#WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MAKE ME LIVE THROUGH SEEING AN ASK RESPONSE LAST NIGHT

[ciaonicole85]

Neighbor Series: Ch. 4 Part 2

A Delicate Ecosystem

Part 2: Carmen is obviously down bad, but does Sydney feel as deeply? Is her career or love most important?

I think this might be the last in this series.

The rest of the day and night went smoothly. Sydney tried to dismiss that stupid conversation with Richie from her mind. Carmy was the same as ever. She supposed he didn't have "the talk" with him. Typical that Rich thought it was her responsibility to control the actions of a grown man.

The next day Sydney walked past Marcus and Fak huddled in conversation and thought she heard her name. She shrugged it off, put away her stuff in her locker and joined them.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt. Marcus can we talk for minute?"

Fak who usually had something quirky to say, just waved at her and scuddled away.

"Yeah, anything wrong?" Marcus asked with an odd, no an irritated look, on his face.

"Well, yes. Our bread supplier isn't going to come through for the rest of the week. A death in the family. Carmy wanted me let you know that we'll have to make it in-house today, but we have a backup ready for tommorrow."

"Got it."

"Okay, let me know if you need anything."

"I said I got it."

Sydney was thrown off by his tone. Yes, Marcus had asked her out several months ago and it was weird for that night. Afterwards, they'd moved on and were back on good terms. She racked her brain trying to think if she'd done or said something recently to offend him.

"Um, is there a problem?"

"Nope."

Marcus's face was now unreadable and he walked away to his station. It was eerie, but Sydney had many other things to do so she shelved it for now.

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The following day Carmy stood behind the restaurant for a his "smoke" break right before nightly service. He quit cigarettes a shortly after The Bear opened because he had caught pneumonia and missed two days of work. His doctor told him that she'd seen a lot of pneumonia cases in her elderly and smoking patients that season. So now he chewed Nicorette and pretended that it was just as satisfying. While he stood there enjoying the solitude, Anna, a new hostess came out and began smoking her vape pen. She had a one of those warm, generic voices that was perfect for customer service, but she could instantly switch to a cloying Kardashian-esque accent. She used it whenever she could talk to Carmy alone. However, today she didn't immediately begin speaking when she saw him. He decided to not waste the chance to escape. Just as he was about to go back in Anna spoke up.

"So…do you like know of any nice apartments around here?"

Carmy was facing the door so he could roll his eyes, without her seeing. Then he turned around trying to look neutral.

"Uh, no. Well, I like mine. It's 10 minutes from here, but there's almost never anything available."

"Oh, really? Didn't Sydney just get a place there? Or did she move in with you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, I just thought I heard like you were maybe together?"

Anna kept her voice light, but she seemed nervous. One hand was gripping her vape pen and the other was twirling her long brown hair.

"No, we don't live together. What does that have to do with you finding an apartment?"

"No? Well, I didn't think so. Sydney is great and all, but she's…like you could like date anyone here, you know?" Anna replied choosing to ignore his question.

Carmen couldn't believe he was having this conversation. This time he couldn't help rolling his eyes in her face. The unmitigated gall of this women to talk about Sydney and to approach her employer in this manner.

"Anna, my dating life is not up for discussion."

Carmen wanted to say more, but he knew that it would be best to discuss it with Natalie first. She came from corporate America and knew the proper HR way of dealing this stuff.

"Oh, oh yeah. Like, okay. Um, I better get back" Anna stammered, blushing and darted through the door.

That night Carmy was on alert. It was one minor incident, but he had to suppress his compulsion to spiral with doubt and worry that Sydney would be hurt because of him. He hadn't really thought much about how others might view their potential relationship. He probably blocked it out because there was already so much to worry about. Also, their kitchen "mind-meld" flow was getting better all the time. It was exhilarating how they had become more and more attuned with one another during service. Often while working side by side they would hand each other the very thing they needed without even having to speak, much less look at each other. They could plate a dish together faster than a pit crew could replace a tire. With a glance Carmy knew when Sydney needed a break on their most insane evenings. He'd just squeeze her shoulder and she'd move so he could take over for a quick five. He did the same for others though.

However, what happened the other night might have raised some eyebrows. He was asked to greet a congressperson who was dining there and he beckoned for Sydney to join him. Before they went out he grabbed a towel to pat her dewy forehead, retied her chef's coat and smoothed it down like he was her personal valet. This was in front of the entire kitchen. He hadn't meant to do anything that would make Sydney a target. His intention was to support her, not romance her at work. Of' course there were slip ups. He just hoped the conversation with Anna was a one-off. To be on the safe side during service he tried not to do anything extra with her besides their usual telepathic routine. Sydney followed his lead avoiding making unnecessary remarks or touching him.

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Later he walked her home. They were silent at first, their stride in perfect harmony.

Carmy cleared his throat.

"Sydney, has anyone been treating you differently?"

Sydney paused in surprise for a second, but then she answered "Am I that easy to read?"

Carmen was now very concerned.

"No, it's just that I had a weird conversation before service with one of the front staff."

"Was it about us?"

"Yeah, has anyone said anything to you?"

"Yes, Richie did. A couple others are just being a little icy this week. It's no big deal."

Carmen took her hand in his, intertwining their fingers.

"What did Richie say?"

"Oh, Mr. Richard had a speech. He wanted to make sure I kept the "shop" closed until you and Nat could pay back Cicero. He's afraid I'll mess up the ecosystem. "

Carmy's froze for a second, then he blushed scarlet from the mention of him getting anywhere near Sydney's "shop" and from Richie's audacity to address Syd instead of him.

She continued.

"At the time I thought he was just being Richie. Now, I don't know. I don't want to mess anything up for you, for us. The Bear is so new and we are on track to paying off the debt and maybe even getting a star."

"Sydney. We make an excellent team and nothing that we've done or will do together outside of The Bear will change it. I promise you, that I won't let it change. Your dreams are first priority."

"So are yours, Carmy."

Carmy's focused on his breathe for a moment, his heart pounding in his ears. His dream was doing this with HER. He meant it when he said he wouldn't even want to do it without her. Each day together wove a new thread from his heart to hers, but he wouldn't force it on her.

"Sydney, I like you. More than anyone I've ever…."

He stopped unsure if she was ready to hear how deep his feelings ran.

"But I understand if you want me to back off. Whatever you decide I will talk to them and fix this. You deserve nothing but respect."

They reached the front of their building and Sydney turned to face him. He was visibly trembling. Tenderness for him surged from her heart. Carmen was the most sincere man she'd ever met. He couldn't fake happiness, indifference, or confidence unless that was how he truly felt. Past the anxiety, occasional moodiness, and temper, at his core she saw someone who desperately desired to serve and to be understood.

He stood there defenseless.

She put a hand over his heart as if to speak to it.

"No, don't back off. I don't care what any of them think as long as we're good."

Carmy breathed again, took her hand in his and kissed her palm, nuzzling it against his cheek.

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Sydney lay in bed that night thinking. She knew down to her bones that her foundation was stronger than his. It was not due to any fault of his own. Her home had been filled with safety and love. It was her nature to be a perfectionist, but even when she failed she knew that she had intrinsic value as a person. What she lacked that Carmen had was the courage to be vulnerable. He was open to her about Mikey within the first few weeks of their meeting despite not knowing how she would respond. This and his consistent effort to know her, drew her in despite the chaos of early days at The Beef. She knew that he would actually listen and give her an opportunity to grow. There was another intangible factor, which scared and thrilled Sydney. When she often found him gazing at her, there was a feeling that he was not only moved by her beauty, but for who she was. It reminded of her of how her father looked at her mom, even when she was sick. It was one of her few memories that hadn't faded. She also knew there were no strings attached when he promoted her to CDC, but her heart demanded more with each passing day. She wanted to be Carmen's refuge and release in every way. This knowing was overwhelming and she was grateful that he moved slowly despite the hunger in his eyes.

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The next day Natalie was working on-site when Carmen came into her office and closed the door.

"Hey Carm, how are you?"

"I'm good. Sorry, I didn't respond to your text last night. Baby PJ looked very cute in his White Sox outfit"

"Well, at least send a smiley face or something! But what's up?"

"So, I don't know if you've noticed but I'm interested in someone who works here."

"Oh, bro I know…so are you and Sydney official?"

Carmy brushed his hair back with his fingers and shook his head.

"Were you never going to say anything?" he asked.

"The best thing a sister can do is stay out of it. It's brothers who get involved with their sister's romantic choices. Thank God, you couldn't run off Pete."

"Okay. No, we're not rushing into anything. So far, she allows me to walk her to and from work. And we talk everyday."

Natalie clutched her chest and sank down further into her chair.

"She allows you to…I CAN'T! I had no idea my baby brother was this sweet!"

"SUGAR, the point of me bringing this up is that some of the staff have been going behind my back to talk to her, icing her out, and there's been a rumor that we live together. I won't have it! Anyways, I figure you know the corporate way to handle it."

"Okay, we were going to discuss health insurance options for the next enrollment period during family service, but I can slide in a talk about relational professionalism."

"Thank you."

Natalie sighed and squeezed Carmy's hand.

"She allows you to walk with her! Oh, Pete is going to melt."

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For old time's sake Sydney prepared Mikey's spaghetti recipe for family service. Carmy saved her a seat and she sat down next to him feeling Anna's bitter glances and Richie's disapproval. Marcus ignored them. As they ate Natalie gave the insurance presentation and then her politically correct professionalism talk. She took care to make it not obviously about Sydney and Carm. When she was done and people started to file out, Carmen asked for the original Beef staff to remain behind. They took their seats again looking intrigued.

He moved to stand at the head of the table.

"Alright, great…Okay. So I asked Natalie to give that talk. And thank you Nat, but I have something I need to say. too"

"So, You've all been here a long time. Before I came you already had each other's backs and then I took over. It was an adjustment. Then Sydney came and I had a partner from my world. There more changes but somehow we found a way to work together. Then we found the money and we started this. You all choosing to stay and gain new skills, means so much me and I know it does to you too.

The Bear is a special place because it's a family business. And not just because of Natalie and I, but it's all of you too. The thing is we got to have each other's backs. It's not enough to to get through service, get the reviews, a star, whatever, but we got to respect each other. You know that without Sydney and Natalie giving it everything they had during the reno, none of this would have happened. Where we're sitting would be a parking lot or a Dunkin's. Anyways, I'm disappointed that some in here saw everything Sydney did to help get us here and they're giving her crap because I like her. In HERE I respect all of you, everyone is paid fairly, given opportunities, and I care about you…your lives. She didn't do anything, but her job and she deserves your respect. Out THERE I hope to spend as much time with her as she'll let me. But in HERE we're a business and we're a family.

The silence was palpable. Sydney's eyes never left Carmy's face while he spoke and when he took the courage to meet them, he saw admiration there and her beautiful smile.

Tina broke the heavy mood.

"So, Jeff. Are y'all together? Are we what they a call a "mom and pop" now?"

Carmy grinned, still looking at Sydney.

"I'm working on it."

#the bear #sydcarmy #sydney x carmy #sydney adamu #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy x sydney #carmy berzatto #fan fiction #syd adamu #syd x carmen #syd x carmy #mushy stuff #fan fic

[tojisbbg]

𝙞 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙗𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨

❝secrets i have held in my heart, are harder to hide than i thought; maybe i just wanna be yours.❞  

♡ gojo satoru ♡

a/n: writing another gojo smut since the last one i wrote of him flopped. 😞💔

reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated <3

(also, a lot of you have been dming me and it's honestly so sweet, shoot me a message anytime :D)

content: gojo satoru x fem!reader, reader is extremely horny lol (hypersexual??), sassy gojo (he's a little dick sometimes), fluff, smut, best friends to lovers, not edited.

...

"well, you look like shit." gojo snorted, entering your dorm room as you woke up from your short-lived night's sleep. you let out a yawn, doing that weird whole body shaking thing before sitting up; rubbing your eyes to see your best friend more clearly.

he looked equally worse as you, dark eye bags, chapped lips, arms crossed over his chest along with a scowl painted on his lips.

"thanks, you don't look any less shitty yourself." you snickered, leaning against the headboard as you watched him roll his eyes before making his way towards your bed; sitting on the edge.

"i wonder why." the white haired male grumbled, a small glare thrown at your direction.

"hmm? i don't know what you're talking about." you innocently batted your eyes, making him narrow his eyes.

"i would've been done studying by two in the morning if you would've stopped blowing up my phone every two seconds about how roughly fucking me would help you memorize the formulas better." gojo complained, making you bite back a laugh.

"well, you could've just go on dnd or block me." you shrugged, indirectly calling him a dumbass.

"you threatened to kill yourself if i did that."

"oh."

"anyways, what time did you stop studying and hit the lights?" gojo changed the topic, examining your tired face.

"i don't know, i think five-thirty?" you tried to think hard, but, recently all these nights where you pulled all-nighters have been a blur.

"not bad, i slept around that time too." he sighed, rubbing his temples while wincing in pain.

"hurts?" you asked, hearing him hum in response.

"yeah, i took painkillers before getting here but it's not really helping." gojo groaned before looking at you through half-lidded eyes, his words making you pout.

"well, i can't really help you with that. but, i can offer you some mind-blowing head instead." a smirk tugged on your lips as you threw a wink at him, making gojo look at you with an unamused look.

"this fucking early in the morning too? god, it's barely seven in the morning." he stared at you in disbelief, making you chuckle.

"jeez, i'm kidding. no need to act like you got a stick up your ass all the time." you stretched, while gojo scrolled on his phone through social media along with his emails.

"you gonna do final revisions on the way to campus?" he asked you with curious eyes, making you let out a hysteric laugh.

"fuck no, i stayed up till five something reading and writing notes until my fingers went numb. i couldn't even fuck myself to sleep because of the pain." you casually answered, making gojo's nose scrunch up in distaste.

"fucking hell, y/n, you're filthy." gojo commented, making you laugh before you crawled towards him, sitting on his lap as you pinched his cheeks.

"but you love me." you cooed, squishing his cheeks into a pout as he let you. gojo's arms instinctively were wrapped around your waist to make sure that you don't fall and crack your head open.

"unfortunately." he sighed.

this is how it has always been for you and gojo, his inevitable torture starting from when you both were in diapers. both of your families were extremely close, your mother being high school besties with his mom.

of course, both women decided to continue this legacy by making sure that their children grew up together. so, you've been stuck to gojo by the hip.

gojo's family was extremely wealthy, like filthy rich. his father owned one of the biggest company in all of japan. your parents, however, owned a humble sushi place in kyoto.

nonetheless, gojo never looked down on you or treated you like you were some ant that could be stepped on. he was like your protective shadow, scolding you when you acted out, being there to comfort you when you were down or struggling, and he dealt with all your stupid jokes.

as you both grew older, puberty hit like a truck.

no, not even a truck; like a fucking tsunami.

your body matured and your hormones went absolutely wild. you don't know what the hell happened, but you craved for sexual pleasure so often. after discovering the magic of masturbation, you did the act almost religiously.

your jokes were pure filth, full of suggestive language. it was like the only thing that circled your mind was dick, dick, dick, sex, sex, cum, cum.

no, quite literally.

you were horny almost 24/7 for some unknown reason.

oh, and you were still a virgin. yeah, shocking.

your situation wasn't helped after realizing how fucking hot your best friend became either. gojo began to hit the gym, basically turning into a gym rat in high school as you accompanied him after school every day before heading home together. he became beefy and so fucking tall, nearly 6'4ft.

no wonder why girls in high school chased him like he was the jackpot. well, they still do now that you both attended college.

though he was a pretty face, gojo was smart as hell. well, the both of you are; it was kinda like a mutual academic rivalry you both had. of course, it was all for shits and giggles.

he was a math nerd, meanwhile, you hated the subject with a burning passion. you liked english better, as your reading and writing skills were beyond talented. so, you and gojo made a fair deal, he'd help you with your math homework while you'd help him with english.

sometimes you both would do each others homework when it was time to cram study for other subjects. the subject you both have a common liking towards was science.

people sometimes mistakenly thought that you and the snow haired male were a couple. the truth is, you both were just super close best friends. gojo got used to your dirty jokes and remarks, no longer affected by them, as it was like common language for him now.

"can you eat the damn banana like a normal person for once?"

"why? you wish i was deepthroating the banana in your pants instead?"

"y/n, which outfit looks better? the first or second one?"

"neither, stay naked and let me smash, pleaseee."

"oh my god!! you look so handsome satoru, i'm literally gonna cum on your face."

"look at you wearing that tight black compression shirt, you slut!"

"put on a shirt and cover those tits before i suck them, toru!"

"y/n, i'm at that one plushie store downtown and there's like a bunch of sanrio shit. imma get that one hello kitty headband you were looking last night for you."

"oh my god?? hello, what the fuck, i'm literally gonna let you say hello to my kitty, toru. ugh, i love you so much."

"do you need help on doing your sit-ups? i could hold your legs down."

"yeah, but don't come too close or else my pussy is gonna start pulsating your name in morse code."

"i don't know what to get you for christmas, y/n."

"how about you lathered up in coconut oil and wrapped in a cute pink coqutte bow under my tree?"

"you horny fuck, oh my god."

"you idiot! i don't care if they taste bad, i told you to suck on those cough drops to help you soothe your throat."

"but i'd rather suck your balls, satoru."

"for the love of god, seek therapy."

"sex therapy with you?"

"you gonna stay on me forever or get ready for class before we're late for our last final exam?" gojo playfully pinched your side, making you yelp as you rubbed the site.

"jerk, i was thinking about how this is the perfect position for me to cockwarm you." you said, earning a flick to the forehead.

"you got ten minutes or i'm leaving you." gojo ignored your whines, standing up with you still clung onto him like a koala.

"satoruuu, i don't wanna go! they're gonna brutally torture me for the next hour based on organic chemistry." you dramatically cried into the crook of his neck.

"the school is gonna kick us out if we don't take this exam, y/n. it's worth like sixty-five percent of our final semester grade. besides, we both studied hard for this. you'll be okay." he rubbed your back comfortingly, making you pull away with a huff.

"you have enough money to buy the entire university, satoru."

"my dad is gonna burn me alive, y/n."

"okay, fine! i have a better solution. how about we start an onlyfans? you know, we both could occasionally do solos or you know... fuck each other too! like-"

"no."

"satoru!! hear me out." you tried to reason, but gojo knew it was all bluffing and you just wanted to stall. so, he forced you down from his hold, making you stand on your feet as you looked at him with a glare.

"ten minutes, you big baby." gojo said before leaving your room.

---

it felt like you just survived a war, coming back home with nothing but trauma written all over your face.

what the fuck was that exam?

all those hours of studying this entire week, sleepless nights, missing meals... all gone to waste?

you punched in your lock combination on the small keypad outside your dorm room, hearing the small beep as the door unlocked. with a twist of the knob, you opened the door and entered. you saw the familiar pair of shoes by your door, not paying much mind to it as you kicked your own shoes off to the side.

you saw gojo leisurely laying on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through his phone.

"when did you get here? the exam didn't start until eight." you asked, your voice barely audible from how exhausted you were, physically and mentally.

"like fifteen minutes ago. my proctor started the exam like twenty minutes early by accident, since the clock in that room was broken." he explained, making you nod your head as you walked to the couch.

you tapped his long legs, ushering him to bend them so that you had space to sit. a moment of silence graced the atmosphere, neither of you uttering a single word.

"it was shit." you both blurted out at the same time, looking at each other with equal shock.

"you too?!"

"fuck yeah. i mean like, what kind of formulas were those?!"

"i know right?? it was like another language, completely different from the review packets."

"man, i should've just given up and fucked myself to sleep. at least, i'd get some good sleep."

"bro, you and fucking yourself. one night without having your fingers inside your pussy won't kill you." gojo sat up, shaking his head in disbelief that your concern was something so ridiculous.

"uh, yeah it will since you're clearly depriving me of your dick." you retorted, making him roll his eyes.

"whatever. what are you gonna do now?" he asked, leaning towards the small table to grab his water bottle, opening it to take a sip.

"have rough kinky sex with you." the words casually flew out of your mouth, catching the snowy haired male off guard as he choked on his water.

"i'm being serious!" he said in between his coughs, watching your laugh at his reaction.

"i'm gonna sleep, what else, idiot? i need my brain to rest and recover from all that trauma. besides, we do this every time when it's finals season, satoru. you got amnesia or something?" you joked, patting his back to help him stop coughing.

"sorry, my brain is malfunctioning. my dorm or yours?" gojo asked after clearing his throat.

"since you're already here, let's sleep in mine. i'm gonna go change into something more comfortable. if you wanna change out of those, there's a spare pair of your sweats and t-shirt in my closet." you informed him, making him nod as you both got up and headed towards your bedroom. you grabbed your clothes and headed into the bathroom to freshen up and change into them, giving up your bedroom to have gojo change.

after finishing up, you walked back into your room, seeing gojo already inside your bed; looking like he was half dead. you snorted, walking over to the other side before placing yourself on the empty spot.

"don't hog the blanket, or else i'll kill you."

"no promises."

with that being said, you scooted closer to gojo, in need of feeling his body's warmth against you. it wasn't anything new, this was sort of a tradition you guys did after finals week was over. you both slept for hours together.

you threw your legs over his waist, tugging onto gojo's shirt as he laid down while facing the ceiling.

"hold me, 'toru." you mumbled, your movements slightly bringing him back to life. gojo groaned in annoyance, turning his body to now face you as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

"better?" he spoke into your hair, which was slightly tickling his nose. you nodded your head, your cheek pressed against his chest as you inhaled his scent.

gojo always smelled sweet with a mixture of expensive cologne.

a few minutes passed, and you could hear his heartbeat slowing down, indicating that he was falling asleep.

"hey, you awake?" you poked his cheek, making his eyebrows furrow.

"no." gojo murmured, eyes still closed.

"you know, satoru, if you jerk off before going to sleep then your sleep is gonna be like ten times better. science says it helps release stress and improves blood flow. if you want, i can jerk-"

"go to sleep, y/n." gojo sternly cut you off along with your wonderful visual of how you'd jerk him off, giving your thigh a light smack before resting his hand there. you let out a small whine, playfully biting his cheek.

you saw gojo's eyes scrunch, making you sigh.

"sorry." you mumbled to yourself, as gojo most likely didn't hear you since it seemed like he was already asleep. you pressed a small kiss on the spot you bit before snuggling into his neck. your arms and legs tightly wrapped around his body, fingers finding home between his snowy locks.

"it's okay." was the last thing you heard before you were no longer able to resist sleep.

---

gojo stirred in his sleep, mumbling incoherent words as he felt the constant buzzing noise vibrating on the bed. he painfully opened one eye, half-lidded, as he realized you were still tightly tucked way in his arms. you snored softly against his chest, lips pouted, making him tempted to kiss you.

the snow hair male tried to find the source of the buzzing sound, grabbing a hold of his phone only to see that his phone was dead. gojo's eyebrows furrowed in confusion 'cause then what the hell is it?

his eyes landed on your phone which was shoved under your back and gojo momentarily saw your screen flicker open. bingo! it was your phone that was annoyingly going off.

gojo grabbed your phone, deciding to silence it for you, even though you were passed out like you're dead; so you most likely didn't hear it anyways. but, he was a light sleeper and your stupid phone was keeping him awake.

as the screen flickered open again, gojo saw that you had well over a thousand notifications. his eyes widened, you were never the type to be social. of course, you weren't a loner or something of that sort; you had friends whom were also gojo's friends.

but, the both of you kept your friend groups small and restricted so avoid any unnecessary drama.

"tumblr?" gojo mumbled under his breath, knowing that it wasn't his place to snoop around. but, he couldn't help but feel a little jealous. the notifications were all indicating that people hearted a post you made along with commenting hearts and all that shit.

a weird feeling bubbled inside him, something in between the lines of possessiveness and anger.

so, he decided to investigate, knowing that it was wrong but he couldn't help himself. it was convenient that his face id was added onto your phone, just like how yours was added onto his. after unlocking your phone, he found the tumblr app.

at first, gojo thought it was a dating website as it sounded very familiar to tinder. but, he would soon be proven wrong as he saw a feed full of different blogs and writing.

gojo's curiosity ran wild, silently exploring the new waters he was introduced to. he clicked on your notifications list which was flooded with heart and comments.

not any comments, but horrendously down bad thirsty comments.

sanemiswh0re: ahhh author!! i'm literally running laps, this was so good!

localbbg: this was pure filth and i loved every word of it!

cherrytones: hello?? i need a toru in my life! a tear just ran down my thigh.

yourhotgf: bro wtf, white haired men 🔛🔝 of me!! toru with that big dick energy?? lord, i need him in me so bad.

gojo's eyes widened at the comments while he scrolled. toru? it's a silly little nickname you've been calling him ever since you were kids. since when did you write stories? and... they were about him too?

he clicked on one of the comments which led him to said story, making him smirk as the naughty photo used in the border was enough to give him an idea. gojo settled in bed comfortable, with you still wrapped around him, without a fucking clue of what that menace just found.

"jesus.." gojo breathed out in shock, reading the pure filth you wrote of him and the 'y/n' used in the story, but he assumed that she was based off of you. it was no use denying it, the male character toru resembled too much of his personality and the female character y/n resembled you a lot too.

he wasn't even halfway done yet, but it seemed like you wrote an entire hour long porn script. your writing was so descriptive, describing the sex scenes in such a pornographic yet sensual way. gojo would be lying if he said it didn't make his heart flutter and cock throb.

were your fantasies of him always this dirty?

did you always want to be manhandled by him? praised and teased? being slutted out? a mix of a gentle dom that was a little witty?

god, where did you hide all of this?

of course, you were never ashamed of your vulgar comments and jokes that you threw at him. but, gojo always brushed them off because he grew accustomed to it. however, this was completely new to him.

your smutty writing of him and you made him feel hot and bothered. he knew you were dirty, but not this dirty.

you began to wiggle in his arms, stirring awake as you made a few groaning sounds.

"hmm, time... toru." you groggily asked, eyes still shut as you waited for a response.

"it's 8:23." gojo replied, still not bothered to place your phone back to where he found it. instead, he continued to surf through your dashboard to which he found more of these smut of him.

"why are you awake so soon?" you yawned, cracking an eye open only to wince from the sudden light exposure.

"had a leg cramp." he lied, making you grimace.

"ouch, you should've waken me up then." you commented, your hand find his as you played with his really long and thick fingers. it was a habit to toy around with the rings that wrapped around them.

"you looked too peaceful to disturb. besides, i found something to read in order to kill time." gojo boldly said, making you hum in amusement.

