground you.

"Yes," you moan, "just need you so bad."

"You've got me," he attaches his lips to your core with no warning, and both of your hands wrap up in his blond locks.

"God, fuck!" His tongue assaults your begging cunt, swiping up and down and side to side and messaging you in tight circles. "Oh my God, my God, Mars Baby, so good! You're so good! Please, don't stop," you begin to hyperventilate, and it doesn't slip his attention as he hears it in your tight voice.

He moves one of his hands away from its death grip on your hip and trails it to rest softly between your ribs, tracing the same patterns he makes with his tongue with his index finger. Similar to him, one of your hands lets up on the clutch you have on his head and traps his wrist in it, feeling the small flexes as he traces on your body.

When he begins backing his head away as you start to reach your peak, you try fruitlessly to push him back. The vibration increases ten fold. He put it all the way to twenty. Your hips buck in his hold, head thrown to the side and back arched off the floor.

"Angel, hey..." he speaks gently, leaning over you and smiling as he wipes your hot face. "You ready to cum for me?"

"Yeah," you manage to mumble, kissing his wrist before he pulls it away and wraps both his hands around your thighs. He watches as you wait patiently for a moment, bracing yourself for his tongue. "Hwa?" You prop yourself up after a long moment. "Baby, please?"

He hums, looking up as if he's deep in thought. "I don't know... Are you sure?"

"Fuck!" You pound your hands on the floor, surely pissing off the downstairs neighbor (who is the extremely unfortunate Choi San).

He laughs, thumbs digging into your hips as he gives you a kitten lick that makes tremors rack your body. "You sure?"

"Yes! Yes, please! I want to fucking cum for you, Mars! I want to fucking cum, please help me, I need it so badly," you can barely keep eye contact with him as he rolls his tongue out. "Please, stop teasing me," you whisper though your sobs, giving him your best pleading eyes.

"How can I resist that?"

He sucks roughly on your weeping cunt, rolling his tongue over your nerves as he does so. You come undone in no time at all, so wound up from his teasing that the pleasure spills over inside you and you're seeing stars in your vision. You freeze up as you're dunked into an overwhelming climax. He doesn't let up until you seem to come back into your own body, slumping to the floor and searching him out with a wandering hand.

He sits up quickly and pulls you up into his lap even quicker, wrapping his arms around you tightly- somehow finding time to turn the vibrator off in between. You lean into his warmth, moaning into his shoulder, "fuck." You're so out of it that you don't notice you're sitting over his hard cock. "Fucking love you."

"I love you," he places a chaste kiss to your temple. "My precious Angel. You did so well." His gentle fingers find your overworked cunt, and you jump at the feeling. He holds back a chuckle at the moan you let out when he finally takes the toy out with a lewd pop. He tosses it half harzardly near the wet spot left on the carpet by the mixture of his saliva and your wetness- making a mental note to break out the carpet cleaner.

"Sweet Angel," he rasps as he leaves an open mouthed kiss on your sweaty neck. "Love of my life." He tugs you away from your near-sleep with a deep kiss to your lips. It's wakes you up, his tongue quickly finding its place in your mouth. You wrap yours up in it, entangling you together as he pumps his cock in the small gap between the two of you.

"You need more time, Princess?" You shake your head, steadying yourself with a hand on his shoulder as you take him in the other.

He can barely hold himself back as he hears you begging so quietly, he nearly misses it. "Want you to fill me up."

"Fuck," he groans, "keep talking like and I'll loose my mind." He holds back a moan with his finger between his teeth as you sink down on him. You settle ontop of him, flattening your chest against his and resting your forehead against his. "Want you to fuck me full, Mars." You say proudly, "want you to cum inside me. Want it so bad."

"Too good to me, Sweetie." He rests his arms over your shoulders and glances down to where you're connected.

"Can I move now?" You ask with a quick smile and a kiss to the side of his lips. He nods, pushing his head impossibly closer to yours as his eyes screw up in pleasure.

"God," he gasps, savoring the way your walls slowly envelop him. His throat bobs as you kiss behind his ear, holding himself back to let you have your little moment of dominance. "My good girl, my Angel. Take me so good." His words appeal to the sub he knows you are, your hips stuttering.

The slapping of your skin together echoes in the room, fueling both of your insatiable hunger for one another. "So big," you whine as you work your hips. You finally lean away from him to get better leverage, rolling your hips. "Gah-" You moan as he presses on of his hands to your back, the other just above your cunt. "No, I can't take it! Don't fucking do it, Hwa."

He swipes his tongue over his top lip, looking up at you with a shockingly wholesome smile. "Don't you wanna feel me, Princess? I wanna feel..." You can't deny the way it drives you crazy when he presses down on the outline of his cock inside you. Your just afraid you might loose your mind after how he made you cum earlier. "You think you can handle it?" His hand leaves the imprint and wonders to you breast, pinching your nipple and making your hips halt as you lean into his touch. "Ah~" he moans, "my Love is so sensitive."

He takes back the dominance in a second flat (as if he ever let it slip away). He wraps his arms around your waist and begins pounding into you, relishing in the way he can see his cocks outline just above your pussy before it's hidden by your belly fat. "That's it, Sweetheart. Just like that..." Your walls flutter around him, earning a low moan.

Wordlessly, you remove one of your hands form their tight grasp on the straps of his tank top and toward your stomach.

"Can you take that? You sure, Precious?"

"Yeah," you brokenly whimper that you, "wanna feel it. Wanna feel you." You both whine as you put pressure down, and his hips falter ever so slightly. Tears are building up in your eyes for the umpteenth time tonight, and he leans off the back of the couch to kiss your cheeks as they fall, treasuring the saltiness.

You let your legs fall from the upright position, and he wraps them around him, pulling you all the closer as he fucks into you, and you feel it even more as he keeps a hand on your lower stomach. "Mars-"

"Hold it." He knows by now that you're about to cum, and he's still technically punishing you. "Don't cum yet, don't do it."

You prop your head over his shoulder, wrapping your hands up in the back of his hair. The harder it gets, the harder you clench, and it only builds you up faster. "Baby, please..." You cry, tugging his hair.

"Hold it, Sweetie. You can do it. If you cum, I'm not letting you catch your breath."

"Feels too good!" Your hands rake down his back, leaving angry red lines in your wake. "I can't-"

"You can," he hisses as you mark up his back, "you can take it, Princess. My Princess can take it. I know you can."

His words give you the will to hold back the pleasure, biting gently into his shoulder to hold back your loud noises. "Good girl. You're there, right? I know you wanna cum so bad, huh?"

"Please, can I?" You sniffle, pushing back off his shoulders to face him, brain foggy and excited at the words that leave his lips. You trail your arms down his arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. "God," you start moving your hips with his the moment you see him. His own tears are welling up, face flushed, lips swollen from physically biting back his moans. "My pretty boy, you-Fuck!" He slams up into you, moaning openly as you praise him. "Mars Baby, you fuck me so good! Take such good care of me," you cradle his hot face in your shaking hands, struggling to hold your orgasm back and still function.

"I'm going to fucking fill you up, Angel." He's already more than halfway to that promise, watching as you stare down at him, keeping your hands on his face so lovingly as he pounds you mercilessly. "Want you to cum with me. Want you to cream on my cock."

You nod, managing to hold back most of your yells as he ups the force: holding you from bouncing with one hand on your hip and the other on your shoulder. "Please, Hwa... fuck me full. Wanna be full of you."

His hand slips down from your hip and to your abused clit, and you can't hold back as you cum- forcing yourself to keep your eyes on him as they threaten to roll back. He pulls your head to his and moans loudly into your lips, continuing to thrust as his warm seed fills you up.

He pulls back as darkness starts to cloud your vision, sweet praises followed by the shallow, heavy breaths of the both of you. You shiver in his hold, tears soaking the fabric of the couch that you now have your face smushed against.

"God," he whines, hands rubbing up and down your back soothingly. "My little fucking tease."

#park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa smut #ateez fic #ateez #smut fic #ateez smut #fanfic

[blueraineshadows]

Breathless

Farmer!Garreth x F!MC

8.6k words. Tags: NSFW / smut / loads of fluff / breeding kink unlocked / flirting / sexual tension

The sun was warm on his back as Garreth sat down on a log, pulled a small tin from his cloth bag, and opened it. He lifted out his sandwich and took a large bite, crumbs sprinkling over his lap that he brushed away with a grubby hand. A curious nose snuffled at his thigh, investigating the crumbs in case a piece of ham had fallen out too. Garreth smirked and scratched his beloved dog behind the ear and spoke around a mouthful of bread and ham. 

“None for you, mate,” he said affectionately. “I'm starving after hauling all those hay bales this morning. This is all mine.” 

Big, brown eyes looked up at him hopefully, and Garreth patted the spaniel on the head, his fingers soothing the silken fur as he took another bite of his sandwich. But Rusty had other ideas. His ears perked up, and he stood, tail wagging happily before he took off down the trail, barking excitedly. 

“Rusty!” 

Garreth saw who Rusty was running for, and his heart began to beat a bit faster behind his ribs. He chewed faster, swallowing a huge chunk of sandwich as he brushed the crumbs from his mouth and legs. 

It was her. 

Childhood friend, expert tormentor, and utterly beautiful. MC was a girl who lived in the village, about a mile from the Weasley farm, and Garreth couldn't imagine life without her. She came nearly every day to help out with the animals and chat with Ma. Her own mother passed away when she was a child, and she had become an honorary Weasley, always around the farm or in the house with the boys as they grew up.

She was a Muggle, through and through, but she knew about their magic. She kept their secret, delighted with their magical abilities but loyal to the bone when it came to their talents. Her only regret had been when he and his siblings had all gone off to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. MC had missed them terribly, but being here at the farm had kept her busy. 

It was no trouble for Garreth to admit that coming home for school holidays had meant coming home to her. He didn't care that his brothers teased him about it, poking fun about his little crush on her. Garreth didn't care. He'd tell anyone. MC had always been the prettiest girl he knew, and he'd hex anyone who dared say otherwise. As adults, his feelings hadn’t changed. In fact, they had merely grown stronger.

“You're a bit late today, aren't you?” He called out to her, grinning as Rusty bounced around her legs, tail wagging. 

MC was making a fuss of the dog, laughing at his little leaps as she headed closer towards Garreth, her braided hair over one shoulder with loose strands teasing on the breeze around her face. 

“Keeping an eye on my timing now, Garreth?” She asked, eyes glinting with mischief as she eyed him sitting on the log. “You weren't waiting for me, were you?” 

“Of course,” he smiled charmingly. “You know I'll always wait for you.”

A pretty blush stained her cheeks, and she bent to make a fuss of Rusty. “Maybe next time I should make you wait a little longer, keep you in suspense.” 

Garreth slapped a hand over his heart and sighed dramatically. “Don't be cruel, MC. It's the highlight of Rusty's day greeting you with a happy, wagging tail. How could you do it to him? Look how pleased he is now that you're here! You should come earlier so he gets to have longer with you before you have to return.” 

She lifted her gaze to his, her blush deepening into a glorious red as her gorgeous eyes narrowed. “Don't use Rusty as a tool to flirt with me, Garreth Weasley. Rusty is innocent and such a good boy.” 

“Hey, I'm a good boy, too,” Garreth said. He held out his tin. “I'll even share my sandwich with you to prove it.” 

Ignoring the hopeful gaze of his beloved dog, who he'd just told that his lunch was off limits, Garreth held the tin up as MC took a peek at his sandwich. 

“Maybe just a little bite,” she said, lifting the sandwich from the tin. 

As she sat on the log beside him, Rusty still trying to get her attention at their feet, Garreth gave her a warm smile. She smiled back around the sandwich, nudging her shoulder against his as she took a delicate bite. 

“Don't look at me like that,” she said, holding her hand in front of her mouth as she chewed.

“Like what?” He lifted an eyebrow playfully. 

“You know very well what I mean.” She was blushing again. He did love it when he made her blush. 

“I've told you before,” he said, reaching to take hold of the end of her braid, the silken strands of her hair curling perfectly around his fingertips. “I will never stop looking at you like that, not even after you turn old and grey. My eyes were made to look at you that way, MC.” 

She shook her head, and his smile only widened as he tugged teasingly at her braid until she was leaning towards him. He met her gaze and brushed his fingers lightly under her chin. 

“I am going to marry you one day, MC,” he said confidently. “And then you won't need to hike the mile long trail here to see Rusty everyday, you can live here at the farm. With me.” 

“You've been saying you're going to marry me since we were ten, Garreth,” she said, taking another bite of his sandwich. “Over ten years of just assuming I'll be your wife. That's not a proposal.” 

He smiled and let her go, picking up his share of his half eaten sandwich. “You will, MC. I'm going to marry you, and we'll have loads of ginger babies together. You'll see.” 

She laughed and gave him a shove. “What if someone else asks me first? I'm an eligible catch, I'll have you know. My father is a respectable shopkeeper, and I can cook and sew, too.” 

“Like who?” He asked, sitting up straighter. 

“Mr Turner from the post office hinted about escorting me to the summer barn dance. Maybe he will get down on one knee and ask me to be his bride.”

Garreth screwed his nose up. “Seriously? Tight arsed Turner? You've got to be joking. The bloke is so stiff he squeaks when he walks! What kind of lover would he be between the sheets?”

“Garreth!” She gasped, her hands flying to her face as even her neck flushed scarlet. “That's hardly appropriate conversation material.”

Garreth’s green eyes flashed mischievously as he looked at her, imagining how soft her skin would feel under his palms, how delicious those lips would feel against his own. 

“Don't tell me you haven't thought about it,” he said softly, his voice low and raw in his throat.

Their gazes locked, and he could see the way her breaths had quickened, her chest rising and falling quickly under her blouse. “You are a free spirited young woman with fire in her soul. You're going to want a man who can leave you utterly breathless, a man who knows what he has in his arms when he holds you.”

Her eyes widened, her pupils dark and flickering with something that lifted the hope in his heart. “And you think you are the man fit for that challenge, do you?” 

He smiled, confident and cheeky. “Come to the summer dance with me and find out.” 

“Are you asking me to be your date, Garreth Weasley?” 

“I am, and you can't say no either,” he said.

It was her turn to lift an eyebrow at him. "Is that so?” 

“Absolutely. Rusty would be completely heartbroken if you turned me down, and you wouldn't want that now, would you?” 

As if on cue, and totally planned, Rusty leant his head against her thigh, looking up at her with those beautiful, brown eyes. 

“See?” Garreth scratched behind Rusty's ear again, his arm brushing against the warmth of her thigh. 

He had made no secret of it. He wanted her. But, his silly teasing and playful flirting always seemed to be nothing more than banter between them. He wanted the real thing. He'd marry her tomorrow if she would have him. 

MC glanced down at Rusty, stroking his soft fur before looking at Garreth. “Alright, you've got yourself a date to the summer dance,” she said, then held up a finger as his mouth split into a wide grin. “But, it needs to be a proper date. No silly jokes, and you definitely need to wear something smart. You can pick me up and escort me like a proper suitor.”

“I wouldn't dare expect anything less,” he said, his heart soaring. 

….*....

Her arm was linked through his as they walked through the village, the sunset a glorious blend of pinks and gold across the sky, the hues reflected in the sparkle of her eyes. MC looked like an absolute dream in her pale blue dress, her hair pinned back from her face, with a waterfall of curling locks tumbling down her back. His chest swelled with pride that she was on his arm, and he couldn't wait to escort her to the dance. 

They paused near the gated entrance of the old manor house, the sounds of music drifting across from the barn. Garreth patted a hand to his chest nervously. “So, will I do?”

He'd taken great care in bathing and attempting to tame his fiery locks, dressed in his best trousers and boots, his white shirt impeccably clean against the moss green of his waistcoat. He had even adorned his outfit with a plaid dickie bow, and he was sure he looked the part, but he wanted to hear her say it. 

Her eyes took in his clothes, a smile teasing her lips. When she met his gaze, he felt the familiar warmth in his chest that came from just being in her presence. 

“You look very smart,” she said, her fingers smoothing down the front of his waistcoat, making his cheeks warm. “Consider me impressed.” 

“I should hope so,” he grinned. “I've got to look the part, escorting the prettiest girl in the village. That Mr Turner best be keeping his distance, that's all I will say.” 

Enjoying the sound of her chuckle, they entered the barn to be greeted by the lively music coming from the band at the far end. Bales of straw had been set out for seating, along with wooden plank tables, ribbons, and colourful bunting, adding cheer to the space. Dancers were already twirling on the dance floor, but Garreth led MC towards a makeshift bar area and got them two mugs of ale. Taking a sip, he licked his lips, and a crease appeared on his brow.

“It’s no Butterbeer, but it will do,” he smirked. “I shall have to take you on a date to Hogsmeade, or even Diagon Alley in London, and show you some wizarding hospitality.”

MC lifted an eyebrow as she sipped at her beer. “You are fairly confident of a second date, then?”

Drawing on all his Gryffindor bravery, he lifted a hand up to her face, his thumb grazing gently along her cheekbone. “My plan is to sweep you off your feet, and take you on many, many more dates after this.”

Her blush was instant, and she couldn’t look any more beautiful. He could kiss her right now, but he held back, assuming the role of gentleman as they finished up their drinks and he led her out to the dancefloor. 

Not one for fancy airs and graces, he felt a flutter of insecurity at first as they joined the other couples moving about the floor. He was a more practical man, used to using his hands for more physical tasks, his feet more inclined to be in work boots planted firmly in mud. Once he had his hand on her waist, though, the rest just seemed to flow instantly, his gaze transfixed on only her as they began to sway along to the beat. Her smile was for him, and it felt all together too marvellous to be holding her close like this. 

After a few more dances, his pulse racing and his face hot, Garreth was smiling so wide his cheeks hurt. The lively steps were making them work up a sweat, but it was great fun, and he was sure to keep a firm hold on her as the songs ended and another began lest anyone had ideas about cutting in and stealing her away. As they skipped and twirled, her hair fanned out around her, the skirt of her dress billowing against his legs. Holding her gaze as he pulled her in close again, he splayed his hand at the small of her back, the ridges of her corset under her dress pressed against his palm. He felt the fire in his blood and didn’t even try to hold it back from his eyes.

Her mouth was parted as she breathed hard through the dance. The pink of her cheeks and the spark in her eyes felt heightened as they held the look between them. This was a different kind of magic, as old as time itself, and she was the only one who made him feel it. He cared little for the snobbish views regarding blood purity. She may be a Muggle born, but she had the power to charm him. The words in his heart danced and swirled along with him, threatening to escape and spill from his lips. Every thud of life in his body was all for her.

If he pressed his fingertips to the pulse at her throat, would it throb and flutter as hard and fast as his did right now. Could she feel the maddening rush of desire that warmed his blood as a match in her own veins?

For years, he had loved her with his eyes, in the gentle teasing and bold suggestions. His playful demands that he would marry her one day were honest truths, a reality he yearned for, and maybe, just maybe, he would be bold enough to make it a serious declaration. How do you make it special, though? She had hinted at wanting a proper proposal, and he knew it was tradition to place oneself on one knee and present a ring. Not normally one for stiff formality, he wondered if perhaps something a little different might be in order, but nothing too over the top lest it make her decline.

“Shall we get some more drinks?” She asked breathlessly, her fingers holding on tightly to his shoulder. Her flush had darkened, her eyes dipping to his mouth and then back to his eyes as though her heated blood really did answer in kind. “I’m feeling rather parched.”

Blinking away his grand ideas of making her his wife, Garreth nodded, his mouth slipping easily into a warm smile as he slowed their steps. “Of course, sweetheart,” he said with a bow over her hand.

“Such courtly behaviour, Garreth,” she chuckled, her eyes dancing as he straightened. “Who are you, really, and what have you done with the real Garreth?”

“I’m offended!” He said with a little cry of mocking disbelief. “I am the epitome of gentlemanly behaviour at all times.”

She leant in closer, her arm linked through his, the softness of her against him making his blood heat to new levels. As she tilted her head to speak nearer to his ear, he felt his throat close against the mad flutter in his chest. “Does a gentleman hint at what he can do to a free spirited woman once he has her in his arms? I believe you mentioned such things as leaving her breathless?”

Eyes widening in surprise, he turned his head to meet her gaze, their faces achingly close, tempting him even further to dare risking a taste. “You remembered what I said,” he murmured. 

“Every word,” she breathed, her eyes darkening. He could have sworn she moved closer, his tongue sliding to wet his lower lip at the promise of claiming the softness of her plush mouth.

