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anantaru · 7 months

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DAY 19 — EDGING

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — zhongli, xiao, ayato

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, edging & orgasm denial, nipple play, praise kink, oral (male! receiving), petnames used: good girl & baby, dom/sub dynamics

𖧡 — ZHONGLI

patience and thoroughness, two cardinal commodities that zhongli had, without fail, used as a well fortified hold in an abundance of undertakings in his long life.

keen to obey, you immediately open your arms for him, afterwards wrapping them around his head as zhongli's warm lips patiently ghost over your chest before hovering his tongue to study the shape of your beautiful breasts, his teeth lightly taking notes of the pulsing perception on your erected nipples before concealing them with his mouth.

although in spite of that, your momentary flash of excitement to experience some sort of pleasure had soon fled a few breaths later, when zhongli abruptly pulled his mouth off your chest, licking at his wet lips before drawing himself back to brush gentle kisses all over the wet splotches on your skin— and at the start, you believed that there wasn't anything ulterior going on and that zhongli wouldn't make you suffer in such ways, yet, thinking back at it now, on how gullible you were to believe that truly only amplified the paining pleasure and yearning in you more.

soon enough, he showed you the fruits of his ministrations when you're writhing underneath his warm figure— your thighs plastered with an abundance of your arousal sticking and soiling the linen beneath you with his seedy cock messy and oozing of pre.

"you trust me, don't you?" he whispers over your lips as your hearts thud in sync with your chests pressed together, a mirage of heavy pants and whiny hiccups gradually inhaled by each other as his erection slips and prances through your quivering pussy, easing his tip as deep as it could go in as you squeeze around his girth.

"of- of course," you mewl back weakly, "but please— just once, baby, just once," and you haven't been this sensitive in ages it's almost embarrassing, harboring the weight of his well above average length swelling around the margins of your ribbed walls stole all sense of self control inside you.

but zhongli, oh how much he was enjoying this, stills his hips once again, robbing you of yet another orgasm as his hand slowly looms over to cup your cheek before exploring your face— unhurriedly tracing over to your puckered up lips, silently brushing against your brow, noticing the immediate love and how you practically melt into his palm.

fuck, you're so beautiful when you're frustrated, that much he was clear on, there was nothing more bewitching then your naked frame quivering and yearning to climax, or when you suddenly begged him for it, even when he repeatedly tells you to be patient, his cock remained crowded inside and pulsing against your creamy walls as he taps one finger above your mouth.

unhesitating, your jaw falls open to welcome two long, slender fingers slipping into the swelling of your warmth, letting zhongli's digits spread over and rub across your tongue before pressing down— for some reason, the way zhongli was watching you eagerly through golden eyes, admiring you and focusing on your face, was a bigger turn on than you originally expected and there's a fetching, delicious burn buzzing over your lower region as his girth moves again, harshly thrusting back to pick up on where he left off.

undoubtedly, he'll take his precious time to examine the rest of you— after all, rushed studies breed lousy results— and morax wanted to inspect you entirely, almost possessively, so he'd always know which buttons he had to push on you.

𖧡 — XIAO

"i know baby, i know," you coo out before hitching your hands into the sides on xiao's hips while perfectly slotted in between his thighs, mocking the very sentence he always seemed to mutter whenever it was him who was pleasuring you that night.

while now, it's a certainly contrasting picture when you slurp up his creamy cum that splattered all over your tongue and lips, cheeks and chin, drinking it up before spilling a little on top of his shaft, eagerly smearing the mixture of spit and seed on top of his semi erect cock before palming his balls, practically starving with his pants remaining bunched up around his ankles.

you just love having him deep inside your mouth, rob an orgasm off him before giving him one to salivate on, his length throbbing and thudding over your pink muscle while you're fluttering your lashes up at xiao, so you could watch how he was silently succumbing into nothing but your warmness engulfing his most sensitive part and your throat feeling like a soft wet vice, showing no signs of gagging when you let him slowly thrust into it.

you begin to curl your hand over his balls before applying a gentle pressure that made him jolt up from his chair, his breath quickening as he hardens entirely under your tongue— xiao couldn't figure out if you're going to allow him to cum again or if you're going to rob him, edge him on and delay his delicious, although slightly painful orgasm from how unbelievably reactive and sensitive he had gotten all because of you having a little too much fun tonight.

"don't—," he grunts, his sweaty chest glowing under the dimly rid room as he watches how you're tilting your head, his cock head squished into your cheeks so he'd see the silhouette of it, "i'm so close.. ’so close,"

it's too much sensation at once thrown at him, but xiao braces himself, each hand resting into the arm chair before digging his nails into the leather, because in truth, he doesn't want this to end and hoped he'd ve able to survive your unforgiving pace.

you lift your eyes back up at him and his flustered expression prances above you like the sweetest eye candy, a moan uttering from your lips as it quivers over his shaft until reaching his base— soon after, xiao cums again, much faster and sooner, his cum warm, thick and heavy inside your mouth as he turns in his chair just slightly, shivering all over and looking down at the mess in between his thighs where he met your hungry gaze instantly, your tongue leisurely trailing over his tip like you haven't coaxed out yet another orgasm out of the man— the mere sight of you sinful, your chin plastered all over with his salty whites and your tongue dripping of it.

but it's still not enough, xiao fears, not when he feels you palm his shaft again.

𖧡 — AYATO

despite ayato's long-lasting pursuit of bringing you to the edge enough times that you had honestly lost count, the satisfaction in his voice, brushed together with small praises consisting of, "you're such a good girl to me," and "you always handle me so well," only made you crave it more, crave him more, whilst being tied down by your wrists hovering above your head, a small cloth tightly attaching you to the headboard.

all too soon, you notice that ayato's restless thrusts and fondles with your body turned all the more sloppy in their ministrations— the soft, insistent brush of his slender fingers sliding over your erected nipples drawing an overflow of convulses on your fluttering pussy before he moves his restless cock again, collapsing his entire weight into your frame while you're too sensitive to even voice anything, your heart hammering fast and blenching over your ears as your legs shut around his hips, the weight of his cock nestled hard inside your slickness.

more than the absent sounds of your needs— despite a couple broken hitches and pitchy begs, ayato continued to thrust into your spongy walls, letting transparent desire become visible in his glimmering gaze as he raises your hips up by himself, so he could easily lunge you back and forth, back and forth, with a deep strike of both pleasure and pain clustering your overflowing keenness, his cock head repeatedly touching the ache that coiled around your sweet spots, sharpening the edge of your orgasm

and yet, ayato ponders, the thought of gripping your hips as you took him so perfectly, the desperate sounds you would exhale together with the wet smacks of skin on skin resounding over your ears— the taste of your beauty, made the yashiro commissioner shiver fathomlessly, realizing that he could not deny your orgasm for as much as he wanted, or was able to, without also denying his own before he bites down on his tongue in pain, sweat bedding above his brow bone as he drags his seedy cock along the spots of your walls before making you both experience it.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #zhongli x reader #zhongli smut #xiao smut #xiao x reader #ayato x reader #ayato smut #genshin x you #kinktober #genshin impact x you #genshin drabbles #xiao x you #ayato x you #zhongli x you

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undercoverpena · 2 months

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a debt to pay

frankie morales x f!reader | masterlist

summary: you surprise frankie by coming home earlier than planned, answering the door a-la-fake-porn like, making him drag you to your bedroom.

warnings: smut. established relationship. praise kink. minor (and I mean brief) hand necklace. dirty talk. okay, frankie likes to talk kink. cowgirl riding for iwd. and the pizza goes cold (felt it needed a warning) wordcount: 4.8k an: to the wonderful, amazing @morallyinept - happy international women's day! i hope frankie treating you right is what you had on your bucket list for the day. but if not, just know you inspire me, and i'm grateful for your friendship every day. and ily.

Nothing should surprise him.

He’s seen a lot. A thing some could argue is far too much. In some ways, they’re right.

Frankie isn’t sure people who weren’t doctors should know the exact hue of red that blood is—shouldn’t know the pain from a bullet grazing his shoulder, catching flesh and ruining cloth.

Still, he found himself continually surprised—especially the night he met you.

Falling into him, into his life. Disrupting his days from bleeding into the next, knocking things off their axis. Change should be scary, but it was all welcomed, just not in a way he’d ever thought he’d earned.

Somehow, amidst the chaos you brought with you, you also handed him harmony. You made the corners of his world slot together. Slowly, he even found himself anchoring down to brick and mortar, and calling it ‘home’ for the first time since he’d originally left his for battles and fighting.

In time, even as months became a year, your things found their way to be with his, Frankie had assumed he’d seen everything. Happy to accept it, the routine, the complacency. He looked forward to lazy Sunday mornings with his fingers inside yours, toes curling; Thursday nights in a bar, watching a line appear on your brow as you scoured your brain for an answer to the trivia question.

He liked it, adored it.

And then you opened the front door for him.

Flooding him in golden light that makes him squint, before he finds himself reminded, quickly, he hasn’t seen it all. Not even by a margin.

Because you're not supposed to be here, due back tomorrow.

Your voice on the phone earlier muted, low, "I miss you, Morales," as he stares at your untouched, clean mug on the kitchen counter.

Yet, here you stand. All veiled in barely anything except bits of lace and sheer, a sight his eyes aren't able to tear away from even if he tries. Not even the dryness in his throat or the warmth emanating from the pizza box he's holding (attempting to sear his skin to his palm) is bothering him.

"Bab—"

His words are cut short, ended.

"Oh," you gasp. “Let me take that; and how much do I owe you?”

On registering your words, his eyes narrow, staring.

Doing so from one eye to the next. It taking a while, brain firing, ticking over, taking precious seconds as he remains out in the cold and you stand in the warmth in barely fucking anything, before it dawns on him. Crawls up over him as realises what it is you’re pretending to do, what you're reenacting.

Lips lifting, curling into one of his cheeks he steps in through the doorway. Almost over the threshold, easily able to take another step and close the door behind him.

But he waits.

Fingers twitch at his side, Frankie swallows, eyes dropping, tracing up the bare backs of your thighs as you bend over. Because fuck, you're something beautiful. A thing he always thinks, but finds himself reminded in waves as they crash into him.

Raising his hand, he itches across his chin, scratching along the wiry hair there as his gaze drops to the thin fabric protecting the last bit of your modesty as you and the bits of lace spread across your ass—

“I only have card—unless, I can pay you in another way?”

This shouldn’t be real.

You, like this. Him, standing like this. Not even as he steps inside, eyes trained on you—forgetting what words even mean—as you bend over.

A low exhale escapes, lips remaining parted as he fights to place his palm on the back of your thigh—stops himself from hooking a finger in the band of your underwear and dragging it down your thighs, bending you over the sofa, and burying his—

“I would really like to pay you in some way.”

Your words are almost lost due to the way his pulse has quickened in his ears, thundering, pounding. Feeling nothing but discomfort as his cock hardens against the zip of his pants as you bite down on your lip.

Brain quiet, no thoughts, all rendered silent by your appearance. Only able to shift enough to discard his cap, his jacket—folding it over the back of the sofa, eyes drawing out over you as he takes a step closer. Fingers finding his wrist, pinching, making sure this isn't some dream he hasn't woken up from.

But he can smell the present. The glorious cheese and several toppings, even if devouring the pizza are long forgotten. Because his eyes are raking over you, because how could he not—especially now as you straighten up, softly wiggling your hips.

"Is that so?” his voice rough, words catching. Letters clagging at the back of his teeth as though they attempted to glue to his mouth.

He's aware the three words are stained with want—a small, knowing smile tugging at your lips as you turn to face him, knowing it too.

But then, you always do know. Having long figured him out.

Like always, your eyes meet his in a way he can never explain, no words to articulate, to explain—just shared understanding dancing between the two of you.

“It’s only right,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, your fingers reaching out to trace his wire-stubbled jawline. “It’s bad of me to order food and not have the money to pay.”

He catches your wrist, gently but firmly. Pulling you close, steadying you with the other at your waist. Hearing it, the gasp, the briefest of indications you'd been caught by surprise, as he brushes his fingers against the fabric, all unable to stop themself. Half-needing to know what it feels like, as his thumb smooths out, taking his time—forcing the tension to buzz in the air as he leans closer. The distance you small, minimal—almost non-existent—as his breath hitches in his throat.

“You know what you’re getting into?” his voice a low growl, strained.

His gaze locked on you, watching you bite on your lower lip. “I really don’t like being in debt.”

It’s low, the way he replies. Short, two words: okay baby, before he’s leading, guiding, pecking kisses on your lips that likely leave you disorientated. It thrumming in his veins, the fact he gets to undo you, peel off the thin fabric you’ve likely had stuffed at the back of the closet—or even purchased with him in mind on your trip, thighs pressed together, wondering, finger and thumb stroking it as you imagine if he'd rip it off or slowly slide it from you.

He's not sure himself.

A part of him wishes to snap it from your frame in front of open blinds and undrawn curtains. To place his palm on your ass and taste your gasp on his tongue.

But another, the part which has missed you, wishes to wait. Make you wait. Wants to drag it out as long as humanly possible, have you soaked, wet, needy and desperate.

Because Frankie wonders if you've imagined this. Or, if you plotted it or it came to you randomly.

He gets an answer to it when the two of you are behind another door—one more private, intimate.

And it feels different in the bedroom than it did out in the living room.

The lighting being one of the reasons.

In here, you had opted for a darker shade when you’d both redecorated. Told him you preferred it, and had given him a shrug and a smile as you did. It had been a while later when he’d learned it was for him. For his eyes, for the sleep he struggled to grasp. It’ll help, I think? Saying it to him as though it wasn’t the kindest fucking thing someone had done for him.

But then, you are a waking dream.

A thing which has shaped itself and made itself real right before his eyes. Sculpted yourself from wishes and wants, shaping until you’re nothing but tangible and real.

He’s not afraid to tell you that either. Spends hours whispering it into your skin, pressing it close to your ear, repeating it over and over what perfection you are as you look at him with lust-blown eyes and lips parted around his name.

Frankie doubts it’s enough.

Least of all now, when you’re painted in soft white light, all gentle in how it rolls over you, as it becomes clear you’ve been home for a while.

You've drawn the blackout curtains—keeping out the evening—and you'd flicked the little bedside lamp on, doing its best to illuminate the room.

Swallowing, he traces his teeth over his tongue, wondering if you watched him reverse off the drive as you waited to make your move. Wondering if you're snuck in, trying not to disturb—dress yourself up, even if you never need to.

Because you’re a vision always.

The most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Even angry because he's left his tools out or with disappointment etched into your eyes because he’s forgotten something, you’re radiant, a goddess on earth.

A thing he finds himself reminded of as he steps closer to you. Fingers fiddling at his side as begins to close the small gap.

If not for the way he’s looking at you, he might have missed the shiver running through you from anticipation—and he knows it because of his action, due to the hungry look he's sure he's sporting as he raises his hands to remove his outer shirt. Balling it up, throwing it, a thing already unremembered before it even leaves his fingers.

"Frankie..."

"I know, just keep your eyes on me."

And you do, ever obedient. A thing no one would believe him off outside of these four walls. Not when you hold yourself strong and are quick to bite back, all wit and quick-thinking in addition to your brains and beauty.

He hooks a finger under the edge of his t-shirt, dragging it up over his head as he hears it—that little hiss, that slight gasp you do as though you’ve not seen him topless a thousand times.

It feels good. Makes heat rise up his neck and flood his ears. For a moment, he forgets he’s not all that. Because he’s soft, a little thicker around the middle, it feels like a lifetime ago he was trained in combat. But the way you look at him makes him feel like that is the furthest thing from the truth.

Fuck, you make him hard. Make him want. Have done since the moment you’d given him half a chance.

It’s why he's quick to pull you close, desperate to slant his mouth over yours. All fiery, hungry. Aiming to claim and write out all the ways he’s thought of you in the days since you’d been away. How the hours of you being gone and the amount he’s missed you have all balled up into a thing that is now fuelling him—sketching his wishes and desires across your lips, against your tongue, burying them past your teeth so they sit in your throat.

He grasps. Likely leaves marks of it on the perfect skin that covers your waist—because his palm is calloused and worn. Reminders of holding things not half as soft as you. A flicker of guilt almost bubbles in his, as he moves to rest it on your cheek, cradling your jaw and ear in one hand, as he slides the other up your back.

You whimper against his teeth before fingers find the clasp—finger and thumb, pinging it open before he feels fabric scrape against him—then you moan.

His chest being greeted with nothing but warm, smooth bare skin—nipples pebbling in the cooler air before being pressed against him, before he cups the swell of one, thumb stroking, playing a pattern.

“Do this for all the deliveries you get?”

You snort, it blowing out in a breath. “Only the ones with packages I like.”

In the time you’ve been together, you’ve said worse, but this time makes cock harden more than it already is. It's almost uncomfortable, in how it presses against his zipper, wishing to be released, as his index and thumb stroke over your skin. Taking it on how warm you are, how impossibly soft—distantly feeling the tremors from your heart hammering into your ribs.

"Too good for me, you are." You hum, as he seals his mouth back over yours. “But, I don’t take card.”

Purposefully, he drops his hand, fingers dipping, tracing across the lace that covers your slit—finding damp fabric as his ears take in the note of a quiet escape leaving your lips. It trying to bury itself between your two mouths open, breathing it in.

“Guess you’ll have to swipe something else.”

He snorts, and buries it into your neck, teeth grazing your skin—nose catching the scent of your perfume. And the scent almost makes him dizzy from how his blood rushes south. How the moment he’d dropped you off for your flight, it had lingered in the cabin of his truck. Remaining there for the first few days you were gone, before slowly fading. Leaving.