"oh? and since when have you been a bookworm? please, do enlighten me." you teased, making him chuckle. a smirk etched onto his lips, trying to collect his words before attempting to send you into cardiac arrest.

"it's actually very interesting, i have to say. i never thought i'd be into erotic romance." he started out, and the very unexpected words leaving his mouth made your heart pound inside your chest.

he was reading that shit besides you and you had no clue?

"jeez, and you call me a horny dog?" you scoffed.

"well, maybe it's torusluvr who's the real horny dog." he dropped the bomb, making your heart stop it's usual cardiac rhythm as you heard your tumblr account's username. you shot awake from bed, eyes meeting his playful ones as the color drained from you face.

"what? how did you-" you were a stammering and confusing mess, searching for your phone until you looked at his hand.

"looking for this?" gojo waved your phone, the screen on full blast lighting and filled with words of nothing but sex.

"give me my phone back, satoru." you panicked, trying to grab your phone from his grasp. but, gojo's body structure was stronger, bulkier and taller than yours; so you struggled.

however, gojo took your struggle as a form of amusement. he noticed how your face was covered in a blush from being caught red-handed, movements so shaky and alarmed.

it was kind of cute.

"nuh uh." gojo suddenly tossed your phone to the side before grabbing both of your hands. a yelp escaped from your lips as you were pinned to the bed in mere seconds, gojo's body hovering above yours as he slotted himself between your legs.

you gulped nervously, your cheeks growing warmer as it suddenly felt too embarrassing to look at gojo in the eyes. you were a mere ant compared to his body, his stature standing at six feet four inches, and his body was beefy as hell yet so soft to the touch.

"does this turn you on, y/n? hm? being manhandled by someone who's twice your size." the white haired male teased, his husky voice due to his previous slumber sent heat waves to your cunt.

"satoru-"

your words were cut short as gojo leaned closer to you, grinding his hard on against your throbbing cunt, making you gasp.

"satoru? what happened to toru?" he whispered, shoving his face into the crook of your neck, taking a minute to inhale the scent of your perfume which has been permanently engraved into his senses and brain.

"stop joking around, we're friends... best friends." you tried to reason, watching his eyes darken.

"oh? and do all best friends write porn worthy shit about each other?" gojo snickered, pressing soft kisses along your jaw. your throat went dry, words getting stuck.

"i guess we can't be best friends anymore 'cause i wanna recreate all that shit that i read— with you." a smirk tugged on his lips and before you could even process what the hell was about to go down, you let out a small whimper after feeling him bite down on your collarbone before peppering soft kisses on the abused skin afterwards.

"toru... please." you desperately begged, needing some kind of friction between you and him to relieve the ache between your thighs.

"i bet if i touch that cute little pussy of yours, my fingers are gonna come out glossy wet, yeah? should we test it out, y/n?" gojo continued to pester you with his teasing remarks, making you blush further at them as you were to embarrassed to have him find out about the wet patch that was created on your panties by now.

you shyly nodded but this wasn't enough for gojo to take for an answer. you felt a small pinch on the plush flesh of your thigh, making you wince.

"use your words, y/n. you didn't shy out when you were right all that stuff about me and you." he scoffed, making you whine in embarrassment.

"touch me, toru... i need to feel your fingers." your voice was meek, throat getting dry as you desperately bucked your hips upwards. gojo cocked an eyebrow, watching your body squirm underneath him in amusement.

"so needy." gojo laughed, rubbing your thighs before giving it a small squeeze. your body grew warm and your face flushed red from his touch. you've fantasized about this moment for so long and now it was finally happening.

gojo's fingers hooked on the waistband of your shorts about to pull them down until your hand came down to stop his movement. he was a little confused and felt a little guilty because he didn't know if he was moving too fast for you or made you uncomfortable.

"you okay?" gojo asked with genuine concern washed on his face. you bit down on your lips, averting your gaze from his.

"i'm not wearing any lace and my panties aren't even matching with my bra." you said in a little panicked voice. gojo was a handsome jerk and this most definitely wasn't his first time sleeping with someone.

you saw his hookups, they were always the prettiest of the prettiest girls. they looked like polished gems, wearing fancy feminine clothes in contrast with your hobo looking outfits, hair and nails were always done... they were like runway models.

you couldn't help but feel a little insecure. you knew that satoru was different, but that small part of you still felt like perhaps this was still some kind of cruel joke the universe was playing on you.

the books you read always gave the female lead a perfect body free of blemishes, wearing expensive and sexy matching undergarments and so much more.

while here you are with unmatched undergarments, a completely inexperienced virgin who only knew how to shamelessly masturbate to find relief while fantasizing about her best friend.

"hm? so what? they're coming off anyways, princess." gojo reasurred you with a soft smile, leaning in to press a soft kiss on your lips. without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around his neck, indulging in the sweet taste of his lips. he used the strawberry carmex lipbalm religiously.

the kiss was slightly messy, as you were still a little inexperienced in this area as well. you can't remember the last time you last made out with someone, so your teeth clashed with his here and there. but, gojo never complained, he drank in your mistakes and guided you with the fluid movement of his lips and tongue.

the white haired male gave your bottom lip a gentle bite, one of his hands grabbing your jaw to keep your head in place while his other hand pulled down your shorts. gojo threw the annoying article of clothing on the floor, pulling away as a string of saliva connected the both of you.

he looked down and if it was possible to get any harder than how hard he was right now, gojo thought he might've exploded already. you laid under him like a pretty gem, face flushed and your lips swollen as you panted a little from the breathless kiss. a small grin tugged on his lips, the hand grabbing onto your jaw now coming to stroke your cheek.

"just relax for me, princess. let me show you just how much better reality is than your little stories." gojo whispered, leaving open mouthed kisses on your jaw that were leading south until he was peppering kisses on your neck.

you decided to take a leap and pull your t-shirt off, catching gojo off-guard by your sudden eagerness. a genuine smile was forming on his lips at how adorable you looked. your cotton panties had a strawberry pattern on it with a tiny pink bow on the front and your bra was a solid blue color; both of which satoru is well familiar with as the two of you did your laundry together.

"stop staring." you embarrassingly pouted, making him let a raspy chuckle escape his lips.

"can't help it when my best friend is this cute." he teased, pinching your cheek which made you yelp.

"shut up and go back to what you were doing." you nagged, making him cock an eyebrow.

"oh? eager are we?" gojo hummed, skillful fingers whisking your bra off in a matter of seconds, your tits spilling out of the cups that held them. you averted your gaze from him after seeing how gojo's eyes widened, feeling your face grow hotter by the second.

"look at me, y/n."

"no."

"look at me."

"eat my ass."

"i will."

"satoru!" you gasped, finally looking at him as his response caught your attention. however, gojo didn't pay too much mind to it as brought a hand down to fondle your tits, watching how you bit your lips at the sudden squeeze.

"don't look away from me, baby. you're such a pretty girl, so let me admire you for a bit, yeah?" with that being said, gojo latched his lips onto on of your nipples, making you whimper.

"shit.." you moaned, feeling the tip of his tongue flicking the sensitive swollen bud. he peered up to meet your eyes, looking so fucking pretty even with a mouthful of your tits. his stupidly charming blue eyes staring into your half-lidded eyes. you brought to stroke his cheek as he continued to suckle on your nipple.

"pretty boy." you cooed, feeling his hand kneed the plush flesh of your thighs before giving it a little spank, making you squeal. being the tease he is, he gave your nipple a gentle bite before releasing the bud with a 'pop' sound.

"you wore my favorite panties." gojo complimented, making you scoff.

"stop saying that to make me feel better about my mix-matched undergarments." you rolled your eyes.

"you could think that my words are lies but it still won't change the fact that i jerked off with those same panties." he shamelessly shrugged after revealing such a dirty secret, making your mouth gape open.

"huh?!" you were at a loss for words, but, for some reason it made your pussy throb at the thought of your hot best friend masturbating to the thought of you.

even if he used your panties.

"mhm... now, let's put them to some use again." gojo pulled down his shorts along with his boxers, completely disposing them to the floor to meet with the rest of your clothes.

your eyes shamelessly came in contact with his cock and you couldn't help but harshly gulp. gojo was fucking hung, not lacking in any area. his dick had to be at least a good seven or eight inches long, a single vein running on the side of the shaft, with a pretty blush pink tip that was angrily leaking with precum.

"feel a little overwhelmed, princess?" gojo sensed your shock, and you truthfully nodded.

"y-yeah... i never-"

"wait, you're still a virgin, y/n?" he genuinely asked and you thinned your lips before nodding. gojo gasped, slapping a hand on his mouth.

"what the fuck? and you wrote all of that with no experience??" gojo was truly amazed as you shyed away from his eyes.

"it's okay if you don't wanna, you know." your throat went dry, a little disappointed that it would end this way.

"fuck you? of course i wanna fuck you, princess. but, are you sure you're okay with me taking your virginity? we could stop and forget about it if you want to, no pressure." he asked in a soft tone, rubbing your hips in a comforting way.

"yeah, i want you to take it, toru. i trust you." you gave him a girlish smile, making his heart jump.

"okay then. i'm gonna prep you real good to make sure it doesn't hurt as much." gojo pressed a tender kiss on your lips. he stroked his cock a few times as a husky groan left his lips, making him sound so sexy.

gojo hooked two fingers to the side of your panties and lifted them up before sliding his cock inside the fabric. you moaned at the feeling of his warm and hard cock sliding past your folds, his wet tip nudging and coating your clit with his precum.

"fuck. you're so wet, baby." gojo breathed out, leaning down to suck on your tits as he continued to thurst his hips back and forth between your folds. your juices lubricated his cock and the stimulation provided to your clit with every nudge of his tip made your eyes roll back.

"oh my god... just like that, toru. please!" you begged, your hand finding purchase to his snowy locks as you pushed his face further to your tits, as he licked and sucked your nipples. gojo's hips never faltered, continuing to glide his thick dick between your slit, feeling your clit throb.

you felt your orgasm building up, making your breath hitch as you whimpered. after a few more thrusts, you gushed on top of his cock as gojo cummed on your pussy, messily spreading both of your juices on your cunt.

gojo pulled his cock out of your panties, seeing how there's a wet patch on the front of your panties. he used his index finger to outline and rub your clit, making you shake from the overstimulation.

"w-wait." you tried to catch your breath but gojo wasn't gonna let you rest until you cummed on his tongue and fingers.

"nope, gotta stretch you out now, princess." he pinched your clit, making your thighs shut close from the sudden impact.

"you little shit." you threw him a playful glare, to which he only stuck his tongue out and use his strong hands to pry your legs open. this time, gojo wasn't going to be so patient. he pulled your panties down and threw them somewhere, his cerulean eyes fixated on your cunt.

"fucking hell." gojo swore under his breath and you couldn't help but think negatively.

"what's wrong?" you asked a little worried.

"i'm trying to hard to not cum again from just looking at this pretty pussy of yours." he groaned, using his thumbs to spread your lips apart, watching how it glistened with both your and his cum from the previous pantie fucking session.

you supported yourself on your elbow as your other free hand pulled his head forward, crashing your lips onto his. you kissed him with need, sucking on his bottom lip before giving it a bite. gojo began to slide his middle finger between your wet folds, making sure to rub your clit at a fast pace.

you moaned into his mouth, which gojo happily drank as he continued to give the neglected bud some attention. his finger stopped at your hole, experimentally shoving it in a little bit. you winced at the sudden intrusion as gojo's fingers were longer and thicker than yours.

"shh.. it's okay." gojo assured, pecking your lips as he entered his finger. your walls clamped down on his finger and gojo couldn't help but groan at how fucking tight you were.

"shit, gonna have to stretch you out quite a bit if this sweet pussy of yours is gonna take my cock. don't wanna rip you apart, baby." gojo chuckled, kissing your cheek before sliding his body down until his face was directly above your wet aching cunt.

gojo licked a fat stripe up your cunt, eyes rolling back at the taste of your pussy. you tasted so fucking good and he knew he'd get addicted. he slurped up all your juices, his tongue circling your clit before flicking it. you gripped onto his hair, pulling his mouth closer to your needy pussy as you basically humped his face.

gojo decided to add in another finger and a guttural moan escaped your throat, feeling him scissoring in the two thick digits in and out of your hole. your legs began to shake at the amount of pleasure you were getting from being tongue and finger fucked at the same time.

"fuck! augh~ i-i'm gonna c-cum!" you moaned as you felt the knot on your lower stomach tighten, your hole enclosing around his fingers as you creamed on gojo's fingers.

"that's it, there you go, princess." gojo praised, drinking up all your cum and licking you clean. your breathing was irregular as you were trying to calm down your erratic heartbeat.

gojo looked up at you with a slutty expression, his lips glossy with his own spit and your cum along with his chin dripping with your arousal.

"think you ready for me, baby?" he teased, placing a playful kiss on your clit before slotting himself between your legs. gojo's hard cock rest on your inner thigh, his eyes giving you a glimmer full of tease and play.

"i think that if you don't put your dick inside me within the next minute i'll kill myself." you dramatically responded, clearly not in the right state of mind due to pleasure fogging up your mind. gojo laughed at your words, leaning in to kiss you.

you could taste yourself on your tongue, but that did not bother you as much as having your throbbing hole empty.

"toruuu~ pleaseee." you whined, bucking your hip up to his in an attempt to get some friction to relieve the ache between your legs.

"my pretty girl needs something, hm?" he continued his banter, making you pout. you trailed your hand down and grabbed his cock, giving it a few pumps and watched your best friend crumble from your touch.

"need your cock inside me, toru." you said in a sultry voice, using the tip of dick to rub up and down your slit, parting your folds. gojo decided to stop being mean and help you, grabbing the base of his thick cock and rubbing it on your dripping wet cunt.

his tip now rested on top of your hole, his eyes looking up at you for further movement. you nodded your head, hands going to the side to grab the sheets.

"it's gonna really hurt bad for a minute but i promise it'll get better. i'll go slow and gentle, 'kay?" gojo offered you a soft smile as reassurance, to which you nodded, fully trusting him to take care of you.

"can you come closer." you asked in a meek voice, and gojo nodded as he leaned forwards so that you could wrap your arm around his neck.

gojo pushed in the fat bulbous tip of his cock, the stretch of something fatter and bigger than his and your fingers immediately burned.

you winced in pain, making him apologize and you told him that it was okay. gojo stayed like that for a little before thrusting the tip of his dick in and out of you to help you get a little used to the intrusion. it took every fiber of his body to have enough self-control to not shove the entire length of his cock inside your cunt and use it like his personal cocksleeve.

"look at me, y/n." he breathed out, making you open your eyes as your eyes were a little glossy. gojo never fucked a virgin before, and you were his best friend, so he wanted to be extra careful to not hurt you.

"i'm sorry." gojo quickly blurted out and you were confused for a quick minute, until you let out a pained cry as he shoved his entire cock inside your pussy inch by inch. he quickly latched his lips onto yours, swallowing your cries as his thumb came down to play with your clit.

your nails dug into his flesh, tears streaming down your face as the stretch of his cock was so painful.

"hurts so much, toru." you sniffled, mumbling your words on his lips.

"it would've hurt more if i went inch by inch slowly. you'll be okay, baby, trust me." with that being said, gojo slid his cock fully out, your pussy missing the feeling of being full. you mewled at the loss of contact, until he slammed his hips back into you, shoving his cock in one go.

within each slow thrust that he gave you, the pain faded away and you were soon drowning in pleasure. your cunt clamped down on his cock, the delicious feeling of the vein on his cock grazing against your wet walls made your eyes roll back.

"such a sweet pussy, fuck you're so tight." he grunted, grabbing your hips in place as his pace was unforgiving. his cock curved and kissed every inch inside your cunt, making you grip the sheets for dear life.

"satoru! i- fuck. wait, it's too much!" you cried out, your vision becoming blurry and you couldn't tell if it was from the tears that were forming due to overstimulation or from exhaustion.

maybe both.

"you could take it, princess. this pussy was fucking made for my cock." gojo moaned, grabbing the back of your knees before pushing them back to your head; placing you in a mating press.

this new angle gave him a better view of your tits bouncing with every thrust along with every ripple of your ass that came in contact with his heavy balls. your free hand came down to play with your clit as the other hand grabbed the back of his head to give him a sloppy kiss.

"feels so good, toru." you slurred, as his cock continued to kiss your cervix, bullying it's way in and out of your aching hole.

"gonna fuck you so dumb, till you become mine." he grinned against your skin, biting down as he placed a slap on your pussy, making you let out a cry.

"please, please, please! i-i'm gonna cum!" you stuttered out, feeling his balls hit against your ass while he continued to fuck your hole. your cunt began to convulse around his cock.

with another thrust, another rub on your clit and a gentle kiss on the side of your neck, you let out the most desperate and needy moan known to mankind as you began to cum around his cock.

gojo began to chase his own high, satisfied with the ring of white cream forming at the base of his cock, fucking you into over stimulation.

"f-fuck, gonna cum. god, i-i love you, y/n." he choked on his words, fingers clawing onto your hips as he gave you one final thrust before release thick wads of hot cum inside your hole.

gojo fell on top of your body with his arms supporting him a little to make sure he doesn't crush you with his weight, cock still lodged inside your wet cunt that was now filled with both his and your cum.

"i... fuck, i love you too, satoru." you whispered, swallowing thickly from how dry your throat was. you stroked his snowy white hair, the both of you breathing heavily as gojo continued to lazily fuck his cum into you.

"you know, i didn't expect you to be a virgin from how horny you are." gojo giggled, making you hum. he rested his head on your chest, playfully taking your nipple in his mouth as he sucked on it.

"well, i guess i got the real life experience now." you gave him a cheeky smile, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

"better than your little books?" his voice was a little muffled due to having a mouthful of your boobs in his mouth.

"mhm, i should write about it." you thought out loud, catching his attention.

"if you have writers block anytime else, just let me know and i'll help you. that's the least i could do for my dear girlfriend." gojo smirked, making you blush at the last word.

"oh? and since when have you declared that you're my boyfriend?" you joked, making him bite your nipple.

"since forever. you're mine now anyways." he pouted like a child, making you laugh.

"fine, so are you finally gonna let me stack donuts on top of it?" you said, making him look at you with a look of disbelief.

"maybe."

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[dualitue]

★ (i think) heavily ooc xavier + play fighting + manhandling?? + stuff escalating quickly + dom!xavier idk im not sure + fear play ig + spitting and pussy slapping + no protection + he calls the reader mean names...so degrading...but not so mean names so no degrading + uhh uhhh brat taming + this is a mess.

★ let a girl dream please. please. hear me out and let me dream. i have work tomorrow and i desperately need the mental companionship that this thought gives me. i have no idea about what this is but it is something believe me. didn't read it twice!!! if the mistakes are annoyingly a lot pls let me know thank you <3

"Please."

The word leaves your mouth for the hundredth time today, your persistence making Xavier numb and immune as he mindlessly scrolls on his phone. You're right next to him on his big, comfy sofa—almost on top of him as you scoot closer and keep insisting.

He doesn't answer you, and you feel yourself growing impatient by each passing second. What's his deal, really? You're not asking for something extreme, just for a little bit of combat training with him, that's all. Hand-to-hand, fair and square, all he has to do is say yes and that's it, you've promised to leave him alone only if he takes you up on that offer. However, he's as still and unmoving as a rock as he sits there. His legs are spread open as you're on your knees right next to him, your gaze slightly shifting to the screen of his phone and you catch him mindlessly scrolling through his feed. "Xavier!"

"I'm too sleepy for this," his response is dismissive, clearly indicating that he doesn't want to do it. Your hands sneakily get their way up to his chest starting from his torso, your eyes shining with a mischievous glint as you look at his face to see any hint of discomfort.

There's none.

"You can sleep after we're done," you excitedly say, your answer immediately coming after his rejection, you do not yield. "Please, don't be a dick about this."

"Don't call me that."

"What?" You softly chuckle as your hands explore his chest hiding beneath the fabric of his sweatshirt, but you can still feel how warm he is. "It'll be fun, make it a bit hard for me."

Xavier lets out a deep breath, slightly annoyed with himself rather than you—he can't say no to you, definitely not when you're this insistent.

"Not in the mood for a proper fight," he says, his eyes finding yours and you can clearly see that he's admitted his defeat. You feel warm inside because of the way that he sees no point in hiding what he's truly feeling. He's always open with you about his feelings towards you, and you're more than happy to accept them. "But yeah, okay, fine."

You immediately spring to your feet when he finally says yes, your eyes shining brightly as if you've managed to fit a whole night sky adorned with stars in them. He slowly gets up from the couch as well, stretching slowly as he yawns—you cannot help but laugh, because you just know that he's going to kick your ass while still being gentle with you. Still, you have a lot to learn from him, and a defeat will teach you more than a victory.

"No cheating," he says as he takes a step, moving to the empty area in the center of his living room. "I'm not a cheater!" You say with an offended tone, all fake, as you follow his steps. You stretch as well, your body feels tense since you've been on that couch pressed against him for the last hour, just to make him say yes.

"Dare I say, ladies first..."

"C'mon, Xavier, just come at me."

You'll always feel thrilled by a challenge, and it's pretty obvious from the subtle shift in your stance and demeanour—your eyes are carefully fixed on Xavier when he moves as fast as light, managing to capture you between his strong arms before making you fall down to the ground. He still has his arms around you, falling with you to soften the way your body meets with the ground—and you can't decide if this should give you so-called butterflies or irritate you. It's the thought that counts, you think.

"You could've given me some time to prepare myself!" You protest as your body is caged between his arms, the warmth radiating from his body feels like you're being glued to him. Your back pressed against his chest, you try to break yourself free from his embrace.

"Are you even taking this seriously?" His voice makes you jolt with surprise, low and indifferent, his lips touch the shell of your ear as he speaks. His breath hits your skin, your nape, sending shivers down to your spine. The room gets hotter all of a sudden, making you swallow a lump in your throat as you struggle in his strong hold.

"Of course, I am." You immediately talk back, kicking your legs and turning your body around to save yourself from Xavier. You haven't planned it like this, no, he could've given you the opportunity to show off some of your skills. The more you writhe and struggle, the hotter the room feels—you can feel his body, even though he's covered by the fabric of his clothes, and he can feel your curves. It's been far too long since he's been able to do this, and now that he's doing this with you, Xavier feels puzzled by the intensity of the emotions whirling inside his body. The adrenaline is buzzing around as his heartbeat races and heat rises from his chest. He slightly loosens his grip without making it pretty obvious, just the slightest bit of a move of his arms—and if you try a bit harder this time, you can free yourself. Because he wants you to. He needs you to.

"You think you're all that, right?" With all you've got, you give a push to your body—turning and rolling around. Being able to escape his arms makes you sigh in relief, your eyes focusing on him again as Xavier keeps laying on the ground. "Don't fall asleep on me now, c'mon!"

Both of you get back on your feet at the same time, putting a little distance between each other, and you react quicker this time—lifting your leg up as much as possible to land a kick to the side of his shoulder. Without giving it a break, you do the same to his other shoulder—and that is a dumb idea, really. Because his hand reaches further places than you can reach, and his reflexes have always been good. It doesn't come off as a surprise when you think thoroughly of it, you shouldn't be mad at him because he successfully managed to grab your ankle and made your body fall into the sofa this time. You should be mad at yourself. "This is what you've been begging for?" Xavier asks with the slightest bit of a mocking tone in his voice, you feel annoyed but also lightheaded all of a sudden.

"Shut up." You know that in the case of a real fight, your performance would be a lot better than this—whatever the hell this is, but when you're doing this with Xavier a part of you enjoys being handled like this.

"Don't talk to me like that, miss. I might have to teach you the required courtesy that you should be equipped with."

With your rosy cheeks and your heaving chest, you look up at him. Xavier stands next to the couch, hovering over you like a gloomy and tall building as you lay on your back on the couch. Fuck it, really. He's a distraction with his sleepy eyes and his expressionless face, you can see the slightest shade of pink on his cheeks but that's all gives it away—that he enjoys this little game, too. Just like you.

"If you can get me, that is. I'm not gonna cry and whine and tap out."

With a sudden move, you hit the back of his knee with your foot, and make him land on top of your body. He softens the impact by resting his elbows on both sides of your head, but it's not enough to hold himself off of you. Chest to chest, and face to face, you lay there and carefully study his features. Suddenly your mind goes numb—have you ever seen him this close? His eyes draw you in, his hot breath fawning over your face as he does the same as you. There are countless voices in your mind screaming at you; telling you to continue, telling you to kiss him, telling you to keep fighting. You don't feel threatened or in danger, but there's a certain tension between you and Xavier that feels cracking as he keeps the position.

"Then I'd like you to see you do just that," his voice is low and taunting—he's trying to provoke you on purpose, knowing that you'll get mad in the end. "Go ahead, I'll give you a headstart. If I get my hands on you, I'll fuck that attitude out of you."

He doesn't move after his words hang heavy in the crackling air between you two, but you do.

With your elbow, you hit his arm this time—making him fall on top of you completely, and the adrenaline rush holds you back from thinking clearly about this, but he is letting you have your way with him. When Xavier's body falls on top of yours you push him down to the ground, and start to run.

His apartment isn't the biggest, and you know that he'll find you in the blink of an eye but chasing this feeling gets you even more excited. Without looking back, you enter his bedroom—immediately hiding in the corner between his closet and the window of his room. Maybe the inside of the closet was a better idea, but you're lightheaded and all you can hear is the thudding of your heart.

What's happening? What the actual fuck is happening?

You just wanted to spar with him as a silly little training, why are you feeling extremely hot and bothered by this? His low voice rings in your ears, sudden change in his attitude as his body was on top of your and his eyes stared into the depths of your soul. Whenever you make eye contact with Xavier, you feel like he sees every bit of you—the prettiest ones, brightest ones, the most deranged ones, and unhinged ones... you're an open book for him, a book that he enjoys running his fingers along the spine, between the pages.

You don't hear him moving, but you've never heard him moving before so this doesn't help you relax—you just feel even more excited because of it. His footsteps nor his breath, nothing. It's eerily silent in his apartment as you take deep breaths, closing your eyes to help with the tension. Just as you peek your head out to see if he's in the room, his shadow falls over you—a surprised yelp fills Xavier's bedroom, and without wasting a second ge throws your body over his shoulder.

"Told you, didn't I?"

Your body meets with his bed, soft sheets welcoming you with a nice chilly feeling against your burning skin as Xavier pins your legs down on the bed by holding your inner thighs. Your body trembles because this has been exciting and interesting—you are so wet that you'd be embarrassed to admit it out loud.