“I meant it, you know,” he said softly, his gaze devouring her face with utter devotion. “I know exactly what I would be holding in my arms, and I would endeavour to show you just how much that would mean, leaving you completely breathless in the process.”

Her smirk was devilishly naughty, the spark in her eyes spellbinding. “Would you like to deflower me, Garreth Weasley?”

His teeth caught at his lower lip, sinking down into the soft flesh at the images those words presented to him, barely swallowing back the desperate whimper that threatened to escape his throat. Barely even registering that they were standing in a barn full of their fellow villagers making merry, his hand tightened at her waist as his eyes burned into hers.

“In the most gentlemanly way possible, I would very much like to ravish you,” he said, his voice thick with loaded desire.

Their gazes locked in a blistering promise of a passion unmet, Garreth heard his heart thundering in his ears. This was more than bodily urges. This was soul defining, surely. Poets wrote about this kind of feeling, and whilst he was certain he could never put it all into words, with his very hands, he would make every endeavour to show her. 

“Garreth!” A sharp tug on his sleeve joined the urgent bark of his name, jarring Garreth from the moment, his eyes blinking in dazed surprise as he turned to see his youngest brother beside him. “Bloody hell, Garreth. I've been calling your name across the room. Are you deaf?” 

“What?” Garreth frowned, trying to comprehend why his brother was here, his shirt almost as filthy as his face, his ginger mop of hair wild with a leaf caught in the curls. “What in Merlin's name are you doing here, Hector?”

Hector turned his gaze towards MC, his lips twitching into a cheeky smirk. “Alright, MC? You're looking delectably pretty this evening.” 

“Leave it out, you little rascal,” Garreth said, rolling his eyes and giving Hector his full attention. “What are you doing here? You look like you've crawled through a hedge backwards.”

“That's because I have,” Hector said, his cheeky smirk still in place. “That's why I'm here. Ma has got her wand in a right ole knot. The baby goats escaped, and they ransacked her vegetable patch. She cast out a hex or two, and now one of them has got pink fur.” 

Garreth’s eyes widened. “She did what? Godric’s balls.” 

He groaned and put a hand to his head. Those mischievous little goats had been the bane of his existence since their birth, escaping and chewing their way through all sorts. If he didn't have such a massive soft spot for them, he would have jinxed them all himself by now. 

“Did you manage to catch them all?” MC asked, a worried crease appearing in her brow. She, too, had been on the receiving end of the little scamps during her times helping out at the farm. 

Hector shook his head. “Nope, there's still three on the loose, so I thought I'd better fetch you, Garreth. They like you. One of those little bastards bit me on the finger, so it did.” 

“Oi, language,” Garreth scolded, holding a stern finger up. “There are ladies present.” 

At Hector's rueful smirk, he got hold of his arm with the intent of marching his rapscallion of a brother out of the barn. Glancing at MC, he caught her amused look and shook his head, fighting back his own grin. 

“I'm so sorry,” he said, his hand catching hold of hers. “This is going to spoil the evening. I need to go back and help round up these baby goats.” 

“And I am coming with you,” she said firmly, grasping his hand and delicately lifting the hem of her skirts. “It sounds like you're going to need my help.” 

In the seconds he had spare to stare at her before they all began to head for the door, he was reminded yet again at how fiercely his heart beat for her. 

….*....

With his wand between his teeth, the glow of his Lumos spell illuminating his face and the ground before him, Garreth launched forwards and wrapped his hands around the middle of the baby goat munching on one of his mother's rose bushes. The goat bleated in protest, and Rusty the dog came scampering over, tail wagging excitedly. 

“Gotcha, you little rascal,” Garreth mumbled around the wood of his wand, tucking the little goat under his arm as he turned towards the barn. 

The goat was trying to nibble his now wonky bow tie, his curls a ruffled mess from the searching in bushes. The evening had not turned out how he had been expecting. Visions of romantic dancing and maybe even a cheeky kiss were fading from his thoughts as he entered the lamp lit barn. 

MC was at the goat pen in the far corner, bending over the now mended fencing as she made a fuss of the mother goat. He could hear the soft murmur of her voice as she scratched under the chin of the beast, seemingly uncaring about the smears of dirt on the skirts of her pretty dress and the mud on her shoes. She had not been afraid to chase after the escaped kids in her fine clothing, traipsing through mud and greenery in her attempts to retrieve them. 

“I've got another one,” Garreth said, returning his wand to his pocket as he lifted a very wriggly kid over the fence. 

“One more to go, then,” MC said with a sigh. She moved closer and reached out for his hand. “Come on, let's go catch her together.” 

“Her?” Garreth asked, lifting an eyebrow. 

“Yes, it's Blossom that's missing. The one with the patch on her tummy that looks like a heart,” MC said, holding tight to his hand as they walked back out into the dark of the yard. 

“You've named them?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “You do know they are to be sold soon, don't you?” 

“They still need names, Garreth,” she insisted with a smile. “How can they not have names when they have such funny, little personalities.” 

He paused in his step to look at her, a soft look on his face. “Considering how these little personalities have wrecked our plans for the evening, you are being rather affectionate towards them.” 

Her smile shifted into something rather playful as she stepped even closer, her free hand lifting to adjust his bow tie. “We only have one more naughty kid to catch, Garreth,” she said, lifting her eyes to meet with his. “And the night isn't over yet.” 

A little flutter erupted in his tummy, warm and pleasing as his mouth tilted upwards into a grin. “That sounds promising.” 

The bleating of the remaining escaped goat sounded across the yard, coming from where the old stables stood against a backdrop of trees. Once again, a mischievous goat was determined to interrupt any moment that had the potential to turn interesting with MC.

Turning to try and catch a glimpse of Blossom was rather pointless in the dark, and Garreth slipped his wand from his pocket again. This was the last goat to catch, and then he could have MC all to himself.

“Hold that promising thought of yours,” he smirked and held up his wand. “Lumos!” 

Still holding hands, they crept swiftly across the yard, the light from his wand illuminating the darkness and pressing back the shadows as they approached the stables, their feet squelching in the mud. Rusty was already snuffling ahead of them, nose down and tail up until he caught a scent. With an excited bark, he was off, scampering around the corner of the old, brick building, and the little goat came bounding out of the darkness. 

“There you are, Blossom!” MC said, holding out a hand. Blossom had other ideas, though, and skipped sideways in a move that was almost like a dance. “Oh, you little rascal!” 

MC lunged to catch her, missed, and slid on the mud. Her startled cry pierced the night as she grabbed at Garreth, catching his arm so forcefully that he was yanked forward in a sudden lurch. It all seemed to happen in slow motion, the arc of light as his wand arm swung, his booted feet sliding out from under him. In his efforts to be a gentleman and keep MC upright, he took the fall, hitting the sticky mud with a splat. 

“Oof!” 

“My goodness, are you alright?” MC said, holding her hands to her mouth as she looked down at him, Rusty bouncing eagerly forward and shoving his wet nose right into Garreth’s face. 

Somehow, Garreth had managed to keep his wand arm up in the air, his spell still lit at the tip. His other hand was buried in the mud, his face a grimace of disgust as he shifted into a sitting position. 

“I'm alright. Easy, boy, easy,” he said, attempting to calm Rusty, who thought this was an impromptu play session. 

It was at this point that Blossom the baby goat decided to take a flying leap into the air in all the excitement, and she jumped right onto Garreth’s broad shoulders, head butting him in the process. His grunt of pain at the smack of her hooves and head was lost in the bellow of laughter that erupted from MC's mouth. She was bent over with it, her eyes sparkling in the light from his wand as he struggled to get Blossom down into his lap with one arm. 

“Oi, don't laugh! A little help here?” He muttered through a smirk, slipping in the mud as he tried to keep hold of Blossom and keep his wand aloft. 

“Of course…I'm s-sorry,” MC gasped around her chuckles, holding out her arms to take little Blossom. “Here, let me…” 

Scooping an excitable Blossom into her arms, coating her dress in fresh smears of mud, MC quietened her chuckles as Garreth got to his feet. He tried to shake the mud from his hand, his eyes roaming over his ruined shirt and trousers. 

“Well, there goes my nice, smart shirt. Bloody hell, I can't go back to the dance looking like this,” he grumbled, his gaze moving to MC. “And look at your lovely dress.” 

“Could you use one of your fancy spells to make it all better?” She asked. 

He could. In fact, he knew just the spell, and she had always been so delighted with the magic that he could do. It had always been his pleasure and a wonderful excuse to keep her near him, to show her the spells he could do. Transfiguration objects would make her clap her hands excitedly, bringing him objects to switch up into something new. The best one was charming magical delights to impress her like little birds or butterflies. It was worth it just to see that glow of wonder in her eyes, her awe, and praise for him, making his chest swell and his dreams would fill with hope. 

Standing there in the mud with her, watching her make a fuss over the naughty goat, he realised that he didn't need to make all the mud disappear. None of this bothered her. Not the escaped goats putting a stop to their dance, not the running around in the dark trying to catch them, and definitely not the mud marking her skirts. She loved this place almost as much as he did. It was home, and this was where they belonged. She had to feel it, too.

“You look beautiful even when you're covered in mud, MC,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. “I'd even go so far as to say you are especially beautiful when you're all grubby and getting stuck in with the work around here. We are lucky to have you.” 

Her smile was particularly lovely as she petted Blossom on the head, the goat trying to nibble on the lace at the front of her dress, and he was certain that she was blushing. Instead of a cheeky come back as she was wont to do, her words were soft, her eyes full of a deeper meaning. “I love it here, Garreth. I always have. I'm happy to be able to help out.” 

She loved it here. Surely, it was meant to be.

“Let's get Blossom back to her family,” he said with a chuffed smile, nodding towards the barn, that warm feeling spreading behind his chest at her words. “And like you said, the night isn't over yet.” 

….*....

With the goats all now safely in their pen, Garreth stood with his hands in his pockets and a rueful smile on his face as MC approached him under the flickering lamp of the barn. She smirked as she attempted to straighten his dickie bow again, her gaze taking in the mud staining his shirt and waistcoat. 

“Oh, Garreth, you even have little hoofprints on your shoulder,” she chuckled, brushing against it with her fingertips. 

“All part of the farm life,” he said, tilting his head as he gazed upon her. “I'm just sorry it ruined the summer dance for you. I'm sure if Mr Turner had escorted you, there would have been no goat drama, and you would likely still be dancing right now.” 

A flutter of insecurity began to tap dance behind his ribs. MC was a rare one, and he did not blame other gentlemen for their interest in her hand. Despite knowing her since they were young children, this did not place any right or claim on her, no matter how he longed for it. He was cheeky and flirty. He made bold statements about her being his wife one day, but her heart was her own to give. 

He was just a farm boy with a gift for magical spells and the odd calamity. Was he enough for her? 

As she stared up at him, the glow of the lamp reflecting in her pretty eyes, he searched for the disappointment in her gaze but found only warmth. 

“I'd rather be here with you in the mud and chaos, than dancing with a man who doesn't understand me,” she said softly. Her face moved subtly closer, her hand still resting on his shoulder. “What you said to me the other day about needing someone who knew what they had when they held you. You were right. Mr Turner may be polite, and he is most gracious when he speaks to me, but his eyes do not hold the power that makes me forget how to breathe.” 

The pace of Garreth’s heartbeat began to pick up, a hand leaving his pocket to reach for her waist. Her warmth came even closer at the urging of his touch. “Tell me more about such eyes,” he murmured, swallowing thickly against the desire building within. 

“Eyes like a forest in spring,” she said, her fingers moving to touch against his throat, her caress like fire as she slid them tentatively up towards his jaw, unravelling the edges of his control. “Eyes that make my skin come alive when they look at me, eyes filled with a fire that I am certain nobody else sees but me. I could get lost in those eyes if I wanted to, I'm sure of it.”

She was so close now, he could see the myriad of flecks in the pools of her eyes, and he figured he knew what she meant. “Do you want to get lost in them?” He asked, the underlying tension in his words as dark and smooth as honey. 

The air felt molten and ablaze between them, all his nerve endings stretched taut with the need to feel every inch of her pressed against him.

“I think I already am,” she whispered. 

Endless day dreams and hours spent picturing how it would be to kiss MC, and now that his lips were finally pressed against hers, the real thing surpassed anything his mind could have painted. Softer than he had dared believed, her mouth sealed against his in a first kiss that had his toes curling inside his muddied boots. 

It wasn't too heated, and yet his blood was ablaze, the gentle pressure just enough to show the desire behind it. The shuddering breath he managed to pull into his lungs took some of the tension from his frame as he pressed his forehead to hers, his eyes seeking the comfort of her gaze. 

“Dance with me once more,” he said, his voice laden with the need of her. 

“I offer you kisses, and you want to dance?” 

Her eyes sparkled with a mischief he recognised, but Garreth merely smirked and took out his wand. In the corner near where they stood was a collection of farm tools, brooms and a rake, a shovel, that kind of thing. With a few careful wrist movements, his lips murmuring a charm learnt in a lesson taught by his Aunt Matilda, those practical and useful implements lifted up from the ground. In graceful twists and turns, imbued with the power of the magic that ran through his veins, Garreth performed the transfiguration spell to make a quartet of string instruments. 

“Garreth!” MC exclaimed, her hands coming up to her mouth as the instruments began to play a rather charming piece of music. 

Eyeing the look of wonder on her face, his smile was rather pleased as he slid a hand across her lower back and urged her closer towards him. “Not bad, hmm? If we can’t be at the dance, then we shall bring the dance to us.” 

Taking a hand and holding her more firmly, his fingers splayed at her back in a manner that suggested she was his alone. He spun them about in a smooth turn of dance. 

“Show off,” she admonished playfully, letting him lead her across the floor of the barn. 

It didn't matter that they were plastered in mud or that they were dancing in the barn with a family of goats for company beside hundreds of hay bales stacked ready for winter. He was here with her, and she was in his arms, her smiling face turned up to him with a warm glow in her eyes. 

“I may be a show off, but only for you,” he said with a wink. Swallowing down his nerves, he adjusted his grip at her waist. It was time to summon the bravery his school house was known for. “Anything for the girl I love.” 

He heard the swift intake of her breath, her feet stilling amongst the loose straw strands scattered across the floor. The music played on as they stood and stared at each other, a hot blush blooming across his cheeks. 

“Do you mean that, Garreth?” Her voice was breathless, her eyes wide. “You love me?” 

“I do,” he nodded, his throat closing up with emotion. “I love you.” 

Her gaze dipped to his chest, her eyes shifting from side to side, a kaleidoscope of emotions dancing across her features. Panic took wing within him, his fingers gripping tightly at the back of her dress. Had he spoken out of turn? Was it too much? Perhaps he had read the look in her eyes all wrong. 

When she finally lifted her gaze back to him, the tell tale shine of unshed tears glittered in her eyes. “But…I'm just a normal girl, Garreth,” she said, shaking her head as though she didn't understand. “I don't have magic. I am one of those Muggle people in your world. Why would you want me when you could have someone who can conjure fire, or…or wonderful instruments to make music. I'm nothing special…”

“You are everything!” He declared, shifting his hands to cup her beautiful face, his heart squeezing at her fears. “You are all that I want. Nobody else could ever come close. Another girl could have all the magic in the world, and I would still choose you. Please, don't ever think that you are not good enough, MC. I love you all the way from your bonnie hair to your muddy shoes.” 

Her lips trembled, and a tear escaped, streaking down her cheek. He caught it with his thumb, caressing the softness of her skin as he felt the burn behind his own eyes. 

“I'm probably being a sentimental fool here, but it's the truth,” he said, resting his forehead against hers and taking a shaky breath. “Please, say something.” 

A broken whimper left her mouth as she wrapped her arms about him, her fingers clutching at the back of his waistcoat as she pressed a kiss to his mouth. “I love you, too,” she said, the words like a balm against his lips. 

Like a dam released, he pressed kisses to her mouth, her nose, his lips raining his affections across her cheeks until she was giggling in his arms. Hearing her speak those words made his heart skip a beat, his emotions threatening to spill over, and so he used his lips to express himself rather than make a fool of himself and speak. He feared his voice would crack, and the burn in his eyes would turn into real tears.

“Are you trying to kiss me everywhere?” She laughed, breaking through the ecstatic tension in his chest.

His eyebrows lifted with cheeky intrigue, his fingers ghosting along the lacy neckline of her dress near her collarbone. Humour and flirting were definitely more in his comfort zone. “Hmm, that depends on how literally you mean everywhere.” 

Her cheeks reddened, and she gasped, but her smile turned almost as mischievous as his own. “This sounds most improper, Garreth,” she teased. “Perhaps a hint at how a gentleman may leave a girl breathless.” 

“Oh, it's wonderfully improper. Would you like a demonstration, my lady?” 

“Garreth! Not in front of the kids.” She nodded her head towards the goat pen across the barn, her mouth tilting into a teasing smile. 

Glancing from the mischievous goats to the girl of his heart, Garreth gave her his most wicked smile. “But of course, my love,” he said, taking her hand. “Right this way.” 

Heart hammering with excited anticipation, Garreth tugged MC away from the goats as he ended the music with a flick of his wrist, leading her around the huge stacks of hay bales to a darker, more secluded part of the barn. He let her go to shift a few of the heavy bales, uncaring about dirtying clothes already ruined, until he had a suitable spot in which to render his girl breathless. Circling her within his arms again, he kissed her gently, searching her eyes for answers. “Only on your word, MC.” 

“You have it,” she nodded.

As their kisses became longer and more heated, his blood fired to a burn that made him giddy. He lifted her off her feet and placed her down on the sweet-smelling bales. Deepening the kiss, he braced himself on his elbows, trying not to crush her with his weight. Her body arched towards him, the press of her curves making him ache with such fierceness. 

“Tell me you feel this, too,” he said, his mouth devouring the tender flesh of her throat. 

“Like fire,” she gasped. 

Her cheeks were flushed, her hair pooled around her head in a tumble of glossy curls, and her skin was addictive against his tongue. His fingers worked at the fastening of her dress, pulling the sleeves from her shoulders to expose more soft flesh to explore. Her gasping, tortured breaths filled his ears as he mouthed along her collar bone, dragging the dress downwards before reaching to pull at the laces of her corset. Crossing the line from friends to lovers had been his dream, his hope, and now it was his reality.

As her nimble fingers worked on the buttons of his waistcoat, his gaze blazed a trail over her chest, confined within the corset that he was eager to be rid of. Bending down, his tongue slid delicately along the plump flesh, pushed upwards over the top of the constrictive bindings, groaning at the promise of what his hands longed to hold. But, the laces were being stubborn, his fingers tugging with an urgency that made her chuckle.

“Rather impatient, aren’t you?” She teased, cupping his face.

“I’ve been dreaming of this for so long,” he groaned, grabbing her waist with the intention of spinning her around. “Roll over, darling. I refuse to be outwitted by a corset. I have my heart set on burying myself in the delights hidden underneath, so this naughty piece of lace and bone is about to meet my barn floor.”

Her laughter brought a smirk to his face as he rolled her atop the bales, pulling the laces free until the corset loosened. He immediately slipped it from her body, discarding it so he could smooth his hands over the red indents the restrictive garment had made on her skin. She was like satin and silk, so sensual under the touch of his work-roughened hands.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, bending to press soft kisses along the length of her spine. Urging her upright, she sighed as she pressed up against his bare chest, her head falling back as he slid her hair aside to suck gently at the base of her neck. “Let me feel you,” he whispered.

Fingers teasing around her ribs, he peered over her shoulder as his hands sought out the full weight of her breasts. Divinely soft, he cupped them both, closing his eyes for a few seconds to savour the feel of her against his palms. She turned her head, her fingers delving into the thick curls of his hair. As he met her heated stare, the glaze of desire he could see there had him claiming her mouth in another hungry kiss. 

Emboldened by her low moan, he let one hand drift over the softness of her stomach, caressing with a trembling touch before he dared to delve lower. Her dress was bunched about her thighs, his fingers sliding easily under the waistband of her underwear. Her breath caught in her throat as his fingertips brushed through the thatch of her hair, but she shuffled her knees further apart to allow him access.

“Are you sure?” He asked, needing to know that she wanted this as much as he did.

“Please…” 

His fingers caressed through the heated slick of her most intimate flesh, and Garreth felt his cheeks burn at her willingness, her soft moans driving him to explore her further, teasing at her entrance before sliding a finger into the silken heat that awaited. 

“Gods…” The word left his mouth in a breath of awe. She felt exquisite, and his arousal strained against the confines of his undershorts, molten fire gathering deep in his loins. 