Just there on the coat you'd hung near the door and the pillows he slept beside.

The ones he rested his head against when he’d heard your voice down the phone, tell me to touch myself, Frankie, I need you. His own hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it as you moaned his name, all those miles away, dripping instructions into your ear.

“You're such a dirty girl.”

You grin in response, fingers tugging at his curls—urging his mouth back to yours.

But, he instead traces his tongue over your pulse, circling it, all defiant in bowing to you as his teeth trace over his path. Instead, his finger dips, traces the crease of your thigh with his gaze never leaving yours.

“Missed you,” you whisper.

His hand slides between your thighs, cupping you—feeling the discernible wetness soaked through.

“Can feel it.”

You scoff, but he kisses it away.

Doing so in a similar way to how he makes you forget, how he pulls you from your mind and brings you to the present. It’s also swallowed by another gasp, one made because of his fingers finding the edge of the lace, hooking a finger underneath, sliding the pad of his thumb against your swollen nerves and slick entrance.

"So wet for me," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the whine you emit. “Feelin’ needy, querida?”

And he can’t take his eyes off you.

Practically locked in, watching as your lips part, and your hips try to shift for more friction. He’s too fearful he’ll miss it, all of it—a slight curve of a brow or a shimmer on your eyes. All things he thinks over when he dreams, when he wishes for replays of moments until the next day when he makes another that easily replaces a good one.

He likes how you say his name when he slips another finger inside you—how it falls all soft, breathless. So much intention in such a low sound. Even as you squirm, mouth pausing over his; little mewls and moans falling as he drags them in and out, all languorous, teasing.

“Want you.”

His thumb brushes over your swollen clit, a hiss escaping. “I know.”

You gasp his name, stifle a moan, teeth biting down on the underside of your lower lip as your lashes flutter. It’s your nails digging into his scalp that keeps him rooted, that keeps him focused—precise touches and strokes that have you rocking against him and keep him tuned in to you.

“Missed how you sound, baby. You're doing so well.”

You’re close. His words make your perfect pussy clench around him. A chorus of moans escaping as he curls them inside of you, finds that spot, the one which makes you babble and turns your muscles into liquid.

He likes that he can do this.

That he can read you and undo you. That it’s a thing he’s mastered when he’d thought he was far from learning. But then, he’d taken great pride in spending hours studying—in alternating between being on his back and on his knees.

And because of that, he knows when he halt you over the edge. Let you linger, not tipping.

Normally, he’d never tease, never make you want—but, today is a different kind of day as he stops. As he retracts his fingers and allows the fabric to lightly snap back into place.

It’s a different whine that cuts into the room then. It pours out from your lips as your eyes dig daggers into him—but, he knows you.

Knows it’s momentary and nothing he can’t fix. Able to hold his ground against it, digging heels into the floor—all refusing to be swayed by the storm rising inside of you, creeping across the formerly tranquil sea. Instead, his hands move to his belt—undoing it, metal clanging and zip sliding down as your eyes break from glaring to stare hungrily at the outline of his cock.

Watching as you walk backwards, the back of your knees hitting the bed before you’re perching—eyes holding his, tip of your tongue sweeping, tracing, as you move further up the bed. The one you’d picked—chosen.

He’s in a trance.

Under a spell when you hook a thumb on either side of your underwear.

It’s not smooth, it doesn’t glide or remove with ease—there’s even a slight kick out of your legs before it flings from your ankle. But, it makes him tighten the hold on his cock. Because it may not be a thing people ever see on TV or in movies, but then they never feel like this.

They don’t feel real, no rawness, no tangling of his trousers he has to step out of as he strokes himself, eyes flicking down to where you’re bare—where you’re glistening—

“Wanna ride you, Frank.”

He sucks in a shuddering breath, hands gripping the base of his cock.

It’s slow, the way he grazes his teeth over his lower lip. “S’that how you wanna pay me, yeah?”

“All I’ve thought about,” you reply, a soft smile greeting him. “Lemme ride you—wanna look at you, wanna watch you come, baby.”

Fuck. He doesn’t fight it.

Instead, letting you guide him, allowing you to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw when he kneels on the bed and groans—because it’s been a long day, querida; he’s not as young as he once was.

“Still know how to be good, though. Don’t you?” you smirk, open mouth leaving a trail down his neck, eyes flicking up when you leave one in the space above his heart.

Hands behind his head, admiring, doing nothing but watching you place your thighs on either side of his as your fingers wrap around his wrists. You pin him, pressing down—aching cock ignored, left to leak against his hip as your lips press to his, over and over, and over until he’s chasing for the feel of them when you pull back.

You only offer a gentle, "I missed you," against the air before you're lining him up, bearing down, sinking, taking him in as he paints a groan against your collarbone.

There’s a beat, maybe two.

Stillness, enveloped entirely by your walls as his mouth wraps itself around your breast, leaving it wet, coated in spit as he groans when you begin to move. Setting a rhythm, slow.

“Not rushing this, Frankie.”

He never wishes you to.

His hands gripping your hips, guiding you. Head falling back onto the sheets as his breath hitches, the sight of you atop him, breasts bouncing—owning him—is a sight he could never grow tired of. One he also never feels worthy of—but he won’t squander, won’t ruin.

Because you’re perfect, head to toe—pussy made for him as it strokes up and down and breaths leave your mouth in short pants.

“Y’so good to me, Frankie. So handsome.”

And he wants to tell you that it's you who is so good—who is nothing but colour in an otherwise grey world. That you’re sunshine and stars, moon and so much more goodness than he can list buried inside of you.

“Go on, querida,” he grunts through clenched teeth, hands squeezing your hips a little tighter as you move a little faster.

As you take a little more. It makes your eyes flutter, parts your lips—watching in nothing short of awe as you use him, as you lose yourself in the moment.

"That's it, just let go. Make yourself feel good.”

It’s something majestic when he sees you nearing release—when he feels you clench and flutter.

“Feels good, y’feel good inside me baby.”

“You need more?”

And you nod.

The green light—the sign—and he doesn’t wait a moment.

Just canting his hips up, making a rush of pleasure spread up his spine. He’s lightheaded, hot—practically dizzy with how good you feel enveloped around him.

The noises filling the air, your slick walls taking him and the sound of skin slapping against skin. It’s drowned by the noises he pulls from you, making a mess of you as your lust-blown eyes land on him.

It almost steals his breath. Thieves it.

Because you’re so pretty, wild—a fucking dream on top of him. All soft and shimmering with perspiration from how good you ride him as he’s bathed in whines, moans and cries of his name.

“You're perfect,” he says, hand clamping on your hip as he shifts, and angles himself before thrusting up into you—watching your eyes squeeze shut. “From your smile to your tight pussy. You know that?”

Studying you as you try to keep the same rhythm. But, you’re nearing your climax—nails digging into his shoulder and neck, half-moons etched there, and he hopes they take hours to disappear.

“Thought about you all week—”

You moan, eyes meeting his. “Thought about you too—missed you. Missed how good you make me feel.”

“Fucked my fist to the thought of you like this. Never thought—fuck—I’d come home to this, baby. Y’fuckin’ perfect.”

Your chin lifts, neck elongating as he spreads his palm across your side, fingers pressing, grasping.

“Love hearing how much you missed me,” he smirks, watching you—thinking nothing but revolving thoughts as to how pretty you look, what a picture you are on top of him—

Then he hears a slam. Heavy boots. A voice he'd rather not hear at all:

“Fish? You home?”

He stops, realisation slamming into him.

A hand drops to the bedsheets, grasping them so hard his knuckles pale, and throb—the bones in his hand aching as he fights shouting and blowing his load right there and then.

The plans he’d made—the ones he’d put into place because you weren’t supposed to be home—all coming back to bite him. How he hadn’t wanted to spend another night alone, another evening in front of the television until you could call and tell him about your day—when he should have. He really fucking should have.

And you’re frozen, hips halted in place—his other hand remaining on your waist, fingers digging in as you both tense, keeping movements paused.

He considers it, the two choices he has and decides.

Leaning more against you—half-grinning, whispering shh as you look at him full of alarm—suddenly aware of the impending actuality that you could be caught like this.

And, then you clench around him. He feels it. Head tilting and eyes narrowing as he takes you in.

"Dirty girl," he mouths, and you look bashful, shy—a look he rarely sees when you’re split open on his cock and the base of him is covered in your slick.

“Fish, where the fuck are you?”

“Getting changed Ben, be a min.”

Your pussy flutters around him at your shout, as he moves to not shout the words towards your ear—feeling you clamp down, muffling a whimper. Another falls as he lifts up further onto his palm, dragging his nose down the valley between your breasts.

He knows you’re close—teetering, a few more thrusts and you’d have unravelled.

Dropping his voice, low—barely above a whisper, “Shh, baby. Or, I won’t let you finish.”

“Fuck,” you hiss. “Can‘t, Frankie—I can’t.”

He nods, finger and thumb holding your chin because he knows you can. Seen you do so much, and been witness to what you’re capable of—before his hand guides your hips to begin moving, thumb drawing soothing circles on your hips.

“Touch yourself for me, querida. Be good for me.”

And you whimper, something akin to his name.

But he’s guiding his mouth away, shouting, “Beers in the fridge, Ben.”

His mouth presses to your chest, hearing the shout from his friend back, but it’s the sound of your fingers on your slick and swollen clit that he tunes into. That he wants to flood his ears. Watching you shiver, shake, tremble from it as you tighten around him, choking his cock as he begins to thrust in and out.

He could keep you here. Should do too.

One week has already been too long. A need to make up for it—to have you pay for all the times you ask him those questions you wait until the lights are usually out for and he’s about to tip over to sleep; have you press yourself against him, nudging your ass into him as you cuddle, but really you want his mouth between your thighs. He should edge you, hang you over the edge of pleasure and watch your eyes dig into him until your lips whisper the word beginning with P.

But he won’t.

Couldn’t.

He likes knowing he pleases you too much.

Your moan bringing him back to it. Seeing how your eyes are clenched shut, trying to keep it behind your teeth. Failing, expletives dropping in breaths before he raises his hand, pressing it to your mouth, muffling it, the moans you have to release before you shake your head and fold into him.

Suddenly, he wants to move the dresser and lock the two of you in here. Wants to let them watch whatever fucking sports they want out there, and him just watch you in here.

You’re his favourite sight, after all. Especially like this. Free, not overthinking or worrying, just present, feeling as good as you should—as good as he always wants you to feel.

And you deserve this.

Hearing the low please fall before he plants his feet down, angling his cock up into you as you let out a muffled gasp. His palm flat to your shoulder, steadying you, as he feels your fingers slide it to your collarbone, resting it, fingers an inch away from the base of your neck.

You flick your eyes open—smothering him in permission, in radiant sunshine and lust, before the softest fucking smirk graces your lips—as his own mouth chokes out your name.

“Not tonight.”

It’s less words, and more a noise.

Because he’s close too—it having risen close to the top. Toes clenched around the sheets, digging in.

But he wants to feel you come first. And it’s there—that familiar sign. Lashes fluttering, gorgeous mouth going tight, slack as you tighten around him, locking up, clamping down as your hips move sloppily and out of rhythm.

You’re so fucking close.

“Shh, be good for me.”

Fingers, trembling and weak, slide around the base of his neck, tugging on his curls that are likely slick with sweat.

“N‘gonna last—let go for me baby.”

“Please.”

“Come for me.”

Spearing up into you with more vigour as you rasp, groan, and hiss—spit coating his fingers as he slides them out, dropping his hand from you as his knuckles press to the mattress as he fucks up into you.

Your body bucks, a cry you bury into his neck—a drag of nails against his scalp—as you come undone around him. Convulsing. Muffled cries vibrating against his pulse.

Frankie is barely able to contain the low growl as his hips stutter—heat raging through him, joined by rabid electricity. It sparking, ripping through, making him both ache and feel alive.

The sight of you and the feel of you drives him to the edge—and then over. A grip on your hip all tight as he thrusts into you one final time, unable to contain the growl. His chest heaves as he spills inside of you, and you tremble against him—panting, all messy and boneless as he pulls you with him as he rolls onto his back.

"You're incredible," he breathes into your ear, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your neck.

You let out a small laugh, a soft, content sigh escaping your lips. "So are you."

He smiles against your skin, his heart swelling with affection. He may have assumed he'd seen everything, but you—you continue to surprise him, to captivate him in ways he never thought possible. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

Pulling his mouth from yours, feeling you ease him out of you, his hand lightly slaps you on the back of your bare ass.

"I missed you, querida," he murmurs, heart still racing in his chest.

Meeting his gaze, your lips purse. "I know," you whisper, leaning in to capture his lips in a tender kiss. "I'm here now."

“Shame you’ll have to sneak out the back and come in through the front door. Otherwise, you’ll be in here all night—”

His words trail off, a sly grin tugging at his lips as it dawns, rises up over your face and makes your mouth fall open. “Francisco….”

“Shoulda' told me you were coming home. It's boys night.”

Narrowing your eyes, you tick your jaw—spine straightening. “Well, I could stay in here—like this…”

Smirking, he kisses your nose. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, baby.”

Your mouth opens, a smirk gracing his lips in response as he raises a finger to his mouth, moving and pressing a kiss to your knee. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #francisco morales smut #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #francisco morales fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier x reader #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #frankie morales x reader smut

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dark-and-kawaii · 2 months

Text

Chaos

Raphael & His Daughter

⋆˙⟡♡ Sunmary: Raphael’s daughter causes chaos through the house, much to Raphael’s dismay.

⋆˙⟡♡ Notes: This is a little gift for a very lovely person, @octarinecat xoxo I hope this puts a smile on your face love and that you feel better ♡

⋆˙⟡♡ Dadphael

Prt 1. - Prt 2. - Impsy

His daughter, the heart of the house, darted through the grand halls with Impsy at her heels. As they played their little game, she collided with one of her father’s prized golden statues, a self portrait, no less.

The statue wobbled perilously before succumbing to gravity, setting off a catastrophic cascade of falling pedestals and statues, each one toppling into the next with the precision of a rehearsed performance…

Frozen in the midst of the chaos, his daughter could only muster a, "uh oh..."

Impsy quipped, "Nice knowing ya, kid. There's not enough of your mother in you to sweet talk your way out of this one..."

The ominous silence that followed was broken by the heavy footsteps of Raphael emerging from his boudoir. His eyes swept over the scene of destruction, the line of his fallen statues a testament to the chaos that had unfolded in his absence. His gaze landed on the two culprits.

With a silent accusation, she slowly extended a finger toward Impsy.

"I know you aren't pointing that little thing at me, girl."

Raphael's presence loomed over them, his composure a thin veneer over the rising tide of his displeasure. "Chaos in this house is not something I will abide, even if caused by you," his voice controlled but edged with anger.

Impsy, undeterred by the gravity of the situation, tried to interject. "Oh come now, Raph, can't you see? She did you a favor, the things were gaudy!"

Raphael's eyes narrowed, and without raising his voice, he uttered a single, resonant word, "Enough." With a snap of his fingers, Impsy vanished, banished from the scene.

Turning back to his daughter, Raphael's scowl deepened. "I've given you free will when running through this house, yet you still wish to act like a little tyrant? Your actions have consequences, and it is high time you learn what that means." The disappointment in his voice was perhaps more cutting than any punishment he could devise.

As the echoes of Raphael's condemnation faded, the silence held a weight of its own. His daughter, his little treasure, felt a pang of guilt heavier than any of the golden statues that lay in ruin around her. Her eyes, so often aglow with joy, now shimmered with the sheen of unshed tears.

"Father, I..." her voice was a mere whisper, a stark contrast to the earlier clatter of her play. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

Raphael's features softened marginally as he took in the sight of his daughter's remorse. The anger that had been so near the surface was now slowly fading with her genuine regret. He knelt down to her level, the ruler of the house not too proud to meet his child eye to eye.

"Actions, my child, come with consequences," he started, his voice gentler now. "But the intention behind the action also matters. You did not mean to cause this damage, and that, at least, is a start."

He sighed, surveying the disarray before him. He often wonders if the pursuit of legacy through an heir is worth the sacrifice of peace and quiet. But then…

She wrapped her arms around his waist in a tight embrace, her small form seeking forgiveness in the only way she knew how.

Raphael felt the tension leave his body as he returned the embrace. This little child of his, though chaotic at times, was nothing but loyal to him.

And in that embrace, he found his answer.

His little treasure, his daughter… When the time came, she would help him rule well. Raphael realized that, despite the toppled statues and the occasional chaos, having an heir, having her as a loyal heir was indeed worth his time.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael the cambion #dadphael #raphael x reader #raphael x tav

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cockslutpadalecki · 1 year

Note

I’m so desperate for a Rafe smut where he says “I’ll only put the tip in.” And I have a feeling that you’re the one that could write it😂 just putting that out there

Gimme An Inch

Characters: Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader.

Words: 1.1K.

Warnings: dub-con, drug taking, vaginal sex, cream pie, intoxicated reader (not drugged), 18+. MINORS DNI.

A/N: This has been sitting in my inbox for almost a year, and it’s all because of my rewatch of Outer Banks that I finally got inspired. So here it is, to celebrate season three dropping this week! Beta: @princessmisery666 but all the general bullshit is entirely mine. While likes are gold, feedback is golden. Please support our content creators by sharing our work.

“C’mon baby,” Rafe grits out into the column of your throat. His voice is heavy, split through with lust. His fingers roam beneath your skirt, plucking at the hem of your panties.