"Xavier, I—," you mindlessly start, having no idea about what you can say as you watch him unzip his trousers. The clinking of the metal of his belt sends the sweetest feeling down to your core, your fingers aching to rub your clit as you watch Xavier hurriedly pushing his trousers down. His cock is straining his boxers as he hooks a finger and pulls down your sweatpants along with your panties—the chilly air of the room hitting your body makes you tremble slightly.

"This is what you've wanted all along, isn't it?" His eyes are focused on your pussy, glistening folds as your soaked panties are pulled down to your knees before he takes one of your legs out of it—he is more impatient than you at this point, probably more turned on, too. "No, I—no," you immediately answer, your voice coming out weak but you're telling the truth. If anything, he's the one who turned everything around with that demanding tone and cocky attitude.

Xavier doesn't give you the chance to explain yourself as he lands a slap on your sensitive pussy, ripping out and earning a delicious moan from you as your body jolts and tries to escape from him. But who are you lying to? You do like where you are.

"Fucking liar," he murmurs under his breath, the corners of his mouth twitch with a sly smirk as he lands another slap. A gush of wetness drips down to your legs, and to his bed, making you get even more turned on and flustered as you lie there and take it. "You were all over me, begging me to fight you, just so you can get your pussy filled at the end."

You anticipate another slap, but instead Xavier leans down and licks a hot stripe over your wet folds—causing you to lock his head between your trembling thighs. He doesn't, though. He pins your legs down onto the bed again, but before he pulls back you hear him spitting—as if you're not wet enough to take his cock with ease. When he pulls back, you feel the tip of his cock pressing against your pussy before he easily slips inside. Xavier doesn't bottom out immediately, he's slow and annoying about this—and you find yourself pushing yourself down on his cock desperately.

"No, not so fast, doll," he murmurs, his two fingers easily prying open your mouth before he pushes them inside. Without wasting time, you suck his fingers—and he finally bottoms out. A muffled moan fills Xavier's ears, one that's coming from you, even though you're practically dripping wet, he's still big, and the first stretch always does more than enough to get you high on the feeling. "That's it, that's it—you'll take it nice and slow first, because I'm just getting started with you. Because we have the night to ourselves, and I know that you'll take ne like the good girl you are until I fuck that sassy attitude out of you."

And you know that he's dead serious. You know that he'll use your body and fuck you until his cum drips from your pussy, until you're fully pumped, until you're able to know that no matter what, Xavier will have you.

#🩰.ela writes #love and deep space x reader #love and deep space x you #love and deepspace #l&ds smut #l&ds x reader #lnds x reader #love and deep space imagine #love and deep space xavier #lnds imagine #lnds xavier #l&ds xavier #love and deep space smut

[zepskies]

Talk to Me

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Summary: Ben had a vivid nightmare last night. You know how he is about his “man feelings.” But you try to get him to open up anyway, before you both lose your tempers.

AN: This was requested by my lovely friend @deans-spinster-witch. It's set in the Break Me Down-verse and is a sequel to the SB imagine below:

See this imagine for context: Ben loses you.

Word Count: 1,600 Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Imagine: You confront Ben about his fears.

“What the fuck is wrong with this cocksucking coffee maker?” Ben snarked.

He bumped the top of it with his hand, so hard you thought he was going to break it.

Your brows furrowed as you shot him a look. It was too early for all that.

“Nothing?” you said. “Worked just fine for me.”

He sported an even grumpier face as the coffee finally poured into his mug.

Something’s wrong, you thought.

Ben was usually quiet in the morning. Relaxed and slow until he’d had his coffee and started his routine, with his newspaper at his favorite lounge chair, then breakfast in the kitchen with you.

You were making pancakes on a griddle, but you were also watching your boyfriend. He wasn’t just quiet. He was downright grouchy and taciturn.

What crawled up his ass? you thought. Though you had your suspicions...

“Breakfast is done,” you called to him.

He eventually joined you, sitting down at the breakfast bar. You served him a mildly enormous stack, and just two pancakes for yourself. In most respects, Ben was still a bottomless pit.

However, after eating the first couple of pancakes in silence, he pushed away from his plate and leaned back in his seat. You held your coffee mug between both hands and eyed him.

“You okay, baby?” you asked, repeating the very words you’d asked him last night.

He glanced at you through surly brows. “Yeah. You can stop asking me that.”

Right, you thought. He’d been twitching in his sleep, muttering, making sounds that had worried you enough to wake him with a gentle hand on his dewy arm. His response had worried you too—that haze of disoriented shock, followed by relief when he recognized your face.

You’d comforted him the best you could after his nightmare, but he hadn’t wanted to talk about it. You knew he wouldn’t now, either. That didn’t stop you from trying.

You set down your mug and soothed a hand up his arm, until your fingers disappeared under his shirt sleeve.

“What’s got you all sunshine and rainbows then, Mr. Grouch?” you lightly teased. “I even made you pancakes. Still waiting on my thank you.”

Ben didn’t want to answer, though he briefly glanced at you. He slurped at his coffee.

You sighed. A tick of annoyance at your brow.

“Okay," you said. "Well, since we had breakfast here, I figured we could go out for lunch later when we get to the city. There’s this amazing deli I could take you to—”

“We’re not going,” Ben said.

You blinked in surprise. Your hand fell away from his shoulder. “What?”

“I’ve got things to do,” he said. And without looking at you, he grabbed his half-full plate and got up to bring it over by the sink. He speared a few pancakes back onto the plate you’d served them up in before dumping his plate into the sink.

At least he was learning something about living with you. Now, if he really wanted to impress you, he'd wash that damn dish.

But for now, you wanted answers more than you wanted clean plates. You slowly got up out of your chair and went to him. You tried your best not to be accusatory when you asked your next questions.

“What do you mean? What do you have to do?”

He didn’t seem to want to answer you. Or maybe, he didn’t have a good answer, because he was fucking lying.

You laid a hand on his arm. “Ben. I need you to talk to me right now, because this is our first day off together in weeks. You know this was supposed to be our day. So you’d better have a damn good reason.”

He frowned angrily down at you. “We’re not going because I fucking said so. That’s all you need to know.”

You glared back at him, standing your ground.

You raised a brow. “That’s not good enough with me, and you know it. But if that’s how you’re going to be about it, I’ll call Annie and make it a girls’ day.”

You turned on your heel to walk away, but an iron hand grabbed your wrist. Holding back a wince, you frowned at Ben over your shoulder. His face was tight with irritation.

“You’re not going any-damn-where,” he snapped.

“You better let me go, right now,” your temper snapped right back.

This man was protective, but he had never been this bad. Not even after you got out of the hospital after Vought Tower collapsed. Granted, you’d been fully healed. He’d never outright tried to forbid you from leaving the house though.  

“What the hell is your problem?” you said.

He didn’t want to let you go, but after a beat, he released you. His frown deepened when you had to rub the ache out of your wrist.

He hadn’t meant to grip you that hard. Part of him relented…but then it firmed back up, when he remembered last night. The images were still filtering through his mind on a loop.

The alley, the blood slipping through his fingers, your pale, cold cheek, and lifeless eyes staring up at him.

“There’s something we need to discuss,” he said gruffly.

You tilted your head at him. Your face was tight and angry now, but you still followed him into the living room. You sat down together on the couch, and with crossed arms, you waited for him to speak.

His elbow rested on his knee while his hand swept over his mouth and beard. Then his gaze slid over to yours.

“You need to take Compound V,” he said.

To say that shocked you was an understatement. Your eyes widened, and your body went rigid.

“Excuse me?” you said lowly.

“There’s no way around it,” he said. Grit was laced in his voice, but you didn’t care.

“I’ve made myself very clear—”

“And you also said we’d revisit this little chat, so here we are,” Ben retorted. “You need to live in fucking reality. I can’t be with you 24/7. I don’t trust those CIA fucks to wipe their own ass, let alone keep an eye on you. Especially when I’m in the field.”

You just managed to lasso in your temper when you finally realized where this was coming from. You inhaled a couple of calming breaths. Your fingers tapped your knees. You sat up straighter before you turned to him more fully.

Your hand reached out to cover his on his thigh.

“Ben,” you started. Soft and even. “What did you dream last night?”

His face tightened further, his lips pressed into a line. It took him a moment, but eventually he answered.

“Nothing. Doesn’t fucking matter.”

“We both know that it does,” you chided.

When he just maintained his stoic façade, you slid closer to him on the couch. You curled a hand around his bicep and pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

You looked up at him.

He didn’t want to break.

You just waited until the green of his eyes met yours.

“Hey. It’s just me,” you said softly. “Talk to me.”

His brows knit together, slightly. His jaw clenched and twitched under his skin.

“I lost you,” he said.

Admitting to that was like admitting that his uniform was a lie; that he had no fear. That he was invulnerable. That he was a god in human form.

But you had become the last human part of him. To lose that would be to lose everything again, worse than 1984.

Somehow, you’d become his reason…for most things. He didn’t think you realized it, nor would he allow himself to tell you.

His eyes closed when you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. You let your fingers sift through his hair, brushing it back and away from his forehead.

“Do you know why I want to stay normal?” you asked. "Albeit fragile and breakable."

He didn’t answer, but his eyes silently asked for one.

“Because I want to stay myself,” you said. “Power corrupts, and there’s a big chance I wouldn’t be the woman you loved anymore if I injected that shit into my veins.”

Ben frowned. He hadn’t considered that…but he still felt it was a price worth paying.

You moved off the couch and into his lap. He welcomed you with an arm curling around your waist and another moving up your thigh.

Your arms twined around his neck, and you kissed him properly, nice and slow. He tasted like coffee and maple syrup. His hair was soft between your curling fingers.

You parted from him after a while, just to press another comforting kiss to his temple.

“I know what I’m asking of you, and I’m sorry,” you whispered against his skin. “But we’ll figure something else out.”

“How?” he scoffed, his brows furrowing again. “In a few decades—”

“I thought you didn’t mind a few wrinkles,” you teased.

A smirk flickered across his lips. “You know what the fuck I mean.”

“I know,” you nodded. “But we have time. I promise, we’ll figure this out.”

Ben didn’t totally believe you. There was going to come a time where you were going to have to make a choice: between him and your principles.

It wasn’t fair, but that was the reality. Life wasn’t fucking fair.

Until then, maybe he could make one concession.

“If you want…” he said. You leaned back enough to see his face.

He met your gaze. “We can go to dinner later. In the city.”

A slow smile spread across your face.

“But we’re getting a private room,” he warned, squeezing your hips. “And we’re driving there and back. That’s it.”

Your smile warmed further, and kissed the corner of his mouth. You were sure you could convince him to go a Broadway show afterwards, if you plied him in a few key ways...

“I like the idea of a private room,” you said.

His fingers crept up your pajama pants, drifting down between your thighs. His thumb started to stroke warmth through your panties. It had you smiling, sighing, subtly pressing into his hand.

His smirk deepened.

“You do, don’t you?” he said.

You let out a breathy laugh at the change in him. It didn’t take much to get him worked up. So you hugged him close and spoke into his ear all the things you had planned for him tonight.

Before, and after dinner.

AN: Lol I love writing this lovable asshole. 💚 Especially in the BMD-verse.

I have more Dean imagines coming soon! Including a requested sequel to "You are Dean's one exception," in which Sam "crosses the line"... 🫣

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD Tag List (Part 1):

@this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@xoxovienna @katherineann814 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @karnellius @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun @lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67

#Talk to Me #reader request #soldier boy #Imagine Ben losing you sequel #You confront Ben about his fears #hurt/comfort #Soldier Boy imagine #BMD verse #the boys #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x you #Break Me Down verse #zepskies answers

[widowbitessting]

Bedtime? What Bedtime? A Sugar Mommies Drabble

Prompt: Reader/baby reacting to getting a bedtime after not resting enough in one of her exam periods.

Word Count: 908

Rating: General with fluffy scenes. SFW!

Dom!Natasha Romanoff, Dom!Wanda Maximoff, Dom! Carol Danvers x Sub!Reader

“A bedtime?” You say, eyes nearly bulging from your head. “What am I? 4?” 

“The way you’re acting right now, yes, yes, you are.” Natasha replies. 

“I am not going - no! No way! That’s ridiculous! Wanda, back me up here!” 

The older woman just shakes her head and holds her hands up in a mock surrender. 

“Normally I would, but this time I actually side with Carol and Natasha; baby girl.”

You glower at her. How could she? 

“I am not having a bedtime.”

“How much sleep did you get last night, detka?” Natasha asks. You open your mouth to reply, a cocky response on the tip of your tongue, your inner brat riling up, ready to swing; but when the red head raises her perfectly sculpted eyebrow, your brat vanishes in a puff of pathetic smoke. 

“I - why is that important?” 

“Because your dom is asking you, that’s why.” She replies. “Now answer the question.” 

“...I don’t see why I have to…” 

“5.” 

“What?” You stare at Wanda. 

“4.

“What is she doing? Why is she counting?” 

“3.” 

“...Wanda…” 

“2.” 

“Answer Natasha’s question, Y/N. Your final warning before things get ugly.” Wanda says, her glare fixed just on you.

“I don’t know…I finally…I…crashed around 3…maybe 4am?” 

“When did you wake up?” Wanda asks, stepping towards you. You automatically try to step back but Carol is there behind you, blocking your body from any chance of escape. 

“7…”

“That had better be PM babygirl.” Carol whispers into your ear. 

“A-AM…” 

“So last night, you’re telling me, you slept for 3 hours?!” Natasha shouts, she really doesn’t mean to, but she knows for sure people at the local Starbucks heard her.

“Maybe? I mean…it was like a nap…”

“Not helping your case there, bunny.” Carol murumers. 

“Yeah, I didn’t think that through.” You try to move from around Carol’s body but her grasp tightens around your wrists and she doesn’t let you budge.

“Oh no, sugar.” She smirks. “You’re not getting away that easily.” 

“What are we going to do with you?” Natasha sighs. 

“Oh I know perfectly well what to do with her,” Wanda glares at you, causing you to let out a pathetic sound and burrow into Carol.

“Save me and I’ll do your chores for a month, Danvers.”

The blonde cackles, momentarily letting you go, and you take your chance. Making a dive for freedom that is short lived. Carol snatches you back up and holds you in a hold so tight that no amount of wiggling will set you free.

“Nice try, baby, but you aren’t going to bribe me that easily. Now be good, accept your punishment like a good little brat.”

“But -” 

“No buts, unless it’s yours.” Carol says. 

Your grin slides off your face when you make eye contact with Wanda. 

“Now, whilst we discuss your brand new and very permanent bedtime, you may go to your corner and kneel, and think about the apology letters that you will be writing to each of us.” 

“Each?!” 

“With no complaints.” Her tone is firm and you really have to fight the urge to roll your eyes at her. Instead, you just gape at all of them.

“I - what…?” 

“Off you go, sweetness. The grownups have some stuff to discuss.” Wanda tells you, squishing your cheeks as you pass her. “You know what to do and what position we like. I’ll come and tap your shoulder when you’re done; understood?”

“Yes.”

Her fingers squeeze just a little harder.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, mommy.” 

“Good. Off you go.” 

That night, at 9:55pm, you’re lying in bed with Wanda as she reads to you another chapter from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. You lie there, facing her, head cradled against her chest as she reads some of the dialect from Albus Dumbledore and you can’t help but shake the exhausted feeling in your body. Your eyes are heavy, burning with sleep and you fight with them to stay open. It’s when you yawn, do you catch Wanda’s attention and she leans down to kiss your temple.

“Sleep, detka. Don’t fight it. We will all be here in the morning when you wake up.”

“But -” 

“- and you can finish your work too, with breakfast if you’d like.”

“No…I wanna know what happens in the book.”

Wanda giggles, and looks down at you with adoration.

“How many times have you read these, baby?” she asks.

“...couple…”

“And yet you want to know what happens?” 

“Just call me Dory.” 

That earns you another laugh and this time, a peck on the lips.

“How about this, if you fall asleep, I stop reading immediately and we can continue on during breakfast. Does that sound okay?” 

“...I’d like that.” You yawn again.

“Good girl,” she says. “Now shut those beautiful eyes for me.”

You do as you’re told.

“And don’t forget, bedtime is at 10pm, yes?”

“Mhm.” 

“One day it might even be 10:30. But for now, 10pm works just fine I think. Don’t you think so?” 

She’s baiting you. But you’re far too exhausted to bite. So you just sleepily agree and vow to fight her on bed time tomorrow, when you’re fully refreshed. 

It’s a very good plan. Foolproof some might say. 

You fall asleep as Wanda reaches the end of the chapter and dream of nothing.

Smiling when Wanda tucks you in and settles down for the night also. 

One word on your mind: bliss. 

#natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #carol danvers #reader insert #sugar mommies #natasha x wanda x carol x reader #sugar mommies!asks #spiderbites #smu #sugar mommies drabble

[rainydaymiscellaneous]

I hate to ask again but I had and idea. Also the last one was so cute thank you. If you can can you please write a Kaz Brekker x reader where the reader is in love with this book but no one has read is so they have no one to talk to about it so Kaz reads it and starts a conversation about it with the reader and they get really happy and start ranting about it to him and he’s just happy to sit and listen to them and make comments from time to time

Dude, send me all the requests for our boy Kazzle Dazzle your ideas are so creative!

Book Club (Kaz x reader)

He needed an opening. Just one solid reason to actually talk to you. You had been in the Dregs for years now and Kaz was still struggling to even breathe around you. He had this crush on you that he refused to admit was there. Inej saw it, even dumbass Jesper saw it.

You'd assume that Kaz was mute if it hadn't been for your presence in the Dregs. You had been there for a long time but disappeared on a mission far off for three years. The room above Kaz had been vacant and then suddenly it had life. Kaz had no idea anyone even lived above him until you knocked on his door your first night back and asked him to join you for tea.

There you sat on a nice couch with a cup of chamomile. Kaz was perplexed by who you were and why the fuck you wanted to drink glorified leaves in water.

"Why am I here?" He asked.

"You tell me." You said, sipping from your cup. Kaz furrowed his brow.

"You asked me to have tea with you." He said, watching you with those daggers for eyes.

"You didn't have to say yes." You shrugged.

"I did."

"You did not." "I did." He said. "Okay then, why did you have to accept?" You asked. He sighed, looking at you with his gloved hands gripping his cane.

"Because I needed to know who was suddenly living in the room above me." He said. You rose a brow.

"You could've asked Inej to investigate." You said. He blinked.

"You know Inej?" He asked.

"I've been in the Dregs for three years, of course I know your main lot. Inej, Jesper, Nina, Wylan and that off-putting convict Mattias." You said.

Kaz was confused. How did you know so much but he was ignorant to you? How did he not know who you were?

"I'm a sharpshooter. I use that-" you pointed to a rifle on the mantle "rifle to kill whoever you want dead." You said.

"Why do I not know you?" Kaz asked.

"I was off in Shu Han for Haskell." You said. "For what?" Kaz asked.

"You do your business, I'll do mine." You said.

He liked that response. It meant you'd keep any secret that slipped through your ears. "I will work for you when you need me. Say the word, I will be there no questions asked unless one of ours is bleeding." You said.

"Why tea?" He asked. "We easily could've done this over something less detestable."

You chuckled. "You've not had the right tea then." You said with that smile.

That fucking smile. From that moment on Kaz was hooked. He couldn't help it. It was hard to not fall in love with someone like you. You were always there when he needed you, apparently you had taken some training on stealth from Inej, leaning to be one with the dark making you even more deadly.

But for the deadly persona that the streets simply knew as "the bullet", you were a gentle person. Kaz often noticed you with stray animals, seeing that kind smile. The one that made Kaz at a loss for words. You'd often make that same smile at Kaz when you'd pass him with a gentle "hi boss."

Sure, technically Per Haskell was the "boss". You however knew damn well Kaz was the brains behind everything. You had become close with the other members of the Dregs, including Inej who called you a sister. She loved being around you. You gave good advice and that was probably why the rest of the group would flock to you.

So there you all were, your head in Jesper's lap as you read. Kaz had noticed your sudden interest in this, everytime he saw you, you had that book in hand now. Wylan looked over at you.

"Care to join the game?" He asked.

"I'm good." You said, turning the page.

"You've been reading that for two weeks now, come up for air." Inej said.

"I need to know if Alistair lives Inej, the prophecy is strongly implying he will die and I don't think Cousland can handle him dying." You muttered, reading.

"None of that made any sense." Nina said.

"It'll make sense if one of you would at least read it." You said.

"We're all too busy. Kaz keeps giving us stupid b&e's.(breaking and entering)" Jesper said.

"Not all of you are busy though. Wylan?" You said.

"Kaz has been training me for lockpicking." Wylan said.

"He take you to the financial district?" You asked, looking up.

"Once or twice." He shrugged.

"Course he did. Best place to practice." You said before going back to your book.

"Alright, who's in?" Jesper asked.

Inej noticed Kaz at the bar, occasionally looking over at you. "I'm out." She said.

Inej made her way to him and he cleared his throat, turning back to his drink. It looked like scotch but the smell... it wasn't scotch it was tea.

"Didn't you say that tea was just leaves in water that is hot?" Inej asked.

"I hadn't drank the right tea." Kaz said, looking at the glass with vacant eyes. Inej recognized the expression. Kaz was at war with himself, as usual.

He never handled his innermost feelings well, especially the ones that left him vulnerable. And what was more vulnerable than love? You were a plague to his mind, always there. When it wasn't your face that he was smiling internally at, it was your laugh. When it wasn't your laugh it was your smile and so on. He wanted so badly to talk to you like he once did over tea but he didn't think it was a good idea.

You were just so perfect in his eyes. So beautiful, so smart. If he tried to converse, he'd make an ass of himself. He needed an opening something fierce. Something to give him a reason to talk to you instead of "hey, your face is anestheticly pleasing to look at, which I do. Frequently. Without you knowing."

"You're staring at your glass mighty hard there." Inej said. Kaz looked up. "You should just talk to her." She said.

"It's not that easy." He muttered.

"I do it all the time." Inej said with an eyeroll.

"Because you are friends. You know her. I am not that lucky." He said.

"You do know her." Inej said.

"Not like that. I know her from afar. Where it's safe." He said, drinking the glass.

"Kaz, she's right there. Just talk to her." Inej said.

You got up, stretching with a yawn. "I'm heading out " You said to Inej.

"Kaz will go with you!" Inej volunteered.

If looks could kill, Inej would've been six feet under at that moment Kaz glared at her.

"Alright..?" You said confused. Kaz sighed looking at Inej and then you before standing up.

He walked out with you, noticing the dark clouds that hung in the sky. "Looks like it might rain" he said.

"Good reading weather." You said.

"You're usually reading nowadays." Kaz said.

"It's a nice escape from things when they get too intense." You shrugged.

"What is it that you're reading now?" He asked.

If you were a dog, your ears would've perked up. "It's amazing- it's about this girl who joins this legendary army and has to rebuild what was-... Sorry." You cleared your throat.

"Why are you apologizing?" He asked.

"Well apparently everyone thinks I talk too much about this book." You said.

"Who said that?"

"Well Nina." He'd kill her

"And Jesper." He'd shoot him with his own guns

"And Inej." Wait what?

"And pretty much anyone who asks me." You finished.

"Wow." Was all Kaz could muster for words.

You shrugged. "I wish they'd just listen to me and read the damn book." You said.

"Why do you think they haven't?" He asked.

"They're all busy. They have their own lives and I have mine. It's nothing personal, I know. But I just wish sometimes I could talk to someone about it and have them actually know what I'm talking about." You said walking.

Kaz then realized this was it. This was his perfect excuse to get closer. "What's the name of the book?" He asked curiously.

"Rise of the Grey Wardens. Why?" You asked.

"I figured I could read it." He shrugged.

Your eyes lit up and Kaz felt intense joy. He made you happy. He actually made you happy. He didn't mean to but he did and my god were you adorable to him when you were beaming. "Then I know where we should go!" You said walking ahead of him.

Instinctively he followed. "Where are we going?" He asked.

You looked back, a breeze blowing your hair in such a beautiful way as you turned to him. "My favorite place in Ketterdam."

He asked no more questions after that, just following you quietly through backstreets. Kaz watched you approach a side door to a building, knocking on it rhythmically. The door open, an older woman smiling at you.

"Weren't you just here a few days ago?" She asked.

"I brought a friend." You said with a smile, stepping back and motioning for Kaz to introduce himself. Kaz couldn't help but feel a little giddy of your use of 'friend'.

"I'm-"

"I know." She said. She didn't say it with disdain though, which shocked him. "You're the reason we're still open. Come on in Mister Brekker."

He didn't know what that meant but accepted the invitation, walking in. "Do you have another copy of 'Rise of the Grey Wardens'?" You asked.

"I do, why did you burn through your other copy?" She asked.

"Mister Brekker wishes to read." You said with a grin. Kaz's eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room. Bookshelves lined the walls both on the first and second floor of the building. There must've been thousands of books in front of Kaz.

"Here you are mister Brekker." The woman said.

"Thank you er..."

"Miriam." She said with a nod and a kind smile. She gave off the feeling of a doting grandmother with how fond she seemed of you. "Right! Y/n dear, I made some sugar biscuits if you'd like to try them" she said. You seemed to have found your way upstairs when you responded back with a

"Be right down!"

You returned with a new book in hand and Miriam grinned as Kaz took the book. "I see you've found the sequel." She said. You had the biggest grin.

"I had no clue it was a series." You admitted.

"The second one tends to be slow but it is vital for the third." She said, handing you a cookie.

You smiled, taking it. "Thank you. How much do I owe you?" You asked.

"Nothing. It's on the house." She declared.

"Miriam, if you ever wanted to apply for sainthood, I do believe you to be eligible." You said making her laugh.

"Thank the saints you didn't know me in my youth." She teased making you laugh. Kaz couldn't explain it. Usually smalltalk annoyed him but something about this was nice to him. You and Miriam seemed to have a tight bond.

"We should go, it does look like it'll rain." You said, peaking out a window. Kaz nodded but Miriam held her hand up before handing you and Kaz paper bags.

"For the road." She told the both of you. You gave her a kind smile before walking back to the door. "One moment Mister Brekker." She halted. Kaz turned around as Miriam motioned for him to lean forward for them to whisper. "Keep her safe, will you? There's not many a good person in Ketterdam but she's one of them." She said.

Kaz with possibly the sweetest look of adoration he could muster simply said "I will, Miss Miriam." Before he followed you out. The two of you began your trek back to the Slat. "How long have you known Miriam?" Kaz asked.

"Going on ten years now. Saved her cat from a town fire, she's been grateful since." You said, opening the paperbag and pulling a cookie out. Miriam gave you both cookies. Maybe Miriam was just a village grandma.

