#and the two different textures are overwhelming

[chunksworld]

Moth to a Flame

IVE Wonyoung x Male Reader | (Tags: Smut)

A/N 1: Welcome to another episode of Chunk goes monkey brain. Credit goes to @kaedespicelatte as always for beta reading

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From: Vicky Jang

“She told me she just got on the plane, daddy. You know what to do.”

You should’ve known that she had something up her sleeve as soon as your girlfriend left for Japan. You should’ve known how opportunistic she is and yet you find yourself driving to her apartment as quickly as possible once again like you don’t already have a significant other that loves you very, very, very much. It should have raised red flags when you didn’t receive any messages from her the week leading up to your girlfriend’s departure. It was foolish from you to think that maybe, just maybe, she finally realized just how extremely messed up the situation is. You should’ve known better, you should be better. But it really doesn’t matter now because it was pathetic how quickly you dressed up as soon as you received that text from her. You couldn’t even wait until your girlfriend has completely left the country and you’re already dying to dick down her best friend out of all people. 

It’s infuriating how addicted you are to Jang Wonyoung. It’s infuriating how she can manipulate you. It’s infuriating how easily she can gaslight you. It’s infuriating how you are willingly giving in to all of it. And what makes all of the above worse is that she’s not even your girlfriend to begin with. No, she’s just your girlfriend’s beloved best friend that somehow crept her way into your life like some sort of parasite waiting for a vulnerable host. And you were vulnerable in more ways than one because it only took one session of drinking before she was able to seduce you and you’ve been falling prey constantly ever since. It didn’t help that you’ve already developed some sort of attraction with her that you tried so hard to hide deep inside you because of your “morals” but it’s almost disgusting to even bring out such a word at this point. Knock on the door in a specific pattern that only you two know and you’re met with a surprise that far exceeds your expectations.

“Wonyo—“

Only one foot inside and you already find your body meshed with hers, lips doing the same as you haphazardly close the door behind while you attempt to weather the storm that is Jang Wonyoung. It’s all too overwhelming and yet you should be familiar with it now; one second you find yourself engaging in an awkward dance in the middle of her spacious living room and then another finds you blindly crashing on top of her sofa (be careful not to land on her pillows again or she might actually kill you this time). An outsider might think that this is all just one giant mess but everything is carefully orchestrated; Wonyoung is one for establishing routines and sex is no different matter. Her slender fingers make quick work of your hoodie, hurling it god knows where and leaving you awkwardly in a white tank top that you wore in a rush. You hope she would look past it and she fortunately does, more so because it gives her an even better opportunity to ogle at your biceps than she usually would and such a sight turns her on immensely (though that’s something she won’t ever admit to you).

“Hmm. I’ve missed you so much, daddy.”

You hate it.

You hate how one word can bring the most primal and sinful desires out of you, the way she utters it with such conviction and vigor devolving you into a shell of your former self (which doesn’t say that much considering you’re so willingly giving in to what she wants). You hate how her perfume lures you every single time, notes of red berries and datura flowers driving you further and further into the edge of your sanity. You hate how those lips intoxicate you much faster than any alcoholic concoction could; their taste and texture rivaled by none—soft, plump, and with a hint of the peach-flavored lip balm she always uses. You hate how amazing her body feels against yours, tight, slim, curvy and oh-so-delectable in all of the right places. You hate how just one measly text from her brings you right into her apartment every single time. You hate how you always promise to yourself that this shouldn’t happen ever again and yet you find yourself itching to fuck her right at this very moment. You hate how easily you forget the fact that she’s not your girlfriend—or even worse, you hate the fact that she’s not your girlfriend.

“Wony, I told you not to say that.” It’s a feeble attempt in trying to look and sound intimidating when she already knows you too well—even better than your own girlfriend, unfortunately. It’s almost pathetic hearing her laugh in response, her teeth sinking into her bruised lower lips to prevent herself from destroying your ego even further though the sight just makes her that much tempting to your eyes. She knows how much power she holds over you, an irony considering her position in this power dynamic you two have going on; and yet it’s a position she’ll gladly relegate from if it means getting fucked until she can’t walk the following morning. But she’s too nice of a girl to push you to your limits and she doesn’t want her dick appointment to be ruined so she pulls you for another kiss to subdue your feigned anger. It’s embarrassing how quickly your anger is quelled the more she swirls her tongue around yours, the more amorous sounds that emit from those lips of hers, the lower her hand travels starting from your well-defined abs down to the raging tent forming on your gray sweatpants.