“Not here,” you husk back, pathetically pushing against his chest. Marginal effort is all you manage. It’s not like you want Rafe to stop what he’s doing… you just don’t want to do it here.

The bass of the music from the party shakes the ground beneath you, lights from the front porch of Topper’s house flooding the immediate vicinity around it. Rafe’s car is parked just out of the light’s reach, keeping you bathed in darkness, but you’re still worried someone might see. In the open doorway of his truck, he stands in between your spread legs, the cool but contradicting sticky night air swirling around the cab.

You glance out of the windscreen as he places heavy kisses against your collarbone, trying to suss out whether anyone is watching you. Scattered crowds of people hang around outside, smoking god knows what and the occasional outburst of laughter pulls your attention further from Rafe. Yet it’s quickly dragged back by him pulling your panties down and you focus on him as he stuffs them into the pocket of his shorts.

“Don’t worry, they can’t see us,” he assures thickly, lips hot against your jaw.

“How d’you know?” you reply with skepticism, hands covering his as they delve back under your skirt. He doesn’t even look up to reassure you face to face— merely mutters into your ear that it’s fine.

Nobody’s gonna care. Loosen up, it’s a party. Everyone’s hooking up.

His words do little to ease your anxiety, but the warmth of his cockhead skimming through your pussy lips divert your thoughts elsewhere. The fear of being caught by Rafe’s friends is suddenly overshadowed by the elephant in the room.

“We can’t,” you protest again, but it lacks the proper sincerity. Your body buzzes with coke and alcohol, veins alight with heat. You want to, fuck, you really want to.

“What’re you so afraid of?” Rafe sighs, impatient.

“Getting pregnant,” you hiss back. “Have you got any protection with you?”

“Left them at home,” he shrugs like it’s not a big deal. You scoff, but he’s quick to reassure you. “It’s fine, I’ll pull out.”

“Remember when you said that last time?” you remind him sharply. “I had to take a pill.”

Rafe smirks. “You don’t normally mind takin’ pills.”

“Asshole,” you smirk back, familiar heat coiling in your gut as you feel the head of his cock press against your entrance, teasing. You open your legs a little wider to let him move closer, the warmth between your legs now almost scorching.

“Hey.” He leans in, kissing you. Messy and full of intent. “I’ll only put the tip in, promise.”

“K,” you comply. Without a moment to allow you to reconsider, Rafe slides in. Just the tip— like he promised. “Oh god.”

“You like that, huh?” He licks and nips at your mouth, encouraging you to let him in. Your tongue slides over his, moaning as he pulls out, the head of his cock keeping your pussy gaping.

He slowly slides back inside you— keeping his promise, just the tip. He pauses briefly, then he goes in a little deeper.

“Rafe,” you chastise and he apologises into your lips, pulling back his hips until he’s nestled just inside your entrance. In a haze, you flop back onto the front seat, your head swirling with dangerous levels of potent arousal.

He repeats his movements— shallow thrusts in and out. But it leaves the rest of you wanting more, your core aching for fullness. You keep the plea for him to go deeper behind your lips. You don’t want to go back on your word, knowing that if you do, Rafe will hold you to it for future reference.

But you let me do it last time.

You’re spacing out— the drugs and alcohol slowing your reaction time before you realise he’s sliding in deeper. Deeper. Deeper.

“Noo,” you whine thickly, “you said just the tip.” You try to wriggle up the seat, but Rafe grips your hips too tight.

“Oh shit baby, I’m sorry,” he apologises on a hazy loop, yet he makes no attempt to stop. You push against his chest, urging him to pull out but he doesn’t. Instead he rattles off, “Fuck baby, I can’t, I’m sorry, you just feel so good.”

He’s fucking you to the root now. Deep, stomach-aching thrusts that make your eyes roll up to the roof. Stars dance in your vision, but you can’t be sure if it’s actually the night sky you’re seeing through the gap in Rafe’s windscreen.

“R-Rafe,” you stutter, “you gotta pu-pull out.”

Sparks of electricity short out all over your body, making you forget your train of thought. Why would you want him to sto—oh.

“C’mon baby, don’t make me stop now,” he grunts above you. “Not when you’re so close.”

His thumb swirls over your clit, pressing gently down on it. Your hips cant towards him, sliding him in deeper and you cry out, coming until stray tears run into your hairline.

“Oh shit. See.” His tone reeks of I-told-you-so. “Why would you want me to stop when I can make you come like that, huh?”

“C-can’t come inside,” you beg, flutters of heat from your climax still making you dizzy.

“I promise I’ll pull out,” he tells you again. He readjusts his grip, practically tugging you off the seat and onto his cock.

“Fuck,” you repeat in a stupor, Rafe fucking you to the point where you think you might pass out.

“Yes, that’s it, baby.” You hear him say, but he sounds so far away. Somewhere off in the distance, out of reach. The only sensation tethering him back to you is the ripples of his cock as he thrusts back into your gaping pussy.

“Oh fuck, I’m so close.”

“R-af-pull-ou,” you garble, your tongue too thick for your mouth.

“But I’m so fuckin’ close, fuck right there, oh shit, I’m gonna-”

His thrusts slow, deepening to the point where he holds himself inside you, hips bruising against the backs of your thighs, before barely pulling out. You don’t have time or the energy to stop him, the sudden heat of his cum warming you from the inside out.

Rafe slumps over you, pressing wet kisses to the curve of your breast as he apologises heavily over and over into your skin.

Just felt so good.

Couldn’t help myself.

And like an idiot, you take it as a compliment.

***

RC: @infatuatedjanes @mugi-chwan95 @mysweetpoisons @weasleytwinsexpert

4EVS: @amirra88 @andreasworlsboring101 @b3autyfuldisast3r @cheesyclaire @chibijusstuff @callsignrambam @dangertoozmanykids101 @daughterofthenight117 @doozywoozy @foxyjwls007 @geekofmanyforms @heyyouwiththeassbutt @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets @ilovefanfic86 @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @letsby @letsdisneythings @labella420 @mogaruke @maliburenee @notyourtypicalrose @nik2writes @obsessivelycapricious @patrick-hockslutter @princessmisery666 @phildunphyisadilf @sage-writing @sea040561 @sweeterthanthis @slutformarvelmen @smokeandnailz @stoneyggirl @stoneyggirl2 @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @thegirlnextdoorssister @unfortunate-brat @wayward-dreamer @warriorqueen1991 @xoxabs88xox

#anon #answered #request #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction #obx fanfiction #drew starkey fanfiction

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astralnymphh · 3 months

Note

Ellie trying to teach kiddo how to play guitar for the first time..♡♡

YES YES YES ok so obviously, context preluding, we're (voices in my head) thinking older kid. seven maybe? around there. ♡

"kay' so, press here.. and your middle here— andd.." the delicacy of her long digits shrouded over a pair of stubby ones, pinching and plucking them to particular spots along a column, "there— go ahead n' strum."

ellie was dead set determined on teaching the mastered art of acoustic guitar to your kid. like— earthbent on it. a promise spoken to soil and vicariously explored through you, and now your sweet baby. your little–more–than–a–babbler, little–less–than–a–tween now sat atop you and ellie's shared bed, just between the hurl and crease of blankets bedraggled, and with a bay oaken apparatus as big as them sloped in their lap— the one joel bestowed. and you always idled as a bystander, watching, leaning on that jutted doorframe.

their blunt fingertips pecked the chords in a row, the lovely resonance lighting something in the white of your child's eyes, "woahh, that sounded like how you play it.." they awed, their jupiter-like eyes darting up to hers for a token of validation— 'did i do it right mom?'

a token she gave, pearl teeth revealing under the fat stretch of her coral lips, "yeah buddy, cus' you're a natural." oh my goddess, the enthusiasm cracking in her voice. ahh, swoon.

"yes.." they exclaim quietly, their forearm perched on the guitars waist pulling back and jubilating with a backwards fist pump. just like mom.

'picturesque, beyond camaraderie', you deemed the whole diorama before you; streaky mix of light and gray–blue shade over their features, faces that proclaim content, the narrow sliver separating their knees, matching criss–cross apple sauce positions, the oval crater both their weights burdened in the mattress, the macro view. 'heartwarming, entangling endearment', if you cherry–pick the easily neglected traits; synchronized cocks of their heads whenever a strum rings, fiddly tapping of her fingers on their tucked shin and how it lowers into a full grasp when she expresses avidly how proud she is, thumbprint–sized dimples mirrored on both margins of their mouth, and funnily— the mismatched socks on hers and their feet. one a pattern of dinosaurs, one a spangle of stars. in gospel truth, they are a likeness of the same flesh and bone, indistinguishable. undeterred by the genetics, the same person.

"keep it up n' maybe we can start a band together." ellie proposes, clear as spring bloom to be an fun promise, nothing sworn, but the idea swirls their young mind a kernel of imagined prospect. she and they upon a stage, grandpa in the crowd, his smile tender in wrinkles boosting morale among the many elated face.

"really?" and he sounds so filled of that idea, eyes popping from their hold.

"mhm," she untucks her own feet and sprawls them, stooping her torso straight and lightly booping them on the nose, a golden orb so happy left under that gesture, "only if you pick a cool name." and weighing her elbow into her thigh, head laying and perched.

"oh, i'll pick a better name than you can."

and suddenly her head is perking back up, "what's that spose' t'mean?" 'offended.

"you tried to name mr. snuggles 'bootyhole bandit'!"

"ey' you can't say that word!" she grimaces fakely atop a curling lip and squints her thick auburn worms, positioning balled fists on her hips like a distressed mother. so esentially just mimicry of you. oh, how ellie cackled buffoonish along with your kid on any occasion you held a scold to their faces, pointer at their noses.

"pbbhhhh." their tongue peeks out and a known all-too-well blowing sound grates the air, only to be tackled by your lanky-limbed girl, guitar discarded to the sloven pillows far opposite of you.

this shall be an anecdote, unforgettable. "hmph, dorks."

have I worsened your domestic!ellie fever yet?

#ellie williams #⤹𓍢ִ໋aestras asks #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou #lesbian #sapphic #ellie x reader #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams drabble #domestic!ellie #parent!ellie #tlou ellie #ellie the last of us

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lovelybarnes · 1 year

Text

Maybe Later- B. Barnes

Pairings: bucky barnes x reader, sam wilson, thor odinson Warnings: alcohol, bucky is drunk (ooc? Have we ever seen him drunk i watched all of his scenes lol) About: this quote thing. I dont know if i got what i was aiming for. (“marry me” “maybe later”

Three-oh-two glows red in pinched little lines on your alarm, blunt in the darkness of the room and sharp against the pale light the moon manages through margins between your curtains. The numbers are smudged in sleep as you blink awake from what was meant to be a short rest for your eyes, bent and refracted like you’re looking through a finger-smudged window. You could easily mistake it for a dream if your phone weren’t singing loudly from your bedside table.

With a groan, you slam a hand over it, the piercing noise insistent even with your fingers wrapped around its width. You squint against the brightness of the screen, sitting up when you recognize Sam’s contact name in bold white letters.

“Hello?” you greet tiredly, rolling your shoulders as your weariness begins to pass. The rivets of your jeans dig into your abdomen, your casual shirt proves itself not soft enough for sleep, and you pick at the shoulder. The blankets are creased and made beneath you.

“Hey, sleeping beauty.” Sam’s voice comes through rough and curved in a smile you can see through the phone. “Got somethin’ for you.”

You blink at the wall. “What?”

“A grumpy old man.”

“Which one?” An amused crackle smothers the delicate silence. “What happened to twelve? I tried to wait.”

“Someone had a little too much to drink.” There’s commotion from the other side of the line, a joyous yell and shattering. Sam groans loudly.

“Well, Asgardian liquor tends to stir something in our Avengers,” you mumble, scooting to the edge of your bed to squeeze on your shoes, squished and set next to you at the ready.

“You have no idea.” Sam mutters. Bucky’s voice suddenly comes through, distant and too distorted to make out specifics. “Incoming.”

“I have a little one,” you digress, lashes kissing at their edges in your search for the car keys that had been at your hip.

“Hey, what the hell was that noise--” Sam begins, far away, before he’s abruptly cut off. “Hey--”

“Honey?” Bucky’s voice is loud enough that you wince and pull the speaker away from your ear, catching a glint from your bed. “S’that you?”

“Yeah, darling, it’s me,” you murmur, voice a little honeyed as you hook a finger through the car key ring peeking from behind a pillow.

“I miss you,” his words bump into each other, so heartfelt he can’t get them out fast enough with a heavy tongue. “Will y’come get me please?”

“I’m on my way. Don’t get into too much trouble,” you command gently, jaw against the soft flesh of your neck to keep your phone steady while you pull at your left shoe.

He makes a disgruntled noise. “F’course not.”

“Don’t drink any more, you’re going to have a killer hangover tomorrow as it is.” You step out of your room and make your way to the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor.

“That is not true. My tolerance is,” he hiccups and bursts into a startled laugh, “high. Way higher than Steve’s.”

“Is that true?” You chuckle, stepping out once the doors have parted.

“Yeah,” Bucky affirms agreeably.

“Interesting. Can’t wait to see how Golden Boy is doing.”

“Not great, but at least he’s having fun,” Sam cuts in, Bucky’s indignance about it muffled over the phone. “He’s going to regret--Barnes, give me a second--he’s gonna regret ever touching the--Barnes, damn it--the stuff. You asshole, you have your own phone--”

There’s a click and then silence, where you’re left staring amusedly at a dimming screen with one foot ready to climb into your car. “Well then,” you mumble, shutting off the device before you set it neatly in the cupholder between the two front seats. After you’ve turned on the engine and begun to set off, you turn mournfully to the clean inside of your car and hope ceaselessly that it’ll stay that way.

You’re only a few minutes from Sam’s house when your phone rings out a familiar bouncy tune you’d had Bucky pick out for his identifying ringtone. It was sweet and melancholy all at the same time, and it had taken him ten seconds and a look at your beaming face for him to label it as his.

His voice is stretched out and mournful when you answer, your name replaced with a rare Baby?

“Hey, honey. Found your phone?”

He ignores you, breathing out a long sigh. “I miss you.”

“We just talked on the phone,” you laugh. “I haven’t even given you a chance to miss me yet.”

He seems to mull it over for a short moment, elongated in his hazy mind. “Are you on your way?”

“I’m almost there.”

“That’s good because I miss you.”

“Do you now?” you hum.

“Steve knows,” Bucky pillars.

“I bet he does,” you laugh. Bucky hums in confirmation. “How much have you had to drink?” you ask. “You even sound a little different.”

“I missed this,” Bucky muses drily. “I love Asgard.”

“You’re going to take that back tomorrow.” You turn and spot the name of Sam’s street. “But it’s okay because I’ll take care of you.”

What follows you don’t expect. Bucky breathes out loud, nearly doleful, coming out static on your end.

You frown. “Bucky? Is something wrong?”

“No,” he sulks, a complete lie.

You don’t bother pushing him when he’s more stubborn than usual and you’re only a voice on his phone. “If you say so. I’m almost there, okay? I’m going to hang up now.”

“Don’t hang up. I want to hear your voice.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” you catch sight of Sam’s house. “I hang up, and you’ll get a lot more than my voice in a minute. What do you think?”

There’s a petulant sigh on the receiver. “What about the wonders of technology?”

“What happened to ‘we did just fine in the forties’?”

He says your name long and pleading.

“You get very dramatic when you’re drunk, you know that? I’ll be with you before you know it.”

“No. No… c’mon, please, dove.”

“I’m pulling in!” you exclaim.

“I don’t see you.”

“That’s not surprising. Seeing through walls isn’t a super-solder ability as far as I know,” you tease, shutting off the engine and unbuckling yourself. You nestle your phone between the soft crook of your neck as you open the door.

You can see Bucky pout through the phone.

“I’m coming in. Stop gossipping about me to the guys, okay?” you goad, coming to a stop in front of the door. It’s only a glance at the doorbell before Sam, bare-chested, appears in the doorway, haloed by light and smoke from his house. You gape at him. “Why are you--”

“Get him out of my house.”

“I’m trying,” you muster, letting him usher you inside. The house is a mess, with Avengers strewn on the couches and cups everywhere.

“Get them all out of my house. Why did I volunteer to host?”

You shrug, shaking your head as you observe the mess.

Bucky says your name from the phone, reminding you that he’s still on the line, but you don’t need to answer once you spy him in a kitchen seat next to Steve, slumped next to him.

Bucky’s face is bothered, his voice echoed each time he says something. Once you’re a few steps behind him, you hang up and slip your phone into your pocket.

Bucky grunts, pulling a face as he stares at his phone, fingers already moving to your contact just when you position yourself close enough to feel the heat of him on your skin. It’s only a moment testament to his inebriation before he turns, furrowed brows softening when his eyes meet yours. His phone clatters to the table, forgotten.

He murmurs your name, kind and relieved in a melancholy shade. Vibranium fingers twine their way between yours.

“Hey,” you whisper. “I found you.”

“You found me,” he parrots softly, pulling you closer nearly on instinct.

Your free index reaches up to brush a stray strand of brown hair from his face, grazing the warm skin of his forehead, and he leans into it, his other hand going up to grab it too.

You can’t help your smile, dipping down to constellate kisses along his hairline. “Ready to go home?”

He hums his agreeance, watching you with honey eyes. When he moves closer to you, Steve’s elbow slides down the table. With a quick swoop, you remove a hand from Bucky’s hold to cradle Steve’s head before it can slam down onto the surface. You turn to Sam in bewilderment. He shrugs.