"Has any of the others met her?" He asked.

You shook your head. "You'd be the first I've shown to the Archive." You said.

"Why me?" Kaz asked as a crack of thunder sounded off.

"Because you asked me about what I read." You said before walking into the Slat.

Kaz winded up spending a good week reading that book. You were right, it was an amazing story. When he finished, he had that same urge that you did to discuss it.

All of the crows were back in the club, this time Kaz and you both playing a round of poker. Jesper hated this. You were way too good at poker and kept winning, hand after hand. You had a nice stack of chips. Inej seeing your smirk as you leaned back in your chair.

"I win again!" You said.

"Why is this so hard?" Wylan asked.

"Because Y/n is way too good at this." Jesper groaned, smacking his head on the table. Nina sighed.

"I need a drink. A very large one." She said.

"I've got my own little army of chips." You said, stacking them.

"You could rebuild the Cousland estate with your winnings." Kaz said, you looking up slightly shocked. "Course, I could always pull a Howe and, y'know. Knock it down." Kaz added.

You looked bewildered as Inej rose a brow.

"Kay, is it just me, or did none of that make sense?" Jesper asked.

"You just made a reference." You said.

"I did." Kaz nodded.

"You finished it."

"I did."

"And!?"

"You were right. The book is fantastic, I could not put it down." Kaz said.

Inej and Jesper exchanged a look.

"Fuck poker. We need to discuss the book NOW!" You said excitedly.

"Yes! Put me out of my misery!" Jesper said.

Kaz looked at him and then you. "Let's have tea." He suggest. Nina's eyes went wide as she realized what was happening before her, her looking at Inej who had a smile on her face.

"I'm grabbing my coat! Let's go!" You said getting up. Kaz followed you as you practically bounced out the door with excitement.

Nina gaped. "How long has he been in love with her!?" She asked as the door closed.

"Oh a while now, like since she got back." Wylan shrugged.

Jesper and Inej looked at Wylan as he moved your chips.

"You knew?" Inej asked.

"It'd take a blind man not to see."

You ended up back at the Slat, sitting cross legged on your sofa. You two must've discussed the book for hours, Kaz loving every moment of it as he heard you passionately talk about the story.

You sighed with a smile. "It's funny, I didn't think you liked me." You said, looking at your empty tea cup.

Kaz rose a brow. "Why did you think that?" He asked.

"You just seemed so... I dunno. Angry that I returned." You said.

"I wasn't."

"But you seemed it."

"I didn't know who you were. I was on my guard" he said. You rose a brow.

"You're not anymore?" You asked. Kaz bared a gentle expression that made your heart almost explode inside your chest.

"I'm not. You're one of the few I trust. The only I'd trust with my entire being." He said. Kaz didn't have faith in a lot of things. But he had faith in you and it showed. He looked at you. "Do you trust me?" He asked.

You gave him a look of pure adoration. "Of course." You said. You had spent your life reading books about the greatest romances of all time. You'd get lost in those stories of how the man always loved the girl but she didn't realize it until a pivotal moment.

"Kaz... you said you trusted me." You breathed. "Please. Please let my intuition be right." You thought to yourself as Kaz gave you a questioning look. "Do you... love me?"

Your question hung in the air for what felt like the longest minute of your life. Kaz definitely seemed caught way off his guard by the question, his eyes widening the second he realized what was happening.

This entire time he has been hoping for an opening to talk to you. A moment to truly get to know you. Well he got one. And he fell in love with every bit of you. He swallowed hard.

"Forget that I asked, I am so sorr-" "I do." He said.

You blinked. "What?"

"I love you." He said. Your jaw must've hit the floor. You knew how guarded this man was. You heard that any semblance of vulnerability was practically impossible from Kaz and yet here he was. Being the most vulnerable he could be with you.

You looked at him before getting up. He thought his words might've done something bad. Maybe you didn't want his love. Maybe he had misinterpreted everything, maybe he was a fool for thinking there was-

You kneeled in front of him. "Kaz, may... Uhm... May I touch you?" You asked. With hesitation he nodded as your hand gently held his cheek. The touch of humans was deeply unsettling to Kaz. That feeling brought him back to a place he never wanted to be in ever again and yet somehow...

Somehow your gentle touch made him feel safe. If it had been anyone else he'd probably be in the process of murdering the fool who touched him. But it was you. You were like an angel on earth to him.

"When I look at you, do you know what I see?" You asked softly.

"No." He muttered.

"I see someone else who's been through hell and came out on the other side." You held his hands, Kaz looking in your eyes. "We've suffered long enough and we deserve to be happy." You said softly.

Kaz had a momentary loss of control. He kissed you, you leaning into his touch. He pulled away with wide eyes. "I am so sorry-" "shut up and kiss me Brekker."

The next day you were at the crow club reading at the bar next to Inej. Jesper yawned. "It's a boring day. Wish Kaz would give us something to do. By this point I'll take a fucking b&e." He whined.

Kaz, as if he were summoned, walked through the doors of the crow club, sitting on your other side. For once, Inej watched you put your book down as you gave a gentle smile to Kaz. "Hello" you said.

The dead give away that something had changed was the fact that Kaz smiled. He actually smiled back at you. "Hello." He said softly.

Inej and Jesper swapped shocked looks. "Y/n, do you mind helping me with this? It's a rifle mod and I wanna make sure I've got the measurements right." Wylan asked. You looked over.

"Alright." You said walking off.

Jesper and Inej looked at Kaz who now had a drink in his hand. "What the hell happened last night!?" Jesper asked.

"Nothing important." Kaz shrugged.

"We just had tea."

#kaz x y/n #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz x you #kaz brekker x reader #kaz x reader #kaz brekker x fem!reader #kaz brekker #grishaverse #six of crows

[boldlyvoid]

Carpet Burns

18+ Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

Summary: after a long week apart, they can barely make it through the front door without ravaging each other

warnings: PDA, making out, alcohol use, eddie doesn't wear his seatbelt, fingering her in the passenger seat, finger sucking, wall sex, table sex, floor sex... dirty talk, daddy kink rough sex, carpet burns

word count: 3.4k

The plan was to meet Eddie at the bar on Friday after a long week apart, both with steady jobs and living in different parts of town, it was hard to meet up daily like they wanted. 

They craved each other deeply. 

Sure, he calls her most night and she hears his deep voice in her ear as he tells her all the nasty things he would be doing to her if he was there. He hears her pleasuring herself with a smirk on his face and his cock in his hand the whole time… but it’s not the same as being together. There’s something so satisfying about feeling all 200 pounds of Eddie on top of her, under her, behind her— you name it, they’ve done it, and she wants more. So, so much more. 

She’s able to have 1 drink before he shows up, something about a transmission on a Chrysler kept him a little later at the shop and then he went home to shower the grease off, which sucked for her… there’s something about him when he’s sweaty and smells like work that makes her go feral, but the smell of his cologne draws the essence back out of him. She smells him before she sees him, turning into his chest as he wraps his arm around her and kisses the back of her neck. 

“Hello there,” he says between kisses, “didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” 

“It’s okay,” she smiles, standing on her tip-toes and leaning in for a real kiss, she purses her lips and meets him halfway. 

The first kiss after a long week is always the best kind. It's the way his grip tightens on her hips and pulls her in closer so they’re chest to chest… she settles, dropping back to her normal height and bringing him down with her 'cause he can’t let her go, he breathes her in like this is the last kiss he’ll ever get from her, savouring every second. 

They’re both wide-eyed and bushy-tailed as they stare at each other, catching their breaths and smiling, “hi?” She couldn’t believe how intense that was, “how are you?” 

“I’m good, hot stuff,” he says, his hand following the curve of her body down to her ass and grabbing a fistful. “Been here long?” 

“About 20 minutes,�� she shrugs, it’s nothing too bad. “You want a beer?”

He nods, “yeah, maybe just one… I don’t want to be out too long tonight.” 

“Oh no?” She can’t fight off her smile, “and why’s that?” 

“You fuckin’ know why,” he all but growls in her ear, “this dress? Really?” 

She giggles and leans in closer to his ear, “I’m also not wearing any panties…” 

“Yep, no beer for me, lets go,” he smacks her ass and attempts to lift her up so he can walk out with her but she laughs and puts up a fight until her feet are securely back on the floor. 

“I have to pay my tab first,” she smacks his chest. “We have all night, seriously, why can’t we have a drink and tease each other a little first?” 

“Is that what you want?” He asks, looking down at her with his big doe eyes and his bangs falling into view. He looks her up and down again and shakes his head when he realizes she’s serious, “okay, just… I’m not responsible for how feral I’ll be when we get home.” 

“Oh, no, that’s fine… that’s actually exactly what I wanted,” she teases and pushes away from his chest slowly enough for him to take her hand and walk with her towards the bar.

They get a drink each and he orders some food for them too, they take a booth in the back corner and it’s perfectly secluded enough for him to sit real close to her. He keeps his hand on her thigh, caressing her skin with his thumb while she talks about her day and the shit she had to go through at work. He watches with such an intent face, nodding along and asking questions, he’s so into her she can feel it radiating from him. 

“And how was your day, big guy?”

“Eh?” He shrugs, “nothing big to report, I think my night is going to be the highlight…” 

“Yeah?” 

He nods, eyeing her up while his hand goes further up her thigh and under her skirt. “I really hope we're on the same page right now baby… I want you so bad, as soon as we get home I want you. I need you.” 

His voice is so deep and his eyes are so dark as he talks directly to her deepest desires. She sits up straighter as a shiver runs through her body and goes straight to her clit, she stutters on her own breath and swallows sharply, she nods lightly, “yeah, oh, yeah, same fuckin’ page…”

“Are you done here?” He references their empty plate and her mostly finished drink. She nods, not even looking at the table, she just wants to go home. So Eddie takes her home. 

She didn’t live too far, she was able to walk over to the bar knowing that Eddie would drive them back to her place. He loves to open her door and help her step up into his van and into the seat, he buckles her in himself and kisses her forehead before he closes the door. Once he’s in his seat he starts the van and puts his hand right back on her thigh, up higher than before, he slips right under the skirt of her dress and gives her skin a squeeze. 

“Were you serious?” 

“Yeah, I want to fuck you too, Eddie,” she laughs, he’s always double-checking. 

He chuckles as his hand goes up higher, “no, no… I meant were you serious about the no panties, sweetheart?” He cups her cunt with a content groan, he slips his middle finger between her pussy lips to find out just how badly she wants to fuck him too. “Oh, fuck, you’re so wet?” 

“Mhm,” she bites her lip and balls her hands into fits and keeps them at her sides. She doesn’t want to buck up into his touch or ask for too much, she knows he has to drive soon but his finger glides against her clit and her eyes flutter, her heart speeds up and her breathing changes. 

He takes his hand away from her and brings it right to his mouth to suck on his middle finger, tasting her for the first time in too long. He just needed a clean hand to put the van in drive and leave the parking lot, once they’re on the road, his hand will go right back. And thank god. She unconsciously spread her legs in his absence, her pussy pulsated with want, calling for him to come back. She watches his face as he pays attention to the traffic, he’s concentrated and a good driver but she needs his hand back. 

She takes a leap of faith and lays her left hand on his bicep, he’s just wearing a plain black t-shirt so his tattoos are visible and his muscles look good while he grips the steering wheel. She just likes to be touching him all the time when they’re together, and if he can't have his hand up her skirt right now, she was going to play with the hem of his shirt and tease him the way she knew he liked. His forearms broke out in goosebumps and his hair stood straight up, making her smile to herself. 

He finally reaches out and puts his hand back on her thigh but she redirects him up to her cunt. “Eager, are we?” 

She nods, “please?” She holds his wrist with her right hand and wraps her left around his bicep again, holding onto him as his finger makes contact with her clit once more. “Oh, thank you,” she moans, relaxing into her seat finally. 

He smirks, watching the road but he can see her head lulled back in his peripheral vision. “Let me hear you, baby, it’s just us…” 

“I’ve missed your fingers,” she admits through bated breath. “Oh my god, Eddie,” she pushes her hips up into his touch for more, feeling him press into her harder, he uses his forefingers to rub her clit now. She’s so fucking wet he can hear it alongside her whimpers and moans for more. 

“You’re gonna soak my seats, princess,” he teases, not really caring if she left a puddle behind… it would actually be really fucking hot. 

“Feels, oh god, feels so good, I— oh,” she bucks her hips up against his hand he knows she’s close. She grips onto his bicep harder, “I wanna cum, please? Please? Can I cum?” 

He smirks, turning onto her street, he could either let her cum now or make her hold off until he’s inside her… “cum, princess,” he lets her go. She’s going to be so much more pliant and overstimulated once he gets her through the door, if she cums now, and she does. 

With her head tossed back against the headrest and her hand over his, she pushed his hand against her harder and cums with a shout. Her legs tremble, her pussy quakes, and he can feel her empty hole flutter as she craves more. He lets her ride it out on his hand, he gently rubs her clit through it and lets her hump his hand until she settles again. 

She barely notices that he’s parked outside her apartment now. “I need my hand back, baby…” 

She grips his wrist with both hands and brings it to her own mouth, tasting herself just to egg him on. She sucks on two of his fingers at once, and he can’t help himself from turning more toward her and watching her tongue swirl around his fingers, cleaning them up. He reaches out with his other hand and cups her cheek, fucking his fingers into her mouth, her eyes roll back and she moans. 

“Baby,” he coos, drawing his fingers back from her, he notices the pads are all wrinkled from her wetness, he rubs them over her newly swollen lips, getting some of the residual cum on her lips before he dives in and kisses her on an impulse. His wet fingers are now around her throat, she moans into the kiss, wanting to climb the centre console and sit right in his lap but she’s still buckled in, unlike him. He barely buckled up, no matter how much she told him it wasn’t safe. 

She starts to whine into the kiss, making grabby hands at his shirt, she needs more than this. He pulls back with a shit-eating grin, “what? Still not satisfied?” 

She shakes her head, “you know I’m not… and it’s your fault I’m like this, to begin with.”

“Is it?” He was surprised she was so testy this time. She never normally bites back. “I’m sure you were already an insatiable whore when we met I just let you get away with it… I could stop?” 

“No, no, no, please? Come inside with me?” She begs, “I need it, I want you to fuck me so hard tonight, like so, so hard.” Her eyes get impossibly big as she begs, her bottom lip sticks out in the sweetest pout and he caves. 

“Okay, come on,” he pulls back and rips the keys from the ignition. 

She’s quick to take off her seatbelt and push the door open, she hops out of the van and fixes the skirt of her dress so that she’s all covered on her walk to the door. Eddie meets her around on her side and wraps an arm around her on the walk-up. He has a key to her apartment, it’s for locking up when he leaves early on Monday mornings and times like these. 

He unlocks the door, gets them inside and pushes her up against it the moment it’s closed again. With her eyes closed and his mouth on hers again, she feels up the door and locks it again so they don’t have to worry about that later. His hands go under her dress and cup her ass, he mumbles something that sounds like “jump,” into her mouth and so she does. She wraps her legs around him and he holds her there against the door, the bulge behind his jean zipper collides with her cunt and she moans into his mouth at the feeling. 

He holds her there against the door, kissing her neck and jaw while she tries the get access to his belt buckle, “ed, Eddie, I can’t,” she complains, tossing her head back cause his kisses feel too good, she can’t get him out of his pants and she wants him inside of her like yesterday. 

He turns them away from the door, ready to carry her blindly through the little apartment, past the kitchen and back to her bedroom but he bumps into the table and just lays her on top of it. She has mail and placemats under her, but it’s steady enough to hold her while he takes his shirt off and she can pull his belt from the loops. His lips are back on hers in no time, she gets a hand in his boxers and starts to stroke his cock as he sucks on her tongue, moaning into her mouth. 

He runs his hands over her hips and grips her little dress, he feels around her back to see if it has a zipper or anything but it doesn’t so he just starts to tug it up. He pulls away from her enough to get her dress over her head and off of her so she’s just in her bra now. She pushes down his jeans and his boxers until they’re at his knees and she strokes his cock while looking him right in the eyes. “You gonna fuck me on the table?” 

He shakes his head and tugs her off of the table and back to her own feet, he spins her around and brushes her hair off of her neck so he can kiss her shoulder and up towards her ear, “is that what you want?” 

She nods, “show me how much you missed me… you talked a big game on the phone this week—” 

He pushes her chest down against the table and taps his cock on her ass cheeks, “did I?” 

“Mhm,” she pushes back against him, antagonizing him further. 

He grips her ass and spreads her cheeks, watching her pussy open, glistening with slickness, he takes his cock in his other hand and teases the tip over her hole, covering himself in her juices. He presses against her hole, teasing her but never going in no matter how much she pushed back against him and whines. He slips his cock between her pussy lips and squeezes her legs closed again, engulfing his cock in her heat, he rocks his hips gently and mimics what it would be like to fuck her right now. He loves to watch her get desperate and needy and he wants to hear her beg. 

She straightens up, standing with his chest to her back, he kisses her shoulder and she reaches back to hold his hips and keep in locked there, “please?” She turns her head to see him and catches his lips in a kiss. He cups her tits with one hand and soothes his other hand over her lower stomach while he thrusts his hips lightly, the head of his cock nudging her aching clit, making her breath heavier. 

She moans into his mouth and grips his hips tighter, pulling away before he can stick his tongue down her throat anymore, “please?” 

“Please what?” He teases her more, pushing her back down against the table and fucking her thighs with a bit more intent. “Say it?” 

“Fuck me, please? I’ve been waiting all week, daddy, I need your cock.” 

There it is. That’s all he’s been waiting for. He knew she was ready when she called him daddy. Thats when he knew she was really gone for him. Without warning, he pulls his cock out from between her lips and pushes himself inside of her, slowly but surely. He feels her tighten and gasp at the same time, her hands now gripping the edge of the table and attempting to push her back against him so he’d bottom out quicker. There’s nothing she loves more than feeling him fully inside of her and pressed up against her. 

“Move, please? Oh my god,” she begs again, arching her back and pushing back against him and her legs wobble… she’s not going to be able to keep herself upright for this. 

With his cock still fully inside her, he wraps his arm around her middle and picks her up, bringing them down to the floor and onto his knees. She is so shocked but she goes with it, face against the carpet and ass in the air, he uses her love handles to manhandle her into the best position before he starts to fuck her… really fuck her. 

She’s usually loud, but the pure shock of his thrusts makes her scream with each pound against her cervix. He’s so deep inside of her, he pushes one of her legs up and goes even deeper. He drops down against her back, and she feels him absolutely everywhere, all his weight on her back, he kisses her shoulder and grazes his teeth against her skin, “fuck baby, oh I missed how well you take me, sweet girl. So fucking tight for me.” 

“Oh my god,” she pops her head up and turns to kiss him. His hand rests against her throat to hold her in place while he keeps pounding into her, surely she’s going to have carpet burn in the morning but they didn’t care. He just fucks her harder while she sucks on his tongue. 

She doesn’t often cum from just penetration, but this… this was so much more than that. He was nudging her cervix with each thrust, sending shockwaves through her body she felt like she could cum any second and then he pulls away from the kiss. He pushes her down against the floor again and pounds her even harder, she moves on the floor, almost getting away from him from how much force he fucks her with, panting and sweating, he has to pause to push his hair out of his eyes and when he does that, he turns her on her side and pushes one of her legs up to her chest before fucking back into her. 

Her knees, chest and shoulders are red from the carpet but it just turns him on more. She cups one of her tits and the other hand lays flat against the floor. Her eyes are closed, her mouth fell open and tears start to fall down her cheeks. “Holy fu— oh my god,” she gasps as he starts to rub her clit again, wanting her to cum with him. 

“Come on, princess, I know this is what you wanted,” he speaks through his teeth, holding back as best as he could but she’s so wet and so tight and it’s been a long week, he can’t go on like this much longer. “Cum for me, soak my cock, baby.” 

“Oh, fuck!” She arches her back, closer now with the verbal permission, she loved being told what to do. 

He fucks her faster now, sprinting to the finish line, she sucks him in tighter and he feels her start to flutter again. She is right there… “right there!” She encourages. “Oh my god, oh fuck, daddy, Daddy I’m cumming!” 

The sound that comes out of her is a pitch he’s never heard her reach before, it’s so fucking hot that he buries his cock inside of her and cums with a grunt. He drops down on top of her, the two of them breathing so heavily and sticky with sweat, she wraps her arms around him and holds him there. 

He bites her shoulder gently and then covers it with a kiss, he props himself up after a second, still inside of her, still breathing heavily… he brushes her hair off her face and smiles at her, “that what you wanted?” 

She giggles, smiling like a fool, “yeah, yeah, that was everything…” 

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @babybisexual

Eddie

@fightingdragonswithwho @kyomito @reidselle @venomsvl @nomajdetective @girl-with-an-orange-cat @blairscott @princesseddie @luna-munson83 @ches-86 @manda-panda-monium 

#eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things season 4

[sillysillygoofygoose]

Older! Toji Headcanons x Fem Reader... Part 3!

Househusband! Toji! MDNI 🙄 slight nsfw at the verryyy end.

Househusband! Toji, who never imagined he'd be in the position he's in. He assumed that if he ever were to settle down, he'd want a more traditional route for his family. A pretty little wife, all done up, taking care of the babies and somehow always pregnant. However, that 1950s fantasy came crashing down on him one night after getting home from a particularly rough "assignment."

Househusband! Toji, who confessed to you about his less than ideal career choices after a hard night and three glasses of Jack Daniels on the rocks. Honestly, you were not at all surprised. However, you were not at all pleased either. You thought he was money laundering, not assassinating people. The creeping fear of losing him upset you much more than the gut-churning crimes themselves. The ordeal turned into a screaming fight, leaving him to sleep on the couch.

The next morning, he wakes up to you, standing over him, twisting the sizeable twelve carat diamond on your left ring finger. The ring that is connected to your heart.

"Jesus Christ, sweets. Trying to give me a fucking heart attack?" He grumbles, voice low with sleep.

"Quit your job. I'll take care of everything, you can stay at home. Just quit." You have no time for his sarcastic antics, blurting out a dismissive, unrelated response to his moody tone.

He laughs. You're standing over him with a pout dancing on your pretty lips... and he laughs?

"You know I can't do that. It's dangerous and... we need the money." He attempts to bribe you, bringing in the financial aspect of him being unemployed to distract you from your unshakeable request... well, demand.

"No. No, we don't. I just got that big promotion. You're quitting. I'm really not asking." The more stubborn he becomes, the more your dainty features are contorted with anger. He's genuinely amused at you putting your foot down. Don't get it twisted. You're no pushover... but you find it hard to stand your ground when Toji gives you that look.

"Uh-huh surrreeee. You really can't make me quit, princess." Really, he's just antagonizing you. He likes to push, likes seeing you roll your eyes in annoyance. Instead, your response is not as gratifying as it usually is. You simply shrug your shoulders, turning your back to him on your heels.

"It's me or the job, Fushiguro."

Fushiguro. Your shared last name dropped off your tongue with the same venom of a black mamba.

Playing dirty. Being cruel. Even a pinch manipulative. However, it scared him enough, his sly smile immediately dropping as you walked away.

Househusband! Toji, who was dead set on the fact that he could never be domesticated. Yet, life seems to always shock him as he realizes he's standing in the kitchen, hands on his wide hips, skimming through a cookbook, picking out what to make his beautiful wife for dinner.

Househusband! Toji, who basically runs up to you like a lost puppy when you get home, gathering your smaller frame up in his big arms.

"How was work, pretty? Missed you all day. Come, I made your favorite."

Househusband! Toji, who unironically wears the "Queen of the Kitchen" apron that you bought him as a gag, proudly hanging it up after a long day of preparing food and spiffing up the living room.

Househusband! Toji, who leaves on trashy reality TV reruns while he tends to the house, furthering his Kardashians obsession and getting him hooked on 'The Real Housewives of Beverley Hills'. When you come back from a particularly uneventful day, he resites the drama he overheard while vacuuming.

Househusband! Toji, who built and grew his own garden, stating that he wanted fresh vegetables to incorporate in his recipes.

"Nothing but the best for you, baby."

Househusband! Toji, who runs purely off of your praise. A kiss on the cheek when he welcomes you at the door, an adoring stare directed at his jerry-built garden bed, a hum of pleasure while digging into a new recipe. His favorite form of praise, however, is when you let him rest his head on your chest, kissing him and thanking him for all of his work around the house. It's nice to be appreciated.

Househusband! Toji, who can't shake the thought of bending you over and breeding you after you teased him about how good of a stay at home dad he'd be. Taking care of the family from inside of the house might not be as bad as he originally thought.

Hope you enjoyed! Xoxo

#age difference #jjk x reader #size difference #jjk #fem reader #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #toji smut #househusband au #dilf toji

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Napoleonville [Chapter 5: The Haunted House]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, smoking, drinking, drugs, infidelity, kids, parenthood, Adventures With Aegon, Targ family dysfunction, bodily injury, no Willis this time yay!!! 🥳

Word Count: 7.3k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

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Every house is haunted, not just by phantoms of the past but by the ghosts of what could have been. They live in shadows, in doorways, in the periphery of your vision; you walk through them like smoke or mist. Their blood—pooled and pulseless—is a cold spot in a sweltering room, their fingerprints are the woodgrain swirls of floorboards. If you listen closely, you can hear them at night in the chorus of the cicadas and the owls and the wet westbound wind. They whisper questions you’ve never been able to answer: Have I made the right choices? Have I done the best I could? Is love a myth or does it only exist for other people? Am I a prisoner of the past or the future or myself? Why have I never been chosen?

In the bathtub, you stare at the pale blue walls veined with cracks like the legs of a spider. On the tree swing in the front yard—here long before you moved in, inherited from the effort and care of another family’s hands—you skim your bare feet over emerald blades of grass and watch the lightning bugs appear at dusk. In Cadi’s room, you play the Nintendo when she asks and try to forget who gave it to her; and when she asks about Aemond, you say he’s busy with work, because how else can you explain his absence to a child? In the kitchen, you break eggs into glass bowls of vanilla, sugar, flour, butter, baking powder, but you keep getting pieces of shell in the mix, something that almost never happens anymore. You snap, grab an egg, pitch it against the refrigerator where it explodes into calcium carbonate shrapnel and sterile yellow gore.

Amir looks up, startled. Behind his rectangular tortoiseshell glasses, his eyes dart between you and the viscera that stains the refrigerator door. At last he says softly, seriously: “What is it you liked so much about him?” Implicit in this statement are others: You’ve never liked a man this much. You’ll never see Aemond again.