As her hips rolled seductively against his hand, he worked to a rhythm, slowly stretching her until he could add a second finger. The tightness of her inner walls posed the idea that he might need to take care when entering himself into her. He ached for it, longed to make her his knowing he would be the first to do so, but he did not want to hurt her. For now, he concentrated his efforts on pleasing her, seeking out the tiny pearl of her pleasure.

Savouring every sound that slipped from her mouth, he whispered in her ear, pressing kisses along her jaw, and he kept a warm hand around her breast. Watching her writhe with pleasure, the skin of her throat darkening with a rosy blush as her whimpers intensified, he coaxed her ever closer to the peak. 

“Garreth…I’m close,” she panted, her fingers gripping into his hair with an eye watering grasp.

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” he murmured into her ear. “Relax, give in to it. I won’t let you go.”

Groaning at the delicious pressure of her peachy backside against his arousal, he felt the quiver of her muscles, her hips bearing down as her body surrendered to the fire. He slowed his fingers, coaxing her along the crest of the wave, watching her through his lidded gaze as she climaxed in his arms. Her moans were beautiful, but nothing could be more satisfying than hearing his name whispered through her lips like some kind of prayer. Bringing her to this point gave him a sense of pride, the love he felt for her swelling behind his ribs as he shifted her around so he could hold her against him.

Burying her face into his neck, she clung to him, the heat of her laboured breaths against his skin urging him to stroke his hands up and down her back as she came back to herself. They whispered their words of love to each other, taking a moment to pause and reflect before she cupped his face in her hands. Her gaze was one of hazy bliss, cheeks flushed, and a gorgeous smile on her lips.

“You were good on your word, Garreth Weasley,” she said, her thumb sliding temptingly close to his mouth. “Consider me thoroughly breathless.”

“Oh, but I am not done yet,” he said, capturing her thumb with his lips and sucking gently. She watched him do it, her eyes darkening again, lips parted.

“Of course,” she murmured softly, her eyes lifting to stare into his. “I had always secretly hoped that you would be the one to take me for the first time. I dared to dream of it. All those times you would smile and say that I would be your wife one day, I stored those moments in my secret heart and feared that another, a beautiful and talented witch, would come and steal you away.”

“Never,” he insisted, holding her closer, pressing the warmth of her flesh even closer against his. He kissed her on the mouth, his lips lingering before speaking again. “I meant every word, you know. I may smile and tease you, but there was always truth behind those words.”

Taking her hand, he pressed it against where his heart thudded against his chest, more serious than he had ever been in his life. “Feel that? Every beat is for you. I want you to be my girl, my wife. I want you to be there when I wake up every day. Marry me, MC.”

“A thousand times, yes!” Her smile was dazzling, and she wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tightly. She didn’t even hesitate with her answer, and he squeezed her back, hardly daring to believe it.

All the grand gestures and speeches he had mulled over didn’t seem to matter, the charade of going down on one knee, the stiff formalities all forsaken. They were half naked in his barn, bits of hay stuck to them, their clothes filthy. But, it didn’t matter. This was their truth, and he had spoken with his heart, and by some miracle, she had said yes.

Capturing her mouth in a long, fierce kiss, he cupped her face, a grin appearing as his verdant eyes twinkled. “You will be my Mrs Weasley. I can’t wait to see ole ‘stiff upper lip’ Turner’s face when I call you that.”

“It’s not a competition, Garreth,” she chided gently, playing with a lock of his hair.

“Oh, but it is, my love. You are the prettiest girl in the village, and you are all mine. That makes me a winner. Just wait until I tell Rusty he is going to be so happy about this!”

MC chuckled and leaned into him, pressing her forehead to his as she bit down on her lower lip. “As much as I adore that pup of yours, he is going to have to wait. We have unfinished business to attend to.”

“We do?” Feigning innocence, he waited, watching and loving the fire igniting in her gaze. 

A breathless moan escaped his throat as her hand slid down to palm against the front of his trousers, his arousal waking from its semi-slumber at her touch. Her lips grazed against his in a teasing kiss, her eyes locked with his. Gods, she made his blood burn.

“Make me yours,” she whispered against his mouth.

Laying naked on the hay bales beneath him, her legs parted to welcome him, MC looked like perfection. His eyes blazed with his desire as he admired the soft curves, his fingers stroking against her glistening and inviting entrance as he prepared her for him. Taking his time to savour the intimacy and to ensure her comfort, Garreth pressed himself into her slick heat, biting his lip against his urgent need. So tight and hot, she squeezed around him, his cock throbbing as he slid deeper.

At her wince, he paused, but her fingers bit into his hips, urging him to push. “Don’t stop,” she gasped, glancing down to where they were joined. 

Moving slowly at first, the pleasure began to build until his eyes became glazed, liquid fire pooling with blissful ecstasy at the base of his spine. Her little hands clung to him, her grip fierce and hungry, her head thrown back, and lips parted as she moaned beneath him. He couldn’t get enough. It was erotic and sensual. It was blowing his mind. The feel of her was driving him insane and his climax was imminent. 

Looking down at where he thrust into her, watching as he filled her over and over, his hips snapped harder. The slap of their flesh punctuated his rhythm, the harshness of his breaths becoming cries of ecstasy as the heat exploded in his lower back, his hips slamming forward until he was fully sheathed within her tight heat. Eyes closed as the pulsing wave of his orgasm overcame him, he shuddered as thick spurts of release spilt deep inside of her. Behind his eyelids, the erotic image of MC’s flushed and naked body seared through his thoughts.

As the wave of his orgasm began to ebb, he gently rolled his hips, grinding against her as though pressing his seed even deeper inside. They were not married yet, but he did not regret filling her up. In fact, it was incredibly arousing to think of it. Gasping air into his lungs, he opened his eyes as he felt her hands urging him closer. Her smile was soft, her fingers gentle as she smoothed his hair back from his sweat slicked forehead.

“I love you,” she whispered, her mouth pressing delicate kisses on his flushed face. 

A subtle movement of her hips made him moan softly, the sensitivity of her walls flexing around his very happy cock sending shivers up his spine. Seeking out her mouth for a kiss filled with longing, he realised that it was possible to fall in love even deeper than before. Staring into those eyes, he had certainly got lost in them, lost in her, and now she would be his forever.

Their future lay ahead, living here on the family farm where they could raise their children. Perhaps they would be magical, like him, and they would go to Hogwarts. Even if they weren’t, and they were like their mother, he wouldn’t mind. They would be Weasleys, they would be loved, and that was a wonderful and beautiful thought.

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #garreth weasley #garreth weasley smut #garreth weasley x mc #weasley wednesday #blueraineshadows

[esmedelacroix]

Coffee Shop Love Pt.1

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

summary: He's as stern and cold as the snow falling from the sky blanketing the bustling streets of Nueva York, Miguel O'Hara stumbles upon a hidden gem of a coffee shop just around the corner from Alchemax. Only problem is the annoying-as-shit smiley-ass barista.

contents: slow burn, no use of y/n, fluff, fluff, and more fluff

author's note: Hi lovies, this is the very first part of my first series. I hope you enjoy it! I suggest you listen to "Bittersweet Faith" by Bitter:Sweet on loop while reading this. It does a nice job setting the vibe I'm going for. Enjoy...

word count: 1.1k

Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt. 5, Pt.6, Pt.7, Sequel: Sweet Tooth

Yet another slow night at the Mug & Muffin Coffee House, to no one's surprise, not a single soul drinks coffee at night. You always keep the shop open in case someone wants to swing by and get some baked goods for the night. The rest usually goes to the homeless shelter five blocks away. You sit by the counter chin propped up on your hand, as fatigue droops your head down, and Peter Pan sprinkles fairy dust on your eyelids dragging them down.

The lethargic vibe of the shop with slow jazz playing in the background is suddenly disrupted by the frantic ring of the doorbells. Your head shoots up immediately with the sudden burst of noise. The cool winter air bites at your skin until the door is closed and you are back in the embrace of the blasting heater. Your eyes readjust to the warm lights bringing you back into your shop surrounded by the endless coffee beans, leafy green plants, books, and the myriad of photos framed in rusting gold Victorian frames. The shop is completely empty, snapping yourself back into reality, you direct your focus to the customer who had just walked in.

Your lips parted slightly as a little gasp left your mouth. He was a middle-aged man, with golden skin the color of black coffee with a bit of creamer, his mahogany hair was slicked back in a perfect disaster, with wisps of stray gelled hair strands framing his face perfectly. He had the sharpest and highest cheekbones, a cleanly shaved face, and pearly white teeth. He stood at almost seven feet and struggled with getting the mistletoe above the door out of his hair.

Holy smokes he's hot. Where did this man come from? you asked yourself.

He huffed as he finally freed himself from the clutches of the mistletoe. "What a low doorframe," he mumbled to himself in annoyance.

"Or maybe you're just wicked tall," you answered offering him a bright smile.

He quirked a brow at your playful comment. His face gave no gateway to his thoughts.

"Welcome to Mug & Muffin, what can I make you tonight?" you asked looking up at him to meet his gaze.

"I'll have a hot black coffee please," he replied as he took his wallet out.

Your facial naturally contorted at this odd request. You checked your watch to make sure you weren't going crazy. Yep, 9 pm, why is this psycho getting coffee? You looked back up at his unbothered face.

That perfectly chiseled unbothered face. Fuck you for being so perfect mystery man. You thought to yourself as you started to type the order into the machine.

"Would you like any cream or sugar with that sir?" she inquired as their eyes met briefly.

"Nope just black coffee," he responded in a passive-aggressive tone.

"Okay, and can I get a name with this order?" you chirped, to which he replied, "Miguel O'Hara,"

You hummed as you printed his receipt out and handed it to him after he had paid. He chose to get a seat facing the counter. Lucky me, you thought to yourself. You were quite content that you had some eye candy to feast on tonight.

You quickly made his black coffee while sneaking little peeks at him. A pair of reading glasses adorned the bridge of his nose as he taped away at his laptop. You brought his piping hot black coffee to him, and he thanked you with a little head nod, eyes still glued to his computer screen before he looked up at you.

"Would you like coffee cake or some kind of muffin with your coffee? I have a bunch of extras, it'd be on the house," you suggested.

"No thank you, I don't like sweets," he answered. You exaggeratedly gasped at his sudden revelation.

"You don't like sweets," you demanded as you placed your hands on your hips, trying your hardest to give him an angry face. He found your efforts to look angry cute rather than intimidating. He stifled laughter as he answered, "No, I do not," cooly.

"Are you even real?" you grumbled to yourself as you shook your head and ticked your tongue. You sashayed back behind the counter to pack up the sweets to drop off at the Nueva Hope Homeless Shelter. You watched Miguel sip his coffee from the corner of your eye, surprisingly he didn't burn his tongue. His head shot up and surprise marked his eyes as he looked down at his drink and then back at you, before letting out a satisfied hum of approval. He quickly finished his mug while doing his work.

Truthfully the shop closed 15 minutes ago but Miguel sat there too lost in his emails, documents, and reports to realize that you had shut the light off at the counter and put up every chair but the one he was sitting in. He only came back to earth after you had 'accidentally' dropped your keys on the ground next to him. As cliche as the night already was, you both went to pick them up, both your hands grazing each other. He quickly retreated his hand and looked around realizing that it was beyond time for him to go.

He packed his work bag as you loaded the back of your car with boxes upon boxes of extra baked goods. Closing the trunk of the car, you peeped back into the shop to see Miguel placing money in the tip jar. You chuckled to yourself as he stepped out walking up to you. "That was the best coffee I have ever tasted," he started. You crossed your arms and smiled warmly looking up at him.

"I never got your name though," he trailed off.

"And you'll never get it," you teased

"Everyone in the area calls me Baby though," you explained.

"Yeah I'm not calling you that," Miguel said flatly. You laughed at his response as you locked up.

"You have a good night Miguel!" you called out as you opened your car door.

He gave you a lazy wave and you drove away. Night fell on Nueva York along with the snow. When you finished your delivery, you entered your apartment right above the shop with the tip jar in hand. You had emptied it before but Miguel had put something in it. When you opened it your eyes widened at the several twenty dollar bills. There was a small sticky note folded in the jar. You pick it up and unfold it. The sticky note read, "You are way too energetic at nine o'clock at night, but that was the best coffee I've ever had, will be coming again,"

Next... Pt.2

a/n: should i make a tag list?

#miguel o hara #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x you #miguel o'hara x you #astv miguel #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x reader #spider man atsv #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #astv x reader #miguel fanfic #miguel o #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o hara fluff #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel imagine #spiderman 2099

[love-hatred-stuff]

》 hey, hi~ here's a draft that I wrote instead of continuing other fics that I wanted to write, lmao I hate myself :')

》 Eddie Brock(Venom) x (f)Reader

⚠ a little warning; age gap (10y), daddy issues here we goooo, just a tiny bit spice and some sprinkle de dinkle ★angst★

♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤

Eddie hadn't had sex in what felt like centuries. Actually just one or two years but who's counting when all he can do is use his hand and Venom mostly doesn't even let him finish. That monster doesn't give shit about it, he claims that Eddie wouldn't need it. He needs food and water but not a jerk off.

Well if he knew why he'd been going on it so much lately, maybe Venom would let him, but he's not ready to give that up yet. It's probably the only thing about Eddie, Venom hasn't completely figured out yet.

It was you. You were the reason he was slowly but surely losing the mind he shared with the compatible slimy alien inside of him.

•••

"Eddie thanks for checking, but I can manage." You told him on the other line of the phone.

Eddie just wanted to help you pack and carry your things since you were moving to another apartment. You've been able to get promoted again and now you were at the very top of the not even so small company you've been working at for about five years now. You could say you were pretty good at your job.

"I habe plenty of strong people here, helping me out. I don't even have to carry anything, I just decide were the furniture and boxes are getting placed. You don't need to worry, darling."

Eddie had a smirk dancing on his lips. You knew he could do everything they were doing, at least twice as fast.

"I should come over later then. I'll bring dinner." He suggested.

"Great idea. But don't let Venom choose take out again, please Eddie." Ugh the way you were saying his name made his brain go blank and suddenly Venom was hyperaware of what was going on.

"Promise. See ya." He immediately ended the call, leaving you a little confused. Ed could sense what Venom felt, just beneath the surface.

"Holy Shit!!!" Venom growled.

"You kidding me? She's the reason you've been going to the gym and eating healthy now? Why you've been completely desperate to stroke your dumbass dick?" Then he laughed. Finding it hilarious that Eddie was in love again. After his last woman, Anne, he'd been taking a while to open up again. Actually he didn't talk to any other woman besides you.

The thing was just, that you were ten years younger than him and he'd practically seen you grow up. Of course he never saw you the way he does now, back then. But it was quite bad how hard he had fallen for you in the last few months.

"I KNOW! She's too young for me. I'll keep my distance, okay? It wasn’t my intention to develop feelings." He tried defending himself.

"As if I cared, you nasty human. Get you dick wet if that's what you need." The symbiot snarled.

Eddie was surprised, to say the least.

"You're not gonna disturb us?" He asked in suspicion.

"Thought you wanted to keep your distance? Not anymore? Kidding. Do what you gotta do. Since you're my host I gotta let you have at least one thing."

"That'd be great." He smiled to himself.

"Now get your ass up at get her something nice, if you wanna get inside her pants."

"I don't wanna get inside her pants! Well- maybe a little, but I care about her more than that."

Eddie sensed, by Venom's silence, that he doesn't wanna get involved in his love life any further. Although he couldn't blame Eddie, you were gorgeous little human. A young one at that.

So he showered and grabbed his keys, so he could get dinner and some flowers. He was a little nervous buying these, because he knew that would be the first romantic move he's ever made on you. You probably only saw him as like an uncle or something, nothing more. Knowing his luck, he didn't even expect you to like him back.

He would know soon.

•••

Well, but who knew, he's gonna find himself underneath you instead?

Eddie was sitting on the couch, the only thing that wasn't completely packed with stuff and boxes. You were straddling him, taking his breath away with the way you moved your skilled tounge against his. He was a little hesitant though, barely touching your hips with his hands because he didn't know were to put them. He wanted so badly to grip your sides tight and push you closer against his crotch.

But he was unsure. Even though you clearly gave him all the signs that you wanted this, he felt like he was using you. Venom's earlier words spiralling in his mind; '-if you wanna get inside her pants.' No! He didn't! He wanted so much more than that. So it felt wrong to just jump you the moment you said you liked him back- well you didn't really say anything, you just smiled to yourself as you accepted his flowers and began to stalk towards him, until this moment, where you plastered him with marks and kisses.

Despite all those doubts, he felt heavenly, holding most of his sounds back, almost impossible. You were a woman with so many strengths, kissing and grinding being apparently one of them. Glad, he found out.

He only realised seconds later that you'd stopped and were looking straight at him.

"What's wrong?" Your worried look scratched at his heart instantly.

"Nothing." He lied.

He was a good liar. But you weren't buying it, you knew him well enough.

"You don't want this? You should've said so, Brock."

Ugh, another pang shooting through him stronger than he'd expected. The usage of his last name? Nah. You only did that when you were seconds away from switching your emotions. You were gonna tell him to piss off and stay away from you, until you forgave him, unless he would tell you the truth right f*cking now. He knew because he'd disappointed you once before. That was a complete different scenario, and now you felt personally attacked. He could feel it, even Venom could.

"No! I really really want this! Or else I wouldn't have told you what I did earlier. It's just, that it feels wrong touching you, with my hands."

Oh. No.

He just made it worse, didn't he? Judging by the way your face went blank, his speech definitely went sideways.

"Get lost." You were pointing to your door with your finger, giving him a stern look.

He felt like a little scared kid again, being scolded by his mom. Only ten times worse.

"What? No! I'm saying this because I'm so much older than you, y/n! I swear on my mother and the symbiot living inside of me that I've been craving you for the longest time now. I love you, god damn it! But I shouldn't and I know that, alright? But I can't help it. I'm sorry if I send you the wrong signals. I'm just worried that people will take you away from me, because of that." Eddie stood up and slowly walked towards you, trying to not make you even more uncomfortable than he already had.

You looked a little more relaxed now though.

"So you denied me because you feel a little perverted? God, Eddie you're not a grandpa and I'm a grown woman with a good life ahead of her. Do you think I would throw that away for a forbidden romance? You and I are perfectly okay to be with each other. Nothing's gonna happen, it's only ten years, Brock." Eddie flinched again at the end. Seemed like he had to soothe you a little more.

"Could you please stop addressing me with my last name, it scares me a little. I get it now. I'm sorry for worrying so much, sweetness." Eddie gently touched your cheek, caressing it and putting a strand of hair behind you ear.

"You have a lot of making up to do, you grandpa." You glanced up at him, allowing a tiny smile to dance on your cherry lips.

-----

To be continued...?

Love, love, love

~ love-hatred-stuff ♡

#eddie brock #eddie x reader #we are venom #marvel imagine #eddie brock x reader #daddy issues

[normal-paldean-student]

Muse Mixup Madness—March 1, 2024

(If you don't know what this is, see this post)

welcome back to the second round of muse mixup madness! the first time around went great, and i'm hoping to see people have just as much fun with this one!

starting this month, i'm going to begin marking prompts as high or low fantasy. low fantasy prompts should be compatible with any blog canon, while high fantasy ones might inherently involve things that more grounded blogs might prefer to avoid, like eebydeebies, sapient pokémon, hybrids, or crossovers. there will always be at least one low fantasy prompt.

(note! these labels are completely arbitrary, and there are no rules in muse mixup madness. if you're a low fantasy blog and some interpretation of a high fantasy prompt appeals to you, go for it.)

with that out of the way, let's get into this month's prompts!

1. The Road Not Taken (low fantasy)

Everyone has had decisions to make in life, some of them more impactful than others. With this prompt, you'll be looking into what may have happened if your muse chose to pursue a different path in life from the one they did.

2. Rags to Riches/Riches to Rags (low fantasy)

A character's socioeconomic status growing up has a huge impact on how they interact with the world and the person they become. If your character's family was richer or poorer, how would that affect them?

3. Another World (high fantasy)

If your character was a Faller originating from somewhere other than the Pokémon multiverse, where would they be from? What would they be like? If your character is already a Faller, explore who they'd be if they'd been a Pokémon character from the beginning.

(For a lower fantasy take on this one, you can remove the crossover element and focus on the effects of being or not being a more canon-compliant Faller.)