Carefully, you set him down on the table, awkwardly patting his hair. “Didn’t think Captain America would go down because of alcohol poisoning, but I guess it had to be something.”

Bucky pulls on the hand he’s still holding, bringing your attention back to him.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, crouching to be able to see him better.

He grins dumbly, majorly soft. “You look pretty.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the pleased little swoop of your heart. “You look pretty too, you know that?”

“He knows,” Sam cuts in, near accusing toward you.

“Shut up, Sam,” Bucky mumbles.

Sam scowls. “In my own damn house.” He moves to Steve, draping him over himself. “I’ll see you tomorrow, gotta lug all these idiots onto their sides.”

“Okay,” you laugh, “thank you, Sam.”

He grunts in reply, leaving you and Bucky alone. He’s already looking at you when you turn to him again.

“Do you need help getting up?” you ask. He shakes his head but you throw his arm over your shoulder anyway, pulling him to his feet. He’s heavy but at least somewhat steady with your help. “God, Buck.”

“”S all muscle.”

“I know,” you assure amusedly.

The walk only lasts a couple of seconds before Bucky begins to sway. You try your best to hold him up, but are forced to slump into a couch with him when the top of your left knee bumps into one. Instead of helping, Bucky clamps his fingers around your wrists when you move to get up. He’s staring again.

“What?”

“Y’came to pick me up,” he says, as if just realizing it. “All the way here.”

“Of course. I gotta get you home, baby.”

He grasps your hand. “Baby,” he repeats favorably.

You don’t usually call him that, and even in his drunken stupor, he realizes it.

“What’s the time?” he demands suddenly.

“Three? Four?” you assume, preoccupied with sitting up. He’s distracted enough to sit by as you stand, knees bumping into his. “Very late. Or, early, I suppose.”

He inhales deeply, staring up at you with his lovely eyes.

“What’s wrong?” you query immediately, voice dropping to a softer pitch.

“You came for me,” he echoes.

“I did,” you agree patiently. “Wanna stand up so we can get home?”

“I love you.” It’s the most sober he’s sounded.

“I love you too,” you assure, dipping down to hold his jaw between your fingers. A demuring thumb swipes across his cheek. “You know that.”

“I do,” he whispers.

You smile, squeezing him lovingly between your palms, nebulously elated that he knows he’s loved. “Up,” you murmur, pulling on him until he’s just above hovering over the couch.

“Marry me,” he blurts, as if it’s been on the tip of his tongue, words carved earnestly and permanently; overdue.

You smile at him, focused on bringing and keeping him on his feet. Once he is, you take small steps toward the door. “Maybe later.”

“Y’promise?” he’s your hazy eyes when you’re focused entirely on him, cupping the sharp point of a chair before you can bump into it. Clumsily, he pulls open the door, wanting to wait until you’re out first but you don’t let him.

“I do,” you respond as you guide him to your car, helping him crawl in and looping an index around his seatbelt. His fingers interrupt you before the buckle has grazed further than his chest. “Bucky?”

He extends his pinky and stares at you pointedly.

Complying, you curve your pinky around his.

He’s satisfied, letting you buckle him in and watching as you round the car to your seat.

“Thor should come more.”

“We’ll see,” you laugh, starting the engine.

He pulls at the arm nearest to him before you can begin driving, extending his fingers out expectantly. It’s familiar but strange to see from the driver’s perspective. Still, you obey.

“I’m hungry,” he declares, settling in as you drive. “Can we get pizza?”

“Maybe later.”

2K notes · View notes

serialunaliver · 6 months

Text

"black cat girls" "golden retriever boys" what about us cotylorhynchus girls?

Cotylorhynchus is an extinct genus of herbivorous caseid synapsids that lived during the late Lower Permian (Kungurian) and possibly the early Middle Permian (Roadian) in what is now Texas and Oklahoma in the United States. The large number of specimens found make it the best-known caseid. Like all large herbivorous caseids, Cotylorhynchus had a short snout sloping forward and very large external nares. The head was very small compared to the size of the body. The latter was massive, barrel-shaped, and ended with a long tail. The limbs were short and robust. The hands and feet had short, broad fingers with powerful claws. The barrel-shaped body must have housed large intestines, suggesting that the animal had to feed on a large quantity of plants of low nutritional value. Caseids are generally considered to be terrestrial, though a semi-aquatic lifestyle has been proposed by some authors. The skull of Cotylorhynchus shows the typical caseid morphology with a forward sloping snout, very large nasal opening, a skull roof with numerous small depressions, and a very large pineal foramen. The latter is wider than long as in Ennatosaurus and thus differs from that of Euromycter which is subcircular.[2] The number of teeth in the upper and lower jaws ranges from 16 to 20. In the upper jaw, the anterior teeth are long and slender, while those behind decrease in size posteriorly and are slightly spatulate. All the marginal teeth have their distal end slightly inclined towards the interior of the mouth and the top of their crown each have three small cuspules arranged longitudinally. These teeth also show an enlargement of the central part of the crown.[3] In the lower jaw, the anterior teeth, not denticulate according to Olson, are shorter and tilt slightly forward. Other lower teeth are similar to those in the upper jaw. The postcranial skeleton is massive. The ribs are very long, heavy and curved to form a bulbous body. Ribs are present on all the pre-sacral vertebrae and the first caudal vertebrae. The five posterior presacral ribs are fused with the transverse processes of the vertebrae. The sacrum contains three vertebrae. The neural spines of larger specimens become proportionately taller, especially in the pelvic region. The limbs are short and strong. The femur is characterized by its proximal end having a broad shelf marked by a margin slightly overhanging the dorsal surface of the femur. The pes and manus are broad and short, and terminate in strong, sharp, and curved ungual phalanges which must have supported powerful claws. Muscle and tendon scars are very developed.[3]The genus Cotylorhynchus is represented by three species, the largest of which could reach more than 6 m in length. However, a study published in 2022 suggests that the genus may be paraphyletic, with two of the three species possibly belonging to separate genera. The genus name Cotylorhynchus comes from the Greek kotyle, cup, hollow, and rhynchos, beak, or snout. The genus was named so because of the nasal opening which is surrounded by a depressed, cup-shaped bony surface.[1] The genus Cotylorhynchus contains three species which differ in size and proportion, C. romeri (the type species), C. hancocki, and C. bransoni. In C. romeri there are two size groups which presumably represent sexual dimorphism. There is no size overlap between adults of C. romeri and C. hancocki, but larger specimens of C. bransoni have roughly the same dimensions as smaller specimens of C. romeri.[3] In 2022, Werneburg and colleagues suggested that the species C. hancocki and C. bransoni might not belong to the genus Cotylorhynchus. These authors consider that a detailed revision of these two taxa is necessary to clarify their status.[4]

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zepskies · 5 months

Text

Miss Professor

Pairing: Jason Teague x F. Reader

(Love triangle: Jason T. x Lana Lang)

Summary: Jason has to make a decision. You, or Lana Lang.

AN: Here’s the sequel to “Assistant Hottie.” Hope you enjoy!

Song Inspo: “Look at You” by Screaming Trees

Word Count: 5,200 Tags/Warnings: Angst, love triangle, hurt/comfort, fluff and a tinge of spice.~

Jason finds you in the bowels of the university library.

Out of four giant floors of books and computer labs at Central Kansas A&M (CKM), they just had to put the Writing Center in the non-proverbial basement. There you have to wear at least two layers at all times, despite the late-spring swelter outside.

Like now, when he enters the Writing Center lobby and finds you at your desk, tapping your red pen on your lip as you work on revising an essay. Jason smiles at the sight of your fuzzy red and green sweater over your jeans and ankle boots.

“You know, Christmas came and went, like, five months ago,” he teases.

You glance up at him as he steals a chair from your coworker’s desk. She’s conveniently been on break…for two hours now. Leaving you with a mildly enormous stack of essays to edit and leave feedback on.

“Yeah well, I’m running out of winterwear. It’s almost summer, for God’s sake,” you grouse. And yet, you shiver when another pass of the AC vent above your head hits your back.

Jason smiles, but he also shrugs off his jacket and drapes it around your frame. It’s lighter than what you’re wearing, but he hopes the added layer helps. You can’t help smiling up at him, though your brows end up furrowing.

“Oh, don’t do that, you’re gonna be freezing,” you protest. You try to take off the jacket, but Jason stops you by wrapping it snugly around your shoulders.

“It’s okay, I don’t plan on being here that long,” he replies.

You raise a brow. “Oh really?”

Jason grins. “You’ve got my British Lit. paper, right?”

You narrow your eyes at him, with a light grumble. “Some friendship this is. You only come to see me when you want something.”

Jason mock frowns at that accusation, but he plies you with raised brows and waggling “gimme” fingers until you relent. You reach back into your files with a sigh and hand him his ten-page essay, complete with your revisions and suggestions for the final draft.

“Here you go, freeloader,” you quip.

“Many thanks, Miss Professor,” Jason rejoins.

The nickname always manages to make your face warm a bit, no matter how you try to stamp down the butterflies in your stomach. It doesn’t help when he smiles at you like that.

His glinting green eyes soon dim, however, as he takes in the sheer amount of red marking up the pages of his essay. All 10 pages.

“Damn, woman. Was it that bad?” he asks.

“You’re actually getting better,” you say with a smile. “I’m seeing signs of improvement.”

Jason continues to flip through with a frown. “Right.”

Though when he actually starts reading your revisions, the familiar slopes of your handwriting, his disappointment begins to relent. You’ve made corrections here and there, but you’ve also written a lot of encouragements in the margins, like, “Good use of the word ‘solidarity.’”

And, “This whole paragraph perfectly explains your point. Just add a transition into the next section and you’re golden.”

Not to mention his personal favorite: correcting his typo on eggzagerate, and drawing a doodle of a fried egg above it. He doesn’t think you do that for all your customers.

It makes him smile.

Though he looks up when he hears you yawn. You try to stifle it, but he can see clearly now that you’re tired. It’s almost 9 p.m.

“How long have you been working?” he asks.

“Since I got out of my last class at 5,” you admit. Finally, you spot your coworker coming back from her break (and she’s still on the phone, chatting away to her boyfriend).

“Have you even eaten dinner?” Jason asks.

You shake your head, with a pointed glare at your coworker. “No time. I’ve been chained to this place all night.”

The girl gives you a fake smile when she returns to her desk and grabs one of the thinnest essays from the pile. After shooting her one last narrowed look, you give Jason your full attention. He’s trying to temper his smirk.

“Come on,” he says, nudging your arm. “Let me treat you to the Central Kansas delicacy of Chicken Finger Friday.”

You laugh at that; the university food court leaves much to be desired. You still have plenty of work to do, but you’re willing to push it off until tomorrow and take him up on his offer, if it means a hot meal and spending some time with your friend. It’s been a few weeks since it’s been just the two of you, hanging out.

After grabbing your backpack and clocking out for the night, you and Jason walk together across campus. The evening air is warm. It begins to defrost you as you two venture down the sidewalk. You smile to yourself and playfully bump into his side.

Jason shoots you a grin and bumps you back, though he grabs your arm when the heel of your boot catches on the edge of the sidewalk. You both fumble a bit and laugh.

You tuck a wily strand of hair behind your ear. Part of you wants to ask what he’s doing this weekend. Maybe he’d want to go to the lake with you, hang out on the dock, or go for a swim…

But of course, that’s when his phone buzzes. He fishes it out of his pocket and his brows raise. The text is from Lana, asking him if he can come to the Talon.

I really need your help with something.

Jason lets out a breath and looks up at you apologetically.

You know that look.

“Your girlfriend?” you ask, trying not to sound too disappointed.

Jason nods. “I hate to do this to you, but we’ve both been so busy, I haven’t seen her all week.”

And this is the first time this week that Lana has reached out to him first, wanting to see him… Well, she’s also asking for a favor, but she wants to see him.

“You know, one of these days I’d love to meet this mysterious girl,” you remark, lightly shoving his arm.

Jason smiles, but inside he’s clamming up. For obvious reasons, he hasn’t told you that he’s dating Lana Lang. Though it doesn’t make it easy to keep it from you, to lie to you. Over the course of the school year, you’ve become one of his closest friends here in Smallville.

You encourage him to explore his interests and keep focused in school, and you’ve often been a listening ear whenever juggling his classes and helping to coach the Smallville High football team stress him out.

And he’s done the same for you. With your time split between being a teacher's aid at Smallville High and working in the Writing Center to make ends meet between classes, you've done your share of venting, sometimes through frustrated tears. Jason's been more than willing to provide a strong shoulder to lean on.

Now, you don’t know that dating Lana is part of his stress, but he just…can’t afford to tell you.

It doesn’t matter that Lana’s 18, and he met her months before he took this coaching job. This is a small town, and he knows how people will talk if word gets out that he’s dating a high school senior. Not to mention, he’d get very fired.

“I’m sorry,” he says to you. “This seems important.”

Again, you have to hide your disappointment when you smile at him. “It’s okay. I should probably get back to work anyway—”

“Uh-uh. No,” Jason says, grabbing your arm when you start to turn in the direction of the Writing Center. "You’re done for the night. I wanna see you marching full-speed for those dry-ass chicken tenders.”

He nods toward the campus food court, making you expel a sigh.

“If I must,” you lament.

“And you’d better not keep working on your laptop,” he warns. “If you so much as crack open that Mac, I’ll know.”

He levels a finger at you as he walks away. You roll your eyes and head to the food court, with the promise of food just beyond the glass doors.

After a moment, you chance looking back at Jason. He catches your gaze, and he points two fingers from his eyes to your face in stern warning.

You giggle and shake your head at him, but you keep walking toward the food court.

Jason smirks in satisfaction. He continues on to the parking lot, and to his car.

When Jason gets to the Talon, he crosses paths with Clark, who’s just walking out.

“Hey, man,” Jason greets, with a jovial pat on the younger man’s shoulder. Though he can’t help but wonder why the guy is here at this time of night. “Little late for a coffee fix, huh?”

“Hey, Coach T,” Clark smiles. “Could say the same about you.”

Jason blinks at that. He cards a hand through his short hair and laughs it off. “Yeah, I was in the mood for a slice of your mom’s coffee cake. Any left?”

Martha Kent supplied the Talon with its baked goods, and they were most certainly worth driving across town for. It’s a pretty good excuse, if he says so himself.

Clark nods. “Yeah, should be.”

“All right. G'night,” Jason says. Clark nods and waves goodbye before he heads to his red truck in the parking lot.

Jason shakes his head and steps into the coffee shop, where he finds Lana alone. She’s cleaning up a large takeout bag from Gino’s, the Italian restaurant across the street. He silently takes note of it, but doesn’t yet comment when he kisses his girlfriend in greeting.

“Why’d you send up the Bat Signal on this fine Friday night?” he asks, wrapping her in his arms.

Lana smiles up at him. “Well, I’m probably going to be slammed all weekend with the shop, but I’ve got this huge speech for class on Monday and was hoping you’d help me practice.”

She pulls those doe-like hazel eyes on him, and Jason’s almost captured by them. This time, he lets out a small sigh.

“You know I’m always down to help you out. Always. But you know, we haven’t just hung out in a while now,” he points out.

Lana concedes to that with an incline of her head, but she still eases out of his arms to finish cleaning up.

“Yeah, I’ve just been really busy,” she says.

“I have too,” Jason replies. “But even with my crazy schedule, going back and forth from campus, don't I still make time for you?”

Case in point, he was willing to come out to her on the drop of a hat, late at night, and on the crunch week before his final exams. But he would be hard-pressed to remember a time when Lana went out of her way to see him.

Lana pauses, casting him a frown. "I'm trying my best, Jason. You know I'm graduating in a few weeks. Everything's ramped up to 11 this year."

Yeah, I know the feeling, Jason thinks, but after a moment, he caves with a nod, even though his gaze lingers on the Gino's bag.

“Have you eaten?” he tests. “Let me get us some takeout.”

He almost said, Let me take you out, somewhere nice. But he hadn’t been able to do that since before he got to Smallville. He’s beginning to wonder if he ever will again.

“Oh,” Lana says. Her eyes avert from his as she wipes down a table. “I already ate.”

Jason draws closer to her and dips his chin in order to catch her gaze. Eventually, she pauses and glances up at him.

“With Clark?” he asks.

Lana tightens up, just as he predicted. “Why would you say that?”

“I saw him when I came in,” Jason replies. He tilts his head at Lana, who never used to be a good liar. But ever since they had to start hiding their relationship, he’s noticed how good she also hides her thoughts and feelings around other people…maybe even to herself.

“Yeah,” she breathes. “He was here. But we were studying for finals, and we got hungry. That’s it.”

Jason shakes his head, but she grabs his hand with both of hers. He looks down at her tan, slender hands, and can’t help but be drawn back to her beautiful face.

“It’s not a big deal,” she says, as if that can dismiss the churning in his gut.

“Listen,” he says, rubbing at his face. “I know I’ve asked you this before, and I’m sorry but…do you still have feelings for him?”

“No,” she refutes, “I’m with you, Jason. How many times do I have to prove that this is what I want?”

She seems so annoyed and vehement that Jason has to believe her. He wants to, so badly.

Maybe too much.

The last straw comes just two weeks before the end of spring semester—with the coming of senior prom. Jason knows he can’t ask Lana, but she assured him that she wasn’t going.

He has a late class that night, but afterwards, he promised to pick her up and get dinner together in Metropolis. A nice date, a long-ass way out of town, so they’re unlikely to be recognized.

On the Friday evening, just hours before a high school dance, you and Jason sit together in the one class you have together: Introduction to Mass Media.