You study your palms, tools of creation, tools that destroy. “I spend every second of my life consumed by responsibilities. The house, the car, the bakery, the bills, Cadi, Willis, myself, even you. There’s no one to tell me what the right thing to do is. There’s no one who can carry the weight for me. I can’t show it when I’m tired or frustrated or scared. And so to have someone who—even for an hour, even for fifteen minutes—could take care of me, and make all the decisions, and convince me to trust him…it’s the closest I ever get to being at peace.”

Amir gives you a sad, vanishingly small smile. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me too.” And you wet a dishcloth so you can begin to clean up your mess.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Thursday, and you’re coming home after delivering cakes for a birthday party down in Thibodaux. Your car radio is blaring Message In A Bottle by The Police. When you roll into the gravel driveway, the red Audi Quattro is waiting for you: parked right beside the house, like he belongs here, like he owns it. You throw open the door of your Chevy Celebrity and rage up the sloping, groaning steps of the front porch.

The first thing that hits you is the cold. There is an ambient humming, a chill that raises goosebumps on your bare arms. When you rush to the kitchen, you find an air conditioning unit in one of the windows, a metal box that turns the Fall-Down House into a tundra. They’re sitting at the hastily-cleared counter: Aemond leafing through the ledger book containing the financial records for the bakery, Amir beside him sipping a glass of sweet tea. Aemond glances up at you and then back down at the pale green pages, the lines of his face intense, focused. Amir greets you with a nervous titter, hiding behind his sweet tea. Ice jangles in the glass.

“What the fuck is that?”

“Our new air conditioner!” Amir says, overjoyed. “The customers are going to love it. No more waiting around in a stifling kitchen. You know how miserable it gets in here during the summer. We won’t be able to get rid of them! They’ll be purchasing cupcakes by the dozen just to have an excuse to get out of the heat!”

Aemond is still scrutinizing the ledger. “Why aren’t you buying more things in bulk?” he asks Amir. “The shelf life on things like sugar and flour has got to be six months at least.”

“We don’t have the liquid capital. We can’t spend cash if we don’t have cash.”

“And all these business expenses—mixers, coolers, pans, blenders, knives, the gas you burn when you make deliveries, the water you use to wash dishes—those are all tax write-offs, right?”

Amir hesitates. Aemond is aghast, his eyebrows shooting up into the blonde hair that shags over his forehead. The strands are damp with sweat and curling at the edges; he’s been working hard. He’s the one who heaved the air conditioner up onto the window ledge. His Marlboro jacket is draped over the back of his barstool. He’s wearing jeans, a black MTV t-shirt, and his Adidas sneakers.

“Please tell me you haven’t been paying income tax on money you aren’t actually keeping.”

“I didn’t know what we were allowed to write off, I was petrified to make a mistake! I don’t want to end up in Rikers!”

“They don’t put people in Rikers for tax evasion. You’d only go to minimum security.”

Amir rolls his eyes. “Well now you’ve convinced me.”

You are betrayed, furious. “You’re showing him the book?”

“He’s very bossy,” Amir says, slurping his sweet tea. “As you know.”

Aemond asks you, making notes on a legal pad he’s commandeered: “Do you have an IRA?”

“A what?”

“An IRA,” Aemond repeats slowly, emphasizing every syllable. “An individual retirement account.”

Should I? Could I? What the hell is that? “Um. I don’t think so.”

Aemond sighs, exasperated. He jots down another bullet point on his legal pad. “You need one.”

“I need you to get out of my house.”

“Shh!” Amir pleads. “He bought us an air conditioner!”

“Do you know how much that’s going to cost us in electricity? The bill is going to go through the roof. We’re not going to be able to afford this. And he doesn’t care, because he hasn’t even thought of it. Drop an oil rig into a lake and solve the unemployment crisis. Throw an air conditioner in a window and buy someone’s loyalty. He doesn’t understand us. He doesn’t care about us. He’s not capable of it.”

“I’ll pay for the electricity,” Aemond says. Now he’s looking at you.

“Get out,” you demand.

He seems—perplexingly—to be genuinely wounded. “I’m trying to help you.”

“Get out!”

Aemond stands, walks to you, backs you up until your shoulder blades hit the refrigerator. The metal door is cluttered with Cadi’s drawings, secured there with multicolored alphabet magnets: dinosaurs eating people, Rambo, astronauts rocketing to the moon, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Aemond is so close you can smell the cigarette smoke and cologne and sweat on him, see the smudges of ink on his fingers. His right eye travels all over you, defiant and hungry. His left eye—and you only notice when there’s no space left between you—is an impassive, glassy, not-quite-identical blue that never moves. It’s an imposter, and a very good one; but it’s not him. You think, unable to say it: What happened to your face? Who hurt you? Instead you strike out to shove Aemond away with both hands.

“Get out of my house—!”

“You want to get rough with me? Will that make you feel better?” he murmurs darkly, ignoring your palms when they collide with his chest, his collarbones, his jaw. Your flesh can’t hurt him, it can only graze his skin like stray bullets. “You want to hit me? Go ahead. I’ve had worse. I promise you I have.”

“I hate you!”

But you haven’t said the right word, and you both know it. He grabs your wrists, holds them still, whispers low and menacing into your ear as you struggle to rip your hands out of his grasp. “I dreamed about you all night. Tying you down, stretching you open. I want that. I think you do too.”

“I don’t want it,” you hiss; but already you’re imagining him on top of you, inside you, in control of you, and to resist that is like trying to fight the instinct to seek water, sleep, sunlight.

“Then tell me to stop.”

You glare up at Aemond, raging, burning. His gaze locks with yours and stays there. You are suddenly aware of the heat of his fingers linked around your wrists, of the pressure of his hips against yours as he pins you to the refrigerator. You can’t say it. I don’t want him to stop touching me. I don’t want him to leave and never come back.

Again, Aemond dares you: “Tell me to stop.”

From the kitchen counter, Amir is gawking at you both, his eyes huge, stunned, painfully uncomfortable. Nonetheless, he doesn’t look away. “I’m not leaving,” he informs Aemond. Just in case you’re weak enough to agree to something you’ll regret later; just in case you need a friend.

The spell breaks, the curse lifts. Aemond releases you and takes several steps back. He breathes deeply, running his fingers through his damp hair, composing himself. “You’re a good person,” he says to Amir.

“Thanks. I’m afraid I can’t return the compliment.”

Aemond turns back to you. Now he’s penitent, measured. Already, a part of you misses the weight of his bones on yours. But that’s not why Aemond is here. “Let me talk. Let me explain.”

No, you almost say. I’m not interested. I don’t want you anymore. There’s nothing you can tell me that will make me feel at peace with you again.

Instead, after long moments colored by waning sunlight and the whirring of the new air conditioner in the window: “Okay.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re on the tree swing, gripping the ropes and swaying slightly back and forth as you push off with your bare feet, rocking from your heels to your toes and then back again. Aemond lights a cigarette and takes a drag as he sits cross-legged on the grass in front of you. Amir keeps peeking out from between the blinds of the living room windows. Aemond glances around the yard, and you realize he’s searching for the alligator. His Marlboro jacket is folded neatly on the ground next to him.

���The gator’s not here right now, Aemond. She’s probably over in the trees. She’s not going to hurt you.”

He nods, but he doesn’t seem convinced. He fidgets restlessly with his cigarette.

All that money, all that power, all that ecological ruin, and he’s petrified of a five-foot gator that’s probably never eaten anything bigger than a pelican. It’s ridiculous. You smile weakly. “I think you have a phobia.”

He gestures to his scar, to his ruined left eye. “I’m afraid one will sneak up on me and I won’t be able to see it.”

He’s never spoken like this to you before, acknowledging his limitations, his impairment. He’s trying to be honest. He really is. “Where’s Christabel?”

“Back in the U.K.”

“When are you getting married?”

He shrugs, uninterested. “A few months from now, I guess. July. August. It doesn’t matter. I’m not really involved in the planning.”

“You’re a cheater,” you say. It comes out less accusatory than mournful. Why did you have to disappoint me? Why did you have to ruin this?

Aemond is dismissive. He puffs on his cigarette. “Everyone cheats.”

“No they don’t.”

“Everyone from my world cheats,” Aemond amends. “You marry for money or status or land or whatever, to prove you can snag someone who should be above you, to make your parents proud of you, to make sure your children have the right last name and titles. Then when the novelty fades—and it does, it always does—you find passion elsewhere.”

“That’s barbaric.”

“That’s aristocratic. Poor people get divorced two or three times. They have public brawls and call the cops on each other. We just have a different solution to life’s inevitabilities. My mother cheats with Criston, Daemon and Rhaenyra cheated with each other, I cheat with you, Aegon cheats with…I couldn’t even list them. A lot of people.”

Aegon. So that’s the debaucherous brother’s name. “Not all fancy rich people cheat. Prince Charles doesn’t cheat.”

Aemond bursts out laughing. “Of course he does! He’s been fucking Camilla Parker Bowles since like 1970!”

Your stomach sinks. Poor Diana. “I thought they were just friends now.”

“Yeah, sure, that’s what the tabloids say.” He inhales smoke—cancerous, lethal—and then exhales it in a grey gale like fog. “I think they stopped for a few years after he got married. But presently they spend as much time as they possibly can rendezvousing at all their friends’ country estates. Charles and Diana are miserable, but they’ll never split up. She’s entertaining herself with a cavalry officer named James Hewitt. Who looks suspiciously like Prince Harry, by the way.”

“And who does your father fuck on the side? Nancy Reagan?”

“He prefers the memory of a dead woman to my living mother. I’d say that counts as infidelity.”

The photograph Aegon showed me on the Targaryens’ refrigerator. Rhaenyra’s mother. And what else had been on that refrigerator? Pictures of the rest of the family? Old sketches and report cards? Souvenirs? A calendar with upcoming birthdays circled or starred? No. There was nothing. You consider Aemond with a disorienting blend of pity and barbed, venomous frustration. “I’m sorry Viserys has never been a good father to you. But that’s not an excuse to ruin other people’s lives.”

“Look, what you did…” Aemond begins with sizable effort. He puts the end of his cigarette out on the sole of one of his Adidas sneakers. “To walk away from something you believe isn’t right when everyone else is telling you to stay…that’s not easy. And maybe for you it didn’t feel so insurmountable because you’ve had to learn how to survive painful things on your own before. But all I’ve ever done was break my own bones so my father would notice me. I don’t mean that as a metaphor. I’ve fractured my ribs, my hands, my skull. And it’s still not enough. Love isn’t given in my family. I have to earn it. It’s all I know.”

“You could learn something new.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t. I won’t. That’s not a language I speak.”

Exactly how bad of a father was Viserys Targaryen? “Aemond, what happened to your face?”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

You study him. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to be my Camilla,” Aemond says.

“No. No way.” But you’re amazed by how badly you want to say yes. One word and he’ll touch me again? One word and I can have him back the way we were before? It doesn’t seem possible to resist that. It’s not something that should be expected of any mortal.

“I want to be around you. I want you to keep making me feel the way you do, because it’s…it’s…it’s not something I get from anyone else. And I want to make your life better. I have the ability to do that.”

“Because you’re an oil tycoon.”

“Yes,” Aemond agrees. “I was born to be one, and so I am. But even if I wasn’t—if I refused, if I died—it’s not like the trillion-dollar industry would just disappear. There’s Jade Dragon, sure, but there’s also ExxonMobil, Shell, British Petroleum, Chevron, Valero, Marathon, a hundred others. Someone would be drilling on Lake Verret regardless. But the person in charge might be less scrupulous than I am. I’m doing the best I can here.”

“Were you in Ketchikan when the spill happened there?”

“No. I’ve never been to Alaska. That was someone else’s project. It was a fuckup, it was Jade Dragon’s fault. But my father is the one fighting it in court. I have no control over that.”

Someone else’s project…

“Come to my house tonight,” he says.

“No, Aemond.”

“Then come over on Saturday.” And you think: He remembered which days Cadi is usually with Willis.

“I don’t want to be your mistress.” I want to be more than that, oh God, I want so much more. You think of Christabel touching him and wrenching nausea cuts through you like a blade. You imagine Aemond’s hands taking off her clothes—zippers, buttons, ribbons, belts—and you feel like there’s almost nothing you wouldn’t do to stop it from happening.

“We’re from two very different words,” Aemond says calmly, sensibly. “And it’s going to be impossible for us to understand each other unless we make an effort to learn about where we’ve come from. You’ve invited me into your home, your business, your family, and I’m very grateful for that. Now I need to do the same. And I think if you see more of my life, you’ll realize why I make the decisions I do and what it would mean for us to be together. Because in my experience, husbands and wives aren’t soulmates like they are in books or movies. It’s someone else who you actually…” He breaks off, then continues once he’s decided on the phrasing. “Spend most of your time with.”

Part of you knows that this arrangement would be hopelessly inadequate; you would feel like you were settling for less than you want, you would feel unchosen. But the louder part of you is clinging to it like a life raft. I want him to touch me again. I want him to make me forget about everything else. “I’ll think about it. Visiting the house, I mean.”

“Please do,” Aemond says. “How was Cadi’s weekend fishing?”

He really does listen to you; he remembers things. Even things you mention once and then never again. “She loved it. Willis knows more about the bayou than I’ll ever know about baking. They caught three catfish, four breams, and a bass, and then they made them into fish sticks. Thank God she has one parent who can cook. Even if Willis thinks Hungry Jack mashed potatoes are a vegetable. You know what he puts in the pot instead of milk? Coffee creamer. Cups of it.”

Aemond doesn’t seem pleased to be reminded of Willis’ existence. He says, rather mechanically: “I’m really glad Cadi enjoyed herself.” He grabs his Marlboro jacket, rises to his feet, scans the yard for the alligator. She’s made an appearance at last: she’s sunbathing about ten yards away, nowhere near close enough to be a nuisance. Still, Aemond frowns. Then he clears his face and looks back to you one last time as he strides towards his Audi Quattro. “And Cupcake?”

You peer up at him, shielding your eyes from the late-afternoon sun. “Yeah?”

“When you come to the house…” He grins. Not if. When. “Bring your swimsuit.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You cut the engine and survey the grand entranceway of the house that the Targaryens call The Last Desire, words in Greek that you couldn’t pronounce. The blue merle Great Dane—Vhagar, you recall, yet another bizarre foreign name—is lurking between the towering white columns of the wraparound porch. “Fantastic,” you mutter, stepping out of the car. It’s Saturday, 2 p.m., hot and muggy and cicadas screeching in the southern live oaks. Green anoles dart across the cobblestones and freshly-painted white wood of the porch. Whooping cranes, haughty and fragile, ogle you with reptilian yellow eyes.

You pause when you reach the bottom step of the porch. The Great Dane growls at you, her lips curling up to show long fanglike teeth. You’re carrying two bakery boxes stacked on top of each other: one contains a dozen blueberry pie cupcakes, the second filled with fresh Cap’n Crunch Treats. You glance around for someone to assist you with the hostile dog situation. You have no interest in attempting to shove her away like Alicent did on the day of the engagement party.

Blessedly, the head butler materializes in the doorway and beckons you inside. When Vhagar snarls as you approach, the butler pulls a small plastic water gun from the pocket of his black dress pants. “I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience,” he tells you, and then squirts the dog several times. Vhagar reluctantly lopes away. “Please allow me to escort you to the pool. Mr. Targaryen instructed us to be on the lookout for you.” Then he breezes into the house without checking to make sure you’re following him.

You trot after the butler through the white-and-gold foyer, the deep red living room, and then out into the garden. There is a long row of neon green lounge chairs on the side of the pool opposite of the water slide. Three of the chairs are occupied. Helaena is stretched across one wearing a frilly one-piece, floral with ladybugs; her chameleon is perched on the top of the adjustable backrest. Alicent is in the chair beside her, dressed in a turquoise blue coverup that matches the pool water and reading The Silence of the Lambs. They both wave nonchalantly, seemingly unsurprised by your presence. And then there’s Aegon. He’s smoking a joint as a black boombox beside him plays The Cure’s Why Can’t I Be You? You place both bakery boxes on a table shielded from the sun by a large green umbrella.

“What’s in there?” Aegon asks. He’s wearing pink plastic sunglasses, a radiant fuchsia sunburn, and a Speedo patterned with pineapples. His ferret is curled up in his lap and napping.

“Blueberry pie cupcakes and Cap’n Crunch Treats.”

“Yes! Pass me one of each.”

“Don’t be rude, Aegon,” Alicent says dully, turning a page of her book. “She’s not a servant.”

“She’s a literal baker. I’m asking for baked goods.”

“Dear, I’ve been singing your praises to every single person I cross paths with in this jungle of a town,” Alicent tells you, ignoring him. “Have you noticed yet?”

You hand Aegon his treats; he marvels at the miniature blueberry pie placed atop the cupcake frosting before scarfing it down. “I think we’ve had more customers than usual this week, now that you mention it. Thank you so much! Amir and I are more grateful than we could ever express.”

“Oh, it’s the least I could do, love,” Alicent says. Criston appears with a strawberry daiquiri and gives it to her, complete with a swirl of whipped cream and a little pink toothpick umbrella pierced through a wedge of lime. Criston wears a pair of roomy Hawaiian board shorts and his single gold earring. Alicent takes a sip. “Heavenly! I am completely revived.”

“Helaena, would you like one?” Criston asks.

“Yes please.”

“And one for Aemond’s friend too, please,” Alicent says. Criston nods and hurries off again. Nobody asks if Aegon wants a strawberry daiquiri. He gnaws moodily at his cupcake and then when it’s gone moves on to the Cap’n Crunch Treat. Helaena’s chameleon snatches a dragonfly out of the air with its tongue. Alicent shudders.

Aemond’s friend? Friend?? You sit down on the lounge chair next to Aegon, still wearing your pale pink coverup. He tells you: “Aemond should be back soon. He got a phone call and had to swing by the rigs after lunch but he didn’t think it would take long.” Then Aegon smiles toothily, and you notice he has residual white powder around the corners of his lips and just inside his nostrils. “It’s good to meet you properly this time, now that I’m aware of all your talents.”

“You know about Aemond’s…uh…preferences?”

“Oh yeah, and I knew he had a girl. He always has to have a girl. I just didn’t know it was you. He doesn’t usually bring them around the family.”

You steal a glimpse of Alicent and Helaena. If they’re listening in, they’re doing an excellent job of not acting like they are.

“I think we should address this,” Aegon says.

You are stymied. “Address what?”

“It would never work, me and you.”

“I hadn’t even thought of it.”

“Sure you haven’t,” Aegon says. He flourishes a hand melodramatically. “You need a dom. I am, lamentably, an irredeemable sub. I’m a sheep in wolf’s clothing.”

“Okay, Aegon.”

“I just needed to break the tension.”

“I think you’re imagining that.”

There are footsteps, the slapping of flip flops against the cobblestones, and then someone who looks like a younger, more cheerful, more sober Aegon arrives at the pool. He is dressed in royal blue swim trunks that stop at his mid-thigh; his wavy blond hair is down to his shoulders. Like his family members, he also does not seem at all surprised to see you. “Hi,” he says, shaking your hand. “I’m Daeron. I didn’t get to introduce myself at the engagement party. I’m sorry about that. I was entangled in a very competitive tennis match on the courts out back for most of the day.”

Alicent asks: “Daeron, love, would you like a strawberry daiquiri when Criston reappears?”

“Yeah, Mum, that would be great.” He parks himself on the available chair beside her and begins asking about her book. As they chat, a blue macaw flaps through the garden and uses its long, leathery talons to claim the backrest of Daeron’s lounge chair.

“It’s so sweet of you to take an interest in my reading, Daeron,” Alicent gushes. “None of my other children ever do…”

Aegon groans loudly. Everyone ignores him. Criston arrives with two strawberry daiquiris, one for you and one for Helaena. You take a sip through a plastic straw with several loops in it: icy cold and jarringly sweet.

“And one for Daeron too please, Criston,” Alicent requests. “Did you hear that he just got another article published? It’s about evaluating rock wettability.” Her tone suggests that she has no idea what this means; nonetheless, she is ardently enthusiastic.

“That kid is going places,” Criston says admiringly.

Aegon counters: “That kid’s had phone sex with Michelle Pfeiffer.”

You laugh, thinking that it’s a joke. Daeron just gives you a sheepish smile. Oh, you think. Not a joke.

Criston hustles back inside the house. An old man passes Criston as he strolls out to the pool. He looks around blearily, like he’s hungover or has just woken up from a nap or both. His bloodshot eyes skate over you without much interest. He squints at the pool floats that bob in the rippling, crystalline water, sparkly rings and an assortment of foam noodles and a giant cartoonish alligator.

“How was Kiribati?” Aegon says.

“Much better than here. This goddamn humidity!”

“I can’t believe you missed the engagement party, Father,” Alicent says glumly.

“Oh no, how could I! I’ll never have any way of knowing what transpired!” He plops down onto a chair near the end of the row. His bare feet are gnarled, his toenails long and yellowed. “Let me guess. Cake was served, champagne was toasted, people bragged about their stupid hobbies and their ugly children, that girl scuttled about with her perpetually-startled eyes and asinine comments. Do you remember when she tried to give me her condolences when she learned your mother passed away years ago? Why would I want some moonstruck idiot’s condolences? She didn’t know your mother. She doesn’t know anything.”

“Christabel is very young,” Alicent offers gently.

“She’s very something, that’s for sure. Very useless. Very irritating. This family would be in a much better state if Viserys wasn’t the one making all the decisions. His judgment has declined precipitously.” He casts a poisonous glare at Aegon. Aegon pretends not to notice.

“I like Christabel,” Helaena says. Her chameleon gobbles up a butterfly that ventures too close.

“Yes, I’m sure you do.” The old man’s voice is kinder now. “You see the best in everyone. But dear Helaena, we are in for a lifetime of insipid simpers and vapid conversations.”

“A lifetime?” Aegon says. “So not much longer for you, Grandfather. What a comfort.”

The old man glowers at Aegon. “We should have left you in Alaska to have your throat slit by those animals.” And you hear Aemond’s words reverberating in your skull: I’ve never been to Alaska. That was someone else’s project.

Aegon is rolling himself a fresh joint, accidentally spilling sprinkles of weed on his slumbering ferret. He snorts. “I don’t care what Alaskans think of me.”

Daeron says: “Aegon, you poisoned 1,000 square miles of the ocean.”

“The fucking ocean,” Aegon mutters. “What do we even need the ocean for?”

“Vacations,” Otto says.

Helaena adds: “Sushi.”

Daeron is distressed. “Actually, the ocean is super important.”

“Why are we talking about the ocean?” Aemond asks as he strolls through the garden and pauses by the edge of the pool to dip a foot in to test the temperature. He’s wearing black swim trunks and nothing else, just his skin, just his scar and his glass left eye. He sees you, smiles, goes to the bakery boxes and lifts out a cupcake. He sits down on the edge of your lounge chair as he licks off the wave-blue frosting. No one makes any comment, and no one brings up Aegon’s role in the Ketchikan oil spill again.

Criston returns once more with a strawberry daiquiri for Daeron. “Well, I’ve just about killed the blender, so hopefully we don’t need any more—”

“But Criston!” Alicent cries. “What about Aemond and my father? Perhaps they are in need of refreshments.”

Criston sighs. Crestfallen, he looks at Aemond. “Do you want a strawberry daiquiri?”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll just have a few sips of hers.”

Aegon says: “Can I get a pina colada?”

Criston turns towards the old man. “Otto? Daiquiri?”

“No, but if you could immediately teleport me back to the South Pacific, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Pina colada??” Aegon says again.

“Okay, Aegon,” Criston snaps. “Calm down. Let me figure out if we have any more coconut cream.” Alicent’s part-time bodyguard and personal assistant, part-time babysitter, part-time affair partner vanishes into the house yet again.

Aegon lurches to his feet. “No one listens to me,” he tells you morosely. “You see that? No one remembers. That’s how you know they don’t care.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Alicent tells Aegon, not looking up from her book.

“Wait, someone is missing…” Otto muses, stroking his beard.

Aegon staggers to the edge of the pool, drags over a sparkly turquoise inflatable ring, and flops onto it. He paddles himself out towards the center of the pool. His ferret bounds after him, leaps into the water, and swims until it reaches Aegon, wriggling through the blue like a golden-furred snake. “Hey Sunfyre, you wanted to come too?” Aegon lifts the soaked ferret from the water and places it on his chest, soft and sunburned. “My bad. I assumed you’d prefer dry land.”

Otto—cantankerous and grating—looks around, baffled. “Wait, where’s Viserys?”

“He’s inspecting some of the rigs out in the Gulf of Mexico,” Aemond says as he finishes the cupcake and takes a slurp of your daiquiri. “He won’t be back until the end of the week.”

“Thank God,” Aegon exclaims from the middle of the pool.

Alicent changes the subject. “How long have you been baking, dear?” she asks you.

“Forever, basically. But I started getting serious about making it a business when my daughter was really young, about nine years ago. Now Amir and I sell hundreds of items a week, sometimes thousands.”

Daeron is nodding along, but he appears a little confused. He has gotten himself a Cap’n Crunch Treat and is feeding pieces of it to his blue macaw. “And you do that because…you want to?”

“Well I have to pay rent.”

“Oh. Right. Of course.”

“And I could have been a checkout girl at the Doller General, or worked seasonally harvesting soybeans or sugarcane, or begged my ex-husband to get me a job in the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office…but I wanted to do something that didn’t make me miserable. And something that was really mine, that I chose.” Aemond is watching you thoughtfully. The other Targaryens are a tad interested but far more perplexed. They can’t understand work the way you do. They can’t understand money as something that must be counted.

“Brilliant!” Alicent declares at last. “Well, maybe one day we’ll have you making six cakes for Helaena’s engagement party, who knows!”

“It would be my absolute pleasure. Do you have a potential husband hanging around, Helaena?”

She giggles, covering her blushing face with both hands. Her chameleon creeps down to cling to her shoulder, as if to make sure she’s alright. Its conical eyes flit in random directions, an unmitigated freak of nature. You should have more compassion for it.

Aemond grins. “Helaena is responsible for no less than three broken engagements. She can’t commit.”

“And she’s only into guys who look like Aegon,” Daeron adds.

“No!” Helaena objects. “That is such a lie, that’s not true!”

“Evander?” Daeron says.

Helaena pauses to think. “Okay, yes, he looked kind of like Aegon.”

“He did, didn’t he?” Alicent frets, nibbling at the fingernail of her pinky.

“Dimitri?” Aemond says.

“Oh no,” Helaena moans; but she’s laughing too. “Oh no.”

“Sebastian?” Aegon says, and now they’re all howling.

Otto shakes his head. “Freud would definitely have some thoughts about this.”