4. I've Got a Type (high-ish fantasy)

Does anyone else remember typed humans? They were a minor character trend around a year ago before they died out, and now with hybrids around they've been more or less forgotten. I liked them though, so this prompt is for an AU where your character is one of them! If they already have a type due to being a Pokémon or hybrid, give them something unconventional for their species instead.

5. Bonded Rivals (high fantasy, requires partner)

Maybe it's coincidence that your character and your partner's keep meeting, or maybe it's fate pulling them to each other with some sort of invisible (or visible) tether. But whatever the reason, and whatever the level of supernatural involvement, every time they see each other there's some level of fighting or competition involved. After a point, they do have to have built up a mutual respect through that... right?

(Or in other words, this one's a soulmate AU, but for rivalry instead of romance. You can sprinkle in any trappings of that you like, or keep it wholly mundane for a more low-fantasy take if you prefer.)

a little note on that last one—it's entirely possible it appeals to you, but you don't have anyone to do it with. if that's the case, you can make an open invitation post on your blog or use the notes of this post to coordinate.

and once again, for my records, please answer the poll! again, it's not binding, this is just so i can gauge popularity for the prompts.

(also, please reblog this post when you see it instead of just scheduling it for day of so more people have a chance to see it while there's still time to prepare)

#pkmn irl #pokeblogging #pokemon irl #irl pkmn #irl pokemon #muse mixup madness

[hopelesslyromanticgay]

An Americano, Please? Part 3

Word count: 1.3K A/N: Just an FYI, I don't usually upload twice a day, I just felt particularly inspired today. As always, italics in quotation marks signify the speaking is using romanian dialect.

Y/N's POV:

I gotta admit. It hurt when Jenna didn't send me a text immediately. It's been two days, and still nothing.

Maybe it was a meaningless banter. Oh well. I guess I just really thought something could come out of it.

"What are you sulking about?" Nessa asks me one day after our shift. 

"I'm not sulking, I'm just a little sad because I didn't get a text from someone," I explain, "It's not like she owed me a text or anything, but I don't have to be ecstatic over the fact that she hasn't done so."

"Oh my god, you're into the American one," Nessa exclaims, "I knew it! I mean, she's gorgeous. Like if I were into girls I would definitely be into her." I take a sip of my cortado (half espresso, half milk) as I listen.

"Well in any case, she's probably not interested."

"Stop sulking, Y/N," Nessa scolds me, "Let's do something fun. Gotta get your mind off of this girl."

Since our shift just ended, and we have a whole afternoon ahead of us, Nessa and I take her car to Predeal, the closest thing to a modern city we have around here.

It's about seven miles, so about twenty minute drive. The town's mostly filled with ski resorts, but there's a few fun places to shop.

A great deal of the afternoon is spent sitting outside a store judging the tourists. 

"Oh my god she's probably saying something stupid like, 'I know it's winter but my husband will love this hawaiian T-shirt I bought in Romania,'" Nessa mimics the normal thought process of the typical tourist.

"This guy's even worse though,"  I stifle a laugh, mocking his actions.

After a thorough mockery of all of the Predeal tourists, we head back to our town, content with our afternoon.

I still haven't stopped thinking about Jenna, though. I wish I could have gotten to know her better. It's so nice to finally have someone I can talk to in English.

All I can do is hope that she comes back to the shop. Even then though, she probably won't want much to do with me.

Nessa drops me off at my apartment, waving goodbye. Almost instantly, I shed my winter coat, relieved by the warmth of the building.

The first thing I do is turn on the TV and open Netflix. A new baking show just dropped, and I'm not the type to turn down new entertainment.

The show turns out to be a combination of baking and engineering. It seems cool, but it's hard to tell from the first episode.

My phone lights up with a bright reminder Remember to feed Cupid!

Sighing, I get up from the couch and grab my fish flakes.

Cupid is my purple betta fish. She's about a year old and as of yet hasn't had too many health issues, which is super lucky for both of us. She's at the point where she recognizes my face. So when I go up to the tank, fish feed in hand, she eagerly swims up to the glass.

"Hey Cupid," I laugh, sprinkling some food into the tank.

After feeding her, I head back to the couch, where I continue watching my cooking show. Before I know it, I'm five episodes in and the sun is starting to set. I look out of the window, trying to gauge the temperature and weather condition.

It's a fairly clear twilight right now. There's a good chance I'll get to see stars tonight. Actually, I've decided I will see stars tonight.

I don my winter coat and make my way down the apartment complex stairs. One of the perks of not living in a huge city is that I can see the night sky beautifully.

One of my favorite places in town is on the outer edges of it. At this point, all of the buildings are housing, be it apartments or actual houses. The long stretches of pavement are perfect for strolling down while admiring the night. 

Not a lot of people choose to come out here late at night, which is honestly their loss. I wouldn't necessarily say I'm super into nature and the great outdoors, but when I am outside, I can find an appreciation for my surroundings.

So that's how I found myself strolling the streets of Bușteni Romania, not looking at the cement in front of me.

BAM! I find myself crashing into another person, almost knocking both of us over.

"Fuck, I am so sorry," I find myself defaulting to english, "I- I mean, I'm so sorry, are you okay?"

"Y/N?" A familiar voice asks.

"Jenna?" It may be dark, but I can just barely see the details of her face. God I hope she's not mad.

"Yep, it's me," I hear her faintly laugh.

"Are you okay? I almost knocked you over."

"I'm okay, just a little rattled."

"Sorry for that again," I apologize, "I should have been watching where I was going." 

"You could make it up to me by walking me to my apartment?" she offers.

"I'd like nothing more," I laugh, linking my arm with hers and we start to walk.

"So, Y/N, tell me about yourself," she starts the conversation.

"Well, my name's Y/N L/N, I work at a coffee shop. I speak English and Romanian, which is useful for when people like you come to the shop."

"I know that stuff," she interrupts me, "what do you like to do outside of work?"

"You know, the normal things, be around the people I care about, watch shows, I read sometimes, listen to music, that kind of stuff. What about you?"

"Well for starters, I'm Jenna Ortega, I also love to read and listen to music," she tells me, "I also like to write though, I have like, twenty scripts and stories sitting in my FinalDraft™ folder."

"Damn, you must really like writing," I respond, "that's pretty awesome."

"I guess so," she shrugs.

"Have you ever considered publishing your work?" I ask.

"Yeah, I actually published a book called It's All Love," she answers proudly.

"That's like, the coolest thing anyone's said to me all day," I tell her.

"I guess I'm just a cool person," she jokes, "I'm kidding, I'm kidding, only an arrogant person would say that."

"No, you have reason to say, it. You're a published author, the lead in a TV show, and fun to talk to. Don't discredit your own awesome-ness." 

She laughs, "thanks for saying that."

"Sure thing." 

"So, does your offer to take me around town sometime still stand?" she changes the subject.

"I'm a woman of my word, Jenna, if you still want a tour, you have my number," I remind her, trying to sound kind and cool at the same time. Which is kind of challenging.

"Oh my god, I forgot to text you, didn't I," she gasps, "I'm so so sorry, Y/N. I've just had so much going on." She starts to talk herself into a panic, "I have work for like, eight hours a day, plus cello lessons, plus german and fencing, it's just so much." If I had known how busy she was I never would have felt so hurt. That must be so overwhelming.

"Hey, it's okay, I'm not mad about it." Which is true. 

"That's such a relief," she exhales, "again, I'm so sorry."

"Hey, Jenna, it's okay. How about the next time you have a day off, we get in touch and I take you around town."

"Well, conveniently enough, my next day off is tomorrow, so how about I see you then?" she offers.

"I wouldn't be opposed to that," I smile, doing my best to hide how excited I am for this.

"Well this is my place," she announces, "thank you for walking me home." 

"Anytime," I reply, sad to know the night is ending. She heads through the door to her apartment, leaving me to walk the short five minutes to my apartment alone.

As soon as I get home, I dash to my bedroom, putting on pyjamas and getting ready for bed. I'm tired from the day. At at the same time, I'm so happy I got to see Jenna. I'm so excited that she wants to see me again, maybe tomorrow! I can't wait to get to know her better.

My phone lights up with a text from a new number

                       +1 ***-***-****

Does 11 AM tomorrow work for you?

-Jenna

I smile, quickly texting back 

                               Sure thing, see ya then :)

I can hardly wait.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #i love jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #reader insert #wednesday addams #tara carpenter #vada cavell #cute #x reader #coffee shop romance #lesbians #gays #queer people #pride month #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega fanfic #fanfic #jenna ortega photos #an americano please

[daddy-dins-girl]

Playdate - Chapter Eight

IMPORTANT NOTE: I'm posting both chapters 7 and 8 today so just make sure you didn't actually miss 7 or this one might not make much sense, lol. Also I'd recommend having chapter 7 fresh in your mind when you read this one. This chapter serves as an 'interlude' chapter that occurs before/during/after Chapter 7 but is told from Dave and Marcus' POV's (not Reader's). One final note, a page break/divider indicates a shift of POV to another character, but hopefully that comes across easily enough in the writing anyway.

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

AO3 link

pairing: Marcus Pike x f! Reader x Dave York

Word Count: 5.1k

Notes: Who gave me the right to put all this ANGST in my PORN story? dw, I have a couple more chapters planned out, I'll fix this mess I've created eventually :P

Chapter Warnings (BIG TIME spoilers in the warnings... I'd recommend skipping them if you don't want to be spoiled. If you're at this point in this story, you're fine with whatever I have left to throw at you lol): 18+ MDNI. M/M (Yeah that's right. Reader who? Sorry babe, I'll make it up to you next time!). Oral sex. Hand jobs. Anal play. A shower stall is our 3rd main character in this chapter. Inexperienced!Marcus. Dom!Dave. Daddy Kink. Derogatory talk. Praise kink. Little sprinkling of Soft!Dave. Porn with too many feelings that these idiot men don't know what to do with (we'll work on them, ok?). Infidelity-ish (again, these three got some shit to work out).

MASSIVE thank you for @janaispunk for beta'ing and being my sounding board.

Page dividers by the generous and talented @saradika-graphics

When restfulness fails to come for Dave he eventually decides to pull himself away from the two sleeping forms next to him in the bed and head off to the shower instead. He could use a thorough washing, and not to mention the relaxing spray and solace of the shower may just offer him a bit of a chance to clear his head, hopefully.

Letting out a heavy sigh once he reaches the bathroom near the front entryway of the suite he shrugs off the oversized fluffy hotel robe and hangs it on the back of the door before closing it shut, reaching inside the shower stall and turning the temperature up to near scalding. He hisses the moment he steps inside the large enclosure, immediately turning his back to the water and facing the door instead but within a few seconds the temperature starts to feel perfect and he rolls his shoulders and aching muscles under the steady beat of the massaging spray.

“Fuck” he groans, head tilting back to let the water wash over his face and through his hair. In hindsight he maybe should’ve had a cold shower because he’s been rocking a semi for the last… god knows… since not long after his two bedmates had fallen asleep. He resists the urge to wrap his fist around himself and take care of it solo, thinking he can will it away with sheer mental focus instead. As if he could focus on much of anything right now. His mind was scrambled, and that just wasn’t Dave. He had an innate ability to compartmentalize, always had. It’s what made him so good at his job and had gotten him through many obstacles in his life thus far. But then he met fucking Marcus Pike, which ultimately, also led him to you, and now here he was playing fucking house with what was meant to be a one or two time fun “hookup” and goddamit if he didn’t feel himself starting to fall. What’s worse is that he hadn’t just fallen for you, either. Annoyed with himself yet again for not being able to shut his brain off, Dave turns around to face the spray again and gets to the task of washing his hair instead, needing something else to focus on besides the insistent need that’s hanging between his legs.

The quiet ‘snick’ of the bathroom door latching shut catches Dave’s attention, even with his head under the hot spray of the water in the oversized walk-in shower, because of course it does. Dave is always super aware and hyper vigilant, even when in a relaxed environment. His eyes squeezed shut as he rinses the shampoo from his hair and back turned to the door he calls out, “it’ll be all yours in a minute, almost done here”

So when he hears the sound of the glass door sliding open and the cool air hitting his back, despite his offer to give up the shower momentarily, he chuckles. A low, raspy laugh from deep in his throat as he pushes his hair back on his head and finally turns around, his eyebrow raising in amusement as his gaze settles on his unexpected visitor standing just outside the shower door.

“Well, what have we here?”

Marcus doesn’t say a word. Too nervous he’ll psyche himself out if he attempts to speak. Instead he unwraps the towel from around his waist, leaving him fully naked and exposed, and tosses it to the ground behind him before stepping inside the enclosure and sliding the glass door shut behind him.

Dave waits, stock still, because he hadn’t been expecting this. Not that he should be too surprised, he supposed. It was probably bound to happen and truth be told he was far from mad about it. Over time he’d grown to care for Marcus a lot, and more than what he knew was realistic for a ‘friendship’. And with the fondness for Marcus growing so did the sexual tension, he supposed. It wasn’t immediate, as he had felt with you, but as he spent more and more time with both of you Marcus had unknowingly carved out a spot for himself under Dave’s skin, just as you had on that very first night he’d met you. It started out slowly, he would feel his own arousal spike watching Marcus get pleasure but he had chalked that up to being natural, not unlike getting off to watching porn. But then it started to change, and Dave began to wonder what it might be like for him to give Marcus that pleasure and earlier this evening he gave in and did exactly that. Holding his hands around Marcus as the younger man submitted to him and came with Dave’s mouth at his ear nearly had Dave spilling inside of you the moment Marcus let go. He loved hearing the sweet cries from Marcus’ perfect pouty lips as Dave held him tight to his naked chest. And the way you looked up at both of them, pure lust and adoration in your gaze he felt his chest constrict around his heart like it might just explode.

In that moment he wanted to just gather you both in his arms and tell you, beg you, to keep him.

And now, here Marcus stood just inches away from him, naked and vulnerable.

Dave was well and truly fucked.

Swallowing the thick lump in his throat from his nerves, Marcus carefully, slowly and wordlessly sinks to his knees in front of Dave and pauses. Peering up at him with those honeyed brown eyes, silently begging for whatever had come over him to be reciprocated. He’d woken up when he felt the weight under the mattress shift when Dave had gotten up and watched with more focus than what was probably considered appropriate at the back side of Dave’s naked form as he crossed the room and snagged a robe from the back of the door and threw it on. Marcus had to stifle a groan as he felt his cock instantly begin to swell at just the sight of the slightly older man before him. Once he exited the bedroom Marcus let out a sigh and dropped his head back to the pillow with a heavy thud, closing his eyes and focusing his breathing for a few seconds but still, his dick betrayed him. He rolled over to his side and watched your sleeping form, debating whether he should wake you to help him with his little situation or not but quickly dismissed the notion. He knew you must be exhausted, it wasn’t like you to be sleeping in the middle of the day so clearly you were worn out. Plus he’s pretty sure the actual reason for his current state of arousal just walked out the bedroom door anyway.

He lays in bed for as long as he can stand it, until he hears the shower come to life on the other side of the suite and his cock twitches again involuntarily, his mind conjuring up images of Dave naked and letting the hot spray of the water cascade all over his body and suddenly Marcus feels jealous over a fucking shower head of all things. Before long he finds himself getting up and out of bed, quickly tying a discarded towel around his waist before he leaves the bedroom and makes his way through the suite.

A grin spreads across Dave’s lips as the hot water continues to beat down his back and he reaches a hand forward, gripping the younger man’s jaw in his hand and angling him further upward as his thumb gently caresses back and forth at his cheek as he rasps out, “Well what are you waiting for, Champ? This cock isn’t going to suck itself”

After taking in a quick deep breath to steel his nerves, Marcus, ever obedient, presses forward. His eyes close as he takes Dave’s semi-hard length into his mouth, his lips wrapping around him as he finds his footing, as it were, never having actually done this before.

“Eyes on me Slugger” Dave tuts, hand going underneath Marcus’ chin and forcing his gaze upwards with the flick of a single knuckle. Marcus’ gaze is weak as he tries desperately to hold Dave’s but when he feels Dave begin to grow and swell against his tongue he gets a newfound confidence and can’t help the low moan that leaves his throat as he envelops him further into his mouth and finally begins to move his tongue and lips around him, licking and sucking and tasting every inch offered to him. He may not know exactly what he’s doing, but he does know what feels good to him and tries his best to mimic those same behaviors.

He pulls off for just a moment, collecting saliva in the back of his throat and messily spitting onto Dave’s length before he wraps his mouth around it again and begins to bob his head back and forth, letting his tongue drag along the underside as he swallows him down the best he can, easing off only slightly when the thick head of him nears too far to the back of his throat and causes him to momentarily gag before he resituates himself to a comfortable feel and can enthusiastically continue.

“Fuck, that’s it. Good boy,” Dave sighs, hand pushing through Marcus’ golden brown locks and a little whimper escapes Marcus at the subtle praise, eyelids fluttering shut for only a moment before he remembers Dave’s words from earlier and opens them again to hold Dave’s gaze. “You suck cock almost as good as your wife, you know that pretty boy?” Dave teases and despite himself, it only turns Marcus further on. He takes one hand and wraps it around the base of Dave’s cock to pump as much as his shaft that won’t fit in his mouth while the other hand goes to his own aching need as he begins stroking himself to the same pace that his head bobs.

“Fuck” Dave curses again, a little breathless this time as his head tilts back into the spray of water. He wraps his hand around the back of Marcus’ head and helps him by setting the pace that he wants, fast and rough and nearly hitting the back of Marcus’ throat each time his hips jut forward. Marcus does his best to take him but before long he’s coughing, sputtering, gagging and gasping for breath as he pulls off of him after just a few short seconds of Dave fucking his throat, a long strand of saliva still connecting him to the now rock hard cock in his face and Dave lets out a little chuckle at Marcus’ obvious inexperience.

“Well, maybe you could learn a thing or two” Dave laughs. “Up,” he commands suddenly, hand gripping under Marcus’ bicep and hauling him quickly to his feet. Marcus goes willingly, all too eager to comply as Dave turns him to face the wall, grabs both of his hands and forces them above his head and flat against the warm tiles. Dave quickly crowds his space, stepping up behind him, the hot, hard length of him pressed right up against Marcus’ lower back.

His breathing laboured, Marcus tenses momentarily but then relaxes as he feels a large wet hand slide down his side, across the smooth skin of his hip and lower still until it ghosts over the globes of his ass and then back up to hold firmly at his hip again as Dave leans forward, breath hot against Marcus’ ear.

“Colour?” He asks and Marcus takes a steadying breath.

“Green. Uh… green. I - I think” he stammers out nervously. Dave hums before his hand snakes forward to grasp around Marcus’ hard, leaking cock and gives it a light squeeze that has Marcus whimpering.

“I’d say you’re doing just fine” Dave taunts before he languidly strokes Marcus a few times, causing his knees to nearly buckle as a desperate whine escapes his lips.

“I’m uh.. I’ve never.. with…” Marcus trails off, his eyes squeezing shut when Dave gently ruts into his back, his hand still slowly stroking him. “H-Have you?”

“When you’re young and in your prime and stuck in the service for twelve plus months at a time, a warm mouth is a warm mouth” Dave shrugs nonchalantly. “But it’s not something I indulged in often, or ever pursued outside of that environment” he adds, still slowly working Marcus over with shallow pumps of his fist. “Truth be told I’ve never looked at or even thought twice about another man. That is, until you”. He finishes the last part quietly, like it's a secret he can’t voice out loud.

“S-same here” Marcus stutters, eyes squeezed shut as he focuses on his breathing, hoping to stave off his orgasm for at least a little while longer. “Did you ever, ah fuck” Marcus groans, trailing off as his train of thought leaves him when Daves hand comes up to pay special attention to the head of his cock, his hand twisting just right over and over again at the sensitive tip.

“Did I ever what? Hmmm?” Dave taunts, hand stilling around Marcus as he lowers his hips slightly and presses further against him, his stiff length now pressing into the meat of Marcus’ asscheek. “Did I ever fuck a man’s tight little asshole?” He asks into the shell of Marcus’ ear and Marcus shudders before biting back a moan and nodding his head.

“No” Dave answers honestly. “Why, did you want to be the first?” He chuckles, rutting into him and Marcus lets out a stuttering gasp before shaking his head against the tiles.

“I don’t think… I’m not… No. I… I don’t know” Marcus answers helplessly, his shoulders tensing.

“Relax baby, relax” Dave soothes, pulling his hips back slightly but resting his forehead on Marcus’ shoulder. “You don’t have to be ready for that right now. And to be honest, if my cock is going to be in your ass then I want yours inside your wife so I can fuck you both at the same time” he chuckles darkly into the heated skin of Marcus’ back and a shiver passes through Marcus’ whole body at just the thought of that.