“Or what, daddy?” 

It’s downright poisonous, the way her eyes dare you to do something, anything and yet you’re like a deer in the headlights. Those damn alluring eyes. This isn’t anything out of the ordinary either, it’s common knowledge that you’re too much of a coward to actually confront her about the usage of that particular term of endearment (See, the truth is that you actually love the fuck out of being called “daddy”, but why boost her inflated ego even further by telling her? Keep acting like you hate it and she’ll continue to tease you for it). Thankfully, there’s still a small part of you that is completely aware of just how wrong all of this is—and this small remnant of humanity in you wants to inform her of such unjustness. To inform her that you have a girlfriend who you have a loving relationship with, that you should be in your shared apartment and FaceTiming her because she’s bored out of her mind in that hotel room, that all you should be worrying about right now is how to make sure her dog doesn’t leave a mess all over the place. Isn’t it your anniversary in a few weeks?

“I can’t.” Of course you can’t. It’s a “grass is green and the sky is blue” situation. Any response other than that would freeze hell over (not that you aren’t there already). Was it worth trying? Perhaps. But all it does is make Wonyoung even more impatient—and you should know out of all people just how incredibly difficult it is to deal with an extremely horny and needy princess. This brief moment of vulnerability enables her to flip your positions, straddling your lap. Groan as the underside of her shorts make contact with your clothed length and the sensation almost sends you into a frenzy. A proud smile paints her features—it’s another battle won for her and you didn’t even put up a fight. Maybe you should stop trying at this point, you’d rather paint her face with your cum anyways. That will surely look better on her than the loads of makeup she spends hundreds of dollars on.

“That’s what I thought. Now take these clothes off of me— and wait! Don’t rip them, okay? I’ll cut your dick off if I have to throw away another expensive top.”

“You’ll have nothing to fuck then. And if I recall, none of your toys can make you scream as loud as I do. I don’t think you want that to happen. Right, Miss Jang?” Checkmate.

“Hmph, shut up!”

Before either of you could retort, you sit up to meet her at face level. Take this moment to appreciate just how gorgeous she is, a face truly sculpted by the gods and made to be ruined. Starstruck couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt when Yujin introduced her to you, it was like looking at a Michelangelo piece come to life. Except she’s actually real and you’re about to spend another night finding out just how perfect she is, no need to snoop around in a museum somewhere in Europe. Brush loose strands of her hair aside and grab her by the waist, pulling her into a kiss that is gentler and softer than the first two. It’s captivating, alluring, and addicting. It’s a feeling you don’t quite achieve even in your hottest sessions with your girlfriend and deep down, that’s probably what kills you the most. “You’re so gorgeous, Wony.” 

“Save the compliments for later, I want you to fuck me hard right now, daddy.” Before you could even do the honors, she’s already pulling her top over her head and you do the same to yours. Wonyoung moans as your lips latch on to her neck; kissing, licking, and biting as you give her hickeys but you’re careful not to leave any darker ones or you’ll be out of here in a flash. It’s so sinful the way she moans your name, and it fills you with elation knowing that you’re the only one out of eight billion people on this planet that is capable of such a feat. It sends more blood rushing to your groin and you can’t wait to just ruin her. Your hands aren’t idle however, roaming her smooth back as you search for the clasps of her lace bra before throwing it with the same force as she did with your hoodie.

She’s definitely not as big as Yujin but her breasts are perky, taut, and just the right size to fit in the palm of your hands. You’ve grown to love them over time and you wouldn’t have it any other way. They look perfect in your hands and even better once you have your lips wrapped around them. Trail your kisses down to her collarbones, continuing to leave marks while you fondle her tits. It only makes her moan louder and you bring your lips to hers to silence her—you two have already received a noise complaint and you don’t want her to get kicked out (it’s definitely not purely because you want to kiss her again). But it’s useless once you do end up sucking on her tits, careful not to overstimulate her while your tongue twists around her areolas and your lips latch on to the soft flesh.