“Bloody hell,” Helaena whimpers, swiping tears from her face. Her chameleon nudges her jaw with its shimmering, blue-green muzzle. “I totally only date guys who look like Aegon.”

Aegon shrugs from where he’s floating in the pool with Sunfyre. “Good taste, I’d say. Fuck them all, homegirl.”

“Aegon!” Alicent shouts, scandalized.

Criston dashes out of the house and to the edge of the pool, clutching a pina colada that is swiftly melting. “You better paddle yourself over here, kid. I don’t offer in-water delivery.”

“You’d do it for my mother.”

“Probably. But you’re not her.”

Aegon groans as he splashes around without making much progress. “Okay, okay, give me a second…”

Aemond turns to you. “How do you like the house? I realized I never got the chance to ask last weekend.”

“I like all the stained glass, and I like that every room is a different color. The living room is red, the dining room is yellow, the kitchen is teal, Aegon’s bedroom is black—”

“Wait, how do you know?” Aemond is alarmed.

You chuckle. “No, no, not like that. I was lost and looking for a bathroom.”

“Didn’t do anything,” Aegon announces from his pool float. “Didn’t do it, didn’t try it, didn’t even think about it. Well…maybe I thought about it. But I definitely did not do anything.”

“Okay.” Aemond exhales, relived. “Close call.”

“What color is your room?”

He’s not going to waste the opportunity to extend an invitation. “Let me show you.”

On the same floor as Aegon’s punk rock bedroom and the lilac bathroom, you trail Aemond to the end of the hallway. At last he opens a door to reveal a room that is a deep, vivid blue like sapphires. The bookshelves that touch the ceiling are filled not with texts on engineering or the energy industry but histories of people whose names you don’t recognize. He has a massive wooden canopy bed swathed in dark blue velvet patterned with circling koi fish made of stars. He has a writing desk, a wardrobe full of suits, a television with an extensive VHS collection. The stained glass windows are a whirlpool of cerulean, navy, aquamarine, indigo, steel, azure. When you peer through the glass, you can see the gleaming currents of Lake Verret and the twisted dead ends of the bayou that forms at its edges, treacherous and untamed.

And when you start to feel that if Aemond tried to grab you, undress you, tie knots around your wrists you wouldn’t stop him, you tell him that you want to go back outside to the pool; and Aemond listens, and he doesn’t try to touch you even once.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Monday, two days later, and Aemond calls to ask if he can bring you and Cadi dinner. He shows up with all the trappings of what he insists is real Italian food, doubtlessly prepared by his family’s private chefs: focaccia, caprese salad, ossobuco, risotto, Bolognese, panna cotta. He forgets the red wine, so you drink sweet tea instead, the three of you crowded around the kitchen counter, ceaselessly passing dishes back and forth while the little pink Panasonic boombox plays You Spin Me Round by Dead Or Alive.

“Hey Mom?” Cadi says as she chomps on a hunk of focaccia.

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t you ever cook dinners like this?”

There’s a tiny little gut punch, something you’re used to swallowing down even if it bruises you to the heart, to the bones. She doesn’t know any better. You can’t cry, you can’t get mad. You shrug, dispassionate. Aemond glances over at you, abruptly tense but not saying anything. “Well honey, it’s probably because my job can be really busy sometimes, and I spend most of the day in the kitchen, so when dinner time comes around the last thing I want to do is cook. But we always have food to eat, right?”

“Yeah. Like Amir’s leftovers or frozen pizza or something. But all my friends’ moms cook nice dinners most nights. Can’t you do that? When I go to Michelle or Erica’s house for dinner their moms make barbeque ribs, gumbo, seafood boils, etouffee, tasso ham, homemade macaroni and cheese, like real dinners. I want us to have that too. What if my friends want to eat dinner here sometime? I can’t bring them over and then just throw some Swanson’s meals at them.”

Aemond has put his fork down on his plate and is clasping his hands together, trying to figure out what to say. But he shouldn’t say anything. It’s not his place.

You tell Cadi, as calmly as you can: “Different families have different kinds of dinners, and that’s okay. I bet your friends’ moms don’t have cakes and cookies around all the time, but you always have tons of dessert options. Our situation looks different than theirs, but there’s nothing wrong with either one.”

“But desserts aren’t even good for kids. Dinner is way more important. You can’t say I get cakes instead of dinner, too much cake will give me diseases or something.”

“Okay, Cadi. That’s enough. Let’s talk about this later.”

“I’m just saying it seems totally unfair that my friends get real dinners and I almost never do.”

Michelle and Erica’s moms don’t work. They have husbands to support them. So they can spend all day babying a fucking tasso ham, but I don’t have that luxury. And I don’t want to be chained to a man. I don’t want to trade having a say in how my life turns out for being able to slave away over dinner for four or five hours. “I regret to inform you that I’m not like Michelle and Erica’s moms.”

“I wish you were,” Cadi murmurs, entirely unaware of what she’s done. You bite your lower lip so you don’t snap at her, or try to explain, or break down sobbing. You taste blood, hot sharp copper that blooms like wildflowers.

Aemond stands up. His barstool squeals against the sloping wooden floor. “Hey, can I talk to you outside for a minute?” he asks Cadi.

“Aemond, what…?” you begin, but he’s already headed for the front door.

Cadi blinks up at him, horrified. “Why?”

“You’re not in trouble or anything. I just want to show you something. Come on. It’ll be quick.”

“Okay,” Cadi says doubtfully, looking at you. You give her your best reassuring smile, and she slides off her barstool and follows after Aemond. The front door opens and shuts. You don’t hear shouting, you don’t hear much of anything except the air conditioner and the boombox and the mourning doves, the long-eared owl, the cicadas, the bayou, the universe. You go to one of the living room windows and part the blinds to peek outside.

What you see is strange. Cadi is sitting on the swing, and Aemond is kneeling in front of her so they’re just about at the same eye level. You can see half of Aemond’s face; Cadi is blocking the rest. He’s explaining something to her with patient yet insistent gestures of his hands. Cadi says something, and Aemond nods and replies. He points to his scar, his glass eye, and says something else. Cadi asks a question, and Aemond hesitates. Then he acquiesces and moves closer to where she is perched on the tree swing. He reaches up towards the scarred side of his face, but you can’t see his eye. When he lowers his palm, there’s a small piece of curved, oval-shaped glass that glints in the dying sunlight.

“Cool!” you can hear Cadi exclaim, muffled through the windows that are now closed on account of the new air conditioning unit. She says something else, and Aemond agrees. You watch her hand extending towards his face, towards the injury he has revealed to her for reasons you can’t comprehend. You rush to other windows, trying to get a better view, but there’s no way for you to get a clear line of sight. Before you know it, your hear their footsteps drumming up the porch steps. The front door opens just as you’re scrambling back onto your barstool.

“Everything alright?” you say, more nervously than you intend to.

“Yup,” Cadi replies. She climbs into her seat and resumes wolfing down focaccia and Bolognese.

You look over at Aemond, bewildered. His glass eye is back in its socket. He appears composed, but you notice the fresh sheen of sweat on his forehead, at his temples, at the nape of his neck. He gives you a casual little smirk and then returns to his barstool. He picks up his full glass of sweet tea and drains it in three massive gulps.

“Hey Mom,” Cadi says, and your throat is suddenly full of embers.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Tonight is really fun,” she says. She twirls her fork in the pappardelle pasta of the Bolognese, splattering red sauce over her cheeks. “This is great. I want to do this more often.”

And the embers in your throat cool, vanish, are replaced by something vast and free.

“You really do need a new house,” Aemond says as he helps you clean up after dinner; Cadi has already abandoned you both for her Nintendo. “There are new constructions a little further down Route 401, between here and Lake Verret. Three bedrooms, two baths. Not a castle or anything, just the right size for you and Cadi. We can go look at them sometime.”

“I don’t need a whole new house. There are midcentury homes all over the place down here. They’re small, and they might need fixing up, but they’re a lot cheaper.” Then you add, because it sounds less pathetic: “And maybe it’s nice to have a house with some history, some character.”

“Old can be charming and quaint, sure. But brand new is better.”

“Why’s that?”

He smiles. “No ghosts.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond #aemond x you #aemond x y/n

[pascalsbby]

CARNAL / Chapter 3: Exalt

CARNAL Masterlist

Summary: 3.5K/ f!reader, dark!joel, stalker!joel.

Warnings: 18+ mdni, SMUT, age gap, Joel talks you through it, dominate & aggressive joel, pet names, praise kink, brief mention of religion. talk of: anal/Joel masturbating/fingering himself + the usual pure filth. you’re welcome.

“I beg you. Eat me up. Want me down to the marrow.” - Hélène Cixous

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.• ♡ °:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *

The resonating depth within his voice reached out and caressed you for a moment. For that split second there was warmth, excitement. And then terror.

Your gaze instinctively fell upon the intricate web of veins tracing an unmissable pattern across his skin. You weren’t listening to the words leaving his mouth, all you remember is him on his knees last night, spread open on his bed as he pleasured himself with his own fingers to your decree.

“Mhmm, so good. Now stick in another one.” He moved it around his tightness, then did as he was told.

“Just like that,” he whimpered at your praise. “Good boy. Does it feel good? Has anyone ever touched you there? I bet you have plenty of times, haven’t you? Cumming hands free with your own fingers in your asshole. Such a naughty boy.”

He wanted to “try something new.” He said he’d pay you double if you played along well. It wasn’t hard to say yes to him, you would have probably done anything he asked of you, money or not. Seeing him in such a vulnerable position, fucking his fingers in and out of himself was enough payment for you. His stutters had been godly as he shoved his face down into the bed, reaching further into his own bliss.

Now, the irony became clear as day: his intention to grant you a sense of control only fueled the impending destruction he had planned for you. It dawned upon you that this twisted game was nothing but a source of perverse pleasure for him, unwaveringly. You felt it punch you in the chest.

You would be damned if you were going to fall to your knees in the middle of your own capstone show. It wasn’t even that, though, the possible embarrassment of collapsing and then having to make up a reason why. It wasn’t even him encumbering such a momentous occasion in your career, in life. It was that you’d shown this man everything you had and he took it in his weighty fucking hands and crushed it. He took advantage of you. He knew every one of your catches, he knew how to mold you.

He knew how to undo you, too.

Had he been recording your encounters? Did he know where you lived? What car you drove? Sarah lived right down the fucking hall.

Sarah.

You were so full with shame it felt like you were going to puke it up. It felt like it was moving up your throat, blocking your airways and tightening its hands around your throat.

He found you. He was Sarah’s father. He was your fathers apparent best friend. He was your dirty secret. He was your stalker, prowling for god knows how long in the shadows.

“Joel here reached out to me a couple months ago, askin’ how the family was. It’d been ten or so years since we’d seen each other last, right?” Joel nodded his head at your dad. Much quieter and reserved in real life, you guessed. Asshole.

“I’m glad you reached out, it’s been good getting to know you again, old man. Just like the ol’ days. 10 years is too long.”

10 years… You’d met him before? You couldn’t remember when exactly. How could you not remember him? No, you were a child ten years ago- this wasn’t your responsibility nor was it your fault. He’s met you before. He remembered. You didn’t.

-

In all actuality, he did remember the day he met you. You were 15 years old, a shell of a person. You weren’t happy, running around with your friends that summer like he thought all 15 year olds ought to be. He watched a much younger Sarah running around the front yard in the sprinklers, screeching and throwing her hands up in great fervor that summer. You spent most of your time indoors, painting out of long-gone watercolors.

Joel was there helping your dad build the shop that summer. To a teenager so stuck inside of herself, he was probably just passing through. A quick, fleeting memory.

Most nights he would stay for dinner, Sarah was at her mom’s for the summer, so he had no one to go home to anyways. He sat across from you, his attention perched upon your father, mostly talking about whether they should get this lift or that. What type of metal was best for that kind of support. Joel always pushed his peas to the side, hoping no one would notice.

In those rare moments when you did grant him your full attention, your eyes met his with an imploring intensity, silently begging for understanding, a touch of heartfelt empathy. He would pass you when he came inside to go to the bathroom and his steps would falter. Should I ask her if she needs me?

One time your parents were in the kitchen and he thought he’d give you something to laugh about. Mainly to just see if he could make you smile. See if you could laugh.

“Hey…” he broke the silence, broke you out of whatever trance you’d been in. Your brown eyes found his.

“I’ve gotta question for you, darlin’,”

“Okay,” you had hesitated.

“Tell me, a horse walks into a bar- now what does the bartender say?” He paused, waiting for a response, his half-smile sneaking up the edges of his lips.

Silence, waiting.

“… why the long face?" He let out.

And then your laughter erupted. The awkwardness was far more funny than the joke itself.

“I’m sorry but that was the dumbest joke I’ve ever heard, Miller.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” he grinned.

He knew your dad could be a cruel man, but he’s always hoped after college he would grow out of it. Especially once he married and had a kid, then two. They didn’t keep in close contact after college, but maybe he should have been checking more. If anything, to see how you were. To see if your brother knew how to be a man. He knew your mother wasn’t emotionally or really even physically present herself.

He never once had any sexual or unruly thought about you then. But he had an overwhelming feeling of wanting to care for you, protect you. The world hadn’t been fair to you.

He built the shop over three months and then was gone.

It wasn’t until the day after Sarah showed him those pictures that it clicked for him. Those eyes had gazed upon him before, asking the same question. He did some more digging and realized who you were, whose daughter you were. Only after touching himself. He couldn’t take those touches back, the thoughts or the fire in his torso. That only added to the guilt, but it wasn’t enough to stop it from turning into something ugly.

-

How long had he been at this?

“Excuse me,” you croaked out, lamentably.

No one heard you over the chatter, over your dads feeble storytelling.

“It was good of you to come today, Miller.”

Sarah must go by her mother’s mai- Miller? The guy who has helped your dad build his shop one summer. He would stay for dinner and always sneak glances your way.

Over the past four years being separated from the environment you were forged in, many secrets had unveiled themselves. Most of them nothing but a fragment attached to something bigger. A thrown beer bottle shattering at your feet, road rage, anger directed towards your mother. A therapist told you it was a coping mechanism, it’s what little you’s brain had to do to survive- forget. And so you did, and were still often a forgetful person.

“I’m glad we’ll be able to get our families together more often, now that we know our girls are best friends,” he smiled, happily.

He has no fucking idea. No idea that his daughter was bent over for Joel last night, spreading herself wide open for him while he whispered how badly he wanted to ‘fuck her into the ground’. Tear her apart by his teeth, his fingers, his tongue.

“And Sarah,” he turned to her, “it’s nice to see you again too, sweetheart. ‘Not the same seeing you grow up on your mom’s Facebook. No wonder this one here is so drawn to you,” he looked in your direction, “‘specially if you’re anything like your father. God he used to make her laugh.”

Communication with your father had been sparse over the past four years. In your childhood bedroom, you would often find solace on the floor, fervently beseeching any divine entity that would listen, imploring for an escape from that house. Once you finally broke free, a newfound sense of liberation washed over you. However, it wasn't an emancipation from the burdens accumulated, but rather a conscious decision to spare yourself from the weight of conversing with him frequently; what that meant to do so and what it brought back up.

The pieces of the puzzle now fit together, as if orchestrated by the stranger who stood before your father, deliberately intertwining these unresolved threads, demanding their resolution. It made sense that these loose ends didn’t fulfill until now; until the stranger standing across from your dad wanted them to.

Joel chuckled and you wanted to punch him his fucking teeth. Everyone was looking at you now, waiting for your joyous relief at the rekindling. But you couldn’t speak, and you were sure the color was flushed from your face.

“It’s a shame Sarah was at her mothers that summer. Coulda started bein’ friends years ago. I would ha-“ Joel started.

“I said, excuse me.”

You’d heard enough.

You tore between Sarah and Joel to get as far away as possible. The look on her face hurt, oh my god it hurt. She was so confused why you had a problem with one of her favorite people, her dad.

Before you could get away from him he reached out and brushed his fingers against your waist. How fucking dare you touch me, you thought. But where his skin had touched yours was rising warmth, goosebumps, TV static- a trigger. Your body answering to his, pitifully, willingly.

You made it to the door before anyone caught you or could stop it. All of those people in that room were there for you. It hurt leaving them, but it would hurt even more to have to bare it all to them.

You headed to the third floor of the art building, saying fuck it to waiting for the elevator. You didn’t want to give anyone the chance to catch you and ask questions. The sharp shutting of each metal door made you jump as you got to the last one, feet creaking the old water-damaged floor. This hidden bathroom had always been a hiding spot on particularly hard days, when critiques tore you down or you simply just couldn’t hold in erupting sadness. This was a new sinking feeling.

Despite the pain that gnawed at your jaw each and every time, you became adept at concealing tears, mastering the art of hiding the hurt as the drops silently rolled down your face. Tears meant weakness, it meant getting torn into deeper in your childhood home. A place you’d never really left.

You heard his footsteps before the door creaked shut. His boots falling heavy beneath him. He came into view and he started to open his mouth.

“I was 15,” you snarled.

“Do you do this often, Joel? Stalk your daughters friends and tell them how much you want your nasty cock in their mouth? Pay them to strip for you and pay them extra to stick their fingers in their pussy so you can get off? How many? How many fucking girls have you done this to Joel?”

Rage. You didn’t like to let out it of where it spent most of its time, walking back and forth across your chest, heavy, always present just beneath the skin. The one thing you had inherited from your dad. It was painful to keep it in, hose it down and stop it from simmering. It was easy to let it loose. It felt like unfurling.

He looked like a wounded puppy, brown eyes turned downward beneath drooping eyebrows. Why wasn’t he angry? You knew how to ‘deal’ with anger. It was easier to scream back and fight than it was to sit and be screamed at.

“Should I ask Sarah?” You threw the words in his face.

“Shh, shh. Lower your fuckin’ voice,” he growled. His entire demeanor shifting.

There it was.

He stepped towards you, towering above as he grabbed your shoulder losing himself for a moment, throwing you against the concrete wall behind you. You winced as your shoulder blades hit the cold. “One more loud word out of your pretty mouth and I will break you.”

One hand against the wall above your head, the other held out against the wall beside you, keeping you in place. He leaned down, smelling your hair, inhaling deeply. He kissed you on your forehead- all attempts at disarming you.

You thought about running again. Telling your dad how much of a perv his best friend was, simply to watch him release his anger. You knew how hard he hit. It was Joel’s turn.

“Why me?” You fawned.

He looked down into your eyes, moving his face close enough to yours to feel his warm breath against your cheeks. He was completely intoxicating. He smelled faintly of cigarettes, of booze. Lust. You could get lost beneath him. It wasn’t like you practically hadn’t across a computer screen, already.

“It was your eyes, Birdie.”

“My eyes?” You threw back at him. Looking into his eyes made it increasingly harder to think of anything other than your past encounters. His moans resurfacing, caressing the hardening of your nipples.

“What the fuck are you talking about you fucking psycho?” You attempted a shove, using your body weight to try and flee. You didn’t want to give into him. You needed to get away from him.

He didn’t move an inch. But you did invite more fury. His hand left the wall above you and moved down to your throat, then your chin. He moved it up towards him, so your eyes had nowhere to look but into his. His grip released some, but you were sure he’d leave bruises on your cheeks.

“Let me explain, okay? It’s not what you’re thinkin’. I’m not a freak. I saw that picture of you and I just wanted to help you, hold you, baby. This got out of hand and it wasn’t what I meant it to be. I didn’t know I was gonna need you like this. Just sit down and let me talk.”

The husky ‘baby’ hung in the air. It hung between your thighs, too. Why are you always drawn the bad, vile, disgusting things?

“Listen to you quantify how much you wanted to fuck 15 year old me? How it never left so you stuck around and waited for the ‘right’ moment? The one where you might not get arrested if you get caught? How you wanted to stick your cock inside your best friends daughter?”

“If you don’t shut your fuckin’ mouth,” he warned for the last time, spit hitting your lips. You licked it away, instinctively, and his cock twitched beneath his zipper.

“What? What exactly are you gonna do?”

You invited, drawing your hands up his chest.

“How ‘bout I show you, you fucking brat. You can’t hide from me. I see you, I can see through you. I saw you the very first time our eyes met and I see you now, wigglin’ beneath my touch. You need me sweet’heart, stop denyin’ it. I know you remember how I made you feel without me even touchin you.”

You nodded in disbelief at how disarming his words were.

“So let me touch you.” It wasn’t a question, as much as a demand. He moved his hands to your shoulder and turned you around, pulling up your dress from your front. He stopped midway, slowly releasing your breasts from where they sat in the part of the dress that snugly embraced you. One dropping, and then another. The clothing slid against your hardening buds. You could hear your breathing quickening.

As soon as your clothing thumped to the ground he returned to your skin, cupping your breasts. His hands completely engulfed them and for a moment it felt like he’d done it a million times. You fit so well against him. You were warm, buzzing for him.

He ‘hmmm’ed praises at your back as he pressed himself against you, moving you further into his hands, pushing you both deeper into the concrete wall. He was hard, fully erect against your back. You could feel him against your panties, so long his tip was hitting your lower back. He was big enough that his whole body had a point of contact with yours, enveloping you.

“Your effort not to melt under me is truly admirable.” He snarked, leaned in close, his warm breath tickling your earlobe as his tongue traced a path along the contours of your ear, sending shivers down your neck. He licked them, too. More appearing at the scratch of his beard against your neck.

Then, the warmth of his face was gone and you heard his knees crack as he bent down, reaching in front of you to move your ass towards his face, bending you ever so slightly to his will. Your underwear was delicately covering your cunt and he realized he’d never wanted anything more. He reached and spread your cheeks open.

“Oh so fuckin’ pretty sweet girl. Look at that,” he traced his thumb down the back of your cunt in awe, pushing the fabric deeper into the slick already coating them. You groaned at the relief of his fingers so close to the entrance of your holes.

“Nuh uh uh,” he tutted as you absentmindedly started to squirm beneath his wandering hands. He dug his thumbs into your ass, spreading you open once again. The warm pad of his fingertips turned wet, licking lines up and down your slit, panties pulled to the side. His face was fully between your legs, his nose teasing against your perineum. It wandered to your tense rim, and the flat warmth of his tongue was gone.

He spit.

“You’re the dirtiest girl I’ve ever seen, you know that? Letting me stick my tongue and nose on your pretty little asshole. Want me to fuck you here baby girl?” He circled it, pushing his spit in with the tip of his pointer finger. You whimpered.

“Hmm, I hear you. We’ll save that for next time. It wouldn’t be fair of me not to work you open first.” Breathless, “please Joel” falling from your lips.

“Oh fuck. Say it again. I’ve been waitin’ for my name to pass your pretty lips.”

“Joel, please.” You begged. At this point you didn’t know what exactly you were begging for, besides a release. A release from the situation at hand but more so a release from the pressure he’s causing in your abdomen… in your cunt.

He smirked against you, pointing his tongue into your hole, circling and lapping at you. The noise you made against his tongue as it entered you was absolutely vulgar.

“Could taste these sweet juices for the rest of my fuckin’ life.” He was on his knees now.

He was coaxing sounds out of the base of your throat that you’d never heard before, directing you to stand on your tippy toes, palms against the wall so he could fuck his tongue deeper into you.

You wanted to take him whole, right there. Feel the stretch as he sheathed himself fully into you, claiming you. You wanted the pain.

“Joel, I-“ God he felt so fucking euphoric, mustache tickling your clit as he worked his way up and down your pussy.

“Tell me baby, use your words,” he murmured into you.

“Take me, right now, please. Can’t wait Joel, I’ve been waiting so long.” God you sounded pathetic.

Two of his fingered entered you, fully. You gasped at the fullness and lack of warning.

“You wanna take my cock? You’re so tight you can barely handle two of my fingers. So fuckin’ impatient, hmm?” He curled them upwards and you felt the release.

“Let it happen. Stop fightin’ it and let it out baby. I’ll catch you.”

You went to church a few times growing up. You always admired the fervor and devotion the congregation would sing to the sky, lift their arms and release themselves. That is how you wanted to give yourself to Joel, to sing for him, exalt him with praise and surrender yourself completely.

You wanted him to release you from all of your sins.

“I can take it. Please Joel. Please.”

He rose from the ground, pulling his fingers out of you and suddenly the room had quieted from the sound of your desire, now covering and dripping down his wrist, his chin.

“Then take it.” He tapped your cunt with his throbbing tip, moving his cock around to pick up your juices.

He wrapped his arm around you, covering your mouth, letting you drop your head on his bicep, face towards the roof as he made himself one with you.

Then, you let yourself go and he ripped you open. And you laughed and laughed, through the pleasure and the undoing. The fullness of him was enough to turn you slack in his arms. Screaming moans against his hand, until all of your devotion turned violent.

-

Chapter 4: DEFILE

”And all of my devotion turns violent.” - Japanese Breakfast, Boyish

A/N: THANK YOUUU for over 1.1k notes on Part 1 and 200+ follows. Writing has been a much needed escape for me, so thanks for coming along for the ride <3

Tag List: @strang3lov3 @leeeesahhh @blackvelveteen1339 @huffle-punk @xxmr-potato-headxx @ssssc0m @silkiers @paleidiot @sarap-77 @i-love-rafe

#joel miller #tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #carnal #pascalsbby #the last of us #joel miller x y/n #pedro x reader #smut

[kimoralov3]

Back Home to You

pairing: tasm!peter parker x reader

description: peter made a mistake letting you go. it takes traveling to another universe for him to do something about it

warnings: reader uses she/her pronouns, swearing, angst, fluff

word count: 2171

a/n: i wrote this all in one sitting after rewatching nwh so don't come at me for the quality. also tagging @arkofblake because i told her about this last night and she freaked

read it on ao3

“Peter? Where are you?” You asked as you walked into your shared apartment, putting away your coat and your purse. By the time you had gotten your shoes off, there was still no response. “Peter?”

“In the bathroom.” You heard his voice softly call. It sounded as if he was in pain, so you rushed to see what was happening.

Peter’s suit was halfway off, a large gash on his right side and smaller cuts and bruises littered around the rest of his body. He was currently attempting to stop the bleeding without much luck.

“Oh my god, Peter.” You mumbled as you walked over to him, grabbing the towel from him. You pressed it into the wound, causing him to wince in pain. “Sorry, sorry, this is the only way to stop the bleeding. What happened?”

“I was trying to stop Vulture and he got the better of me. It’s really not a big deal, I’ve had worse.” Peter says through clenched teeth. You roll your eyes at that, quickly peeking to see if the bleeding had stopped yet. It hadn’t. “What?”