“Oh you like that don’t you” Dave laughs again. Feeling Marcus twitch in his hand gets Dave’s dominant confidence swelling in his chest again and he easily slips into the role he prefers to play, where he feels the most comfortable and less vulnerable.

“Wanna be the meat in our little fuck sandwich, sweet boy?” Dave taunts, his hand going back to slowly stroking Marcus again. “You gonna fuck your tight little ass against my fat cock while you’re buried inside of her?”

“Jesus, fuck” Marcus groans. He’d never once judged his wife for what she was into, but now he understood it first hand. The way Dave could have you falling apart just by the words that leave his mouth.

“Maybe a little friendly competition, see who can cum inside of who first” he laughs darkly and Marcus’ whole body shudders as a wrecked moan escapes him.

Dave hands picks up the pace a little as Marcus squeezes his eyes shut, face resting against his own forearm and teeth clenched as Dave draws him closer and closer to that edge he’s been teetering on since he sunk to his knees in front of the man in question just minutes ago.

He didn’t know what came over him, what possessed him to get out of bed and follow after Dave, but he couldn’t get what happened earlier out of his head. The way Dave had wrapped his hand around his throat, called him his good boy, and made him cum so hard his vision nearly blacked out. He needed more. Dave was like a drug, he understood it now. An addiction, a craving that could never be satisfied, always leaving you wanting more.

His breath catches in his throat when he feels Dave’s free hand that’s not currently wrapped around him back at his ass, a single finger sliding through the cleft of his wet cheeks until it stops to tease at his hole. The pad of his finger presses at the puckered flesh but doesn’t breach inside, just wanting to rile Marcus up and it is absolutely working as the younger man whimpers and squirms under Dave’s hands. Dave shifts slightly so that the water beats down more so on Marcus, ensuring he’s not dry as Dave continues to tease him.

“Colour” Dave demands again, finger pressing in again with just a fraction more pressure than the previous time.

“Green, fuck. Please” Marcus is trembling, his body leaning against the wall the only thing holding him upright and he feels the smirk reach across Dave’s face from where his mouth is still pressed to his ear.

“That’s my good boy” Dave chuckles. The sound of Dave spitting a giant glob of saliva between Marcus’ cheeks is downright sinful as it echoes off the four walls of the shower enclosure and Marcus has to bite into the meat of his own arm to keep from moaning too loudly when Dave finally pushes a single saliva slicked finger just inside as he continues to stroke Marcus’ length with delicate precision.

“Oh my god, oh fuck! I’m - ” Marcus cries out at the welcomed intrusion of Dave’s finger, barely inside but slowly moving back and forth creating just enough of a foreign pressure that it’s enough to push Marcus over that edge within seconds. He orgasms with a wrangled cry leaving his lips, spurts of his warm spend splattering onto the tiles in front of him and down Dave’s hand that still loosely grips him as he continues to pump him dry.

“That’s it” Dave’s voice soothes against his ear, still gently working him over with both hands as Marcus comes down from his high. “So good for your Daddy, hmmm?”

“Mmmhmmm, fuck” Marcus groans out once more, leaning heavily into the tiles now, shoulders and chest heaving with each laboured breath he takes. He lets out another whimper as Dave gently slips his finger out, sighs happily when he feels Dave’s lips press into his shoulder blade.

“Okay?” Dave breathes against Marcus' warm flesh, checking in with him and the younger man can do little but eagerly nod his head, still trembling in the aftershocks of his orgasm. Dave’s hand still wrapped around Marcus’ length finally slows to a stop and he releases him fully, both arms coming up to wrap around Marcus’ middle and hold him tight against his chest for a long moment and Marcus sighs happily, sated, leaning into the warmth Dave offers. He does his best to ignore the little flutter he feels in his chest as Dave's lips continue to pepper little kisses across the back of his neck and shoulders, wills his own heart to stop hammering in his chest when Dave breathes in deep and then rests his check against Marcus' back, apparently content to just hold him until his own breathing evens out.

“What um… what about you?” Marcus asks meekly. He hadn’t exactly gotten to finish what he’d started earlier once the attention shifted to him and his own pleasure. He can still feel Dave pressed into his back, though with the delay for his own gratification Dave has softened somewhat again, his needs seemingly less urgent now.

“Let me finish getting cleaned up in here and then why don’t we meet back in bed, hmm?” He finishes his thought with a sharp little smack to Marcus’ ass and chuckles before he bites down gently onto his shoulder. “See if you can wake up that wife of yours while you’re at it”

“Yeah, o-okay” Marcus stammers, stealing himself for a moment before he heaves a deep sigh, lets his shoulders relax and finally reaches for the shower door and slides it open. Dave lets him go, watches with piqued interest as Marcus bends over to pick up his earlier discarded towel and secure it back around his waist again, and then, he’s gone. Door closing shut behind him again and leaving Dave to finish his shower in privacy.

Dave is doing his best to act nonchalant, normal, though nothing about what just took place was normal for either of them. He’d never held another man in an embrace like that before and found himself not even wanting to let go. It took everything in him not to spin Marcus around and hold him even closer. And it wasn’t just sexual, this feeling he suddenly had. Though that part was definitely good too, but now he felt himself feeling suddenly nervous about going back out there, like he was completely transparent and the two of you would see through him immediately. He dreads the day, and he has a feeling it’s coming soon, that the two of you extract yourselves from his life. He knows the texts and visits will become fewer and farther between until suddenly he stops hearing from you all together and he’ll go back to his life before the two of you were in it, wishing he’d never gone along with it in the first place because then he wouldn’t be in the fucking predicament he found himself in now.

He should put a stop to this himself before that happens, he thinks. Like a bandaid, just rip it off and the pain will dissipate before he even notices it’s there, right? He can fake a work emergency, or say somethings come up with his children and he needs to cut this weekend short. You’ll both understand, of course you will. Maybe even be secretly relieved that you can spend the rest of your time here together with just the two of you.

He’s doing everyone a favour, he thinks.

Mind made up, he takes a little extra time than necessary in the shower, turning the temperature way down to hopefully rid him of what’s left of his hard-on and finishes cleaning himself off, being sure to scrub every inch of his body to wash away any lingering traces of this weekend from his skin, hopefully soon enough from his memory. He takes the removable shower hose off the fixture as well and sprays down the tiles where Marcus’ cum still lingers, watching it wash down the drain past his feet and then hangs the shower head back up and finally turns the taps off and steps out.

Speech fully prepared in his head, what he didn’t expect was to walk back into the bedroom to see you with a very worried expression on your face and for a moment, he feels his heart literally fall into his stomach. Did Marcus just confess what happened and you’re so enraged you’re about to throw him out on his ass? Throw your husband out too? Likely not the latter, he thinks. If anything it’s probably further cementing the fact that the two of you need Dave out of your lives, he’s only going to cause problems in what is a beautiful, perfect marriage.

“You have to go?!” He hears you say and oh. So Marcus is leaving? He asks what’s going on and then just hangs back after Marcus responds to him but then focuses his attention back to you, Dave idly listening to the conversation in the background as your husband continues to apologize to you about an apparent “work emergency” that’s come up.

Dave was already set in his decision to leave, but with Marcus going he knows he really, really needs to leave. Being alone with you might just kill him, and he doesn’t deserve a death that blissful, he reasons with himself.

Not long after saying an endearing goodbye to you, Marcus brushes past Dave with a vague ‘see ya later’ and just like that, he’s gone and Dave is left alone with the person currently possessing the other half of his traitorous heart. The heart that wasn’t supposed to fall for either of these two people who already belonged to each other, let alone apparently falling for both of them.

Marcus is in the cab, half way back to his own house where he most certainly does not have any type of work emergency waiting for him, when he starts an inner battle with himself about just what in the fuck he is doing. Should he have left? Should he turn around right now and go back and stop being a fucking coward? What the hell was he supposed to do?

He felt so fucking guilty the moment his orgasm ripped through him like a freight train with Dave’s hands on him and you nowhere in sight that he just couldn’t get out of that hotel room fast enough. He had cheated on you, in his mind. What’s worse is that it wasn’t even all sexual, though that is how it started and how he pursued it but his feelings for Dave were beginning to get overwhelming and he thought maybe if he just ‘got it out of his system’ he could forget about it and move on, but then Dave had to go and fucking hold him afterwards and asked him back to bed and his throat just plummeted into his stomach. How could he just walk out of that bathroom and pretend that never happened? Is that what Dave wanted? Or did Dave want you to know exactly what happened? How would you react? Marcus didn’t even have his own feelings about the whole thing sorted out, he couldn’t expect you to understand. He crossed a line, that much he knew.

Ultimately he decided to let the cab driver continue to their destination. He was already well on his way home anyway, might as well keep going. He’d fix himself some dinner, maybe a drink and just have some time alone to sort out his thoughts before he joins you back at the hotel. He briefly wonders if Dave will still be there when he gets back. If he is, maybe it would be a good time for the three of you to have a conversation, one that’s surely long overdue. Marcus hopes he doesn’t have to speak first. What if he voices what he thinks he’s truly feeling and you all look at him like he’s grown a second head?

He’s equally worried at both ends. He’s worried that Dave, despite the tender moments he is occasionally capable of showing, might laugh the whole thing off. He signed up to be a fun ‘playmate’ for a couple of weekends here and there, not a more permanent fixture in an already existing and functioning marriage. And you… what would you even think? Sure Marcus knows you’ve warmed to Dave over the months during your encounters but you’d never discussed with Marcus that you’d felt anything for the man in question outside of sexual desire. Not to mention what would you think of him if he asked you to have another man be an active participant in your relationship? The last thing he wants is you feeling like you’re not enough for him or that something is missing from your marriage.

It would kill him if this drove any kind of rift between the two of you. No, he needs to shut up and keep whatever is in his head and his heart to himself and hope things sort themselves out. He’ll start to distance himself (and hopefully you both) from Dave and you can go back to your lives. He cares about Dave, far more than what he knows is appropriate, but he can’t lose you. He won’t.

Marcus finishes his dinner, accompanied by a rich glass of wine, and waits a while, letting his food settle and his mind attempt to find peace within the waging war that are his thoughts still battling on inside his head. A few hours since he’d left the hotel pass before he finally heads back outside to his car and types the address of the hotel into his GPS.

Dave York is a bad man. He knows it the moment he reaches the penthouse floor again, not even thirty minutes since he left it, and lifts his fist to knock at the hotel room door. He'd had every intention of getting into his car and leaving this place. Just one drink first, he'd reasoned with himself, then he'd leave.

He knew shouldn’t be here at your door now. Not without Marcus. Though, he supposes he shouldn’t have been in the shower with Marcus without you, either. Marcus knows it, clearly. It’s the only explanation for why he high-tailed it out of there with some half-assed lie of an excuse of having a work emergency on a Saturday night. Dave saw right through it of course but didn’t voice his concern, he certainly wouldn’t do that in front of you. He wouldn’t wedge himself further into the complications of your marriage than he already was.

He’s really fucked this up. But he knows, even before you pull open that door, that tonight is his last chance. The last time he’ll allow himself to see you before he forces himself to go back to his old life so you can have yours back with your husband. And if he was a better man, he would’ve just left earlier when he said he was going to and not come to see you one last time, knowing full well what he was doing and feeling and how it might affect you. How it might affect Marcus, and moreover how it might affect your relationship with Marcus.

But Dave York was not a better man. Not a good man.

Dave York was a bad, bad man.

"Hi" you breathe out the moment the door swings open and lands on him leaning against the frame on the other side.

"Hi"

Marcus lets himself into the hotel suite, quietly and carefully making his way through the rooms that are bathed in darkness, only slivers of moonlight peaking through where the curtains aren’t fully shut. Pushing open the double doors to the bedroom he frowns but is otherwise not surprised to find you sleeping alone in the bed that now seems comically oversized for just your body alone, especially given how crowded it was only hours earlier.

He glances around the room, pulling out his phone and turning on the flashlight, making sure not to shine it on you so as to not wake you up. He tilts it around the room, looking everywhere but there's no sign of Dave. His belongings seem to be gone, his duffel bag no longer occupying the corner of the bedroom where it was before. Marcus had walked through the living room to get to the bedroom so he knows he wasn’t asleep on the couch either.

Dave was gone.

Clicking off the flashlight and before he can talk himself out of doing so, Marcus taps on the Messages icon on his screen, wanting to send a quick text to your group chat, just to ensure wherever Dave was, everything was OK.

Once again Marcus gets that all too familiar feeling of his throat falling into the pit of his stomach when he reads the tiny grayed out letters that greet him at the bottom of your conversation.

Dave York has left the group.

Dun Dun Dunnnnnn! I am so sorry, but believe it or not this was my plan for this series all along from the moment you guys lovingly bullied me into turning my one-shot into a series, lol. Fear not though, we haven't seen the last of our dear Dave. He's just a bit of an idiot, and is going to continue to be one for a little while, but have faith in me.

Next Chapter

I really appreciate you taking the time to read this chapter! If you liked it please leave me a little note or a reblog, it means the world to me!

Taglist (if you want to be added - or removed!, lmk!) @senaar-ika @suzdin @boliv-jenta @prolix-yuy @vabeachazn @seasonalobession @pedroshotwifey @nerdieforpedro @chronically-ghosted @macabremads @survivingandenduring @theywhowriteandknowthings @axshadows @iamasaddie @vickywallace @lincolndjarin @its-nebuleuse @janaispunk @missladym1981 @heareball @staywildflowahchild @guelyury @anotherpedrolover @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @runningmom94 @yorksgirl @harrington-thedad @missyorkswhore @disassociation-daydreams

#pedro pascal cinematic universe #dave york #marcus pike #pedro pascal character fanfiction #dave york fanfiction #dave york smut #marcus pike fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #marcus pike x dave york #marcus pike smut #ppcu #ppcu fanfiction

[icarus-star]

I loved your hc of Charlie's reaction to the “i <3 pathetic boys” shirts, etc! Could you please write a part 2 of the reader fvcking/edging him and degrading him? (and him enjoying it ofc) skdjsj thank youu

literal legend pt.2 | charlie walker <3

pt.1

a/n: creative... 👀 this is literally so much longer than i intended it to be 😭 i also sprinkled in over stimulating near the end and probably a bunch of stuff.... enjoy

@that-one-persons-posts

18+ content ahead, pure and absolute filth!!please don't read unless your comfortable with that!!

ok, you two got paired up for a group project, and both decided to head to his place after school that day to start it

so you head over with him after the school day ends, wearing your 'i ❤ submissive men' t-shirt :3

he's trying to not pay any attention to it, but he's getting curious as to why you own so many shirts like that

so he asks you, and you tell him that they're all just stating facts about what you like 🤷‍♂️

he nods, trying to forget about it

but he can't

all he can think about is you toying with him, making him feel like he's as worthless bug and all that <3

so, you two get to his house, go up in his room and start working on whatever the project might be

a couple hours go by, you slowly inched closer to him as time went by

he didn't notice at first, but when he looked up to check the time and you were right in front of him, he was a lil bit confused

he's all blushy n shit too 🤭

"wh-what are you doing..?"

he'd ask you that when you move your hand to his upper thigh, giggling a little as you tell him that you know that he touches himself to the thought of you fucking his brains out

you ask him to confirm that for you, and you watch as he nervously gulps down his saliva and slowly nods his head

of course, that wasn't good enough, so you tell him to use his words

"yes.. i- i do, touch myself when i think of you.."

that resulted in much more than he anticipated

now, he's laying naked on his bed, your sitting beside him in only your bra and underwear jerking him off and absolutely refusing to let him cum even once

"ah ah ah~ please.. please let me cum! i- ahn~!! please? i'll- i'll be a good boy~!"

he's whining and whimpering the entire time, he will not shut up

which is good! he might even be doing it on purpose because he remembered what all your slutty baby-tees said!

which is what he would say if asked, his dick is actually just super sensitive

especially the tip! which you found out quickly when you decide to wrap your lips around it to tease him

bonus point if your wearing lipstick and kiss his cock, or just kiss his cock in general he's so weak for that

you've been stroking and teasing his dick for over an hour now, he's crying and your calling him your stupid boy slut, how endearing 🤗

his brain his so mushy right now, all he can do is repeat you

"ah~ fuck.. mmn? yeah, i'm your bitch! uh huh.. ah~!! a whore, just for you ma'am!"

than, he's about to cum for maybe the 5th or 6th time, and of course you don't let him

he can't help but whine when you pull your hand away, his cock needs you! :(

then you do something he didn't expect, you stripped completely, taking off your underwear and bra, then straddling his lap

you kiss him, keeping his moans muffled as you sink down onto his dick, your cunt wet and tight around his throbbing boner

you move away from the kiss, starting to bounce on his cock, just silently whining his name so that he can barely hear you

he wants to touch you and buck his hips up so badly, but you already had established that he'd be teased even more for that

he's 100× louder now that his cocks in your pussy instead of your hands, he literally cannot comprehend how good you feel

because of all the edging earlier, he cums quicker than he should

this time you let him, having him cum inside of you, of course thats after a little while of him begging to cum and you agreeing, but only if he cums inside of you

"c- can i cum? oh.. please! i needa cum.. in you? ah-! yes ma'am, anything~!!"

omg. and the face and sounds he makes when he cums? heavenly.

his eyes are rolling into the back of his head, his mouth wide as he's practically screaming your name

and his hips are subconsciously bucking and grinding against yours

but oh no, we're not done

you didn't cum yet, so your gonna keep riding him :3

he keeps letting out these breathless little whimpers every single time you sink back down onto him

he literally cannot think straight, his brain is so fuzzy from you edging him for over an hour and then immediately going to over stimulate him

he can't muster up a single word, he's just mumbling and whining

you probably end up making him cum a whole bunch of times, each orgasm more intense than the last

it's great for both of you, he's absolutely filling you up with every bit of cum he has

by the end, it's pretty late and he's so fucked out, his brains on autopilot and he asks if you'd like to stay the night

but please give him a little while to like, catch his breath and stuff

#rory culkin #i ❤ rory culkin #rory culkin x reader #charlie walker #scream 4 #rory culkin smut #scre4m #charlie walker headcanons #charlie walker smut #charlie walker x reader

[dearcat1]

Breakfast Brain

Part 1 of Nana's Son

Xanxus eyes Tsunayoshi fruitless attempts to pass him the coffee beans, yawning into his fist. He snorts at the other's uncoordinated movement, snatching them from the younger Sky's hand. Tsunayoshi only grunts back, eyes still unfocused and empty. They're running out of tomatoes. "You've got to get the groceries today."

Sawada's reply is a mumble Xanxus interprets as agreement. He'll have Gokudera remind the little shit, Tsunayoshi's brain is mush until midday. Right on cue, Squalo enters the kitchen and gives Xanxus an absent nod. "Lussuria wanted to let you know he'll be back early."

"Fine." Xanxus accepts the mug Tsunayoshi is silently offering and pushes him towards the table. "Have Gokudera remind the trash to get the groceries."

Squalo hisses in offense. "We're not your babysitters! Remind him yourself!"

The screech that results from Xanxus throwing his mug at him is satisfying but not as satisfying as the taste of perfectly made espresso of Tsunayoshi's replacement mug. "It's good." He transfers the fried eggs on the bowls, sprinkling some tomatoes on the side.

From where he's sitting, cradling his own mug, Tsunayoshi musters a sleepy smile. Xanxus rolls his eyes and slams the bowl in front of him. "Eat. How you're this useless in the morning I'll never know." 

Tsunayoshi yawns, hiding his face on Xanxus's chest and clinging to his thigh for a moment. The assassin clicks his tongue but his fingers tangle in brown hair. "You need a haircut again." This guy's hair is a mess.

"Uh huh." Tsunayoshi blinks, straightening after Xanxus taps his shoulder. "Food."

"Yeah, yeah." Xanxus pulls away, sitting on his side of the table. "Eat it." Without turning to look at his second, he raises his voice. "Have Gokudera schedule an appointment at the barber shop, too. He better get his hair dealt with before the gala."

"Fuck off, you shitty boss!" Squalo seethes. "Keep us out of your fucking relationship."

"It's your fucking job," Xanxus reminds him, watching as the yolk seeps satisfyingly into the rice. "You're the fucking go to between the Varia and the Vongola, remember? You wanted the fucking job, now suffer in silence."