You would gladly stay like this until the end of time but of course the night couldn’t end like this because before you knew it, she already had a firm grip on the waistband of your sweatpants. Regretfully lift your face off her tits and she gives you a look that could only scream “fuck me already.” And what Wonyoung wants, Wonyoung gets. She removes herself off your lap and pulls the obstructing fabric down in one swift motion, immediately exposing your fully-erect cock to the cold air of her apartment. She almost drools at the sight, but she doesn’t want you to boost your ego either so she could only cover her hand to prevent you from hearing any sounds of arousal. But it really doesn’t matter because at the end of this night, you’ll have her screaming for your dick as if her life depended on it.

“Commando? Seriously? And yet here you were acting like you didn’t want to do this?” She tries hard not to give any further reaction and yet, her eyes can only look at its size and girth in awe. The sheer attention she gives to it almost makes you want to pull up your sweatpants again because of how much precum is dribbling out due to arousal. Completely remove your sweatpants and it joins the scattered pieces of clothing in her living room. Now you’re completely naked; and as much as you don’t want to think about it, not even Yujin gets the privilege of seeing you in such a state regularly (go ahead, keep thinking about your girlfriend and that would make it two women you’ll disappoint tonight). Just focus on Wonyoung, you already made it all the way to this point so you might as well see through it.

Make her straddle your lap again, this time working on unbuttoning her shorts and taking off her matching lace panties that are absolutely drenched. You would tease her for this but given the mutual overflowing lust for each other, you decide to save that for a later time. Now both of you are fully naked and given how wet she is, it makes the task of sliding her down your length much easier. Though it doesn’t say much considering how tight she is, even tighter than Yujin, despite the handful of times you’ve had sex with her already. You almost groan in pain as her nails dig deep on the skin of your back while your cock digs deep inside her warm and suffocating pussy. She screams, the sound reverberating throughout her studio apartment and given how thin the walls are, you two are about to give her neighbors a show tonight.

“So fucking tight, Wony. So. Fucking. Tight.” You hiss and grit your teeth as you fill her more and more, stretching her out with every inch inserted inside her. It takes a few more seconds before you can finally impale her, your tip reaching her cervix and then completely pulling out—audible whines from Wonyoung as she grabs your cock from underneath and forces you back into her. She’s so damn needy. But you would be lying if you said you aren’t either because you grip her ass needily as you begin to stroke upwards, immediately sending shockwaves throughout her slim body as she falls slump on your chest. Her slick thankfully aids in helping you maneuver or you’ll have to use some lube (something you’ve only had to do when she asked to do anal once and you’ve been dying to try it again).

“God—ah—f-fuck, daddy. You’re stretching me out so well.” Hot and heavy breaths send goosebumps all over your body as she buries her face on the crook of your neck, completely pressing her warm body against yours (you actually wanted to kiss her again but you’d gladly feel every inch of her perfect body as an alternative) and god, does she feel so fucking amazing. The way her thighs crash against yours, the thunderous slapping of skin on skin mixing with the faint noise of the heater turning on in the background, her moans flowing directly into your ears—it’s all too much to handle and as much as you hate to admit it, the fact that she’s not even yours to begin with is what truly sends you spiraling into a world of bliss. You’ve already fucked up anyways, might as well indulge to the fullest before judgement day comes.

And indulge you do because soon enough, you’re moaning and groaning much like she does—only at a lower tone as if a conductor is telling you to harmonize with her. But eventually, it gets drowned out by the continuous slapping of your hips to her thighs, creating a vociferous squelching noise that only increases in volume and confirms just how wet and aroused she is. Look down and the juices flowing down her thighs adds further evidence as it stains your crotch with her precious honey as well—such a delectable treat shouldn’t be wasted and should be lapped up instead. Fortunately you have the weekend all to yourselves so you can eat her out all day tomorrow if you want.