It only meets once a week, for three hours. Technically it’s an elective for both of you, but you’d told Jason to pick any class outside of his major that he was interested in. Anything to broaden his horizons, and you promised to join him. For some reason, he chose this one.

He thought it would be easy. Just a study of pop. culture stuff, with a mix of social media, maybe a dash of sports, if he was lucky. He’d actually been surprised with how much he was enjoying the segments on videography and broadcast journalism.

Right now, however, he's distracted. You can certainly tell, the way he keeps checking his phone.

“What’s wrong?” you lean over and ask in a whisper. He knows how anal Professor Jones is about cell phones in class. The man had a “contraband bucket” to collect them in, if he caught a student using one.

“Just letting my girlfriend know I’m gonna be a bit late,” Jason grumbles, though he’s looking at the screen. “Jones is droning on past the eternity mark, as usual.”

A man clears his throat above you and Jason. You both look up and meet the flat gaze of Professor Jones. He shakes the bucket in his hand with an arched brow. Already there's about three contraband phones inside.

Jason gives a wan smile. “Come on, Professor. We were supposed to be outta here 20 minutes ago anyway.”

The lines in Professor Jones’s face betrays one simple truth: he doesn’t give a shit.

“Bucket, Mr. Teague,” he says.

Jason’s lips press in irritation, but he’s forced to drop his phone into the waiting bucket. He doesn’t see two mixed text messages from his girlfriend.

You lay a comforting hand on Jason’s arm. “I’m sure she’ll understand.”

By the time Jason gets to the Talon, the lights are dark and Lana’s not home. Suspicion creeps in, making him feel a little crazy.

He decides to get back into his car and drive down to Smallville High. There the gym is decked out to the nines in some kind of underwater theme. It reminds him of his own senior prom a couple of years ago, complete with the punch bowl and cheesy snacks.

But soon enough, the nostalgia comes to a screeching halt.

A familiar ballad croons from the band on the stage.

"And how can I stand here with you, and not be moved by you? ...Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?"

He sees Lana on the dance floor, wearing one of the most beautiful dresses he’s ever seen. And she’s in the arms of one Clark Kent.

Jason's never hated Lifehouse so much.

On Saturday morning, before the Talon even opens, Lana opens the door to Jason while still wearing her robe.

“Hey!” she says, with wide eyes, though she lets him in.

“You seem real surprised,” Jason notes.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s early for you on a Saturday,” Lana remarks with a short laugh. But she still leans up to kiss him. She only manages to get his cheek, since he doesn’t bend down to meet her like he usually would.

She frowns. “Is something wrong?”

Jason doesn’t answer at first. The words are stuck in his throat. He gestures for them to move away from the glass doors, where anyone can peek in. So they travel up to her bedroom and close the door.

It’s not the first time he’s been in her room, though not much has ever happened on her bed. He’s waited completely on her signals for that one. Though now, he’s actually kind of grateful that their relationship has never progressed that far. It makes what he’s about to do easier.

“Where were you last night?” he asks. He figures they’d better start there.

“I tried calling you,” he adds, when Lana doesn’t immediately offer a reply.

“Well, I didn’t hear from you. I figured you were busy with your classes, so…I went to prom by myself,” she says.

Jason sighs. “You didn’t seem all that lonely.”

Her eyes widen. “What?”

Her confusion looks so real. A perfect face, and a damn near perfect lie.

“Look, I saw you and Clark on that dance floor,” Jason finally says. “Wasn't that just the perfect Hallmark moment?”

“Jason…” Lana finally starts to break. She doesn’t want to admit what’s broken, her gaze falling to the floor.

“No, let me say this,” he says. “Lana, I really put my all into this. I did whatever I could to be with you. To love you, to protect you. But in your heart, I think somewhere down the line you decided you don’t want that to be me.”

Lana’s eyes flood with tears, but she doesn’t deny it.

“I think it’s time to really call it quits this time,” Jason says, “for both our sakes.”

He can’t help but reach out to her. His thumb brushes her cheek. Lana’s watery gaze meets his as her lower lip wobbles. She grabs his hand.

“I’m so sorry, Jason,” she confesses.

He won’t say it’s okay, but he accepts that with a nod, and he kisses her cheek.

It’s a goodbye that’s meant to last.

Once he’s back in the relative safety of his car, Jason lets out a deep breath. He grabs his phone from his pocket on some unspoken urge; in that moment, he needs something. Someone.

He needs you.

You answer on the third ring, sounding sleepy on your day off.

“You’d better be on fire,” you say. Jason smiles at the sound of your grumpy voice.

“Hey,” he laughs a little, though he's surprised that it comes so easily. “You doing anything right now?”

“Besides sleeping?” you toss back. “…No. Not really. My life is boring.”

“Boring sounds nice right about now,” Jason says, more seriously than he meant to. “Wanna take a drive or something?”

You hesitate, just for a moment. Then your voice greets him again.

“Let’s go.”

When Jason arrives at your house, you come out to meet him. He gets out of his car, and already he looks wrong. He looks drained of all energy.

“What’s wrong?” you ask in concern, grabbing his arm when you’re close enough. His eyes find yours.

“We broke up,” he says.

It takes your brain a second or two to compute. (You’ve just finished your first cup of coffee, after all.) But then, you’re moving to wrap your arms around his neck in the tightest, warmest hug you can give.

He holds you back for a while, and you relish in the feeling of his hands smoothing around your back and pulling you in close. His chin tucks on your shoulder, and you rub his back.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly.

He hums in response. Sometimes, what is just is.

He lets you drive him out to the lake near your house, in your beat up Volvo. This lake is your favorite place in the world, you tell him, as you two sit side-by-side on the dock. Your sneaker-clad feet dangle over the edge, next to his longer legs.

“So far,” he corrects. “There’s a whole lot of world out there.”

You smile. “Yeah, you gonna show me? Got a magic carpet tucked in your dorm somewhere?”

Jason laughs, and you’re grateful to see his smile so soon.

“Yeah, along with a dusty-ass lamp,” he says.

You smile, but you tilt your head at him. “Are you okay?”

Jason’s grin slips a little. “Yeah, I think so…is that bad?”

You bite your lip. “Depends. What was her name? I don’t think you even told me.”

Jason turns to you, and he sighs deeply. It takes him a moment, but he eventually answers while looking you in the eyes.

“Lana Lang,” he says.

The name rings a bell…and as it comes to you, it blares like a foghorn. Your eyes widen and your mouth falls open in shock.

“J-Jason…she’s a student,” you stammer. “Not like, us students. Like—”

“I know. We met before I got the coaching job,” Jason explains quickly, before you can blow up at him.

He can see you’re freaking out, trying to contain your reaction with a hand over your mouth. But the more he explains, the more you withdraw into a simmering silence. He can tell, however, that you don’t know how to feel about it.

“Do you regret it?” you ask.

It’s not the first thing he thought you would say, but it’s very you all the same.

“Well, being outmaneuvered by my own quarterback stings like a bitch, but I still think I’m better looking,” Jason jokes. Because that’s what he does when he’s uncomfortable.

Too bad that was the wrong answer.

You roll your eyes with a disgusted huff, and you pull yourself up onto your feet. You start to leave him there at the dock, but Jason hops up as well and grabs your hand.

“Hey, wait,” he implores. “Look, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It was just…easier.”

“Why, because you didn’t trust me?” you challenge. “Or because you felt guilty about what you were doing?”

The truth is, Jason doesn’t feel guilty. Not for his relationship.

“I was trying to protect her reputation,” he says. “I know how smalltown people think. She’d be the talk of the damn town. And for what? Because we’re two years apart?”

“And I’m smalltown, is that it? I’m sorry I’m not as evolved as you, Mr. Metropolis,” you snark. “Forgive me for being a lowly country bumpkin with some morals.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jason says with an angry frown, throwing up his hands in frustration.

You shake your head at him and start booking it towards your car.

Jason follows. “You know you can’t leave me out here, right?”

“Just get in the car, before I change my mind!”

He obliges you, and it’s a painful ride back to your house. He really can’t believe you’re being like this. It’s the first real argument he’s ever had with you. He knew you might get upset, but he did think you’d be a little more understanding…

“Look, we met in Paris last summer,” he admits. And a hint more vulnerable, “I just…couldn’t help but fall for her.”

“I get it, Jason,” you reply. Your voice is flat.

“Just please don’t tell anyone,” he asks. “We’re done. She’s about to graduate.”

As mad as you are at him for lying to you, you begrudgingly see his point. You can also start to understand why he didn’t tell you.

But, regardless of how you feel, you don’t want him to lose his job. You know it’s the only way he can afford college.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” you say, before you can reign yourself in.

Jason turns to you with a hint of a smile. “Thank you.”

It’s still awkward when you two get to your house. He turns to you, like he wants to say something that’ll most likely soften you.

You’re not ready for that.

So you kill the engine and get out of the car without looking at him. Jason takes the hint; he doesn’t say another word to you when he gets into his car and peels away.

The next weeks that follow are hard for Jason. As a member of the staff, he’s forced to go to Smallville High’s graduating ceremony.

He watches Clark and Lana graduate together with the rest of their friends. The two of them hug after she gets off stage, looking at one another with a moment of blushing smiles. It’s an inevitable look.

It makes Jason feel sick. He leaves as soon as he can, going back to languish in his dorm room. He lays on his bed over the covers with his hands folded over his stomach and his eyes closed.

He thinks about you.

He can see you in his mind’s eye, with a pen balanced between your teeth and your hair falling over to brush the pages you pour over.

He sees your fuzzy green sweater. Your smile. The shade of your hair, your eyes, your laugh, your furrowed look when you’re concentrating hard on revising a sentence.

The more he sees, the more he wants to call you. To hear your voice, even if you're just going to yell at him.

Jason sighs. He sits up in bed and has a thought that soon takes hold of his body, and has him swinging his legs over the edge of his bed and pulling his backpack closer.

He pulls out a folder for one of his classes and finds an essay you revised. His eyes scan over the encouragements you’ve left in the margins, along with the stray doodles. They still make him smile.

And it reminds him of the first note you ever gave him, which he keeps tucked in a small drawer in his desk. He tosses the folder onto his bed and goes to that drawer, where he finds your hastily written haiku.

Assistant Hottie

You flatter me, see through me

Smarter than he thinks.

You don’t know that those words have kept his head above water in times where he’s wanted to quit school.

Or even worse, in those times when he’s wanted to go to his father, tail between his legs, to ask for money and a job doing anything easy.

So now, Jason realizes that he needs to make another decision.

He gets out of bed, and he goes to see you.

Jason travels down to the basement of the CKM library, to the Writing Center, where you’re sitting at your desk as always on a Thursday night. You have a pile of essays stacked high next to you, and your forehead is wrinkled while you read a problematic passage.

The smell of coffee makes you look up first, before you realize who brought it. Your eyes widen at seeing Jason, along with his small smile and peace offering.

“Hey,” he says.

His voice washes over you, his eyes that always manage to disarm you, even now.

Despite your better judgment, you take the coffee from him and revel at its warmth. It has to be 60 degrees in this damn room (you’re one step shy of bringing your winter gloves next time).

You sip at the coffee and hum in delight at the taste of caramel and cinnamon—a combination that only your family, and Jason, would know you loved.

Your gaze flits up to his, more begrudging as you sigh.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Teague?” you ask.

Jason grins and takes your coworker’s empty chair to sit across from you.

“I’ve got a little haiku for you,” he says, handing you a folded piece of paper. You eye him in confusion, but you set down the coffee on your desk and take his second offering. You unfold it and read something that genuinely takes you by surprise.

Hey, Miss Professor

I’ve got a question for you…

Want to get dinner?

You can’t help but laugh. It’s most definitely not a haiku, but you also know that it’s his best shot. His smile is sheepish, making yours deepen.

“So, what’s your answer?” he asks.

You glance down at the page, then back at him. You bite your lip, and your heart clenches. Is this it? you wonder. Is he asking you out, for real? You can’t quite tell what he’s thinking.

“What kind of dinner?” you ask.

Jason’s grin fades. “What do you mean?”

“Is this our normal kind, where we roll out like we’re Thelma and Louise?” you ask, making him snort. “Or is this the kind where I need to change out of my dirty sneakers and brush my hair?”

He shrugs; his amused grin is back. “I mean, however I get you is all right by me.”

You nearly utter another sigh, but Jason surprises you yet again—by grabbing your hand.

“But, uh…I’d like this to be the kind of dinner where we try something new,” he says, licking his dry lips. He looks a bit uncertain, you think, hiding the fear of rejection. “Maybe you’ll let me do my Cary Grant impression and get you some flowers. Box of chocolates.”

The corner of your mouth twitches. “Chocolates?”

“Whatever it takes,” he says. His tone is joking, but he seems serious. You know him well enough by now to spot the difference.

“Whatever it takes, huh?” you ask.

Jason’s hand tightens on yours, but his eyes never leave you. He really is serious, and it makes your heart stutter and trill with warmth. It feels a lot like hope.

He leans in, his head bowing towards yours…but you lay a hand against his chest.

It stops him, until your fingers curl into his shirt.

Your gaze slowly meets his.

When he reaches for your cheek, this time you let him pull you in.

His kiss is sudden, but it’s still a gentle test. You take in a deep breath through your nose as your eyes fall closed. You press your lips against his, answering him. His fingers slide into your hair and drag down the back of your neck. It makes you shudder and tug him even closer by his shirt.

Jason’s solution is gathering you into his lap, where you take his face with both hands and kiss him with unfettered passion. The locked doors of your heart are swinging open, and it’s a sweet relief to be honest with each swipe of your tongue against his.

He’s gripping your hip, his fingers pressing into your thigh, while the other hand supports your lower back and presses you flush against him. As the kiss slows, so does your hand in his hair, more soothing now than gripping.

When your lips eventually draw apart from his, it’s with panting breaths. You stare into his eyes, as yours brim with relieved tears. You touch his cheek.

“I better not be a rebound,” you warn him. “I can’t take that, Jase.”

Jason shakes his head, holding you a fraction tighter. “No, believe me. That's the last thing you are."

You bite your lip, and he encourages you to release it with his thumb brushing across your lower lip. You've been on his mind longer than he can readily admit. Since the first day he met you.

"I know I haven't made it easy, but will you trust me on this?” he asks. "I really wanna do this right with you."

It takes you a moment to decide, but you do. You trust him.

So you nod and brush your fingers along the apple of his cheek.

“Okay,” you concede. "Let's do this."

Jason grins. “Oh, thank God.”

You giggle softly and hide your face in his neck. His chest shakes with a chuckle as he holds you back. It feels very right to hold you, he thinks.

Just as it's a relief for you to finally be in his arms.

“Where d’you wanna go for dinner?” he asks.

You laugh, a bit giddy as you cling to him and thread your fingers in his golden hair.

“I don’t give a damn.”

AN: Haha, I hope you liked this! ❤️ These one-shots are kind of AU, in that I don't get into the Stones of Power arc of S4 just for simplicity's sake.

I do have one more one-shot idea rolling around in my head for these two...the reader meeting Jason's infamous mother lol (Genevieve Teague, played by the fabulous Jane Seymour)!

Smallville Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

JT Tag List:

@sleepyqueerenergy @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28

@charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @mrsjenniferwinchester @jc-winchester @fromcaintodean @deanbrainrotwritings @jackles010378 @akshi8278 @rachiem4-blog @waters-2567 @jessjad @sweettimelady @iprobablyshipit91 @leigh70

@clinicallydepresso @lokigirl666 @xiphoidbones @rominaszh @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @siampie @sanscas @kaleldobrev

#Miss Professor #Assistant Hottie Sequel #Jason Teague #jason teague x reader #jason teague x female reader #jason teague x you #jason teague fics #smallville #jensen ackles characters #jensen ackles #lana lang #smallville clark kent #clark kent #zepskies writes

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r1-jw-lover · 7 months

Text

Official John Wick Major Arcana tarot cards featuring Chapter 4 characters

Art by Julien Rico Jr, in collaboration with Lionsgate.

Sources: nerdsloveart, behance

Image descriptions below the cut:

[Start ID: 22 images featuring characters and locations from the movie "John Wick: Chapter 4" as Major Arcana tarot cards. The drawings are in black and white against a sandy beige background, and has plenty of circle motives. Roman numerals are at the top, their corresponding card title at the bottom, and the movie title "John Wick: Chapter 4" on the bottom left margin.

0: The number zero, or unnumbered, tarot card features Killa Harkan played by Scott Adkins as "The Fool". Killa is holding a 2 of spades between two fingers while giving a smug smile that shows off his set of golden teeth. He wears a ring on his right hand and the other hand is holding a stack of cards. Behind Killa is a minimalistic design resembling a casino token with details such as the diamond and clover symbols, as well as the numbers on the dice. In front of Killa is a table with two piling stacks of casino tokens, a gun, and the shadow of John Wick's head looming over a large portion of the table.

1: The number one tarot card features The Tracker or Mr. Nobody played by Shamier Anderson as "The Magician". Mr. Nobody has a smug expression on his face and is holding his rifle in a way that lets it rest slung over his shoulder. By his side is Mr. Nobody's Belgian Malinois. The backdrop consists of simplistic, grayish graphics of map vectors cropped into several circles of different sizes. There is a white-coloured infinity symbol on top of Mr. Nobody's head.

2: The number two tarot card features Rooney, aka The Ballerina, who first appeared in "John Wick: Chapter 3 - Parabellum", as "The High Priestess". Rooney's back is facing towards us as she's performing a ballet move on a circular stage. Rooney is wearing a white crown and a dress that shows the cross tattoo on her back. In the backdrop, where Rooney's face is looking towards, are curtains with the initials "JW" written on the far ends of the frame.