"My job," Squalo snarls, finally fishing the last piece of mug from his hair, "is to facilitate the relationship between Vongola and the Varia not to pencil in your date nights and manage your fucking household shit!"

Xanxus blinks. Maybe Tsunayoshi's stupidity is contagious. Still, he extends his hand and nods when Sawada wordlessly passes him his empty mug. The assassin turns in the same movement he uses to throw this mug into Squalo's forehead. "What the fuck?"

Squalo doesn't scream, he just bares his teeth right back. That's how Xanxus knows he's serious. "Sunday's dinner? Not my job to get the reservations. Do it yourself, I have a job and I'm too busy with it to be managing your date nights on top of it!"

That clarifies nothing at all. Xanxus arches his brow with maybe more condescension than he should. "It is your fucking job. We discuss any issues with the business during those dinners."

Tsunayoshi makes an agreeing hum around his spoon.

"The hair appointment?" Squalo snaps back. "Grocery runs?"

"How do you expect us to work without food?" Xanxus answers because Squalo has never had an issue with this before. "And Tsunayoshi would live in sweatpants if I let him and it would make us all look like idiots. So we have to make sure he cuts his hair and looks like a human being. This is work."

In his seat, Tsunayoshi's brow furrows but he shrugs without saying a thing. Probably deciding it's too much effort.

"You…" Squalo is still frowning but when he straightens, it's less anger and more horrified realization. "Boss," he gestures at them, "what do you think this is?"

"This is us having breakfast," Xanxus replies unsure of whether he's confused or annoyed at the stupid question. "You're the one who kept insisting we should work together. So we are."

"Holy shit," Squalo eyes them. "Oh my god. You don't even realize. How dense can you be?"

#khr #Nana's Son #Xanxus #katekyo hitman reborn #sawada tsunayoshi

[inniessick]

A Very Berry Pie / Lee Felix

pairing: dad!felix x fem!reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: very fluffy, may have spelling mistakes/capitalization, family dynamics, petnames (Honey, hun, love), mentions of food?, I think that's all its really just a little dad!felix fic.

likes reblogs and feedback are appreciated! ♡

It was a Saturday, the designated 'family baking day', each Saturday you, Felix, and your little boy, spent the evening making a dessert together. It was a great opportunity to teach your son skills, but more so, it was one of the times where all of you could actually bond. All of you were standing in the kitchen, Felix was by the oven, preheating it. You and your son were cleaning and cutting up berries. "Can you go over to the sink and wash the blueberries please?" You spoke as you cut up the strawberries, "Yes ma'am!" The little one pushed his step stool in front of the sink before turning on the water and rinsing off each berry, "Are we gonna us the whole pack, Mom?" "Mhm! Need you to wash it all." "Okay!" You threw away the leafy parts from the strawberries, "Not gonna burn anything over there, are you honey?" You softly patted Felix's back, "I only set the oven too high one time!" "Just teasing you, baby." "Mhm." He gave you a kiss on your forehead, "Mom, they're all clean!" You turned to see him standing proud, hands on his hips with a big smile. "Yea? Let me see," you walked over to the sink making sure he hadn't missed any.

"Good job!" You high-fived him, "Do you want to help me start some pie crust?" "Oo! We're making the dough?" "Yup! I got all the stuff for it this week." You heard footsteps. Felix was standing next to you at the counter, ready to continue the prep. You handed him all the ingredients, "Dad's gonna show you exactly what to do, he's better at it than I am." You smiled up at Felix. "Can I put the flour in the bowl, please?" Your son spoke up, "Yea, we need two cups of the flour, make sure to scrape off the excess before you put it into the bowl." Felix watched as everything got poured into the bowl, cracking two eggs before grabbing a whisk. "Do you want to help me out with mixing it together?" "Yes!" "C'mere," Taking the boy's hand in his as they grabbed the whisk, stirring everything up together. "You're a real pro at this, maybe I'll start a bakery with you!" Felix was giggling as he continued to mix the ingredients together.

You just stood back and watched, it never failed to impress you with how great Felix was with kids. He had always been an amazing dad, his never ending patience was a blessing. He wasn't just an amazing husband or father, but he had always been a good person. He took so much time to truly bond with your boy, and still found time in everyday to love you. You couldn't have asked for a better family. Even in small moments like this, where you were simply cooking together, it left you in awe. He was always so happy to simply be there.

You were snapped out of your thoughts, "Give Mom some dough so we can all roll it out." You were handed a ball of dough, before Felix began speaking again. Your son sprinkled some flour on the counter before looking up at his dad again, "So, you're gonna roll it with your hands like this," He demonstrated the motion, before watching the both of you copy him. "And we press it down after?" "That's right! You're gonna flatten it with both your hands." Once again demonstrating the motion before continuing to fold and kneed the dough. "Once you're done, you're gonna set it into the pan, and press it all around the edges." Your son went first, Felix quickly fixing any mistakes. "Now we need to finish cooking down the berries before we can put it into the crust!" "Go get your step stool and put it by the stove, hun." You waved your hand towards the stool as you walked to the other side of the counter, picking up the bowls of berries that had been washed and cut up. Handing them to your son, before he poured them all into the pan. You began to laugh, "You weren't supposed to put all the strawberries and blueberries in there." Felix was giggling too, "Seems like it's gonna be a very berry pie." "Well Mom always says I need to eat more fruits!!" You laughed a bit harder, "That's right, I do keep telling you that. I'm sure the filling will be just fine."

Felix was stirring the pan and lightly shaking it to prevent anything from sticking. "Give it a try," He stood behind the boy, holding both of their hands on the handle before continuing each motion. "You're just gonna shake it, there you go!" Your son's face was beaming, so happy that he had done everything right. You stepped away to put the rest of the bowls into the sink so they could be washed later. "Love, will you bring those pie pans over here? The berries are almost done cooking down." You hummed in response before setting them next to the stove. "Take three spoonfuls and put them into each crust." "Like this, Dad?" "Just like that! Let Mom cover them up once you're done." You waited for each pan to be finished getting filled before folding the dough over the top and sliding them into the oven.

"Now you just need to wait 40 minutes, then we can take 'em out and eat them!" "But that's such a long time!" A small whine coming from the boy, "Well, we can always watch Spiderman while we wait, you know~." You spoke in a sing-songy voice as you walked into the living room turning on the TV. "We get to watch Spiderman?" "Of course we do!" You both sat down with Felix in the middle, his arms wrapped around both of you. "Thank you for helping me in the kitchen." "Thank you for helping too, Dad! You had to teach us how to make the dough!" Felix squeezed you both tightly, "You're welcome, I love you both very much." In unison, you and your son both said "I love you too!" causing you to look at each other and break into a fit of giggles. "Jinx Mom!" "Oh yea, and what do I owe you this time?" "I want to stay up 30 minutes after bed time!" Felix chimed in, "Only if you wake up 30 minutes early!" "Dad!" Your son dragged the word out, "That's no fair!" You playfully hit Felix's chest, "Let the poor boy stay up and sleep in," He started laughing, "Fine, if you say so." You high-fived each other, like you had just completed a mission.

Everyone began to settle down, and you were left thinking again. You couldn't be any more grateful. In moments like this, even if it only lasted a little while, life was perfect. It was worth living. To have the two people you loved most with you, that made any struggle worth fighting through. After all, with them, you could get through anything. As they would always support you, you would support them. This is what family is.

a/n: literally watched a video of felix and chan cooking with kids and wanted to start sobbing. so this fic was born. i'm actually not all that happy with it, but i still think it's cute regardless. i hope the repetition of "son, kid" wasn't all that annoying. :(( also stream novel bc that is such a romance song guys it kills me.

likes reblogs and feedback are appreciated! ♡ my requests are open! let me know if you'd like to be added to a taglist for future works!

#*yoori writes #lee felix #lee yongbok #felix #felix skz #felix stray kids #felix fanfic #lee felix imagines #lee felix scenarios #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #felix x you #lee felix x y/n #lee felix fluff #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #stray kids fluff #skz #skz fanfic #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz x reader #skz x you #skz fluff

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine figuring out when King's birthday is

That Fall

You: *notices King has it noted in his planner that he had no plans on the afternoon of December 1st* sir, would you like to schedule the quarterly finance meeting on the December first?

King: no, keep that afternoon open please, I'll be taking time off that afternoon.

You: I've worked for you for almost a year, and you've never taken time off. Is there any particular reason why?

King: ... No reason

You: *suspicious* okay.

A week later

You: *has to pull the past three years worth of King's planners from the archive for actual work but checks December 1st in all the planners and deduces that it must be important to him*, so he always takes that afternoon off

Yamato: *sprawled on top of a desk, eating Cheetos and intentionally get dust on the floor of Kaido's office* hmm yeah, my father will usually give him some sort of gift, and they go out to lunch together. Although few times Father even tried to get him some of the girls from the brothels to entertain him for the night, but the last time was back when I was a kid. I'm pretty sure after his lunch with my father, he holes himself up in his room.

You: oh can't imagine that went over well.

Yamato: HaHa! No, one of the girls got pushy and King had to throw her out of his quarters.

You: it must be his birthday then, King is too much of a duty driven workaholic to take time off for himself for anything.

Yamato: oh my god, maybe, now that I think about it, I don't know his birthday.

You: in that case I need to move around a few of his appointments

Yamato: *crushes a handful of puffy Cheetos and sprinkles it across Kaido's chair* why would you do that?

You: because he works too much, so any chance I can get him to relax I'll take it.

December 1st

King: when's my appointment with Orochi?

You: Tomorrow

King: You're wrong, check again, I scheduled it for today.

You: I'm not wrong, I moved it two weeks ago to tomorrow. In fact, I moved most of today's appointments to different days. The only thing on your schedule today is Queen's annual service review, torturing a few prisoners, and your lunch with Kaido.

King: oh my, what did I do to deserve such pleasant day?

You: *shrugs* just lucky I guess, it's not like it's your birthday or something. *Squints at King*

King: How'd you know?

You: because only you would need need to wait until your birthday to be able to justify taking time off to yourself. Oh, and remind me which restaurant you are going to with Kaido?

King: His chiefs are making Spicy Udon for us, it's one of my favorites.

You: but not your favorite, which is why I had a crew go out and get a bunch of flying fish to make sashimi for your dinner. It'll be delivered to your rooms at six, and the servants have instructions to deliver it to your door, where they'll ring a bell to announce that it's there, so you don't have to talk to or interact with anyone.

King: I don't deserve you sometimes.

You: I know

King: *ruffles your hair and laughs* you're not supposed to agree with me.

That evening

You: *knocks on King's bedroom door* Sir, I apologize for interrupting your evening, but I've come to deliver something.

King: *currently doing some self-care, so he's not wearing his mask* ... come in

You: *drags in a bouquet of massive flowers you had the Tontatta's grow, and his present* Alrighty tidy, these are yours, happy birthday

King: If you keep this up you'll spoil me. What flowers are these? I've never seen them before, but they're somehow familiar.

You: That's because they're from atop the Red Line. They're called, Flame Daisies, they were once the symbol of the Lunarian Kingdom. They also remind me of you, and they're good for your skin.

King: *didn't anticipate flowers would open an emotional can of worms*, and what's in the box?

You: just a little something something,

King: *opens it to find boxes filled with paperwork and gives you a confused look*

You: those are the only remaining copies of your Punk Hazard records, to do with as you please.

King: you're kidding

You: nope, I destroyed the others, I even got Vega Punk to delete his mental records of them. Good night King, and happy birthday.

King: now wait a damn minute, you can't make me feel like a weepy little bitch, and then just dip. No, your ass is staying here and drinking with me. You're also getting a few face masks, because your'r skin looks awful, sit your ass down.

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#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #king one piece #king the wildfire x reader #king the conflagration x reader #king the wildfire #king the conflagration #yamato one piece #beast pirates #animal kingdom pirates #from the depths of the dragon's hoard #tma original #12/1/22 #no beta we die like men

[silentmoths]

A cold cure for Insomnia

Hey look, it's not a genshin fic

wild huh?

I'll preface this with 2 things: 1: I am, for some reason, incredibly nervous abt posting a fic that is 100% outside my wheelhouse. I've never actually posted anything but genshin fic since I started uploading a couple years ago, only like, one friend has ever seen anything else from me so this is a bit of a step. 2: this is nothing put pure, indulgent lesbian bullshit and I'll also note that I have no idea how to write f/f smut, so be gentle with me.

If you're only here for my genshin stuff, have a nice day and we'll be back to regularly scheduled bullshittery shortly. Until then, please enjoy me, self indulging over my pokemon wife.

Elite 4 Rika x Fem!Reader 7.4k words, not proofread, we die like prof. sada

NSFW, honestly it's just a whole lot of fkn smut with some fluff sprinkled in there, praise kink, hair pulling, use of toys, oral, tribbing, koraidon being an unintentional wingman.

What a day.

Sometimes you wonder how Nemona did it, rushing around doing champion things all the time. Honestly, ever since you’d beat Geeta all those years ago while you were still in school, it felt like every day was ‘go here, check this gym, go there, check that gym.’ And you were getting a little tired of it.

Especially recently, with Nemona currently travelling somewhere in the Kalos region doing Arceus knows what, and Geeta being stuck in paperwork hell with the Academy preparing for their annual treasure hunt, you’d been swamped, needing to go and check every. Single. Gym. to make sure they were all up to par.

(who knows maybe this year a new student would claim the champion title and you could retire? That’d be nice.)

Montenevera was the last stop on your trip, and while the vibe was always lovely in the snowy mountain town…you’d never been particularly fond of the cold… Only made worse by Rhyme and her gang of ghost pokemon sending a particular shiver down your spine that you just couldn’t shake.

Night had fallen by the time you finally walked out the sliding doors of the League building, only to be greeted by your one nemesis. 

Fucking snow.

Here, on the outskirts of Mesagoza.

You wanted to scream, but that wasn’t very becoming of a League champion now was it?

So with a sigh, you reach for a specific pokeball on your hip. The trek home wasn’t far, but in the sleet and cold, you knew it’d be faster if you rode.

Koraidon however, apparently had other ideas. 

The moment his feet touch the cold ground, he yelps and backs right up and into the League building once again.

“Koraidon…c’mon bud, we just need to get home.” you sigh “I know you’re tired too…I promise to make you the best dang sandwich when we get home…yeah?” 

The paradox pokemon simply looks at you with wide, sad eyes and a low chitter before he willingly returns to his ball. 

Great….just great. Not even your most reliable pokemon was willing to brave even more snow, not after today.

“Woah-ho, what’s gotten under his scales?” a familiar voice sounds from behind you, snapping you from your despondent staring at Koraidon’s pokeball. The familiar click of dress boots give her away before Rika steps into view.

How she always managed to look so very casual while pulling off suspenders was beyond you, but every time you were anywhere in the vicinity of the first member of the Elite four, you found your mouth running dry and your mind wandering very far away from here. She tilts her head at you and it takes her waving her hand in front of your eyes to realise you were absolutely staring at her.

Way to go.

“Woah, you alright? You look wiped.” She comments, her brow furrowing as she looks you up and down. 

“A-ah…yeah, sorry…s’been a long few days…” you eventually mumble, turning your gaze to the floor as you clip Koraidon’s ball back to your belt with the others. “Geeta’s had me checking and rechecking all the gyms to make sure they’re ready for the next treasure hunt…we just got back from Montenevera…cold…tired…and now it’s snowing a-and Koraidon is just…too tired to take me home..” 

A slender, comforting hand gently rests between your shoulder blades, rubbing small, soothing circles and it takes everything in you to not crumble apart there, man, how desperate did you have to be to nearly cry at friendly touch? “You live all the way on the other side of town, dontcha?” She asks, her free hand raising to push some of her green hair from her face as the look of worry on her features only seems to grow “Ain’t no way you’re making that walk in this state…”

“I’ll live…” you sigh, hanging your head and readjusting your bag as you lift your head to look at the snow flurry that was definitely only getting heavier.

“Nah, C’mon, you can crash at mine tonight, it’s closer.” Rika chimes, patting you on the back and passing you a wink before she heads out the door. 

You blink, watching her back in silence, there was no way she had just invited you to spend the night, absolutely no way. You needed to go see a doctor and maybe get your hearing checked-

“You comin? Or did Rhyme’s Toxtricity paralyse you up there in Montenevera?” She calls, stopping and looking over her shoulder. There's a…a look in her eyes that you can't quite make out, but it makes your heart jackhammer just that little bit, especially when she turns and offers her hand “C’mon, let's get you home, yeah?”

You swallow the lump in your throat as you blink at her outstretched, gloved hand and then up at her smile.

Arceus, you were weak…how you ever made champion when you can’t even look the first of the Elite four in the eye without feeling your cheeks heat, you’ll never know.

Finally, you reach out and take her hand, not expecting her to tug you into her side, arm draping over your shoulders as she starts walking again, all but pulling you along with her. Her hand gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze as she shares her body warmth with you on the trek down the mountainside towards the tunnel. For someone so slim, she was…much warmer than you expected, and you find yourself sleepily zoning out, simply focusing on one food in front of the other.

Thankfully, Rika was pretty alright with not needing to make small talk. This wasn’t the first time you had both just…existed in the same space in silence…to be fair the silence on your part before was because you had no idea how to talk to her without muddling your words like a lovestruck idiot, and perhaps that was still the case. Regardless, you play up the ‘tired’ aspect and simply bask in being close.

The unfortunate downside to the tunnel from Mesagoza up to the League headquarters, was the wind. Right now? Frigid and inhospitable, the icy chill stinging at your eyes, at least until your companion comes to your rescue, shifting you behind her taller frame and blocking the wind, hand moving from your shoulder to your hand, giving that same reassuring squeeze as she looks over her shoulder, small smile on her face.

You swear you can feel her thumb gently rubbing over your knuckles as she bends her arm behind her back to keep a secure hold on you.

Rika…she really was something else, something you didn’t deserve.

The moment the tunnel spits you both out into Mesagoza’s side streets, she takes an immediate right. Had you been walking home, you would have had to take a left and trudge all the way to the other side of the city, past the academy and almost to the pokemon centre by the west gate. 

The flurry of snow was only getting worse, you can feel your clothes growing heavy and damp, and the concrete was getting slippery. Thankfully it’s not all that long before she tugs you into an apartment building and into a blessedly warm elevator. Holding you steady as your world begins to spin and blur at the edges. Perhaps you really had pushed it a bit too much today, hitting Cascarrafa, Glaseado and Montenevera in a single day…

“Hey.” Rika murmurs as your head rests against her shoulder “Stay with me, nearly there, kay? We’ll get you inside n’warmed up, yeah?” 

“Mmh…kay..” you manage to mumble back, simply enjoying being held, even if it was light. Her arm wrapped around your torso as you just breath. She smells like Cedarwood…and maybe a hint of Ozone…might have something to do with her Camerupt… but it’s not an unwelcome scent at all. You only get a few moments to enjoy it before the elevator chimes, and you’re gently tugged out into, and down a hallway. Rika’s free hand fishing her keys from her pocket. She has to let you go to get the door open, muttering something about a stuck lock and needing to call maintenance, but with a bodily shove of her shoulder, the lock clicks and the door swings open.

Her apartment is blessedly warm, she must have left the heater on when she left for work this morning, because the warm air nearly takes you out before you even enter the door, needing to lean against the frame with a relieved sigh, knowing that even if you had made it home tonight, your heater had definitely not been on, and hadn't been for several days.

Rika only laughs softly, gently pulling you inside so she could close the door. 

“Here…lets get you to the bathroom and into the shower…you’re absolutely freezing.” She mutters. Half-carrying you down the hall. Her apartment is…honestly what you expected. Neat enough, but not overly tidied. Lived in, comfortable, Inviting. Shades of soft greens and earthy tones scattered everywhere, a few large pokemon beds scattered about for her pokemon to enjoy outside of their balls. The only things really alluding to the fact that Rika was far more well off than most had to be the massive TV mounted to the living room wall, and what looked like one of the newer game consoles…the ones that had been super hard to get because of a manufacturing supply issue…fancy.

You don't quite register that she’s slowly pulling your clothes away from you until she’s already got your beanie, scarf and jacket off, each item thrown into her laundry hamper, at some point she’d also already started the shower for you, the room already beginning to fill with steam. You snap back to reality when theres a gently tug at the hem of your shirt, silently asking for your permission to remove it. 

“O-oh, I uh…s-sorry…” you mumble, raising your arms above your head anyway, cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment as she pulls the item away, the tank top beneath still leaving you modest enough to not die on the spot. “I-I can handle it from here…” 

“You sure?” she murmurs softly “S’no big deal to me.” 