“Nothing, Peter. I just— I’m tired of seeing you like this.” You say as you grab his hand and place it over the towel, making sure that Peter kept the right amount of pressure on it as you got the first aid supplies out.

“What do you mean? Seeing me like what?” He asks as he turns to face you. You ignore him, getting out the needle and thread, as well as the disinfectant. “Y/N, what do you mean by ‘seeing you like this’?”

“Peter, you have a fucking gash the size of Texas on your side. Don’t act dumb.” You snap as you remove the towel from his side, wiping the excess blood away. Peter groaned in pain again, flinching away.

“Y/N, I knew what I was getting into when I became Spider-Man. A couple rough days are nothing to me. I’ll be fine.” Peter says as he gently places a hand on your shoulder. You mumble something under your breath as you thread the needle, although Peter couldn’t understand what you said. “What?”

“Peter now is not the best time to have this conversation. Let’s just drop it.” You say dismissively as you get ready to stitch up Peter’s wound.

He rolls his eyes, deciding to let it go for now. Once you had gotten him stitched up and left, Peter was left to his thoughts as he showered off. What could you possibly be talking about? Yes, being Spider-Man was dangerous, but he knew that. You knew that, and you accepted it. At least, that’s what he had previously thought.

He got out of the shower a few minutes later, getting dressed, and heading into the living room to see you pacing back and forth. “Y/N? What’s going on?” 

“I don’t think I can do this anymore, Peter.” You whisper as you continue pacing. Peter gives you a confused look, stepping closer and placing his hands on your arms to stop you.

“Do what? What can’t you do anymore?” He whispers softly as he looks into your eyes, hands moving up to cup your cheeks.

“Us. I don’t think I can do this relationship anymore.” You say. In that moment Peter’s whole world crumbles. What had he done wrong? How had he made you unhappy?

You placed your hands over Peter’s, moving them off of you. “It’s not something you’ve done necessarily, it’s just… I’m not cut out for this anymore. I can’t stand to watch you come home like this every day. You’re not taking care of yourself properly, and I’m scared that—” You’re cut off by a burning feeling in your throat, tears welling in your eyes. You take a step back, wiping them away.

“Scared that what, Y/N?” Peter asked, tears forming in his eyes now. 

“I’m scared that you won’t come back, Peter. I’m scared that one day, I’m gonna come home and instead of you there’ll be police at my door, telling me that my boyfriend died fighting some giant fucking lizard, or a guy who has some high-tech suit that costs more than our whole apartment building! I want more for myself, but most importantly I want more for you. And I wish that I was the type of person to be selfish, and ask you to give up doing what you love. But I’m not. So I’m leaving. It’s better for the both of us.” 

There’s a moment of silence. Neither of you know what to say. Peter wants you to stay. He wants to tell you that he’ll do better, that he’ll be better for you. But he can’t. Because he knows what that means, and as much as he would like to think so, he’s not ready to stop putting his all into being Spider-Man. Even if it means losing you.

The silence is enough for you. You take a deep breath, moving past Peter to your bedroom to pack some clothes. You come back a few minutes later with a duffel bag and your purse. “If you change your mind, I’ll be staying with my sister.”

Those are the final words Peter hears from you before you leave the apartment. Before you leave him.

—

Peter never considered himself to be jealous— especially of other people’s relationships. But seeing how much Peter 1 and MJ cared for and trusted each other— it made him sick. Not because they didn’t fit together— it was almost as if they were made for each other. It was because it reminded him of you. Of what the two of you had before he went and fucked it all up.

The first few weeks after you left were hard for Peter. He’s ashamed to admit that he stopped being as kind as he was before. Quite a few of the villains he ran into left their encounters beaten within an inch of their lives. He stopped visiting May as much as he used to— which he really regretted because she had done nothing wrong and was honestly the only person he could’ve gone to about his troubles.

But he isolated himself because he thought that that was what was best. It wasn’t, he knew that now. After he finally realized that he was just proving your point, he started to better himself. He stopped being reckless, started thinking about why he was actually doing what he was doing.

By now he knew he was a much better man than he had ever been when he was with you. But it wasn’t enough, at least not in his mind. He’d almost texted and called you multiple times, even showed up on your doorstep a few times. But he could never bring himself to say or do what he needed.

For now, he was content with just checking in on you every once in a while. You had found an apartment about 15 minutes away from where the two of you used to live. You had decorated it nicely. That was always something you were good at, figuring out what looked good together.

“What are you thinking about?” Peter 2 asked, grabbing Peter’s attention. 

“Nothing.” He said quickly, prompting Peter 2 to give him a knowing look. “It’s just…seeing them together reminds me of someone.” He says with a little smile.

“Oh? Is this someone someone special?” Peter 2 asks as he takes off his saftey goggles. 

“She was—is. She is special to me.” Peter mumbles as he finishes writing the equation for the formula.

“Was? What happened?”

The question causes Peter to sigh. “I fucked up, really bad. She cared so deeply for me, and I took that for granted.”

“Yeah, I get what you mean. I think that’s one of the downsides of doing what we do, especially if you don’t have everything together. It’s usually the ones we love the most that end up getting hurt by our foolishness.”

Peter takes a moment to think on what was said. “Wow, that was really deep.” He pauses for a moment before continuing. “So, how did you get the courage to try and win her back?”

“Honestly? I didn’t. I ran into her one day and everything just…came pouring out of me. If we hadn’t of run into each other, I honestly don’t think I’d ever have gotten the courage to talk to her again.” Peter 2 explained as he worked. Peter nodded, understanding what he meant.

He had a lot to think about when he got back home. 

—

When he had finally gotten back to his home—his universe— Peter had immediately collapsed on his bed. He had every intention of going to you that night, but it was extremely late, he was tired, and he had just fought off 5 different villains. The man needed his rest. 

That rest turned into 2 days, then 4, then a whole week, and he still hadn’t gone to speak with you. Again, he had fully intended to, but something was stopping him. He kept telling himself that he was going to do it the next day, but he knew deep down that that was a lie. 

It was late at night when he got the urge to see you again. This had become a normal occurrence over the past few years. On nights when it was pretty tame, he would sit on the fire escape of your apartment and make sure you were alright. Sure, it was a little strange but he didn’t particularly care.

Only this time, when he came to perch on your fire escape, you were sitting on your windowsill, a mug in your hands. “Hello, Peter.” You say with a soft smile as he lands.

He gives you an awkward smile, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. He wasn’t used to this feeling, especially when it came to you. “Hey.”

“You know, for a superhero, you’re not the most stealthy person in the world.” You say as you hand him the mug. “It’s tea, just the way you like it.”

“Thank you.” He says. He takes a sip, humming at the taste. He looks up at you behind the mug. “So, are you uh, are you upset that I’ve been spying on you?”

“No. I expected it.” You whisper with a giggle, leaning your head against the windowsill. Peter nods, not sure of what to say. He sets the mug down, running his hands over his face. He couldn’t believe that he was doing this.

“Look, Y/N, I am so sorry for how things ended 3 years ago. I hate that I hurt you, that I made you worry about me when I wasn’t even worried about myself. I took your words to heart and I got better. I stopped being impulsive and started being more calculated. And I so badly wanted to come to you, but I just… I couldn’t. I didn’t want to risk hurting you again.” He finishes, slightly out of breath. There was a moment where nothing but looks were exchanged. Finally, you got up and walked over to him. “What are you doing?” Peter asked softly as he looked down at you.

You don’t say anything, just smile and pull his face down so that your lips touch gently. He practically melts into the kiss, his arms finding their spot around your waist once again. He’s missed this. You’ve missed this. 

When you pull away from each other, it’s all smiles. Peter is grinning like a child on Christmas and you love it, reaching your hand up slightly to move his hair out of his face. 

“Does this mean that you forgive me?” He whispers. You chuckle at that, playfully rolling your eyes.

“You get a kiss like that and you’re questioning whether or not I forgive you?” You ask, causing Peter to throw his head back with laughter.

“What, I feel like it’s a fair question. Don’t leave me hanging.” He says as he playfully shakes the two of you. 

You laugh, shaking your head at his antics. “Yes, Peter Parker. I forgive you.”

This causes the smile on Peter’s face to grow even wider. He leans down, giving you another kiss. You lean up into it, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

“I love you, Y/N. And I promise that I will never, never hurt you again. And if I do, I give you full permission to beat my ass and never look back.” He says once the two of you pull away.

“I don’t think that I’ll need to do that, but thank you for that.” You say with a smile. Peter and you share another laugh, before you turn and look inside your apartment. “It’s a little chilly out here, why don’t we head back inside?”

Peter hums, allowing you to pull him into the warmth of your apartment. He was glad to have a sense of normalcy back in his life.

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter angst #tasm!peter fanfiction #tasm!peter fanfic #tasm!peter imagine #kimoralov3

[ynbabe]

Fake texts au- pt.10 bffs with the rookies+ The Hangover III

I can't believe we're on part 10 already 😭😭😭

| Masterlist |

"How could I? I didn't have my phone?" the girl asked slightly panicked,.

"That's because you had mine," Lando spoke up, tapping on his phone, "You logged into your account from mine," he said showing it to the girl.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU STOP ME?" She yelled.

"BECAUSE YOU GUYS KEPT RUNNING ONTO THE FUCKING ROAD AND LOGAN AND ARTHUR COSPLAYED SPIDER-MAN" He yelled back.

"Okay, okay," Max put his hands up to calm the two down, sometimes they were so similar he'd want to ask if Lando had a twin separated at birth, "Lando, what did she post?"

"oh oooh, this going to be fun," the boy said, switching to the girl's profile.

its_y/n_love

liked by 21,023 users

Tagged: @/arthur_leclerc @/logansargeant @/oscarpiastri

its_y/n_love me with my Pookie bears everyone say thank you Oscar for paying the Hospital bills 😍

view all 10,874 comments

usernamei SHES GIVINGGG

username she ATE

username they're her pookie bears 😭 she's so unserious I unironically stan her

username a grown woman calling grown men pookie bears 😒 username fr like oscar had to pay for HER hospital bills username he literally payed for Arthurs too but yall ain't gon say none abt that

its_y/n_love

liked by 501,023 users

Tagged: @/arthur_leclerc @/logansargeant @/oscarpiastri @/landonorris

its_y/n_love LANDOOOOOOOOO why he always with his boy tho 🤨

view all 20,874 comments

username omg she's literally living my dream 😫

username fr god i've seen what you've done for others

username omg she's freeloading off him now too?

username give it up she literally just their friend username and even if she wasn’t why would yall treat her differently than any other wag? username look at her man she's literally using them for fame and money

"Well, that wasn't as bad," y/n shrugged.

"That's cause you didn't have your camera roll," Logan snapped back, finally feeling a little more human, the hangover easing down.

"Look who's talking," the Aussie came to y/n's defence, "You're lucky you didn't have YOUR phone," Oscar called out, making the American's face turn red.

"Damnnn Oscar!" The girl praised, colour returning to his face, all were slowly returning to normal, even Arthur had found his way back to the table. Seeing this, the two older men Max and Charles ordered for the table, while Lando, went through more of Y/n's Instagram with the group.

"Honestly, the response isn't that bad, and our PR officers won't murder us, sooo we're good," he said, smiling and logging out of her Instagram account.

"Oh my god," The Monganeseque boy spoke up after being missing for almost half an hour, " I don't think we ate last night," he said shoving the food in his mouth.

The older men expected one of the other three to corroborate the boy's words but they just witnessed four twenty-somethings guzzling down food and large glasses of OJ, lifting plates to slide food into their mouths, letting runny egg yolks and bacon grease getting over their face and hands.

"Fucking hell," Max snarled, "it's like watching animal planet or something,"

"It's disgusting is what it is," Charles agreed, "MERDE ARTHUR, MAMAN RAISED YOU BETTER THAN THIS!" He yelled at his brother who was currently dipping a rolled up pancake in orange juice.

"Oh mate that's fucking disgusting," Y/n scoffed but then followed suit.

"Both of you are insane," Logan cried out, his accent thick, but failed to notice his own disgusting plate, dipping his bacon in maple syrup.

"ugh, there is something mentally deficient with all of you," Oscar frowned.

"Big words for someone mixing coffee into their oj," Lando cringed, taking a photo of the four and their disgusting eating habits.

"I- I can't look at this, I'm leaving," Charles gave up, holding up his hands in surrender, "I have a meeting at Ferrari anyways,"

"Bye, Charles!" the table chorused.

"Oh shit, it's 11am already?" Max called, looking at his watch, "I've got debrief at noon, see you next race, yeah Y/n?" He patted the girl's shoulder as he left.

"Never, again, ever." She yelled out, behind the man, making him laugh.

"Wait really?" The American looked over, bacon in hand.

"Nah, but like I've got uni and stuff and I've been going Arthurs races as well so, I'll probably be back by Britain or Netherlands," she explained.

"Oh yeah I forgot you still go to uni," Lando said.

"Not all of are millionaires cause of our fast vroom vroom cars," she spit back.

"yeah, yeah, " he waved off, "Oscar, Zak's told me to babysit you till our flight tomorrow so you don't do something or someone," he wriggled his brows, smirking at his teammate, making him roll his eyes, "you regret, so let's go and leave that disgusting abomination here," he said pointing to the coffee-orange juice.

"Guy's I don't know about y'all but I'm going go and pass out in the room till next year," The girl said, pushing away from the table.

"Same," The two boys followed.

oooooh this was ✨✨✨ but next we have the summer break chapter 🤭

Taglist: @dark-night-sky-99 @cashtons-wife @i-wish-this-was-me @thehufflepuffavenger1 @eugene-emt-roe @fangirl-dot-com

#f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 #charles leclerc #max verstappen #lando norris #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant #fake texting au #fake texts #fake text #f1 smau #smau #social media au

[simp-ly-writes]

Just a Small Crush

Ask: is there anyway that I can get a Vox x Reader oneshot (from hazbin hotel ofc) where the reader Alastors sister but has a crush on Vox and secretly still hangs out with him and also gives him information of what’s going on at the hotel.

Pairing: Vox x Alastor Sister!Reader

Warnings: light teasing and brief mentions of death.

A/N: I LOVE THIS IDEA TYSM FOR THE ASK ANON!!!!!!

Masterlist | Taglist | un-edited.

Hazbin Hotel Masterlist

↳ You were Alastor's sister, having died a few years after he did you had come to terms with the changing of technology better than he did. Adapting to smart devices and social platforms with relative ease thanks to the help from a certain bright-eyed princess

↳ From this adaptability of yours you soon became the hotels advertisement manager, creating digital ads, short video skits with the guests and posting how-to-make drink recipes with Husk at the bar.

↳ Alastor smiled at this, seeing you so lively and back to your charismatic self that he thought to be forgotten after your sudden death at a young-age. Nevertheless he never became blinded by this happiness of his- often found glaring at the electronic device super-glued to your hands or the keyboard stuck to your fingers. But he would only make side snarky reminders about the time you came from and how you should still uphold your mannerisms

↳ Flashing a quick, bright smile towards your brother you skipped away, phone in hands as you brainstormed a new caption for the radio segment you just filmed together. Your heart races when the video goes green and hundreds of likes come flooding in alongside various comments of varying enthusiasm towards the content

↳ Shutting your phone off, you head to your room for a break, settling in your bed you flick on the newest episode of Late Nights with Vox. Having worked late last night on the editing of your new television advertisement- you had missed the live airing of the show

↳ "Welcome back everyone" Vox leans his head towards the camera hands behind his back as the camera pans backwards and exposes the wooden desk that he is stationed against. You watch as he leans back against the desk, watching as his suit distorts to capture his form as you rapidly scroll through Velvettes Hell-Page, looking for any other pictures of his new suit. "Tonight we some of only hells finest joining us for exclusive interviews alongside the first viewing of our latest Vox-Tech inventions you are sure to love!" A few cheers can be heard just as you clap your hands, immersed in the show and its presenter

↳ Swiping onto your personal account, you flick Velvette over a quick text- sending your praises for Vox's new suit just as you laugh in tune to the TV's cackles in response to Valentino crashing the set and announcing a new production as the show cuts to commercials. A ping of your notifications has you stopping your conversation with Velvette and transitioning over to other Vee as your hands being to sweat.

↳ Vox has texts you, "Hey!- a certain bird tells me you are enjoying the show?" You roll your eyes into a wide smile, he has been picking up on your expressions with all the recent time you had been spending together after-hours from both your jobs.

You: "You do well every night, I don't think you need me to add to your ego..."

Vox: "but you do. "

You: "?"

Vox: "Who else can say that they are friends the radio demons sister?"

You: "you out of all people better not be going around saying that! I do quite like you- wouldn't want my brother to spoil that by spilling your guts out on to the street if we found out."

Vox: "my lips are sealed then."

↳ A few moments pass before Vox texts again, "doing anything tonight?" your face goes red as your eyes flicker over the space, ensuring that you are in fact alone before you respond. "Nope, got all my work done, would you want to come around?"

↳ Your heart races, watching as the message bubbles bounce as you lay there in wait. But just before you can check the message, Vox has travelled through the electrical wires of the buildings sign and is sitting on your windowsill, taping on the glass for you to let him in

↳ A small scream escapes you, falling off your bed as you race over to usher him in. "So..." Vox starts to say, looking around your room before his eyes fall on to you, a smile expanding across his screen as he leans towards you, matching your height as you take a step back, looking for the remote to pause the television show in the background.

↳ "Watching me again?- why need the recording? I can always remake the scenes here for you, give you a synopsis if you will?" He asks, looking at his gloves before casting you a wink. He stands up straight, walking over to your desk before twirling around in your office chair as you sit on the edge of your bed, observing his actions

↳ "I like your suit." You blurt out, eyes going wide as hands cover your mouth in shock that you just admitted that to his face and not Velvette. Vox throws a hand to his knee, repiedidly slapping it with his laughs before he turns to face you once more. He stands, capturing your chin with his hand- ushering your eyes to meet his own. "No need to get embarrassed now, Velvette did a good deal of work on it- whats not to be admired?"

↳ Now scoffing and turning your head away with his ego flaring up once again. He drops his hand from your face as you let out a breath and listen up to what he has to say next, "Anything new to report on here?" You shake your head, unlocking your phone to show him the recent cocktail you and Husk invented, "Thats about it other than Charlie getting that meeting with Adam I told you about last week..." you trail off, breath hitching as you see footsteps from underneath the door

↳ You reach upwards, smacking a head over Vox's mouth. Failing to see as his screen flickers blue for a split second at the sudden touch. You sigh out in relief as the footsteps carry down the hall after a moment, dropping your hand and turning back to watch as Vox raises an eyebrow, "If you want me to shut up, just tell me or else I will think you just don't like me anymore" He states with a teasing smile, enjoying the way your face fires up as you flip him the finger

↳ Taglist: @jtcat305 @amarokofficial

#hazbin #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #vox x you #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel x you #vox x y/n #hazbin hotel vees #simp-ly-writes #simp-ly

[talkdutchtome]

Glitch- chapter six

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader / mason mount x reader )

summary . . . when mason mount finds out that his assistant has been harbouring feelings for him for years, he makes it clear he doesn't feel the same way. but once he sees her become closer with formula 1 world champion max verstappen, he realises he may have underestimated his feelings towards the girl he has now pushed into the arms of another )

genre . . . angst )

song . . . glitch- taylor swift )

series masterlist . . . available here )

a/n . . . this isn’t proof read because between this and my uni work i’ve been staring at my laptop all day so my eyes are killing me, sorry! )

Mason's living room buzzed with the friendly banter and laughter as Y/N, Ben, Reece and Mason gathered for a night in. It had been a while since the four of them had spent time together casually, so they all found time for a night of takeaway pizza, beer and video games. The glow of the TV screen illuminated their faces, casting a warm ambiance across the room and the air was thick with the camaraderie of a makeshift FIFA tournament.  

Ben and Reece started them off, their thumbs dancing across the controllers in a fierce match. It was a close call, but Ben emerged victorious, celebrated with an exaggerated victory dance that drew laughs from the others. Up next was Y/N and Mason, it was no secret that Y/N wasn’t particularly skilled in FIFA, in comparison to Mason who had dedicated a large portion of his teenage years to the game. The game had started with Mason going one goal up in a matter of seconds, however once he had seen a look of subtle disappointment spread across her face, he very slightly adjusted his play, letting her take the win. She was more than taken aback when she secured an unexpected win and Mason's mock disappointment was met with Y/N's triumphant grin, and a knowing look passed between the man and his friends as they sussed out what he had done.  

As the next match kicked off between Ben and Y/N, the room echoed with a mix of playful taunts and infectious laughter. The game was fast-paced, and because Ben had no reason to let Y/N win; she quicky found herself trailing a few goals behind.  

“So, Y/N, when’s your next date with Max?” Reece asked her as she was trying and failing to stop her opponent from scoring once again.  

Ben, momentarily distracted from the game, swiveled his head in surprise, "Wait, you guys went on a date? Why am I always the last to know?" 

Mason remained silent, observing the situation and wishing that Reece hadn’t brought up Max. Y/N, with a nervous chuckle, downplayed the encounter, "It was just a casual thing. Next time, I promise to give you a heads-up, Ben." 

Reece, ever perceptive, probed further, "Any plans for a follow-up date?" 

Y/N sighed, an air of disappointment trailing her words “I don’t know, we wanted to do something but it's so hard with our schedules and being so far away. He’s in the UK this weekend but with the charity gala on Sunday I’m just swamped with stuff to do.” 

The sadness in Y/N’s eyes was unmissable to Mason and without a second thought he blurted out, "Why don't you invite him to the gala?" The suggestion hung in the air for a moment, and he felt a twinge of uncertainty. Reece shot him a subtle, questioning glance, recognizing the potential complications, but Mason's gaze was fixed on Y/N.  

A spark of hope flickered in Y/N's eyes, and she hesitated for a moment before responding, "You don't have to do that for me, Mason." 

Yet, Mason could see the excitement building in her, so he insisted, "I know I don't have to, but I want to. Invite him. It'll be a good time." 

Y/N's response was a delighted squeal, and she abandoned the ongoing FIFA match with Ben to envelop Mason in a tight hug. Ben, interrupted mid-game, groaned theatrically, but Y/N didn’t even hear his complaints; too busy thanking her best friend. As she hugged Mason tightly, he couldn't deny the warmth that spread through him. Her joy was infectious, and he found solace in the simple act of having her in his arms. The comfort of their embrace was undeniable, a familiar feeling that stirred emotions he had grown accustomed to. 

Yet, beneath the surface, there lingered a bittersweet tinge. Mason couldn't ignore the slight disappointment that crept in when he realized it was the thought of Max that lit up Y/N's eyes so brilliantly. He cared for her deeply, and her happiness mattered more to him than anything, even if it meant setting aside his own desires. 

The evening past quicky, and soon the men found themselves alone, with Y/N going home to get an early night. The second she left though, Mason found himself getting whacked over the head semi-gently by Reece.  

“Ow man what the fuck was that?” he asked, completely baffled as to what he had done to make his friend do that.  

“Why the hell would you tell Y/N she can invite Max on Sunday?” Reece asked, before smacking his best friend around the head again. 

“Fuck ow stop that” Mason said pushing him away and sighing “I don't really know. She looked sad, disappointed, and I wanted to cheer her up. So, I suggested she invite Max to the gala. It's not a big deal." 

Reece, never one to let things slide, persisted. "You remember the last time you had to be around them together, right? And that was when they were just starting to get to know each other. Now, they've been on dates. How are you going to cope with that?" 

Mason waved off the concern, a forced nonchalance in his tone. "It had been a bad few days that weekend. I'll be fine now." 

Ben, chiming in with a touch of confusion, asked, "What's the problem? Y/N seems to really like Max. Isn't that a good thing? You can stop worrying about her liking you." 

Mason managed a half-smile, but there was a depth of complexity in his expression. "Yeah, exactly. That's why I suggested she invite him." Despite his words, a tinge of dejection lingered, and Reece caught on. There was something more beneath the surface, but he decided not to press further in front of Ben, though as they continued their evening, he couldn't shake the feeling that Mason's nonchalant demeanor masked a more profound turmoil. He silently resolved to keep a watchful eye on his friend, sensing there might be more to Mason's emotions than he was letting on. 

As Sunday approached, Y/N found herself immersed in a whirlwind of preparations for Mason's charity gala. The days leading up to the event were a blur of coordinating details, arranging decorations, and ensuring everything was in place. In the midst of her busy schedule, Y/N managed to invite Max, who enthusiastically accepted the invitation. 

However, as the day of the gala arrived and Y/N finally had a moment to breathe, a wave of anxiety and anticipation washed over her. The realization that she would see Max again, especially with Mason also present, brought a mix of nerves and excitement. The thought of navigating the evening with both men in attendance added an extra layer of complexity to her emotions. 

Mason, for his part, seemed to have reverted to his old self. Their interactions resumed a sense of normalcy, with one notable exception – the majority of their physical contact had faded away. Y/N understood the reasons behind this shift, but it still contributed to the charged atmosphere surrounding the gala 

As Y/N adorned herself in an elegant ballgown, Mason arrived to pick her up for the gala. The moment he laid eyes on her, he was utterly gobsmacked by her beauty. A quiet awe filled the space between them as he took in her appearance. 

Driving to the venue, Y/N attempted to focus on the logistical details of the event, discussing what needed to be done throughout the night. However, Mason interjected, informing her that she had the day off. He insisted that he could handle the responsibilities, emphasizing that she deserved to enjoy the evening without being burdened by work. 

Surprised by his gesture, Y/N questioned his decision, pointing out the multitude of tasks that required attention. Mason simply responded, "I've got it covered. You should spend the night with Max; it wouldn't be fair to bring him here and then have you running around all night." 

Grateful for his consideration, Y/N thanked him again, a genuine smile gracing her face. They stepped out of the car, and she couldn't resist giving Mason another appreciative hug before entering the venue. 

Max arrived shortly after in a tailored black suit, looking effortlessly sharp. Y/N couldn't help but notice just how good he looked as he kissed her on the cheek and complimented her appearance. They made their way to the table where Mason, Reece, Ben, and Ben's girlfriend were seated. Max greeted everyone with a warm smile, shaking hands with each person. Mason, determined to appear calm and collected, reciprocated the gesture with a firm handshake. 

As the night unfolded, the group engaged in lively conversation. Max, ever polite, directed his attention toward Mason, expressing genuine interest in the charity work he was involved in. Mason shared his longstanding commitment to Together for Short Lives, explaining that he had been supporting the organization since the early days of his football career. He emphasized his desire to give back and contribute to meaningful causes. Y/N chimed in, “Mason has always been so great with this stuff, I love working with someone who devotes so much time to helping people”. Mason, though modest, felt a surge of pride at Y/N's words, appreciating her admiration. 