3: The number three tarot card features Katia played by Natalia Tena as "The Empress". With a cool expression on her face, Katia is leaning forward against a set of railings, giving off a domineering aura. Katia is wearing a metallic necklace and a cross on her neck. Behind Katia is the crest of the Ruska Roma and a line in Russian circling around it.

4: The number four tarot card features The Bowery King played by Laurence Fishburne as "The Emperor". The Bowery King is sitting on a throne, but behind him is a pair of eyes staring menacingly at us. In front of him is a logo design with the same pair of eyes, though rendered smaller and appear less menacing, with an X crossed in between and a horizontal line capping the top of the X. At the Bowery King's feet, a few pigeons are shown in the foreground while the Brooklyn Bridge appear in the background.

5: The number five tarot card features The Elder as "The Hierophant". Behind the Elder is an Islamic floral design which extends into a more geometrical pattern. Standing in the background are two of the Elder's men.

6: The number six tarot card features John and Helen Wick, played by Keanu Reeves and Bridget Moynahan, as "The Lovers". John and Helen are smiling brightly towards each other in front of a New York night cityscape backdrop, with the Empire States building separating them at the centre. Above John and Helen is a silhouette of them pressed against each other about to kiss in front of a bright sun with the Brooklyn bridge in the background.

7: The number seven tarot card features John Wick driving his 1971 Plymouth Barracuda as "The Chariot". There is a bullet mark on the front glass pane of John Wick's car. On top is a closeup of John Wick surrounded by a circle of road markings and bullet marks.

8: The number eight tarot card features Charon played by Lance Reddick as "Strength". On top of Charon's head is the infinity symbol, and behind is a design reminiscent of a timepiece neatly decorated with knives, guns and bullets in a circle. Further behind is a faded image of the reverse side of the Gold Coin. Filling the bottom of the frame is the New York cityscape backdrop illuminated by the sun.

9: The number nine tarot card features Caine played by Donnie Yen as "The Hermit". Caine wears sunglasses and is holding a cane in his left hand and a pistol in his right. Caine's head is illuminated by a circle of bright light, which is surrounded by a dimmer, slightly bigger circle with Japanese wave patterns and then large protruding rays of black. In the backdrop are two winding trees along with a city landscape of Osaka, but they are overshadowed by Caine's black rays.

10: The number ten tarot card features L’Arc de Triomphe as "The Wheel of Fortune". The location is illustrated in such a way that looks like a clock, with the monument at the centre and twelve roads leading towards it. Surrounding the Arc de Triomphe are the letters from John Wick's name arranged in the exact order of north-west, north-east, south-west, south-east, west, north, east and south directions.

11: The number eleven tarot card features The Harbinger played by Clancy Brown as "Justice". The whole illustration is framed as if the Harbinger is contained inside an hourglass, with a half-body portrait of the Harbinger at the top and a full-body silhouette of him forming at the bottom from the sand flowing downwards. Behind the Harbinger's portrait is the Latin quote, "si vis pacem, para bellum", whereas next to the Harbinger's silhouette is a crescent moon. Along the sides of the hourglass outside are two duel pistols facing opposite directions on each side.

12: The number twelve tarot card features Koji Shimazu played by Hiroyuki Sanada as "The Hanged Man". Except for his feet, Koji is portrayed as an vertically-inverted reflection of himself on a pool of water. Koji is holding a katana and his head is surrounded by a circle of dim light and a brighter, slightly larger circle made of Japanese wave patterns. As seen in the reflection, behind him are cherry blossom trees and the Osaka city landscape.

13: The number thirteen tarot card features John Wick, aka the Baba Yaga, played by Keanu Reeves as "Death". John Wick is holding a pair of nunchucks in his right hand. Behind John Wick is a city landscape of Osaka lighted by the moon while his head is surrounded by a row of skull pictograms and two rows of bullets. There is also an faded image of the reverse side of the Gold Coin behind John Wick.

14: The number fourteen tarot card features Winston played by Ian McShane as "Temperance". Winston is holding up a wine glass with a capital C labelled on it, and there are multiple swords projecting from his back like wings. Behind Winston is the hotel name "Continental" and numerous halos of various fonts and patterns, along with the cityscape of New York, with the Statue of Liberty and the Empire States building in sight.

15: The number fifteen tarot card features The Marquis, Vincent Bisset de Gramont, played by Bill Skarsgård as "The Devil". Behind the Marquis is his signature emblem with two black knives crossed behind his head. The emblem is surrounded by two rows of knives. In the background is the night cityscape of Paris with the Eiffel Tower in view, illuminated by a moon that is surrounded by a snake or serpent that's chasing its own tail.

16: The number sixteen tarot card features the New York Continental Hotel as "The Tower". The top floors of the Continental Hotel are being set on fire as the small dark silhouette of John Wick and the debris carried along fall from its rooftop.

17: The number seventeen tarot card features Akira played by Rina Sawayama as "The Star". Illuminating behind Akira is a star resembling a six-pointed shuriken with two Japanese stork paintings on its left and right, which is further surrounded by a circle of alternating arrow fletchings and four-pointed shuriken. Akira is holding a bow and arrow and standing tall as the bodies of two men lie dead around her. In the background are the branches of cherry blossom trees and the sun or moon shining behind Akira.

18: The number eighteen tarot card features John Wick's and Mr. Nobody's dogs as "The Moon". The two dogs are staring up at the crescent moon, which is shaped as if John Wick's head is covering portions of the full moon. Surrounding the crescent moon are small stars and a illustration of the cycle of the moon phases. The two dogs are sitting on a road leading into an ambiguous city landscape in the background.

19: The number nineteen tarot card features the Sacré-Coeur as "The Sun". The rays of the sun spread out far and wide as wisps of clouds drifts behind the giant church. A dark silhouette of John Wick can be seen on the top open window of the Sacré-Coeur.

20: The number twenty tarot card features Chidi played by Marko Zaror as "Judgement". Behind Chidi is the emblem of the Marquis with a black knife cutting across behind his head. Below Chidi are the High Table's heavily armoured soldiers who are backdropped by a big splatter of sandy beige.

21: The number twenty-one tarot card features John Wick as "The World". John Wick's back is facing towards us with his head glancing back, showing us his face. Overlayed on top of him is his surname "Wick" with the "I" replaced by a bright silhouette of a walking John Wick. A circle of bullets surrounds John Wick and bullet marks scatter around him as the emblems of the High Table, the Marquis, the Adjudicator, and the Gold Coin fill all four corners of the frame.

./End ID]

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hiraeth-sonder · 2 days

Text

Mystified Scholar - Leifeng Pagoda

Jingyuan x Reader - University AU

Asking for help for understanding basic economics may not have been the best idea when your tutor is horrifically attractive (it surely doesn't help that he's bad for your sanity)

//I need him in a way that concerns my grades (grade digger). But seriously I hate this subject so much so this is the weirdest way of testing my barebones knowledge. If anyone is an economics legend please send help. This is probably not that good let's be honest. Poem is 登乐游原 by 李商隐.

向晚意不適，骑车登古原。

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

When you decided to take an introduction to microeconomics unit, you didn’t think your brain would end up hating it so much that it seems to reject any information about the subject to the point that you were miserably hopeless about essentially the entire 75% of the subject.

While yes, you have done the subject before, in fact you’d say you had a great grasp on the subject up until this unit came around and destroyed your admittedly grandiose delusions about yourself, what you were learning right now could no way in cold hell be an ‘introduction’! So with your dignity and grades on the line, you did what any rational person would do, suffer in silence and watch ten million youtube videos in an attempt to catch up.

Obviously, that did not work because if it did, you wouldn’t be here, in your room sitting on your dinky little chair with who was essentially the god of economics on your bed. Who was this god you may ask? That would be no other than your tutorial mate and coincidentally also a resident of your dormitory, Jingyuan.

How convenient you may say, awfully convenient.

Being the samaritan he was, he offered to help once he all but witnessed your near public breakdown over graphs that a toddler could understand. Which then led to the great moment that was this god of a man hovering over your shoulder, in very close contact and could he smell your perfume? Or did you stink? God you hoped you didn’t stink.

With his hair clipped up, courtesy of a clip you dug around your toiletries basket for, this sight that you bore must certainly be reserved for sages because you did not think this man could get any more handsome with a bright blue clip in his hair, or his rolled up sleeves, or the fact that he existed in general. You were going insane, you just knew it.

His hand is placed near yours, planted by the mouse and for his support as you very honestly tried your best to listen to him. When you reach a certain slide, Jingyuan leans in closer and speaks, soft and gentle, “So you understand business strategies?”

“Yeah.” You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes or scoff, mentally slapping yourself to behave. In an attempt to lighten the mood, or maybe because your mouth is stupid and tries to fill every second of silence in fear of something you aren’t sure of, you send him a side glance as a grin tugs at your lips, “Are you doubting my common sense?”

“Of course not, you’re very smart. I just wanted to make sure,” He reassures, a soft snort of amusement escaping him, yet there was not a single ounce of annoyance even in those golden eyes of his.

“We’ll get straight to the graphs then.”

Your finger scrolls down on the mouse’s scroll wheel, finally landing on the graph portion for the cost advantage portion of the strategies listed. What was before you was a clearly defined graph with a demand curve and marginal revenue curve touching at the ends, the latter being much steeper than the former. With the marginal cost curve cutting through both lines and an average total cost curve tangent to the demand curve, the faded lines in the background of the curve certainly added nothing to the description to the side.

Clearly sensing your confusion, Jingyuan merely points towards the faint lines, explaining the exact reasons for each shift with care, “So assuming our firm manages to lower costs, this means that the graph’s marginal costs and average total costs shifts downwards.”

You scramble for a red pen, writing down his explanation on a little post-it-note to paste on your notes. Out of the corner of your eyes, you think you see a smile on his lips, not quite like the usual serene quirk but bearing a different kind of sentiment. Obviously, you ignore it because you aren’t delusional enough to think that he would be looking at you like that, instead busying yourself with making sure you could read your own handwriting in the future.

When you finish, you scroll to the next slide, a slide titled as ‘Expanding the customer base’. The bolder lines were the same, a pattern you’re starting to notice, but this time there were more faded lines, the only one missing for this slide would be the marginal cost curve. Your eyes scan over the description on the side yet when you inevitably find yourself a little lost, you turn to him with what must be the most wet eyes he has probably ever seen. Jingyuan merely points to your computer screen, gesturing with his finger the exact lines he discusses.

“If they engage in a successful advertising campaign to appeal to a new customer base, while the average total cost will increase, the average variable cost won’t.” He points towards the raised line, your eyes following along naturally. Then he continues, further explaining how the demand curve rises and how the marginal revenue curve accompanies the shift, “Right now we’re at a loss, but later on our demand will move rightwards which moves our marginal revenue and raises our price and lowers our average total costs, leaving us to make a profit.”

With a hand supporting your head while the other writes, you essentially engage in every dermatologist’s worst nightmare, rubbing your face in frustration. Why was it that when he was explaining all of this, not only were you the most stressed you’ve ever been, but the most knowledgeable you’ve ever been? Surely you must be going insane.

“How did you get this so quickly? I feel like my brain is melting out of my nose,” You mutter into your hand.

He laughs in dulcet huffs, a concept you never thought you’d describe someone to do yet he just did. When you least expect it, he merely tips his head as words of praise just seem to tumble out of that perfect mouth of his, “You just need time to understand the material. You’re already doing so well.”

“Do you want to continue?”

Does he know that what he’s saying could definitely be taken out of context and used for more… nefarious purposes? You were going to go crazy the more time this man spent teaching you economics of all subjects! If you could, you’d bash your head onto the table and thank every god in this world for giving you this man, then turn around and curse them out for making him too tempting for his own good.

Pretending that you definitely did not implode inside and were completely normal, you nod and smile, “Yeah.”

Your hand scrolls down, impressive as you could clearly feel the other spasm just a little, and you look through the last slide with a graph, ‘Increase perceived value’. By now, you who have undergone the great teachings as handed to you personally by your saviour Jingyuan (not), could clearly understand what was going on. With the graph being the exact same as the last, with only one minor difference, that being the marginal revenue and demand curve being steeper to represent its elasticity.

“The same goes for if the firm manages to increase perceived value, however the difference is that our demand moves up and rightwards as well as becoming less elastic because now our consumers have increased and are more willing to pay high prices.”

He turns to you, once again tipping his head as he asks, “Did you understand all that?”

“Yeah, no. That makes sense now,” Nodding along, you really had to admit that he was good. You place down your pen and let out a soft breath of relief, a genuine smile pulling across your lips, “Thanks.”

He responds with a smile of his own, though he brings up a different topic, “No worries, by the way…”

“Hm?” You cock your head, curious on what his next words are.

“If you’d like, I can help you with the other topics over a meal?”

The offer doesn’t fully register in your head, one because you’re still living the high of finally understanding economics, two because you weren’t expecting him to say that all of a sudden and three because… what?

“Ah?”

You must look like a baby deer with how clueless you looked right now, because he lowers himself to be eye level with you, essentially squatting down as he keeps his voice soft and clement, “I’m asking whether you’d want to go out for dinner with me, and maybe I could continue to help you with economics, if you’d like?”

Slapping a hand over your mouth, it takes everything in you to not cry, or laugh, you weren’t sure which you wanted to do more. When a few more moments pass and he only appears ever the more earnest in his offer, you could only nod, knowing that speaking may only betray your cracking voice.

“I’d like that, yeah. I’d like that very much,” you manage to murmur through your stifling hand and flushed cheeks.

Jingyuan only laughs, all too amused with the sight of you. He’s so glad he perfected learning and explaining all those theories, how else was he going to approach you when the only glimpses he gets of you are fleeting and few? It only took him about a night’s worth of studying, but if it meant he got to see more of you and that determination in your eyes, it was all worth a few hours of lost sleep.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

夕阳无限好，只是近黃昏。

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan #jingyuan x reader

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whyoneartheven · 4 months

Note

evie. evie trust me

go listen to allies or enemies by the crane wives.

it is anakin and obi-wan. trust me.

OH MY GOODNESS YES

it took me ages to remember to listen to this WHEN i was actually in a position to listen to music but AHH YES

it is PERFECT for them

also

your music taste is just absolutely phenomenal?

#golden-fingered margin #Ahhhhh yes #just #MUSIC

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lephamquynhnhu · 8 months

Text

Millennial Aegis

Chapter 5

Jing Yuan x Fem! reader

WARNINGS/ TAGS: Arranged marriage, the reader has a default name, smut, unprotected sex, oral sex, fingering, OOC, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word count: ~3200

Summary: He is so stubborn to give up on you, and you are too hard-headed to reciprocate his affection. When do you both stop torturing each other?

You still see Lord Jing Yuan in the study room writing reports in the dead of night. An exasperated sigh escapes your mouth as you lean on the door frame.

"Don't you think it is a little too late?"

The general looks up from the documents; his eyes soften when he sees your silhouette at the doorway. However, the expression soon transfers into concern when he perceives your upsetness. You stride toward his coordinate and try to reason with him, but Jing Yuan insists on getting the work done. At least he welcomes your companion as pulling a chair adjacent to his position, yet you intentionally choose to sit on his thigh. Despite your abnormal behavior baffles him a little, he says nothing.

After a moment, you drop the file on the table and divert attention to Jing Yuan by touching his features. Your fingertips begin grazing his nose, trailing down the sharp jawline, then lingering at his Adam's apple. Nevertheless, he seems unbothered as the golden orbs keep moving horizontally between the file's margin.

"General, do you plan to stay up until dawn?" - Your hot breath fans over the base of his neck as you mumble.

Much to your dismay, he merely hums in confirmation as letters appear restlessly on the paper without glancing. You bite your inner cheek when considering the final trump card. Abruptly, you cradle Jing Yuan's face in both hands to demand the attraction and kiss him tenderly.

"Now, do you think you can continue to work?"

At first, his body tenses slightly but quickly relaxes as he realizes what you want. The sultry in your voice did trigger his senses as he finally sighed in defeat when setting the pen aside.

"Okay, I let you slide this time. I am sorry for neglecting you the whole time."

Lord Jing Yuan's hand moves slowly down your back and kisses your lips passionately. You gently caress his scalp while toying with his long locks. Soft moans start leaving as his hands move slowly down your waist and onto your hips to ground you firmly against himself. Your body temperature grows hotter each second passing, and blood runs rapidly in vessels as your heart pumps violently.

A long silver thread of saliva connects your lips when you two break the kiss. It feels like he sucked all oxygen from your lungs, and you can sense his rock-hard beneath you. The general opens his eyes to give you an intense gaze as a yearning flame glittering in his pupils. You know that Jing Yuan is transforming because Oxytocin chases down your brain now. Your breathing becomes heavier and more rapid, but he does not want to waste this precious time. His Highness's hand moves up to support your nape when he crashes your lips again for his tongue to explore every corner of your mouth and occasionally teases you by mischievously biting your lower lip. The other hand snakes over your hips and tightens around your waist.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you start moaning loudly into his mouth as he tilts his head to kiss you contently. After a while, the general pulls out and looks at your face with predator's eyes, which permeate earnest desire. He immediately uses his forearm to wipe the lump of documents to the right and inclines to shove your body on the table, but you timely stop him.

"We should retire to our room."