“Y-yeah…I’ll be fine…thanks.” 

You watch as the tiniest hint of…disappointment? Flickers across her features…no, surely you were imagining…but she doesn’t push it any further.

“Alrighty, I’ll go find something you can wear for the night and then throw your clothes in the laundry once you’re in the shower, yeah?”

“Mm…t-thank you Rika…you really…you didn’t have to-” you mumble, unable to meet her gaze, but she just smiles and shrugs, her fingers slowly pushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. 

“And what if I wanted to? You look like you need a break.” She retorts, sliding past you and continuing down the hall before you can reply.

Soon enough, the rest of your clothes join the laundry hamper and you slip into the shower, beneath the scalding spray and you want to cry all over again, your fingers begin to prick with pins and needles as they slowly regain feeling, serves you right for leaving your gloves at home.

A few minutes into your shower, you hear the distinctive, soft thud of cloth hitting the counter. “Here’s some jammies, sorry if they’re a bit big.” Rika chuckles before vanishing back down the hall. You almost don’t want to get out of the hot spray, especially not once you start giving yourself a good scrub down with whatever fancy-branded body wash she kept in here.

At least now you know what to buy that would make you smell like cedarwood…

After you feel the last of the day’s grime finally wash from your body, you shut off the water and poke your head out of the shower. Thankfully Rika had already left a towel waiting atop the clothes she’d sacrificed to you. It’s as you’re drying off that you finally get a good look in the mirror and…wow…

Now you think you understand why she’d been so concerned…you look like you had two black eyes, that's how tired you were…

–

You find Rika relaxing in the living room watching TV when you finally emerge, changed into a fresh set of long pyjamas and- you can’t even stop the giggle when you notice the clodsire slippers.

“Where on earth did you get those?” you ask, pointing to said slippers, earning a grin and a snicker from their wearer.

“Larry actually.” She chuckles “secret santa a couple years back.” With that, she pats the spot on the couch next to her, and you, now warm and content, plop down beside her without a second thought, leaning against the arm of the couch with a content sigh. “How’re you feelin?” she asks, idly flipping through the channels.

“Mmh…much better…thank you again…I…I don’t think I would have made it home…not in this weather.”

“Oh I coulda told you that, Honey. In fact I’m pretty sure I did.” She snickers, her lips quirking at the side when she notes the way your cheeks flush pink at the pet name. “I’ve ordered some takeout, s’too cold to go out n’ grab food...and I’m usually too beat after work to bother cooking.” 

“Then how the hell do you stay so skinny?” You snicker at her, receiving a wink in response.

“Oh I take my cardio seriously.” is all the response she gives before she finally decides there is nothing decent on regular TV, and switches over to a streaming service, throwing on some random popular movie. 

Once again, you both settle into a comfortable silence, Rika rising from the couch half an hour in to fetch the dinner left at her door before returning, at some point with a blanket in tow. You sit up a little as she places the food on the coffee table and plops down right beside you this time, draping the blanket over both your laps. It’s not until you take the first mouthful of that delightful galarian curry, that you realise just how hungry you are, barely paying attention to the movie as you scarf down your meal, fighting back tears at Rika’s acts of kindness for the third time today, and only seemingly taking a breath once you’ve finished your meal, leaning back into the arm of the couch with a content sigh, only to squeak when Rika finishes her own a few minutes later and bodily leans into your side, head to your chest and arms slowly wrapping around your torso as she pulls her legs up and gets comfortable beside you with a content huff.

Arceus she was just so…so handsome, breathtaking… and she was just…cuddling you like you’d both been doing this kind of thing for years… it was sudden, but it didn’t feel wrong…and slowly, you bring your arm down from where it had been splayed along the back of the couch, to gently card through her hair, pulling some of her bangs from her face and tucking them behind her ear.

“Hmm…you should get some sleep, kiddo…arceus knows you need it.” She hums, glancing up at you from her spot on your chest. You know she’s right, and she doesn’t complain when you shift, even reaching behind her to hand you an extra cushion to tuck behind your head as you lay out along the couch, Rika coming to rest between your legs, head once again leaning onto your chest, her extra warmth and weight just adding another layer of comfort as you both go back to watching the movie.

Now usually, usually you were the kind of person who could drop off watching a movie quite easily. But on very rare occasions, you would find yourself struck with bouts of insomnia, and unfortunately for you, they always seemed to happen after periods of prolonged stress.

Like needing to go and personally make sure every gym was up to standards… 

Before you even knew it, the credits begin to roll, you’re exhausted, but offensively awake, to the point where even Rika is surprised, blinking those beautiful crimson eyes up at you. 

“Can’t sleep?” she asks with a tilt of her head. 

“Sometimes Insomnia is a bitch.” You concede, she makes a noise of understanding. 

“Ah, yeah…I know that feeling…” she admits, staring up at you, to the point you feel your cheeks heating again, and you avert your gaze “but, thankfully, I know the best solution for that.” She adds, shimmying to push herself up on her hands and knees, looming over you, some of her hair, having been free’d of its usual ponytail, cascading over her shoulders to tickle at your face.

“O-oh? And…what might that be?” that look in her eyes is back, the one you couldn’t quite read properly back at HQ, but here, with her inches from your face? It’s loud and clear.

Hunger. 

“Do you trust me?” She asks, her lips quirking into a smirk as you shrink beneath her. 

“W-would I have followed you home if I hadn’t?” you manage to squeak back at her, nowhere near as confident and commanding as it had sounded in your head. It’s enough to make her chuckle, and you watch in a daze as she licks her lips, a single hand coming up to softly grip your chin, lifting your face. 

“Hm, touche…” and with that, her lips are on yours, she swallows the squeaking gasp that you let out, taking the opportunity of your mouth being open to send her tongue in to explore. To you it feels like electricity, like you’d just taken a thunderbolt to the senses; She’s soft, gentle, probing, gauging your reactions. Apparently she must have liked what she got, because she deepens the kiss, nipping at your lips as one hand tangles in your hair, rougher. You like this a bit better. 

You’re the one who needs to come up for air first, pulling your face away with a loud, breathless gasp as you try to catch your breath. 

The look you find waiting for you is…predatory, is the only word that comes to mind, and if it wasn’t for the fact she was already between your knees, you’d be squeezing your thighs together so tight, because it’s doing something…funny to your insides.

“Hmm…you ever done anything like…this before?” She asks, voice low and husky and you’re very ready to pass away, but you manage a shake of your head and the grin you get in response? 

It’s like a Mightyena who’s just found it’s lunch. She was going to eat you, and she was going to enjoy every second of it. 

“Well then, we’d best move…couch sex is great n’ all, but I’d rather your first time be somewhere a little more comfortable.” she remarks, pulling away. You whine at the loss of her extra warmth, but that whine quickly turns to a yelp when she takes your arm and drags you up with a strength she hadn’t shown you before. Always full of tricks, Rika was. 

The admittedly short trek down the hall to her room is…hindered. Every few steps you’d find yourself pressed against the wall, Rika towering over you as hands tangle in your hair and lips crash to yours as she steals what little breath you manage to catch before you’re separating, taking a couple more steps and repeating the process. 

Right outside the bedroom door, the slim trainer actually lifts you up the wall a ways, enough so that your legs instinctively wrap around her waist, nothing but her pyjama pants and the thin boxer’s you’d borrowed off her keeping you apart, but already entirely too much clothing in the way. You moan loudly when she rolls her hips into yours, the sensations all new and overwhelming, but you don't think you’ve ever felt this good before in your life.

Her hands find your ass as she pulls back from the wall, holding you to her firmly as you both finally stumble into her room, only given a second to brace before she’s throwing you down into the blankets, and even less time before she’s on you, grinning and hungry as hands fly up your top, pushing it up your chest so she can finally access some skin.

“A-ah! Rika-” her name was lost on her for the time being, far too engrossed in leaving open mouthed kisses along your chest and stomach, mouth latching over one of your nipples while her hand works at the other. Your own hands twisting and clenching at her blanket, your squirming only made worse when she shifts again, her knee pressing between your legs and right against your aching cunt. 

At some point, she manages to wrangle the top off you completely, throwing it to the void so her hands can explore the expanse of your chest properly, she leaves no patch of skin untouched, no freckle or blemish uncharted, and when your whining begins to pitch as the nipple she sucks on becomes too sensitive, she gets go, only to latch to your collar bone instead, hands roaming your body.

You let out an embarrassingly pitiful mewl when her fingers dip beneath the waistband of your borrowed boxers, and you immediately bring a hand up to cover your mouth. Rika, apparently, doesn’t like that. Her hand retreating from its place as she props herself on the other, pulling away entirely, even shifting her knee back, depriving you of that delicious friction. Your hand is tugged away from your mouth and pinned to your side, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

“Don’t.” She scolds quietly “I wanna hear you.”

“B-but-” 

“Don’t be a brat.” she interjects, eyes flashing dangerously “I know that aint’ you… you wanna be a good girl, yeah?”

Oh.

Oh no.

That shouldn’t have such an effect on you. 

There’s no hiding it from Rika either. Her smirk widens as she stares smugly down at your trembling frame. 

“Oh? You like that huh? Well then, are you gonna be a good girl and do as I say?” she hums “I’ll make sure you feel real good, yeah?”

“M-mhm…” is all you manage to squeak out, earning a raised eyebrow.

“What was that? Didn’t quite hear you there, princess.” Rika snickers. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and the humiliation burns your ears and makes your insides squirm in a way you didn’t think would feel as good as it did.

“I-I’ll be good…” you whisper, your hands twisting into the sheets as Rika hums, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your burning cheek. 

“That’s a good girl.” she purrs “you just relax n’let me handle things, kay?”

You actually sigh into the kiss when she does finally return to what she was doing, your arms wrapping over her shoulders as she shifts back into place, hands lightly roaming your skin, teasing and testing sensitive spots, occasionally getting a little rougher, just enough to rile you a little more, before settling again. Before she can get back into your pants however, you tug at her shirt, whining into her mouth; thankfully, Rika is smart, she gets your hint and pulls away just long enough to tug her top off.

Her skin is soft, smooth, a few burn scars and claw marks here and there as she settles beside you, one of your thighs caught between her knees as she wraps an arm under your shoulders, pulling you close to her chest as the other hand grazes southward, she doesn't dally once her fingers breech the waistband of your boxers, quickly locating the sticky mess between your thighs with a pleased hum.

“Mmm, look at that…” she hums as a pair of fingers easily delve through your pussy, retracting from your boxers entirely so she can admire the glistening slick dripping from her fingers. “You’re so wet already, honey…” Rika makes sure you watch as she pops those two fingers into her mouth and you squeak, face burning in embarrassment. 

She doesn’t give you much time to react, the moment she pulls those slender fingers from her lips, she shifts, your boxers are wrenched off and you’re left bare before her as she parts your knees to settle on her belly between your thighs, eyes flashing devilishly in the low light, and hot breath ghosting over your most sensitive parts.

“R-Rika-”

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to get you into my bed.” She rasps between open-mouthed kisses along your thighs, arms wrapping around to keep yout hips in place as she takes her sweet time. “When was it… mmh, yeah I think it was…two years ago? Koraidon suddenly came out of his ball all sorry lookin’ in the middle of a meeting…”

Oh Arceus, you remember that meeting… Perhaps you’d been a little soft with Koraidon…he’d learnt that if he looked sorry enough, you’d make him a sandwich… but it was getting awfully hard to focus when a warm tongue suddenly licks a flat stripe into your cunt, and lips seal around your clit, shocking you from your thoughts as her strong hands prevent you from accidentally crushing her head with your thighs.

“Without even stopping to think, you got up n’ you got him what he needed.” she whispers into your thigh once she finally pulls away “middle of a meetin… n’ heres our newest champion, making a sandwich for her pokemon.” she chuckles “I dunno…something about how casually you just…did that…I’ve wanted this ever since but Geeta’s always had you running all over the place, pinning you down has always been impossible…least until today.” 

“Rika…”

“You’re always doing everything for everyone else… you deserve to relax.” For a brief moment, she flashes you a genuine smile, not a hint of that handsome smirk that you’re so used to; just genuine warmth before she tugs you down by your hips and returns her mouth to you, long strokes of her tongue between your folds that leave any words dead in your throat, and your hands tangling in her hair for any semblance of control. You didn’t want to hurt her, but when she sucks harshly on your clit, you cry out and yank on her hair a little harder than you’d meant to, any apology dying when she groans and shudders, her eyes rolling back for a moment. 

“You’re killin me, kid.” She sighs in the brief moment she brings herself to separate from you “keep doin that and you might end up in trouble.”

It sounds like a threat… but the way she suddenly looks so…debauched, has you tugging at her silky hair again when a pair of fingers slowly begin to prod at your core, spurring her on as you squirm and mewl.

Eventually, you feel something deep in your belly, different from before, something building that has your breath coming harshly as you try to squirm away, stopped by a firm hand pressing just below your navel.

“R-rika-! s-somethings…I-I feel-” you whimper as the pressure builds, you expect her to pull away in concern, but her eyes flash with realisation, and she only seems to double down, her long, slender fingers curling inside of you and brushes against…something. Something that has you nearly scream her name as that pressure snaps and your world turns white, fingers curling harshly into her hair.

Somewhere, through the haze, you feel a weight resting on you, and a hand resting on your cheek, but it takes a little longer for your ears to finally stop ringing and realise Rika was gently calling your name.

“There you are..” She chuckles softly as you finally remember how to uncross your eyes and look at her. “That looked intense…you ok?” 

“Uh…uh-huh…” you respond dumbly, resting your cheek against her hand “what…what was that..?”

Rika’s lips pull into a thin, concerned line as her brows furrow.

“They really didn’t teach sex-ed at the academy, did they?” She asks.

“I-I mean…they did…s’just…basic..” you mumble as you slowly come down from…whatever high that just was.

“Obviously.” she sighs with a shake of her head “Was that seriously your first orgasm?” 

Oh.

“oh…I uh…yeah…I guess it was.” and the humiliation was back. You knew what an orgasm was in theory…you’d just..never bothered to try it yourself. 

“Well…I suppose I should count myself honoured then.” She snickers, leaning in to kiss at your undoubtedly sweaty forehead. “Couple more of those N’ I think you’ll be sleeping like a Komala.” 

“M-more…?” you whisper, she laughs, catching your wide-eyed expression.

“Oh yeah, that was just foreplay, sweet thing…you did so well.” 

And the praise was back, despite the way your joints feel molten hot, you still manage to squirm beneath her. 

“I- s-should I…um…h-help you now?” your question is barely a whisper, all nerves…you have no idea how she did what she did but it felt…wrong to take and not give. 

But Rika only shakes her head. 

“What’d I say before?” she chides, slowly sitting back on her knees “Your one job tonight is to relax…I’ve got you.” 

“But…what about you-”

“Don’t you worry about me. I’ll get off eventually.” She chuckles, smirking when you sigh and relent. “I want one more outta you before then though.” She mumbles as she shifts out from between your knees, sitting and reaching for her bedside table as you stare at the ceiling, basking in the shaky afterglow. 

“D-did you…mean what you said before?” you mumble more at the ceiling than anything “that you’ve been…waiting for this..?” 

“What reason do I have to lie to you?” She chuckles as she fiddles with…whatever she’s fiddling with. “You earned my respect the day you beat me when you first took on the Elite four, my admiration when you beat Geeta and became a champion…”

“God…those stupid glasses haunt me.” you snicker, remembering rather vividly being sat, alone in a room with Rika when you had first taken on the league, you’d read up plenty on other pokemon leagues in other regions, but never once had any of them had an interview-style exam right at the start.

“Hey, I like my glasses, thank you very much!” Rika snorts as she finally shifts back over, pulling you close with one arm as something…new slides between your legs, a quick glance and- oh.

You never really took Rika for the kind to own toys…but…at the same time, you never really gave it much thought. It’s nothing extreme, but to you, who’s never had anything other than a pair of slender fingers inside you very recently, the silicone toy is still rather intimidating. 

“This ok?” She asks, mouthing at your neck and shoulder “if you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

“I…I do..just..nervous is all.” 

“Mmh, good girl, so trusting…” there she goes again with the pet name that makes you shiver, not helped by the cold press of lubricated silicone against your still-sensitive cunt, gently pressing just that little bit further as Rika mouths your neck, nibbling down on the juncture between throat and shoulder, an adequate distraction as she pulls your leg out of the way with her own and sinks the toy in, slowly, almost tender as she coos comforts, coaxing you to relax, praise falling from her easily. 

“Look at that, you took it so well.” She praises once the toy reaches the hilt “fuck, you’re making me regret not buying a harness… might just have to pick one up so I can fuck you proper, yeah?” 

You can't even bring yourself to respond to her dirty talk, blinking hazily downwards as you gently press a hand just below your belly-button, taking the hint, Rika pulls the toy almost all the way out and then thrusts it back in. The feeling of it inside you, plus being able to feel it beneath your hand makes you moan loud and long, head falling back against the pillows as Rika lets you go, using her now free arm to prop herself up to watch you as she begins rhythmically working the dildo in and out of you, a small shift of her thumb has it brushing against your clit every time she sinks the silicone back into you, only adding to the layers of pleasure as your toes curl and your legs twitch.

“Look at you taking it like you were made for this, good girl.” she purrs, licking at her lips “I really shoulda found another reason to get you alone waaay before now.”

“Ungh…please…p-please…more…” It takes more than you feel like it should to beg, good as it felt, you’re worried that Rika was perhaps treating you just a little too softly. “Rika please…please please pleas-”

“Woah there, settle down baby.” She whispers, kissing at your cheek “Lookit you, telling me what you want like a good girl…who am I to deny the champion?” 

Your attempt at telling her she didn’t need to use your title is quickly drowned out when she sits up, plunging the toy deeper inside of you with this new angle, brushing up against that one spot that had triggered your last orgasm. Her free hand pins your chest down as she smiles down at you, predatory and hungry for your reactions as she ups the pace, occasionally stopping to really grind the toy deep inside of you, right against that sensitive spot that has your voice pitch higher while you grip at Rika’s hand like your life depended on it.

As your next orgasm draws closer, you whimper, tugging at her hand, overstimulated ,overwhelmed, knowing you needed something, but not quite sure what that something was. At least until Rika pulls you to sit up, not even interrupting her pace as she braces you against her chest so you can hide your face away into the crook of her neck. All the while she mutters praise and pet names into your ear. She groans when that knot snaps for the second time tonight and you cry her name into her throat. You don’t pass out like you’re pretty sure you did last time at least, but as the shocks of pleasure begin to fade out, you really do begin to feel the pull of exhaustion behind your eyes as you slump against Rika’s shoulder, whimpering quietly when she slowly pulls the toy from your sensitive core, feeling the way your muscles involuntarily clench around it.

“How was that, baby? You doin alright?” She asks, gently tossing the toy back towards the bedside table as she turns her attention back to you. You were dizzy, dazed, and exhausted, yet through all that one thought still persisted.

She’d been doing all of this for you, and she still had her goddamn pants on.

Her breath hitches when your hand drops to her thighs, pressing beneath the waistband as you try to swallow down your nervousness to return the favour properly, biting your lip as you find the slick, wet mess already waiting for you; in a way, it was comforting to know that she was in fact, turned on by all of this. You’re clumsier than Rika at this, inexperienced and nervous, but you listen as she lets out a shuddering breath, her head leaning against yours for a moment as you slowly gain some confidence. That is until she grabs your wrist, ignoring your whine as she pulls your hand away and lays you back down, taking a moment to kiss any air out of your lungs, trying to calm your fraying nerves at being denied the chance to please her. 

“Hey… It’s ok sweetie.” She murmurs against your lips, uncaring of your wide-eyed pout “One more…”

“Nooo.” you whine, wiggling in her grip “I cant…s’too much Rika…” truly, you didn't think you could take another, no matter how good it felt, the first two had been so intense, but Rika only smiles. 

“I know you can give me one more, sweet girl.” she purrs, watching as you squirm and shake your head like you could actually deny her. “Will you stop being a brat if I told you this one will also get me off?” 

At that, your squirming stops as you blink tiredly up at her, earning a chuckle and a fond shake of her head. 

“R-really?”

“Yeah, s’nice n easy on you too…you wanna try?” 

You seriously doubted she could get another out of you, hell, you seriously doubted you could stay awake for much longer, her initial plan definitely working…but if it brought her pleasure too…

“O-ok…I’ll try…”

“That’s my girl.” She whispers softly, pressing just as soft a kiss to your lips “Lay back for me, princess.”