Dinner was served, and the atmosphere around the table buzzed with conversation and laughter. Y/N and Max, engrossed in their own dialogue, spoke quietly, creating an intimate space between them amidst the lively ambiance of the event. Mason couldn't help but find his attention drawn toward them, curious about the nature of their conversation. He observed Max leaning in, whispering something that prompted Y/N's laughter. The sight of her hand resting casually on Max's biceps, the way she bit her bottom lip while looking at him, stirred a complex mix of emotions in Mason. It was an involuntary response to witnessing the dynamics between them. 

As Y/N and Max excused themselves to go to the bar, Mason's eyes followed their every move. He noticed Max's hand gently placed on the small of Y/N's back as they walked away. Reece, observing Mason's silent contemplation, sipped his whiskey, sensing the tension in the air. The quiet yet intense scrutiny Mason directed toward Y/N and Max didn't go unnoticed. At the bar, Mason watched with an almost laser-like focus as Y/N leaned in, whispering something to Max. The image of her cherry-red lips grazing Max's skin lingered in Mason's mind, leaving an imprint that he couldn't quite shake. 

Y/N, however, was far too wrapped up in Max’s company to notice Mason’s lingering gazes. Any anxiety that she had that things between them would be awkward after she ran away from their date was quickly proved wrong, with the pair of them seemingly only getting closer. 

“Have a mentioned how beautiful you look tonight Y/N” he whispered in her ear, prompting a small giggle to escape from her lips. 

“Oh, only a few dozen times I think” she feigned uninterest before breaking into giggles, resting her head on the Deutchmans shoulder beside her; suddenly feeling herself becoming very flustered.  

"Do you want to step outside for a bit? It's a bit crowded in there." 

Max agreed, and Y/N slipped her hand into his as they strolled away from the lively gala. They found a quiet bench under the stars and sat down, the ambient sounds of the night surrounding them. 

"Thank you for inviting me," Max said, breaking the comfortable silence. "I've had a lot of fun with you tonight." 

Y/N smiled warmly. "I've had a great time too. I just wish we could see each other more." 

Max's eyes sparkled as he responded, "I'm racing in Austria next week, I’d love for you to come along. And, I know you said you want to take things slow and I respect that, but you know, the offer to take you to Monaco is always open." 

His words hung in the air, and Y/N found herself looking at him, drawn in by the magnetic connection between them. Before she could process her own actions, an unexpected surge of courage propelled her forward. Without a second thought, she leaned in, capturing Max's lips with hers. The kiss was a revelation, a moment suspended in time. Y/N felt a gentle warmth spreading through her, a tender acknowledgment of shared feelings. Max's lips were soft against hers, and the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in that quiet corner under the stars. 

For Y/N, the kiss was nothing short of magic. It was a sweet exploration of a newfound connection, a silent affirmation of the unspoken desires that had lingered between them. Their lips fit together like they were made for each other, and when Max deepened the kiss Y/N saw stars. As they pulled away, she couldn't help but marvel at the enchantment of that stolen moment, leaving her heart fluttering with anticipation. She had never had a kiss like that before, there was so much passion and chemistry it left her feeling a little dumbfounded.  

The gala resumed its vibrant atmosphere as Y/N and Max returned, smiles adorning their faces. Unbeknownst to them, Mason's eyes were fixed on the faint smudge of red lipstick around Max's mouth. His attempt to remain calm was futile as a whirlwind of emotions swirled within him. 

Max and Y/N rejoined the table, the shared moment still lingering between them. Mason, increasingly agitated, couldn't shake the unsettling sight before him. The barely-there mark on Max's face became a glaring symbol of something he couldn't fully comprehend. 

Unable to contain the whirlwind of emotions, Mason downed the remainder of his whiskey in one gulp before abruptly standing up, his chair scraping against the floor. He mumbled something about needing a moment and hastily excused himself from the table. The others exchanged puzzled glances, unsure of what had transpired. Y/N, sensing that something was wrong with her best friend, began to stand up, but Reece, ever perceptive, also rose from his seat. He looked at Y/N and asked, "Mind if I go see if he's okay? I think he might need a moment." 

Y/N nodded, still puzzled, and watched as Reece followed Mason out of the gala. The atmosphere at the table became tense, shrouded in uncertainty, as they all wondered what had just occurred. 

Reece stepped out into the cool night, his eyes scanning the surroundings until he spotted Mason pacing in a corner, his hands running through his hair in a display of frustration and turmoil. The sight was disconcerting, and Reece quickened his pace. 

As he approached, he noticed the raw emotion etched on Mason's face, a mix of anguish and vulnerability. It looked like he was about to burst into tears, and Reece could sense that something profound was troubling his friend. 

"You were right," Mason's voice cracked, his eyes desperately searching for some semblance of understanding. Reece furrowed his brows, concerned about the depth of Mason's distress. 

"I was right about what? What's going on, Mase?" Reece inquired; his voice laced with worry. 

Mason, unable to contain the storm of emotions within him, continued to pace, his fists clenched in frustration. "I can't watch him all over her, I can't. I fucking love her, mate, and I don't know what to do. I pushed her away; I pushed her into him. I was scared, and I panicked, and I've ruined everything." 

Reece felt a wave of shock wash over him. Mason's raw confession about his feelings for Y/N was unexpected, and it left him grappling with the weight of his friend's emotional turmoil. As much as Reece wanted to comfort his friend his frustration surged to the surface as he spoke, a mix of concern and disappointment evident in his voice. "Mase, I don't want to be harsh, but you've got to get your act together," he urged, his eyes piercing through the darkness. 

Mason, taken aback by Reece's directness, listened intently, unsure of what was about to unfold. 

"You treated Y/N so unfairly when you found out about how she felt. You pushed her away, and it broke her," Reece continued, his tone unwavering. "She loved you, and you found out, told her she ruined everything. She would never tell you this, but that broke her." 

Mason's expression shifted from surprise to a dawning realization of the impact of his actions. 

Reece, not mincing words, pressed on. "If she's found somebody that makes her happy, then if you're her friend, if you really care about her, then you will shut your mouth and not tell her any of this. It's not fair. I know you've known her longer than me, but anyone can see that she is the sweetest girl in the world. And no matter what or who comes along, she will always love you. She deserves to be happy, and if Max makes her happy, then let her be happy with him. Don't confuse her with your feelings, not now. Not after what you did." 

The weight of Reece's words hung in the air, and before Before Mason could respond to Reece's blunt but necessary words, Y/N and Max approached, their entwined hands a visual testament to the complexity of Mason's emotions. “Hey guys, I think we’re going to head off if tha-” she started before  

observing the tension etched across Mason's face, and immediately picking up on the strained atmosphere. Her concern seeped into her voice as she inquired, "What's going on, guys?" 

Mason hesitated, teetering on the edge of transparency. His gaze flitted between Y/N and Reece, contemplating whether to lay bare his inner turmoil. However, as he looked at Y/N standing beside Max, Reece's earlier counsel echoed in his mind. He realized that now wasn't the time to burden her with his feelings. 

A forced smile appeared on Mason's face as he replied, "Everything's perfectly fine." Y/N, unconvinced, began to ask again, but Mason, interrupting her, expressed gratitude, "Thank you both for coming. Max, your generous donation means a lot. It was lovely to see you again." 

Y/N's perceptive eyes searched Mason's face, detecting something amiss. However, Reece subtly signaled to let it go. With a parting goodbye, Y/N walked away with Max's arm around her waist. 

Mason watched them leave, the internal struggle vivid on his face. The desire to run after her and ask her to stay battled with the understanding that letting her find happiness, even if it wasn't with him, was the right thing to do. 

Max navigated the city streets, his fingers lightly tapping on the steering wheel as he drove Y/N back to her apartment. The car's interior cocooned them in a tranquil atmosphere, the hum of the engine blending with the soft music playing from the radio. As they merged into traffic, Max couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. "Mason seemed really bothered by something tonight," he remarked, glancing at Y/N. She nodded, her brow furrowed with concern. "I don't know what's wrong with him, but I'm really worried," she admitted. 

Reaching over, Max placed a reassuring hand on Y/N's thigh, giving it a comforting squeeze. "I'm sure he'll figure things out. Sometimes, it just takes time," he offered, his gaze returning to the road. 

The rest of the drive continued in comfortable silence. Eventually, as the city lights painted a picturesque backdrop, Y/N broke the quiet with a nervous giggle. "I think I would like to come to Monaco with you at some point, if that's still up for grabs." 

A broad grin stretched across Max's face. "Of course, it is, I’d love that" he replied, his eyes briefly meeting hers. 

When they arrived at her apartment, Max, displaying a gentlemanly gesture, asked if he could walk her up to her door to ensure she got in safely. Y/N agreed, and they strolled together through the dimly lit corridor. Upon reaching her door, the ambiance shifted. Max leaned down, capturing Y/N's lips in a gentle kiss. Y/N’s hands reach up the back of his neck, her fingers lacing themselves in Max’s hair as their lips moved against each other. Their connection lingered for a moment before they pulled away, breaths slightly labored as Max rested his forehead against hers.  

“Do you want to come in?” 

Tag list-

@nightlockcornucopia @jaydensluv @girlytots19 @formula1mount @alwaysclassyeagle @aundercover @sofifiia @dessxoxsworld @lpab @lorarri @thelovehypothesis @torrie421 @ironmaiden1313 @celesteblack08 @glow-ish @urfavouritef1girly @alwaysclassyeagle @barnestatic @simxican @formula1mount @charli123456789 @mac-daddy-210 @lazybot @imguce @azxulaa @mehrmonga @sunny44 @skepvids @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @chimchimjiminie16 @tyna-19 @hoely-maria @stevesworld9 @f1lov3r @elliegrey2803 @heyyhelloohii @landosgirlxoxo @skepvids @aundercover @andydrysdalerogers @illicitverstappen @bbygrlllllll @kageyamama-hinatatata @imagandom @bibissparkles @sofifiia @dark-night-sky-99 @viennakarma @tyna-19 @wcnorris @storminacloud

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x y/n #mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount x y/n #football x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x you #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fics #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n

[arcielee]

It's Not Tonight

Summary: Tom Bennett slips in through your window. Paring: Tom Bennett x Female!Reader Word Count: 1.6k+ Warnings: Tom is a scoundrel, angst from a one night stand, masturbating, a smidge of voyeurism, kissing, grinding, sexual memories recalled fondly but also bitterly, overstimulation kinda? Author's Note: It has been one year since I last wrote for Tom fucking Bennett and what better way to commemorate that than something short and smutty? This takes place end of episode 1 and beginning of episode 2, for season 1 WoF. Thank you so much my beloved @helaelaemond for being my muse, for your help with this piece! Without you, it would have just been sitting in my drafts. 💜 Dividers are by @saradika-graphics 💜

It had been two weeks since Tom slipped through your bedroom window, his features pink from the night’s cold air and a boyish grin curled on his lips. You squeaked your surprise, your eyes wide as he pressed close to kiss, the contrast of his cold nose and hot mouth making your skin rise, tasting the pint he must’ve finished before he came tapping on your window pane. 

“Be quiet, pretty girl,” he had said, a murmur against your lips, and you sighed sweetly, his tongue pushing past your lips for another deep kiss. “We don’t want to wake no one.” 

This was true, as your father would often vocalize on how much he loathed, “that damn Bennett.” You quietly pulled him towards your bed. 

The next morning, your sheets held the tangy sweet scent of the euphoria he had pulled from you–several times–mixing with the cigarette smoke and a musk that was so distinctly his own. As you pulled them off to wash, you noticed his navy blue overcoat he had tossed onto your chair. You grabbed it as well, smiling with the thought it would be clean for when he came back.

But he did not come back that night, or the next one. 

It was now fourteen fucking days since that night together. Though your agitation with Tom Bennett was not as adamant on your every expression, something pointed out by your mother, it still thrummed beneath in such a way that rattled your bones. His coat was now clean and folded across the armrest, a mockery of that short-lived bliss.

You were on your bed and reliving the warmth of his voice that had tickled the shell of your ear, how his fingers so carefully peeled away your nightgown and the undergarments you had worn, the gentle nip of his mouth that trailed towards your core…

You burned with this memory, same as you had that night, rutting your nightgown to your hips, your fingers touching and trailing back up the damp fold of your underwear that was shaped to your lips before you dipped below the waistband. Your arousal was slick between your folds, a slow circular motion, just as Tom had done. 

When he did, he had asked you, “Do you think of me when you touch yourself?” 

That arrogant bastard–but your scoff came out as a soft moan, followed with his name spilling from your lips, breathless and still wanting, “Tom…”

“Yes, love?”

The voice struck cold against your spine, your hand pulling back and your eyes snapping open to see his lean figure pulling through your window. You struggled to find your voice. “I…” you were now burning from how Tom looked over you, aglow, aware, with his damn cheeky, boyish grin splayed across his perfect mouth, “...where the hell have you been?”

Tom only hummed in response, still smirking as he peeled off his shirt, his pale chest stained pink, and climbing onto your bed. You parted your legs to let him rest into the cradle of your hips, the nip of his skin against your plush thighs making your skin rise. 

When you tried to move the offending hand, he was quick to catch your wrist, the crystalline blue of his eyes boring into you, and you stared at him a moment, watching as he brought your hand closer, pressing your middle and ring fingers to his tongue, his hot mouth closing and suckling them clean. 

Your mouth opened with a soft gasp, squirming under his weight, from the sensation of his tongue licking your fingertips. He pulled your hand back with a lewd pop and let it fall back to your side, his grin still cheeky and now almost smug. 

“They had me on remand for two weeks,” his voice was low, the blue in his eyes bright, “I came here to celebrate, but I see you started already…” 

You should have pushed him off and then back out the window he crawled in from, but your body betrayed you with a warmth pooling between. Instead, you pushed to your elbows, one hand reaching to cup the back of his neck to pull him closer for a kiss, tasting the remnants of yourself, your tongue curling against the roof of his mouth. 

Tom groaned, low, returning the passion until your breath was a heated exchange. He shifted his slender hips with a slow grind against your clothed cunt and you moaned softly, nails biting into his shoulders. He reached between, his fingertips almost tickling with his touch. 

“So wet,” and he was still smug, “and it’s all for me.” 

Your eyes were glazed already, your skin warming as you processed what he said, but before a smart comment could pass your kiss-swollen lips, his hot mouth moved to reclaim yours again. He was hard already and you could feel him, pressing against the seams of his pants, pressing against you until your heart rate could now be felt in your cunt. 

“Tom,” you moaned again, your hips lifting for the friction, “I need you.”

He pulled to lay onto his back, unfastening his buttons while you slipped your panties off. You moved to straddle him, his slender frame caught between your plush thighs and his cock hard and flushed and pressed upwards, nearly touching his belly button, slotted between your soft lips. Black now almost swallowed the brilliant blue of his eyes when they focused on your nipples that were peeking beneath the thin fabric of your nightgown; you could feel him pulse beneath you. 

Tom pushed up for another kiss, fumbling to help remove your final layer, your bare chest flushed against his as he pulled you close, and his chest hair tickled. His mouth moved towards the curve of your neck, trailing to your chest, the glisten of his spit with every intimate kiss placed.

Your back arched in response, rolling your hips against him. You reached to line him with your entrance, slowly sinking onto his length; you are wet, but there was a stretch still, a fullness that Tom fucking Bennett possessed, and it was delicious. 

“Stop clenching,” he gritted once he was fully sheathed within. Your hands moved to his chest, pushing him to lay back against the pillows; it was your turn to wear the smug smirk. 

His eyes fluttered as you slowly rocked against him, so deep you swore you saw sparks when he bottomed out. His grip dimpled with the hold he had on your hips, lifting his own in response to your motion. You gasped, soft in the quiet of the bedroom, and he repeated the movement. 

“Fucking hell,” he rasped, setting a pace that sent a tingling sensation to the ends of your appendages, returning to claw at your lower core. “You feel fucking perfect.” 

You are without words, your fingertips digging red crescents onto his pale chest for balance, chasing after your pleasure. The flutter of your walls around him had Tom groaning. “Touch yourself,” he commanded, and one of your hands lifted to touch his bottom lip and, again, his mouth closed around, his tongue coating them with his spit. You pulled back and slipped them between your blossom above where his in-and-out pace continued, a milky white ring forming around his base. 

The touch was the tipping point, spilling your climax with a clenching response to the shuddering euphoria that rippled through you. You struggled to stay quiet and Tom was quick to roll you onto your back, pinning you to the mattress. 

His large hand pressed over your mouth to muffle you, sliding back in and returning to his same brutal pace. You whimpered against his palm, still very sensitive with the final waves of your last release that was trilling your spine. 

“One more for me, pretty girl,” he whispered, and your tears were already pearling, your walls clenching with your second peak–not as intense as the first, but a prolonged pleasure with the stuttering of his hips. 

Tom pulled back, still hunched over you with his tension present in his shoulders and neck, his brow focused in a furrow as he pumped his fist, his pearly spend spilling from his flushed cockhead and across your stomach. He paused, leaning close to touch his forehead to yours, a sticky sheen from his peak, before his jaw tilted up to press a messy kiss to your hairline. 

“Alright then.” 

You blinked and he was gone, already standing and tucking himself back into his slacks before reaching to toss your nightgown to your grasp. You could already feel the heat of your returned anger spilling into your bloodstream, replacing the sweetness you felt only moments before. “You taking off to disappear another two weeks then?” Your voice was tight with the question. 

His crooked grin flashed as he crawled back onto the mattress, his mouth hot and consuming, his kiss slow and searching until it drew a small noise from you. Then Tom pulled back again, grabbing his shirt. “I have somewhere to be tomorrow.”

“Court date?” You were flushed from the kiss, but your bitter tone remained.  

“They only let me out cause I said I’d join up, but I had a change of heart on the way over,” he finished the last buttons before tucking it into the waist of his slacks, his perpetual smirk playing on his lips, “I’m a conscientious objector.” 

His Mancunian drawl emphasized the final two words. “You’re a scoundrel is what you are, Tom.”

Tom only hummed, grabbing his coat and slipping his arms through the sleeves. “You would not have me any other way,” and he moved to steal another kiss, a clash of teeth and tongue that stirred your blood again. 

But before your fingers could move to comb through his sandy locks, he pulled away, disappearing out through your window and into the night. 

You fell back onto your sheets with their tangy sweet scent of the intimacy shared, of cigarette smoke and the musk that was so distinctly Tom fucking Bennett’s. 

Taglist (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @black-dread @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @girlwith-thepearlearring @lauraneedstochill @theobjectofyourire @troublesomesnitch @multyfangirl

arcie's ewanverse masterlist

#ewanverse #wof fanfic #wof fanfiction #tom bennett #tom bennett x reader #tom bennett x you #tom bennett x female!reader #it's not tonight

[lanitalay]

One Day : Chapter 3

azriel x reader

a/n: let me know if you'd like to be on a taglist for this series!

Warningsd: fluff, pining

word count: 1.6k

Masterlist

“You're not going to spend the Summer Solstice with us again?” Azriel had just informed Rhysand he was departing for the Dawn Court, where y/n had been training under Thesan for ten years. “You know I always spend it with y/n, Rhys.” 

“Didn’t she visit recently?” 

“Don’t I spend everyday with you?” Rhys raised an eyebrow at his brother. “You two are adorable, really.”

“Shut up.” Azriel would never admit it to anyone, but he held a small bit of resentment towards Rhys for introducing y/n to Thesan. If he would have known that bringing her to that meeting would have ended up in her moving away he would have never done it- or at least thought twice about it. He loved Rhys and Cassian and Mor and even Amren for the unlikely family that they were. Bound not by blood but by choice. Their lives were so interwoven that meeting y/n was a breath of fresh air. He got to spend most days with her for a year before she left for Dawn. They visit each other frequently enough that the friendship hasn’t faltered in the last decade. 

But Azriel missed her. Spending the holiday with her was nonnegotiable. 

“I have to deliver some things to her anyways.” Rhysand gives him one of those looks “you don’t need to make up excuses Azriel, you miss the female you love that is perfectly understable. What I do not understand is why you insist on keeping her as your friend-”

“Don’t you ever get tired of listening to yourself talk? And I’m not making up excuses. Her friends always give me letters and care packages to give her since your wards don’t allow mail to go in or out of Velaris.”

“Sorry for keeping the city too safe for you-”

“I’ll see you in a few days.”

“Send y/n my love.” 

Once in the Dawn Court Azriel felt infinitely lighter. There was a permanent air of tranquility that the Night Court lacked. He walked a few steps up to the the familiar cottage and knocked three times. “Az!” The pink door swung open and y/n jumped on him, squeezing tight. “I’m so happy you’re here, come in, come in.” Azriel handed her one of the two bags he carried “Bec, Nomi and Fran sent these.” Then he remembered “and Rhys sends his love.” 

Y/n smile widens as she grabs the large bag of goodies. He watched her open them. Most were letters containing updates and gossip about their lives. There were a few care packages, Nomi always sent her cookies, Fran sent books and Bec sent a small portrait of her babe. “I can’t believe how big she’s gotten,” y/n turns the frame around so Azriel can see “I saw her this Spring and I swear she was half this size.” 

“I can’t believe Bec has a baby.” Y/n gasps and tries to push down a chuckle. “She was the wildest of us, now look at her, mated and a mother.”

Azriel did not know what compelled him to say what came out of his mouth but before he could stop himself he was asking “would you ever want that?” 

“What?” 

He reasoned there was no real harm in asking a friend about her desires so he clarified “you know, a mate and a baby, that whole thing.”

“Oh,” she thought about it for a moment. “Yes, I think so. But not now. Well- I don’t even have a mate but with work right now I’m doing so much I’d hate to stop. But in the future, yes.” Azriel muffled the warm relief that flooded his chest at her response. “And you?”

He nodded, “same as you, one day, far into the future.” Y/n smiles as she looks through the books Fran sent. “Do you have food?” He walks towards the kitchen he knows she never fully stocks. How she keeps herself alive on crackers and nut butters he will never understand.

“I don’t like what you are insinuating. I went to the market yesterday.” Azriel opens the icebox and sees some meat and fruits. Then he opens the cupboards and sees a sack of potatoes. “We can actually make something-” knocking on the door interrupts him. 

“Finally,” he hears from the other room “Az, come here.”

“Are you expecting someone?” Y/n opens the door and a male stands on the other side. His hair is light brown, almost blonde. He’s taller than her, but a head shorter than Azriel. He wears glasses and he smiles as he hands y/n a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine. “Az, this is Lenus, my boyfriend” Azriel feels a stab in his gut “Lenus, this is Azriel.”

The boyfriend steps forward and extends his hand to shake Azriel’s. “I’m so glad to finally meet you, y/n has told me many things about you.”

“Oh Az, I hope you don’t mind. But since there is no Summer Solstice party here I thought we might as well celebrate just us three.” Three. He knew he needed to react well, never wanting to do anything to upset you. “Oh of course, I just- I didn’t know you met someone.”

Y/n walked to the kitchen and the two males followed. She opened the bottle of wine and Lenus fetched three glasses. “Thank you honey, we started seeing each other around the time I came back from the Night Court. But we met a few years ago, in one of the libraries.” 

“I’m a scribe,” Lenus explained with a smile. “Oh?” 

“Yes, I had to research an herb that one of the apothecaries wanted to add to a tonic we use frequently and- well you know me I had to double check the information. So I went to the library and Lenus spent the whole day helping me.” Azriel could throw up from the lovey dovey display happening in front of him. In all their years of friendship he had never seen her actually like someone. 

She had dated plenty of people, but nothing ever lasted more than a week or two. More importantly she had never called someone her boyfriend.  

Lenus prepared dinner for them. Azriel had to reluctantly compliment him on the food because it was indeed delicious and whenever he visited y/n in the past, the pickings were slim when it came to eating. He never blamed her or complained about it. She was a healer and cooking was not her priority. 

He hated that this male seemed to be good for her. Knew that was selfish of him. That deep down he wanted to be in his position. His thumb drawing lazy circles on her hand. “So y/n tells me you two actually met on Summer Solstice?”

“Technically we met the day after, but yes. Eleven years of friendship today” Azriel tips his glass towards her and she returns the gesture. “Happy anniversary Az.” 

Lenus looks between them “have you always been just friends?” Azriel lets y/n handle the question. “Well, he’s also been my patient more times than I can count.” 

The male relaxes a bit at her explanation. “Dear, I’m sorry but I must be on my way. There is an auction in the Day Court tomorrow for some ancient texts and I was tasked to go. I’ll come find you when I get back.” The group stands up from the table and walks Lenus to the door. “Thank you for cooking” Azriel shakes his hand and leaves the couple to say their goodbyes in private. 

“So… what do you think?” As much as he wanted to dislike her boyfriend he couldn’t. “He seems great, y/n.”

“Do you mean it?”

“You know I’d never lie to you. Are you happy?”

“It’s still early days, but yes.” That’s all he could ever want for her. “Then I’m happy for you.”

Y/n hugs him. Her scent has never changed, not since that first night. It’s sweet with a hint of citrus. He breathes it in as he hugs her back. “Wanna dance?”

She laughs “here?” Azriel breaks the hug and makes her spin “Summer Solstice tradition.” He pulls her close and they slow dance to imaginary music. “Are you going to stay in this court forever?” 

“No, I’m only waiting on Thesan to find my replacement. I miss the Night Court.”

“It misses you too.” They dance in silence for a few moments before Azriel speaks again. "Will Lenus come with you?"

"We haven't discussed it yet."

“You know, I often wonder what would have happened between us if you had stayed.” 

“I used to wonder too.”

“We had a pretty good date, remember? Before the meeting with Rhysand.” She laughs, probably remembering how much of a nervous wreck he was that day. “It was a nice date, yes. But you know this was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.” 

“I know, and I’m so proud of you.” 

“I think, had I stayed, we would have made it work.” 

“I think so too.” 

She breathes, “I think if we got together that first year it would have been a different story, though.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, I was convinced you were in love with Mor and I never allowed myself to see you as more than a friend until that conversation on the boat, but by then we didn’t know it was too late.” 

“To be fair, I could have been clearer with my intentions.” She laughs, “that’s true. What about you, is there someone back home?” 

Azriel could have lied and said there was someone, maybe a few people he was interested in seeing, but he couldn’t lie to her “I’m a lone wolf these days.”

She pulls away from his chest to look up at his face “are you happy?”

He thinks about it. His existence has been filled with hardships and heartbreak. Scars litter his body. But, in this moment, with her so close he can honestly say “I am.”

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