Jing Yuan's stare bores into yours, and a wide grin appears on his facade as he carries you in bridal style. The door closes with a noisy thud after entering your shared room. You both fall onto the mattress, and he continues what was interrupted in the study room. You resume connecting through a hectic kiss while his hands take time as they grope your litheness to admire every curve, slowly unraveling your bodice. Once your breasts reveal to him, he takes one of your nipples and gently squeezes it. Dark bruises start forming when the general drags his wet kiss down your collarbone.

"It took you 300 years to fall in love with me, hm? Such a procrastinator."

He finally stops and cages you between his strong arms with fierce passion in his gaze. A husky voice infuses with playfulness when Jing Yuan opens his words. You give him a small smile before cupping his cheek affectionately.

"Pardon for my tardiness. Now I'm here to pay for my debt."

"You're quite right. But what if this is not enough?" He teasingly asks while molding your breast.

"My lord is so greedy, isn't he? Then, I guess I will use my lifetime to stay by his side."

The Arbitary-General seems satisfied with your promise as he leans to kiss your lips again. Pink blushes dust on your cheekbones as the ghost of his hand caresses your lower belly, making chill drive along your spine and goosebumps. Once finished undressing you, Jing Yuan lowers himself to slot between your legs and sniffs your inner thigh.

"We just prelude, and you are already this wet?" - He mockingly asks when running a finger at your damp core.

"Stop teasing, or else you will gain nothing tonight!" - Your face reddens harder as you pout at his comment.

He grins widely at your embarrassment, then marks the delicate skin while slowly heading to your entrance. The avidity of shocking electricity paralyzes your body as you puff out a steamy breath when the general drags his tongue and starts eating you out. His growls become louder at the sensitivity as he looks up with a smug smile and licks you more intensely.

His hands reach up to squeeze your thighs and rub them vigorously. The moist tongue ignites the lustful blaze sleeping inside as it works tirelessly and licks up every drop of your juice until you let out a soft moan. You reach your hands out to dig into Jing Yuan's hair and slowly massage his scalp while panting hard from pleasure. He smirks when he hears your purrs and keeps sucking until you finally climaxes. You could feel the roughness against your folds, but it felt good simultaneously. When you orgasm, you grip his head tightly and dig your fingers deep into his head. Jing Yuan looks extremely hot when drool mixed with your cum rolls down his chin as the general look up to inspect your face.

"Let us go to the main course, shall we?" He slicks back his bangs and hovers above you. It is a rare sight to expose the total complexion like this when looking down with a sly smile.

"Eh? I...I thought we finished." - You were confused by his statement.

"Oh no dear, not yet. We have plenty of fun left to do before we can call this night over."

The general grins mischievously and bites your neck, causing another shudder to run through your body. The moment you witness the glowy amber orbs shining like cat eyes in the shadow, you are doomed. Therefore, being proactive is the only way to save your face. Regaining all courage, you grab his collar and kiss him deeply while striving to swap your current position.

"If so, I'm on the game too." - You breathlessly say with an unstably heaving chest.

Your request pokes his hidden interest since you have never been this bold. Jing Yuan's lip corner tucks upward with overwhelming implication, an enigmatic glint in his eyes when he concurs with you.

"But don't forget that I am right here by your side, ready to support you in any way possible."

Your hands find their ways to discard his attire clumsily

until he lies bare underneath you. A body shape epitomizes a masterpiece of the most prominent marble sculpture with exquisite collarbones and toned abs. You feel your head is fuming due to overheating as you look at him in this position. Reversely, the Abitary-General seems to enjoy your inexperience.

"I can hear the volume of your heart beating, dearie." - Jing Yuan promptly points out and tugs your hand toward his left chest. - "Like mine."

You ponder whether it was a psychological trick because the anxiety decreases as soon as you feel his rhythm. You then continue to doff the boxers and free his manhood. It erects skyward with pre cum smears on the tip and trails along with its vein. Your mind runs wild as you stroke his member a few times before adjusting the position to align your entrance with his cock. However, things do not go as smoothly as you expected when the hole refuses to swallow his length completely.

The general prefers to watch you struggle a little longer but binds to support his lady. He grasps your hips and abruptly sinks you with a quick motion. You let out a painful expression before a long moan as his member stretches your cunt out. More or less, it has been 300 years since the last time you two intimated, so it hurts when he intrudes inside, but it is not as painful as the moment he took your virginity.

Beginning at a slow pace, and you gradually speed up as soon as the sting diminishes. Your bosom bounces up and down eagerly as pleasure washes over your nervous system.

"Oh~ Not bad though!" He amusedly chuckles while watching you ride his erection enthusiastically. It is a nice view to look up at you at this time. Jing Yuan's hands travel along your thighs, then cup your ass and knead it for a while before clutching at your waist to accelerate the pace. However, the show does not last long as your stamina quickly runs out, and all you can do now is panting heavily with uneven breathing. He takes that as a time-out, and you have reached your limit.

"You should be more prudential in decision-making next time, honey."

With a fluid motion, your position swaps, and he is now smirking down mischievously as he wraps your legs around his torso. Jing Yuan assumes you have learned your lesson while he watches your reaction closely. He holds your hips and starts moving. With just a few thrusts, you begin seeing stars and moaning continuously.

"Aww...look how much you like it!" The general coos aloft with excitement, yet you cannot respond verbally because your mind is occupied now.

He starts accelerating the pace, and his tip ceaselessly brushes your G-spot. You two begin groaning loudly together when Jing Yuan hooks your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half. You have already dedicated your physical body and soul to him at the moment you scream out his name without the title. He knows for sure victory is on his side now.

The stars disappear and ascend to the other level as you see paradise accompanied by hedonistic feelings coursing through your vessels.

The way he kisses you derives from pure love, and the sustainability from squeezing your hand shows his affection. The way he pistols into you represents his lust only for nobody except you.

"Jing Yuan, I...love you." - You officially confess in a fragile voice that follows with a long moan. His eyes widen when he hears your words of devotion. He smiles widely and leans down to kiss you passionately before pulling away.

"You've finally said it."

Then, the general traces his mouth to suck one of your breasts, his tongue skillfully swirling around and teasingly biting the peaked nipple while molding the other tenderly. You are so close to the climax, and the orgasm is like a bomb that nearly bursts out. Tears of ecstasy are leaking out as you writhe under your consort. He moves back up to mount you again, holding himself up with his arms. His erection enters you ruthlessly, but it is much faster than before.

"Hold on a little longer, darling. Wanna cum with you."

It goes deeper and faster, causing you both to feel pleasure beyond belief. At full speed, Jing Yuan suddenly stops, pulls out, and releases all over your bellies. He collapses on top of you, panting heavily. After a brief silence, when breaths progressively even, you wrap arms around his muscular torso.

"O Jing Yuan legendary general, tell me, do you fear anything?"

"Fear? Nothing but losing you. But what about you? Do you have any fears?" He nuzzles into your neck and starts rubbing your shoulder.

You give him a weak giggle before answering.

"I don't fear anything either. As long as I stay by your side."

Satisfied with the answer, he stands up and takes some paper tissues to clean you up first, then himself. When finished and got hydrated, he lifted your chin by index finger.

"So there's nothing else you want to ask me? No last wish or something?"

You look confused at the inquiry as Jing Yuan gives you a saccharine smile dripping with wolfish. He leans down to whisper in your ear.

"Are you ready for the last round then?"

You are stunned by his insatiate demand when repeating his question. He does not express himself verbally, but the wicked smile and haft-lidded eyes are the answer on his behalf. Your color drains out as you desperately object to spare your life.

"Oh, come on~ You're not that tired."

He coos and caresses your cheek affectionately. When you are about to open your mouth to reject, he shoves a slim finger into your hole, making you give out your pleasure with a soft moan instead of protesting. Your chest is heaving at the stimulation while he is twirling in a circular motion inside slowly. You steel yourself to confront him as not intend to yield in this time. However, before letting you complete the sentence, the Arbitary-General inserts the other finger and starts scissoring. The "Yes, I will" written over Jing Yuan's face with a devious grin as he grips both of your wrists and places them above your head with one hand while using his thumb to stroke your clit gently. You shake your head in despair, but the general leans over to murmur at your ear.

"No, darling...~"

The low-husky voice sends shivers down and tickles against your ear. Jing Yuan picks up his fingering pace in the velvety walls to coax you to consent. Your juice starts dripping out again and taints his wrist while tears burn your eyes. The grip gets tighter as if he wants to prevent you from moving away from him, and you finally give in. A satisfied smirk he wears turns into something sinister when he lets go of your wrists and withdraws his fingers. Jing Yuan licks off the fingers coated with your liquid as if it were nectar.

Then he shoves them into your mouth. A faint salty flavor with a fruity scent hits your tastebuds. You close your eyes and suck his fingers instinctively in an erotic manner. The fingertips gently brush teeth and stroke your soft tongue while saliva drools down your chin.

"Mmmh... you sure know how to make a man happy." He chuckles softly as you eagerly take his fingers into your mouth, happily moaning as you suckle on them.

"Now shall we begin?" - He slowly takes back his hand, tenderly holds your chin while grazing the lower lip, and wipes the spit away. - "Please lie down on your stomach and keep your ass up." - He commands politely, but the man of authority leaves you no room for negotiating. Therefore, obediently complying with his word is the best option.

However, your body suddenly halts as you realize how shameful this posture is once you bend over. As if Jing Yuan has a knack for mind-reading, he effortlessly processes your thoughts and assures you that you will soon like it. He seizes your hip with fingers digging deeply into your spongy flesh and lifts your ass higher. With a strong thrust, his manhood completely sheathes into your sex and reaches the furthest point you have ever experienced. Your whole body shakes vigorously at the newfound pleasure as you grasp a handful of the bedsheet.

"AHHHH~"

The general looks down with a confident smile as he sees your reaction.

"So you like it rough? Well, fine by me!" - His voice is deep and calm when giving you another powerful thrust, causing you to moan loudly.

He continues pounding his member into your abused cunt ceaselessly and leans down to give chaste kisses on your shoulder. The "I love you." Jing Yuan says nonstop while nibbling your ear, and his steamy breath breezes behind you. Your body would collapse if he did not hold you steadily. The mundane noise of bodies colliding that echoes across the room is the lewdest sound you have ever heard. It even can easily embarrass a mature person.

His breathing becomes heavier, panting rapidly, and his grip tightens around your waist as he pierces harder and faster. Your mewls are getting louder, and he seems to enjoy hearing the melodic voice in pleasure.

He groans each time he slams against the sensitive walls. Your moans turn to whimpers and finally to screams of pleasure as you reach your climax.

"So! This spot is for you!"

The general confidently exclaims as he finds your G-spot and hits it hard. With his surprised present, You freeze for a short beat before screeching his name at the top of your lungs as loud as you can.

"Ahh... Yes.. That's right! Scream for me, solely my name."

He grins and begins to pound away at you even more violently now, making sure to touch every ounce inch of your inner walls over and over.

Your bed starts crackling at the brutal force. It must be because of its accumulated depreciation and the vibration frequency, but you hardly notice now since your senses start feeling numb. You cry and squirm at the ecstasy he gives as your consciousness gradually fades away. Before drifting into a devoid space, you mentally note that you will never seduce this fearful man again. Jing Yuan notices your current state as the moans become increasingly quiet and muffled. A twisted smile paints his face as he hears you mumble something incoherent. It sounds almost like a plea. But what could that possibly mean...?

He continues to pound away at you forcefully, giving you no mercy whatsoever and is relentless in his assault. After intercourse for three rounds a night, Jing Yuan knew precisely when your orgasm would come. He slowed down his pace as he sensed it and started thrusting sloppily. As soon as your cum releases itself automatically and streams down your thighs. The general immediately entered his manhood inside again and filled you up with his thick liquid until your womb overflowed with his earthly seeds. With that, you completely shut down from exhaustion. He groans softly when withdrawing his erection and is satisfied with how well he can please you.

After giving you essential aftercare and redressing yourselves, Jing Yuan collapses beside you. He tucks a few strands behind your ear and kisses your forehead lovingly before dozing off.

#jing yuan x fem! reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr jing yuan x reader #hsr mut #hsr fanfic #Honkai Star Rail fanfic #jing yuan smut #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #honkai star rail x you

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justblades · 1 year

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⌕ SWEET SPOT, 18+

⟢ DAY 1 OF SPECIAL 2K EVENT — where they like to mark you with their cum

⟢ CHARACTERS : blade, sampo & dan heng x afab!reader

⟢ WARNINGS : EXPLICIT, MDNI. cum play, cum eating.

blade doesn't bother asking you where he should let it out, but this fact doesn't stop him from trying out new spots which were previously your back, stomach and even in your hole. however, a particular favorite of his is when you're taking him in deep, eyes getting blurry from rapid bobbing motions and drool adorning your lips, cheeks and chin.

with his bandaged fingers clasped tightly on the nape of your neck and the other tugging on your hair, he bucks his hips forward delving deeper into your wet cavern. the slick sensation, his beads of pre cum and your drool makes an addictive concoction, as well as your sweat mixing with his from the session unraveling.

until he catches the feeling of release, he'll fuck your throat deep— making you gag on the tip of his dick hitting a sensitive spot of yours. tears welling up in your eyes, sweat trickling down your face and the remains of his strings of milky cum escaping the margins of your lips mix, a sight to behold no one but him could see. the traces of blade's orgasm left on your cupid's bow easily became his favorite spot to mark you with his cum.

amdist your protests that "you're too deep . . !", "i can't breathe!" and "wait!" which came off as muffled gibberish, blade gets aroused to hear you complain deep down. his crimson irises burn bright of lust and desire to fully break you, having you fucked dumb just from his cock hitting on your throat.

sampo adores every part of your body, oftentimes etching such view in his mind so that he can never forget no matter how much time passes. it's evident from how his viridescent eyes scrutinize every detail - he feels like cumming on the spot just from seeing you bare naked. although a tease, he easily reaches his limit and by that, he cums a lot.

his cum would reach places like your forearms, abdomen but a favorite spot of his is the plane of your chest, adorning the plush of your tits with his color and scent. as you stroke his cock while he's kneeling on top of you, aiming to ejaculate at your free mounds, gradual motions of muddy liquids come out, painting your complexion as it glistens from the golden glow lighting.

"your hands feel so good . ." he muses in between his deep breaths, arms propped on both sides of your head. you thought it would be the usual him cumming on your body but you didn't anticipate what was about to happen once he descends and gathers all his liquids in his mouth, making sure to have it all inside, not wasting a singular drop.

eyes heavy lidded, they hold a sexual desire clouded gaze with yours and a coy smile plays on his lips. in contrary to how he always acts, this time, he was slow, pressing his lips onto yours and gives you all of his hard earned climax meriting him your squirms under his control. sampo's tongue doesn't cease to perform a waltz with yours, a rhythmic pattern of twirling and tangling altogether, being smothered with his liquids both from his mouth and his dick.

dan heng's favorite place to mark you with his cum is your lower back, seeing the milky strings pooling on the sticky, sweaty surface flips his switch, granting him another erection as the liquids slowly stream onto your ass cheeks and down to your thighs, thus staining the bed sheets.

delving deeper in what he likes to do with his cum all sprawled on you, his large slender hands slowly massage your skin, adding pressure depending on the parts you find the most pleasure in. he pays attention to each of your body reaction - and once it happened, feelings of confusion become a cesspool in your mind when the male lathers all his cum on your back.

it was bizarre, but he had a reason for that as he's also a sucker for you starting to smell like his signature scent; truly a strong evidence that his soul is engrained on yours. the raven haired would always catch a whiff of your smell meshed with his, although his scent is far more pungent from the cum lathered on your body. he'd also flick his tongue on your glistening complexion, reliahing his own flavor along with your sweat.

"w-wait, i'm dirty . ." you protest and attempt to distance yourself from the man, but he stops your wrists and pin them on your sides. his breath hitches the more he gets to have a taste of your body, particularly the sweet spot of your neck. "let me lick you clean then." he says nonchalantly, still focused on suckling every nook and cranny. amidst the mewls slipping from your mouth, the noises of his tongue and lips are louder, making lewd sounds as he continues to pleasure you in more ways than one.

my masterlist !

#dan heng x reader #blade x reader #sampo x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr x reader smut #honkai star rail smut

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chimielie · 2 years

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cw: f!reader , family (mentioned) , deadly levels of fluff

“Keep your hands off me in my grandmother’s kitchen,” you frown, slapping away the offending appendages.

Atsumu lets them fall to his sides without resistance and then puts his hands right back on you, skimming over your shoulders and upper arms. It’s a marginal improvement from squeezing your waist, so you let it slide.

"We're the only ones in your gram's kitchen, though," he says, face in your neck, stubble tickling your skin. He doesn't shave the days you visit family, not since your aunts all agreed in front of you that they liked it when he looked a little rougher.

"Exactly," you mutter, twisting out of his grip to cross the room. He follows, rather like a dog. "Why aren't you out with the other uncles, playing basketball with the littles and falling asleep in lawn chairs?"

"'Cause you're in here," he says, duh. "And I don't want you to be lonely."

"Sure," you unsheathe one of the larger, nonserrated knives from its slot. "Watch out, blade coming through." He steps aside, his touch brushing across your lower back. "You didn't want me to be lonely when every other person at this party was in here too?"

"They always ask me to taste test," he shrugs. "And I got used to helpin' out. 'Samu wouldn't let me cook, so I cleaned up after his sloppy ass."

"You're not cleaning," you don't give him any ground. "You're just lurking and-and leering."

"S'not leering if you're my girl," Atsumu argues, and you have to twist your head back and peck him on the lips for being so stupid. "See? I'm right."

"Kay, Atsumu," you accede, only a nip of sarcasm in your tone. "Here, scrape off the shell."