You do just that, shifting a few pillows to get comfortable, if you thought your joints ached before, now you felt like you've made the trip to the three final gyms today on foot…perhaps you should make Koraidon his favourite sandwich as thanks for carrying you around all day.

You feel Rika take hold of one of your legs, lifting it so your knee bends over her shoulder as she settles into place, finally free of her own bottoms as she slots her pelvis against yours. You gasp at the feeling of your cores pressing together. It felt…soft, but almost way more intimate and intense than anything she’d done to you prior…whatever she was doing, definitely wasn’t covered in any sex-ed class you’d taken back in school.

You’re about to ask, when she rolls her hips and oh- 

Perhaps it was your already overstimulated state, or just the position itself, but as she slowly grinds herself against you, the friction leaves you breathless, even more so when you look at Rika’s face. Her brow is furrowed in deep concentration as she bites at her bottom lip, face contorting in pleasure as she groans into your knee, her nails digging into the soft flesh of your thigh as she rolls her hips just a little harder, the pain only adding to the sensation.

“S-shit…” she pants, “fuck you feel so good…good girl..” she moans, head tilting back as she stares up at the ceiling, shuddering when you whimper and lift your hips as she rolls down again, sending another jolt of pleasure through you both. “That’s it princess, j-just like that… you’re gettin real good at this…” 

Her words of pleasured praise do…something else to you, sparking that last bit of energy you had left to life as you continue to try and keep rhythm with her, grinding together slow and deep and watching in awe as the first member of the elite four comes apart in front of you for the first time, her sounds going from quite whispers to long moans and pleasured keens. 

“Rika- R-rika…” you pant “mmf-fuck… can’t believe it’s taken this long..” the words are out of your mouth before you have the forethought to think about them “I’ve had the stupidest crush on you since we first met back when I was taking the gym challenge… you were so- ah! H-handsome and intimidating…I…thought you were a-a man and nearly called you S-sir-”

“FUCK-” her shout actually makes you jolt, and you realise she’s cumming, cunt grinding deliciously into your own as she bites down on your leg, the sudden extra jolt of pleasure-pain sending you over the edge as well with an open-mouthed scream.

Somewhere in the haze before you pass out, you make a mental note to try calling Rika ‘sir’ next time…if there was a next time.

–

It’s light out when you wake the next morning, blinking sleep from your eyes as you look out the window.

Seems the snow had only picked up during the night, most of which you don't remember after…well, everything. Save for a straw in your mouth, Rika’s gentle voice coaxing a few sips of fluid into you, and a damp cloth wiping you down, hushing your overstimulated whimpers of protest. 

Somehow she’d even managed to get you dressed again without waking you…you must have crashed hard. Yet the thing that sticks out to you is that the bed is severely lacking in another body, Rika nowhere to be found.

At first, a pit of worry sows itself into your gut. Had she gone to sleep on the couch after all that? Had she had second thoughts-

A clatter from down the hall, and her warm laughter however, abate that somewhat.

“You’re such an ungainly thing.” you hear her snicker “Hold on a second it’s nearly done, needy lizard.” 

Koraidon’s telltale ‘i'm hungry and sad, feed me’ whine quickly turns to happy chirping at the promise of food, his head turning to the hallway as you shuffle out of bed, blanket and all to trudge down the hall. happily leaving Rika to her business as he trots over to greet you, shoving his massive snout right into your belly. 

“See? All your complainin’ woke her up!” Rika snorts, resting a hand on her hip. “N’here i was trying to make you breakfast before you woke up…”

Your cheeks heat a little at the sentiment.

“Keyword is try…good luck getting any cooking past Koraidon…” you mumble softly, petting said pokemon’s head feathers down as the other trainer leaves the kitchen, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. 

“Well, initially I’d enlisted him to help, but that turned out to be a bust..” She snickers. “G’mornin.”

“M-morning..” 

Rika tilts her head at you with an amused grin “aw, actin all shy after everything that happened last night?” she muses, chuckling when all the response you give is a slightly redder face before you drop your head into Koraidon’s feathers. Her amusement soon melts away as a warm, now intimately familiar hand, comes to rest on your back. 

“Hey…” she sighs “I enjoyed myself last night… I hope you did too…” 

“I-I did… its just…I…” you nibble at your bottom lip, unable to come up with the words to describe how you’re feeling. Giddy and nervous, emotional and excited, all wrapped up into one package.

Thankfully, your companion seems to take it in stride, pressing another kiss to your temple before she returns to the kitchen.

“Oh by the way.” She pipes up after a moment. “Geeta called this morning…snow’s a little too heavy today so HQ’s shut…looks like we have a long weekend.” 

Oh, an extra day off? That's probably the best news you could have gotten today, considering your legs were still shaking like a newborn deerling…

“Nice..” you giggle, slowly shuffling towards the couch, pulling her blanket up over your shoulders as you flop down by the arm and get cozy. 

“Thats what I said.” She snickers, soon joining you with a hot plate of food. If you’d thought the galarian curry last night had been good, this trumped it, your body screaming for food after last night’s exertion. 

“Y’know, if you want…you’re more than welcome to crash here for the weekend…” Rika throws the offer casually as she eats, content smile upon her face as she watches you from the corner of her eye “Snow’s only gotten heavier since yesterday, n’I don't wantcha getting hurt tryina get home..” 

This time, you can hear the intent behind her words, the intent you couldn’t read yesterday as you turn your head towards the window, to the almost whiteout of Masagoza. You contemplate the offer as you polish off your breakfast, placing the plate on the coffee table before you, watching as Koraidon happily trots up to lick the plate clean with a happy chirp.

“Hmmm…well, if you’re happy to have me…who am I to say no…sir.” you know it’s cheeky, you know it’s going to end badly for you, but watching Rika’s face suddenly go from cool, calm and collected, to beet red is totally worth it before she shoves the last mouthful of her own food into her mouth, slamming the plate onto the table before she grabs you by the collar of your shirt and hauls you up. 

You cackle all the way down the hall as she all but drags you back to the bedroom.

You were in for a long weekend indeed.

#pokemon scarlet and violet x reader #Rika x reader #elite four rika x reader #Rika x reader smut

[reallydelicatezombie]

Being Intimate With Spock For the First Time

This is a continuation of Making Out With Spock for the First Time, which can be found here.

Warnings: Smutty smut with just a *sprinkling* of plot and tiny little dollop of fluff at the end. Also: Spock has body hair in this because WE LOVE TO SEE IT. Ethan Peck, Zachary Quinto, and Leonard Nimoy are all hairy dudes AND Spock had chest hair and a happy trail in "TOS", so there! Also also: I didn't proofread a single paragraph of this. On this page, we post fast and dirty.

-----‐-------------------

There was nothing brief about the debriefing that you and your boyfriend were summoned to. Normally, you would patiently listen to everything that was said at these debriefings, eager to hear your colleagues ideas and collaborate on the best course of action together. Today, however, you could have stabbed every single crew member each time they opened their mouths to prolong this torture.

All you wanted to do was get back to Spock's quarters to pick up where you left off. Your eyes couldn't help but drift to his face to see if he was feeling the same way. Each glance confirmed that he was in fact wanting to resume your previous activities.

Most people would think Spock was just being his usual self, but you could see the way his back was ramrod straight, shoulders stiff and square, jaw clenched, never settling into the comfortable posture he usually adopted in this setting. Not to mention every time you snuck a glance at him he was doing the same to you. You wondered if he would opt to rip your clothes off completely when you were once again in private, or would his Vulcan control win out and make him take his time with you? You preferred the clothes ripping scenario, to be honest.

"Y/n, what do you think about this development with the alien culture? We don't want to offend them, but we have to make a show of strength. It seems to be how their culture works." Captain Pike's voice jolted you out of your fantasy as every single person at the table turned their attention to you.

Shit shit shit shit. Never had you felt more like a student at school who had been called on to answer a question completely unprepared. Your face turned bright red as you grasped around in your lust-clouded brain for the appropriate answer.

"I think . . . um, we should, um . . . send a group of highly armed delegates to negotiate with them for safe passage through their space. We should make sure that all delegates are skilled combatants in case things go south, but we should also offer them a gift to show that we mean no harm. Maybe something from the replicators, since they seem to be going through a prolonged food shortage."

Damn, y/n, not bad at all, you mentally congratulated yourself on giving an intelligent, relatively safe answer. When in doubt, you knew you could always count on La'an and Una to be Good Cop, Bad Cop in a landing party. It was an effective combination that usually worked. Plus, replicators were in short supply in this sector, and extra food was always appreciated.

"Excellent idea. We'll assemble the landing party and meet in the transporter room tomorrow morning. Spock, Una, La'an, you'll come with me. Y/n, I'll need you up here to get things prepared if they give us approval to move through the system."

While your heart sank at the thought of Spock being away from you in case something went wrong on the mission, you were relieved this debriefing was finally over.

After everyone filed out of the debriefing room, you and Spock made your way out to the hall. You could've sworn the Captain smiled to himself as he saw you two walking out together.

Out in the hall, you turned to Spock. "Listen, I know it's getting late and you need to prepare for your mission tomorrow. I'll be worried about you the whole time we're apart, though." Here you smiled sheepishly. "But. . .maybe we can spend some more time together when you get back," you said suggestively.

Spock looked down at you with what could only be described as a mischievous smirk. "You forget, ashayama, Vulcans do not need as much rest as humans do." He took a step closer to you, closing the distance between the two of you.

"So, if you wish to resume our activities, I would be more than happy to oblige you. Provided you are not too tired, of course," he sad in that deep, husky voice that made your insides flutter.

Damn, he was still ready to go. You were impressed with his ability to still be aroused after that lengthy meeting. You couldn't back down from his challenge, though.

"Oh, I'm not too tired. I just hope you can keep up, Commander." Now it was your turn to smirk.

Spock's eyes seemed to grow a shade darker. "Very well, then. Let us return to my quarters."

You had to walk with your thighs clenched as you remembered your dress ripping fantasy from earlier. This was going to be amazing.

--------------------

The second you got back to Spock's room and the door closed, he pulled you into his arms and kissed you deeply, fully tilting your head back with his hand in your hair to grant him better access to your mouth. His tongue pushed into your mouth, exploring its warmth.

That's new, you thought. Before you could think anymore, Spock pressed your back against the wall and hoisted your hips up in order to get your legs to wrap around his waist, which you gladly did. The hand holding you to him was planted firmly on your ass, groping the flesh possessively.

Spock growled lowly as you changed the kiss by tracing your tongue on his lower lip, pulling it into your mouth like you had done earlier. He turned you from the wall with your legs still tightly wrapped around him and brought you to the bed, setting you down on it as he starred down at you hungrily.

He began taking his shirt off, which revealed a tone chest with dark hair covering it and a trail leading lower into his pants. Your mouth watered as you sat up to run your hands over his torso, feeling the taut muscles flex in anticipation under your fingers. "You're so sexy, Spock," you hummed in approval.

Gently but firmly grabbing your jaw to tilt your face up for a kiss, he kissed you fervently. His hands moved to the hem of your shirt and ripped it over your head. He then wrapped his arms around you, leaning you back down on the bed as he adjusted his strong frame over yours.

Still kissing you deeply, he reached an arm around your back to unhook your bra with a single flick of his wrist. You would have to ask him where he learned to do that later.

Spock pulled back to look at you. "You are magnificent, y/n. I could think of nothing else but being with you like this at the debriefing." He ran a hand admiringly down your torso.

"Me, too, Spock. I just wanted to get back here so you could rip my clothes off," you admitted, your voice laden with lust.

"We will get to that soon enough," your Vulcan said, voice thick and eyes darkening. With that, he dipped his head to again suck on your pert nipples, swirling his tongue around the bud and pulling it into the hot cavern of his mouth.

As he did so, a hand crept down the plane of your stomach to dip into your skirt. You gasped when Spock's large hand cupped you and ran a finger up your dripping slit. Spock released your bud from his mouth and swore in Vulcan. At least, that's what you assumed the unfamiliar word was. He looked down at his hand towards your cunt like he was impressed with how wet you were.

The same finger now rubbed a circle around your clit. "Oh, Spock," you moaned, "please, I need you now."

"Not yet, ashayam. It is important that you are as aroused as possible to make penetration easier. I must add that I wish to bring you the highest pleasure and also to finally taste you."

Of course Spock would combine such an arousing sentiment with something so logical, so practical. But that's why you loved him.

"Please make feel good, Spock," you begged. You knew you sounded desperate, but you didn't care at that moment.

The hand slid out of your underwear and skirt and moved to unzip it. Unlike the previous time, Spock threw it on the floor.

He pulled back to sit up slightly. "Now, I believe you mentioned me ripping your clothes off." Spock then gripped the waistband of your underwear and literally ripped it from your body.

A gasp left your body as his dark eyes held your (e/c) ones. Spock lowered his face to your soaked mound and then slowly licked a long strip up your slit, keeping eye contact with you the entire time. Fuck, that's hot, you thought.

Spock's eyes then closed as he wrapped his thick, soft lips around your clit and began licking your clit in slow, lazy figure eights. "Mmph," he groaned, as if he was savoring the taste.

Your hand came up to grip his hair and your eyes closed as Spock released your swollen clit and then used his tongue to gently explore your entrance. You felt the pressure in your core rising as he continued his ministrations.

Alternating between licking and sucking, Spock's tongue picked up speed as he raised one of your thighs and hiked it up over his shoulder. The position allowed him to probe deeper into your entrance.

Moving his mouth back up to lave your bud, you felt a finger travel up your slit to enter you. The stretch of his large finger only added to the intense pleasure you were feeling, causing you to arch your of the bed and moan.

Spock took this as a cue to add a second finger, still skillfully sucking on your clit, and set up a fast pace for his fingers to pump in and out of your core.

You were so close now, just a little bit more. The pressure in your lower abdomen was just about to break.

Spock was so attentive to your moans and movements, he knew it was time to push you over the edge into your release. With a final burst of pressure on your bud and his fingers now pumping furiously into your pussy, Spock took his mouth away from your core for just a moment.

"Come for me, y/n. Come for me now." His mouth immediately latched onto you again as you came at his command, a surge of moisture flowing out of you and your muscles fluttering around Spock's long fingers.

You cried out, the taut line of tension that had built up within you snapped into a shattering release. You realized that no one else had ever made you come this hard before. Your thighs shook as your ragged breathing struggled to return to normal.

After a moment, Spock pulled his face away from your core and he sat up. His mouth and chin were coated in your slick. Your eyes, trying to refocus from your intense orgasm, caught his as he brought up his two fingers and stuck them in his mouth, sucking off every last drop.

"You taste exquisite, ashayam." The way he looked at you as he said that made you breathless. Not only did you feel exposed physically, but you also felt as though his katra could see your soul at that moment. It was overwhelming.

While your mind tried to process this, you turned your head to watch as Spock stood up slowly and unzipped his pants and pulled them down.

You sat up to see better. The outline of his cock strained against his briefs. You awaited his next action as he slid them down and stepped out of them, his thick cock springing free.

Your mouth went dry and your jaw dropped slightly as you admired his form. Though you knew logically he would fit, your mind balked at how much he would stretch you. You now knew why he had wanted you to be as aroused as possible.

His cock was long and thick, firmly erect with arousal and a bead of precum leaking from the tip. It was a darker shade of green than when he blushed, with the color contrated at the mushroom head of his dick. His balls weren't as wrinkly as a human male's, and the hair on them, though dark and thick, was neatly trimmed.

You reached out to touch him, desperate to give him pleasure and finally feel him in your hands and mouth.

You wrapped a hand around the shaft and stroked up, rubbing your thumb over the head and smearing the precum over it. He sucked in his breath as his abdomen muscles tensed

"Spock, you're so strong and handsome," you cooed reverently as you continued to stroke him. You eagerly bent your head down to take him in your mouth. Before you could complete your goal, he stopped you with a firm hand.

"No, y/n. I do not wish to come yet, and I am most certain that if you do I will." His words came out raggedly as he closed his eyes, as if to calm himself down from the thought. "Please, let us instead know one another."

The statment sounded so intimate coming from him. You knew that he did not take sharing himself with you and you sharing yourself with him lightly. You knew that you felt the same way, and loved him. You silently nodded your agreement.

With your consent given, you scooted back to the center of the bed as he sat down and crawled over you. He positioned himself in between your legs as your internal muscles clenched in anticipation. Propping himself up on one arm so as to not crush you, he ran the thick tip of his cock along your slick entrance.

He closed his eyes and lowered his mouth to yours, kissing you deeply as he pushed his head past your entrance slowly. You gasped into the kiss at the painful stretch of muscles trying to relax so you could take all of him.

"Relax, ashayma. Do you wish to stop? I do not wish to hurt you." His voice was etched with concern.

"No!" You reassured him quickly. "It will just take me a minute to adjust is all." He waited for your affirmation to continue.

"Okay," you breathed out deeply. "I'm ready." He began to push deeper into you. He grunted.

"You feel better than anything I have ever felt before," he whispered in between breaths as he placed his forehead against yours. He was finally all the way in.

You felt fuller than you ever had and were amazed at how you could take all of him. The burn began to subside as he slowly, cautiously started to move his hips back and forth, in and out. His pace picked up slightly after a while.

You could tell he was holding back, though. He knew his Vulcan strength could easily hurt you without intending to. But you wouldn't break that easily. As the pressure began to build up again in your core, you wanted more of it.

"Go faster," you breathlessly urged him.

"Whatever you desire," came his reply, lowering his mouth to capture yours and kiss you deeply as he sped up his hips.

His speed picked up, moving your vaginal muscles back and forth in a way that made your core ache with pleasure. He grunted as he felt this change and sped up further into a bruising pace.

His entire effort was concentrated on pounding into you, as you weakly raised your hips to meet his. All you could do was cry out and take it, gripping his back just as tightly as he gripped your hip. You knew you would have bruises tomorrow, but truth be told, you were glad for it. You wanted a reminder of this night with you tomorrow while he went on the mission.

The powerful hand on your hip moved down to the back of your thigh to hoist your leg up over his hip. You wrapped your leg tightly around him, your heel coming to rest on his ass.

You moaned and arched your back into him, the new angle taking him deeper into you, making your pleasurable ache grow even more.

You opened your eyes to see Spock's looking at you, watching your face contort with pleasure, desperate to give you everything he had. The moment suddenly make you whisper in a low, cracking voice, "I love you, Spock" in Vulcan. You had looked it up one day when you realized you wanted to tell him, but didn't have the guts to yet.

His eyes went wide as he realized what you said, making him stop his pounding for just a second. You had never said that to him before, and you struggled to learn Vulcan, though he loved that you tried. "I love you, too, y/n." This was not something he said lightly and you knew it meant he was making a commitment to you.

This confession made Spock redouble his efforts at making you come completely undone for him. You cried out as the pressure within you coiled tightly. Spock reached down between you to rub your clit.

The action made you scream his name as you came around him, the coil breaking and making you lose your presence that tethered you to feeling. Spock came inside you (you were on the pill), swearing in Vulcan as thick spurts of cum coated your walls.

He breathed heavily as he collapsed, his arms on either side of you and caging you under him. You stayed like this for a time while he both tried to get your breathing under control.

When you felt yourself begin to be aware of your body again, you wrapped your arms around his back and stroking him. You kissed his head as he returned to himself, too.

"Thank you, ashayam," he said, "for sharing this time with me."

You smiled gently as you replied, "It was my pleasure, trust me."

This quip earned you a small chuckle from your Vulcan love, a rarity.

He pushed himself up, moving to the side of you. He pulled you to his chest, where you rested your head and listened to his heart beat steadily. You were so sated with pleasure and love that you could no longer keep your eyes open, the rhythm of his heart lulling you into a deep sleep.

Vulcans did not need as much rest as humans did. This gave Spock the opportunity to stare down at your lovely face unobserved, your features relaxed and softened. He held you tightly, and began processing this new development in your relationship.

He would be thinking about this tomorrow while he was away, and the reminder that he would be separated from you, even just for a little while, pained him.

A solution to this problem was brewing in his thoughtful mind. After everything that you had been through together, Spock knew that he loved you more intensely than he had ever loved anyone, that he had thought himself capable of. Logically, there was only one solution he saw to being connected to you, even while you were apart: he would ask you to mind meld with him, and then, should you wish to make it permanent, begin the human ritual of marriage by proposing.

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Hmm? Perhaps a part 3 and part 4?? 👀

#spock #spock x reader #spock imagine #spock snw #star trek snw #star trek strange new worlds #smut