"Is it called a shell?" He takes the pineapple you offer him, fat and golden and a lot smaller in his hands than it is in yours. "A peel? Rind?"

"Whatever," you huff. "Peel the watermelon. Pineapple. Whatever. Fuck you for getting me confused."

The knife slips a few times as he gets started (rolling his eyes and grumbling about watermelons under his breath) and you yelp, trying to stop yourself from reaching out and maybe injuring yourself. He gets the hang of it quickly, though, and he hands you the now-naked fruit, grinning like a cat presenting a dead mouse.

"Thanks, baby," you say, and kiss him on the nose. "You know how to cut it? Like, into flower shapes?"

"We just hacked it up into cubes," Atsumu shakes his head. "None of that fancy shit. Sometimes, me and them would just pass it around and take bites out."

"You scare me." You bump him with your hip. "This is how my grandfather taught me. Here, you gouge out all the eyes, in diagonal lines..."

You show him, cutting away all but a few rows of the scraggly dots. You take his hand, warm and pliant, and wrap his fingers around the knife's handle, keeping yours over his hand to guide him. He follows your movements with precision, falling silent as he concentrates.

"...And then you just slice evenly. Back and forth, with a lot of pressure. Don't tear it." He watches as you work, flower-shaped slices spreading over the cutting board.

"Pretty," he says, so low you wouldn't be able to hear it if he weren't in your ear. The plate, festively colored, you're meant to arrange the fruit on is waiting; the groaning feast table outside needs its last dessert dish. You like it in here, though, always have, and you like it double when it's quiet and warm and it's just you and Atsumu.

"Here," you say, businesslike, "taste." You pick up a piece—an ugly one—and hold it to his lips. He takes a bite. "Good?"

"Yeah," he chews and swallows. "It's sweet." You nod and take a small bite yourself, from the same piece, and he watches, hungry in a way you don't think can be satiated by your grandmother's cooking. You offer the rest of it back to him. Both your hands are dripping with pineapple juice—you never claimed to be clean in the kitchen—, and a drop slides down the side of your hand to the top of your wrist. He catches the hand that feeds him and sucks a finger into his mouth.

"Atsumu," you admonish, but it's hollow. He looks up at you, devilish eyes and sweet lips, and rolls his tongue over the digit. "Our family's outside."

"I know, I know," he releases you, running his tongue over your palm in one last lick. A shock travels all the way up your arm; you imagine you can still feel the ghost of his touch. "Hands off in the kitchen."

#shorts!#call this one the honeymoon phase #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x reader fluff #miya atsumu x reader fluff #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!! x reader fluff #hq fluff #hq!! fluff #hq x reader fluff

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lovelytsunoda · 1 year

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don't worry, darling // clement novalak

summary: clem hates it when his girlfriend is stressed. unfortunately, with finals coming up, she seems to be stressed all the time. lucky for clem, he has an idea to help her relax that he really thinks y/n is going to like.

pairing: clement novalak x female reader

warnings: sugary soft smut, but smut nonetheless. mentions of academic burnout and anxiety. clem pauses mid-makeout to ask google to put the sex playlist on. there is one (1) bridgerton joke and it made me giggle when i wrote it.

authors note: clement novalak is the definition of a golden retriever boyfriend and i will not take any criticism whatsoever. we also share a birthday which is pretty neat

the dining room table was covered in textbooks and sheets of paper as she stared at the laptop screen. she'd been at it for hours, at least an hour before clem vanished into the sim room to do his meeting with mp about the upcoming formula two season.

it was finals season, and y/n wasn't the only one feeling the stress. her head hurt from how long she had been squinting at the real estate law on her computer screen, textbook margins filled with scrawled notes in her dainty handwriting, differing pen colors to correlate to different things she needed to remember.

clement was starting to worry. since finals season had begun, y/n shrunk back into her shell, turning into the girl she was before she met clem. and the driver knew that she hadn't been happy like that.

when clem met y/n, she was a quiet, shy university freshman who kept to herself and devoted herself to her studies. which wasn't a bad thing, but she felt isolated and anxious all the time. clem helped her change that, helped bring her out of her shell, helped her become a stronger person.

he brought something to her life that she hadn't realised that she was missing.

"babe, you've been at that for three hours now." clem's voice was soft and relaxing, almost enough to pull her away from her laptop as she turned around to give the frenchman a kiss.

"the final for this class is on friday, i really need to focus on this. just half an hour more."

clement frowned "baby, that's what you said before i went into the meeting. this isn't healthy, darling."

"i know, clem. i just, i have to finish this."

as she turned back to her laptop screen, clem made the decision for her. he closed the lid on her laptop, almost catching the edge of her fingers.

"clement novalak!" she exaggerated the french. she only ever did that when she was annoyed with him.

or when she was horny.

"you need a break, y/n." he insisted, picking up the computer and holding it above his head as y/n got out of her chair, trying to get it back.

her body was pressed up against his before she gave up, her chest pressed against his, his blue eyes boring into hers.

she'd fallen in love with those eyes the minute she saw them for the first time.

"clem, give it back." she swallowed, knowing exactly what the frenchman had planned.

clement grinned, one of his hands moving to cradle her waist. “only if you promise to take a break, love.”

“would you settle for a kiss?”

“I could be persuaded.” the frenchman hummed as he leaned in close, pressing his lips to hers softly, placing the laptop back on the table so he could hold her with both hands as their lips moved in sync together.

"clem." she whined, gently pulling away from him. "i have to study."

"no, you have to take a break." clement insisted, lifting her up and placing her on the table, her arms loosely linked around his neck. "i don't like seeing you stressed like this, baby. it's not good for you." the frenchman sighed, running his thumbs over her sides.

"just one more week, clem." she sighed back. "then finals are over and it's just you and me against the world again."

"babe, taking a couple hours away from the textbooks and the screen won't kill you, and you won't fail. but you'll burn yourself out if you keep this up."

he didn't let her answer, kissing her softly instead. "just let me distract you, darling." he whispered against her skin. "we'll have some incredible sex, order takeout and then watch a stupid movie while i braid your hair, how about that?"

"actually, that's not a terrible idea." y/n hummed, kissing clem softly. "but i'm so stressed that i fear i might not be the best company."

"let me help you take your mind off it, love."

he kissed her gently, sliding his hands up underneath the sweater she was wearing. heather grey, with her university crest on the front. the frenchman pressed open-mouthed kisses to her jaw, slowly picking up the pace as he trailed the kisses from her jaw to the patch of skin behind her ear.

clement novalak was intoxicating. y/n wanted all of him, all at once. she wanted his good days and his bad, his highs and his lows. she could never have enough of him as she tried to slide towards the edge of the table, pulling herself closer and closer, arms around his body for support as he kissed her neck, his warm breath tickling her skin and drawing a gentle giggle out of her throat.

"you're beautiful, mon amour." clem rarely spoke french. all the time he had spent travelling the world had caused him to lose his accent, and now he spoke in a smooth british accent with swiss undertones.

but god did y/n love it when his french side came out.

his teeth gently sunk into the skin at the base of her neck, marking her as his. his heart skipped a beat as she exhaled, the sound bordering on a whine as her fingers sunk into his arms, her head tilted back and her lips parted like an angel.

"clement." she whined, resting her forehead against his. she was breathing heavily, her hands on either side of his neck. "bedroom. now."

"now you're speaking my language, lovie." clem laughed, scooping y/n into his arms. she laughed with him as he spun around, carrying her bridal-style to their shared bedroom.

clem flopped down on the bed, his back hitting the pillows and his lover's body cradled against his.

there was no place he would have rather been than with y/n. he loved her more than he ever thought he could love another person. she was the grumpy, and he was the sunshine. everybody thought that they clashed with each other, and that the relationship would fall apart.

they were two years strong, still continuing to prove everybody wrong.

she was fully on top of him now, devouring his lips with hers, grinding her hips against his. catching his moans between her lips as he gripped her sides, his hands warm against the cool skin peeking out from her sweater. she pulled away from him, straddling his waist as she sat up, pulling her hoodie over hear head and ruffling her hair before clem sat up, pressing gentle kisses to her collarbone and running his fingers along the lace of her cropped camisole.

she closed her eyes, sucking in a sharp breath as clem slipped his hands under the thin, white fabric, cupping her breasts in his hands over the thin padding of her bra. she involuntarily grinded against him, a gentle moan escaping both of their lips.

"can i, darling?" clem asked softly, his head cocked to the side and his brown hair ruffled and messy. "just let me make you feel good."

"only if you take yours off too." she said sweetly, picking at clem's crew-neck. "it's not too fair that i'm the only person showing skin."

"anything for my girl."

she raised her arms over her head, helping clem take her camisole off before the boy flipped them both over and he sat back on his heels, taking off his own sweater and throwing it in the vague direction of the dresser.

y/n sat up slightly, hooking her fingers through the frenchman's belt loops, trying to pull clement closer to her. he smiled, leaning over her with one arm on either side of her head.

"hang on just a second, darling." he kissed her forehead before raising his voice in the direction of the speaker sitting on the dresser. "hey google, play the playlist 'technicolor dreaming' from my spotify library."

"you're such a dork." y/n chuckled as 'powerless' by waterparks began to play softly in the background. "i love you, clement."

clement kissed her softly. "i love you too, y/n. my beautiful, brilliant, intelligent girlfriend."

the music played softly as clement kissed down her body, his hand coming to hold hers, linking her slender fingers with his as she gently arched her back, pressing up against his pleasantly warm skin.

"clem, please." she whined, finals week long forgotten as clement's soft lips neared the waistband of her jeans, arousal and anticipation pooling in her stomach.

two years later, and clem still gave her butterflies with the slightest of touches, the gentlest of kisses. he had been her first everything, and, she hoped, he'd be the person she spent the rest of her life with.

“babe,” clement mumbled, lips still affixed to her skin. “stand up for one sec.”

he got to his feet, hands in hers as he helped her to her feet, ignoring his lovers confused expression as he moved the small tray at the end of the bed that held the tv remote and the book that y/n was reading, pulling back the duvet cover and fluffing the pillows before urging her back to the bed.

“I know how much you hate making a mess of things. ‘clem, don’t drink your morning coffee in bed’, ‘clem wipe the cheeto dust off your hands before you touch the blankets’.”

his voice was so full of love and laughter, a bright smile on his face as she laughed with him, thanking him before the driver kissed her again. his hands went straight to the button on her jeans, pulling the denim down her slender legs tantalizingly slowly.

clem slowly kissed up her leg, sinking to his knees next to the bed. y/n could feel the anxiety evaporating from her body as clement danced his fingers across her skin, his lips leaving barely noticeable marks across the expanse of her inner thigh.

"clem." she moaned softly. "i need more."

"i know, darling. just lay back and relax. clear your mind completely." he smirked. "the only thing you should be thinking about his how great my tongue feels as i eat you out."

y/n laughed, running her hands down her face. "you spend too much time with marcus and felipe."

"bold of you to assume i'm not the one corrupting the two of them."

"fuck off and get on with it." she giggled, nudging the frenchman with her foot.

"as the lady wishes." clem chuckled, sliding his hands underneath the waistband of her calvins, sliding her panties down before kissing her clit softly.

"okay, lord bridgerton." she joked, laughter transitioning into a moan as clem's lips made contact with her clit, his soft hands gripping her thighs to hold her in place.

clem hummed in contentment as he flattened his tongue against her folds, the vibration causing her entire body to shiver, the frenchman urging her forwards, encouraging her to tangle her fingers in his hair and grind her body up against his face.

she threw her head back against the egyptian cotton sheets in a soft moan, which only spurred clem on as he started to move his tongue faster.

"you taste so good, beautiful. moaning nice and pretty for me as well."

"oh, clem."

"say my full name, pretty girl. i want to hear the french roll off your tongue."

"clement!" her moan came out more like a squeak as her hips bucked up against his face, the tip of his nose brushing her clit. "oh my god!"

"that's my sweet girl, are you going to come for me? come on my mouth, darling. there we go, i've got you, i've got you." the driver encouraged as y/n let go, her hands gripping his hair as her thighs clenched around him, head tilted back in ecstasy.

clem emerged from between her legs, using his discarded sweatshirt as a towel to wipe off the area around his mouth.

"babe, you're washing that yourself. that's fucking gross." y/n chuckled, sitting up to pull clement closer. "i love you." she said softly, pressing a kiss to his jaw as her fingers slipped below the waistband of his jeans.

"love you more." clem hummed, gently pushing her hands away so he could undo the belt himself. "get comfortable, baby. i'll join you in just a second."

with a contented sigh, y/n undid her bra, hanging it neatly by the straps off the knob on the nightstand drawer before leaning back and settling herself in the middle of the bed, amongst the pillows. she rolled over onto her side, watching with arousal pooling between her thighs as clement slipped out of his jeans, hard cock springing to attention. his muscular arm reaching behind the headboard to turn on the fairy lights in the dim room.

it was only then that y/n noticed the light patter of rain against the windows. when had it begun to get dark? had it been raining while she had been studying?

clem reached into the bedside drawer for a condom before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to y/n's forehead. "hi."

"hi." she giggled, a blush spreading across her cheeks as a new song began to play. many songs had played since clem decided to turn the speaker on, but this one stood out, and she found herself singing under her breath. "when did you add 'patience' to the playlist?"

"a few days ago. i heard you singing along while you did the dishes. the smile on your face and the way you swayed your hips almost made me want to take you right there."

said "woman take it slow, and it'll work itself out fine", all we need is just a little patience.

clem sang along to the chorus softly, pressing his lips to hers before climbing onto the bed, covering her body with his. "isn't this much better than looking at real estate law all afternoon?"

"i don't know." she said teasingly, giggling as she looped her arms around clem's neck. "maybe you should fuck me and i'll find out."

clement laughed, passing y/n the small foil packet. "care to do the honors? you remember what happened when i tried to open one with my teeth."

y/n burst out laughing at the memory. clem ducked under her arms to pepper her breasts with kisses as y/n found the pull tab, ripping the condom packaging open. the frenchman sat back on his heels, taking the condom from y/n and unrolling the latex sheath over his rock-hard cock.

he positioned himself over y/n, her hands coming up to grip his arms as he slipped inside of her, his lips hovering over hers as her mouth made a perfect 'o', a silent moan.

clem leaned down to capture her lips in a kiss, thrusting deeper as he wrapped her legs around his body. "god, you're beautiful."

she moaned, head thrown back against pillows as she bucked her hips against his, desperately pulling him closer. she craved intimacy, needed to constantly know that she was loved, and from the first night that they spent together, clement had never failed to make her feel like the most stunning, smart woman on the planet.

"oh, clem." she moaned, needy and worked up over the glacial pace that clement was thrusting at. "faster, faster."

"what was that, my love?" clement smirked. "you want me to go faster? is my hard cock sliding in and out of you like this not enough to distract you?"

"clement."

"just focus on me, lovie." he said softly before picking up the pace, barely holding back his own moans after hearing y/n moan and whine underneath him, her fingers tangled in his hair. "doesn't that feel good, baby?"

"yes, clem, oh fuck-" she sucked in a breath, arching her back and pressing her chest up against his as he dipped his head down to pepper her neck in kisses.

clement kept up his relentless pace, nothing on his mind except the beautiful young woman underneath him, and his undying love and care for her. he would never tell anybody, but he thought she was most stunning like this. not in the sexual sense, but in the sense that her mind was clear and empty: nothing for her to stress about or worry about. she was truly relaxed, face contorted in pleasure, hair splayed out against the mauve sheets.

clem blindly reached for her hand, fingers lanced together as he moaned down her ear. "you feel incredible, darling." he breathed out, voice raspy before he gently kissed and nibbled at her earlobe.

y/n smiled, turning her head to kiss clement softly, a smile quickly forming on his own face.

"i love you." they both said it at the same time, although y/n more so moaned it, gripping her lover's hand tightly as she felt her walls begin to contract around clem's cock.

"baby..." she breathed before her body was seized by another moan. "i-i think i'm gonna come."

clement snapped to attention, snapping his hips against hers to try and coax her closer to her orgasm. "come on, darling. are you going to give me another orgasm tonight, honey? just let go, focus on how good it feels to have my cock inside you. to not think about anything else. to be fully relaxed with me."

"oh, clem." she moaned, reaching her peak as she gripped clem's biceps, surely leaving marks from her nails behind in his skin.

"that's it, my sweet one. that's it." clem breathed, his forehead resting against hers. "i think you're gonna make me come, darling." he laughed slightly before kissing y/n's forehead, his hips stuttering as he came with a moan that rattled his entire body, stealing every last drop of energy he had as he dropped down next to his lover on the bed.

"so," he laughed, still trying to get his breath back. "are you still worried about finals?"

"not any more." she smiled, kissing him softly.

they laid together in the afterglow for a little while longer before they both got up, half-dressing in comfortable clothes before settling back into the bed, duvet pulled over them as clem reached for the tv remote and y/n scrolled through netflix on her phone.

"babe, what do you want to watch?"

"something that requires little to no attention." clem responded with a laugh, pulling y/n closer to him and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "something with adam sandler in it, maybe?"

y/n pressed a few buttons, the opening credits to 'blended' playing on the screen as she rested her head on clement's shoulder, letting out a contented sigh as she allowed herself to fully relax with him, her real estate final long forgotten.

it was just her and clement, curled up in bed, watching a movie and enjoying each other's company.

#clement novalak #clement novalak x reader #formula 2 x reader #formula 2 #clement novalak imagine #formula 2 smut #clement novalak smut #okay lord bridgerton has to be my favourite line in this entire fic #i want a clem is that too much to ask for

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