“H-Heh. You’re really enjoying this aren’t you, daddy?” Wonyoung lifts up her face to look at you for the first time in a while and she looks so beautiful, breathtaking, and absolutely fucked. Tears have begun to well under her eyes and yet somehow her mascara is still intact, guess it was money well spent after all. “I bet Yujin unnie can’t fuck you this good, huh? I wonder what she would be saying right now once she finds out that her best friend loves getting dicked down by her man, hmm?” It should make you angry, it definitely has to make you angry. But every sexual encounter with her has stripped you of any sense of dignity and honor. And at this point, you don’t give a damn about anything else other than giving in to your desires.

“Shut the fuck up, Wony.” You have no response either, so you just grab on the sides of her face and pull her into another kiss. “Just shut the fuck up and take this dick like the cumslut you are.” Fuck it. You go back to the hickeys you’ve made earlier and turn them to an even darker shade of red, making it near impossible to hide the sinful events that took place tonight. No worries, it’s not like you two are planning to leave this house for the next two days anyways. You want to make sure that you’ve fucked her in every single corner and in every position manageable. You don’t see it but a smirk appeared on her face. She got you worked up again like she wanted and it caused you to be even more aggressive just like how she wanted. You really are just a moth to her flame, how pathetic.

“Of course, where else would I want your cum? Turn me into your breeding bunny, daddy.” A sultry whisper to your ear and it unlocks an even more primal side from you. Plant your feet on the couch and you begin to fuck her with reckless abandon like the wild animal you are. Wrap her long legs around your waist and lift yourselves off the couch, a position that almost makes your knees give out. But your leg muscles are there for a reason as you grab on the back of her thighs and pound her relentlessly. It’s raw, it’s hot, and it’s so fucking passionate. The way her sweaty body would lift high up in the air before gravity brings it right back to your cock, the way she clings on to you for dear life, the way she tries to kiss you despite it being an almost impossible task. The air grows increasingly hot signaling your impending orgasm.

“I-I can’t hold on much longer—ah, shit. I can’t hold on much longer, fuck.” Thank goodness her floor isn’t made out of carpet because her slick starts to seep out of her pussy with every deep thrust. Usually she would respond with a one-liner but she’s so deep into her own world of ecstasy that all she could do is cry and wail as your spearing length continues to drive home into her cervix. You can’t talk that much more either because the familiar, bubbling sensation in your stomach only grows with each thrust. And the way she clings on to you for dear life, screaming to the world how good your cock is only serves to expedite and intensify your eventual undoing. It only leads you closer to completely unraveling like she intends you to, like how you’re supposed to.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuckkk! I’m gonna fucking cum inside you, Wony. Gonna cum and fill that tight pussy.” 

“Don’t fucking stop, daddy, I-I’m gonna cum as well. Please—“

“FUCK!”

With one final deep and unrelenting thrust, you completely explode. It’s a shout that’s definitely justifiable enough to cause your eviction, even more so as she joins you in your peak. It’s a sensation that’s overwhelming and numbing at once. Your vision is filled with white. You can feel your ears ringing, legs completely giving out as you crash back down on the couch. An out-of-body experience that only happens with her leading you to become breathless and scrambling for air. You won’t stop cumming, can’t stop cumming as ropes upon ropes of semen continue to unload inside her, every jolt of your hips make sure to shoot your cum deep and fill her walls white. It fills you to and over the brim with bliss, a feeling that you want to chase over and over again. It’s addicting, it’s mind blowing, and it leaves your balls completely drained inside her. So much so that your cum immediately starts dripping out of her fucked pussy as soon as the last spurts have been left inside her, an erotic sight that you will never get tired of. 

A few minutes past before the tremors completely stop and you engage in a mindless makeout session with her to help you two calm down. Brush loose strands of disheveled hair aside as you can gradually feel her breathing return to normal, wrap your arms around her waist possessively and she squeals due to her heightened sensitivity. “You filled me up so well daddy, fuck…..” Wonyoung takes a finger and swipes at a streak of cum that drizzled out of her and brings it to her mouth as if it was spilled ice cream, her facial expression indiscernible. “Yum! Next time I want it all in my mouth, m’kay?”

“God, you’re insatiable.”

She gives you a kiss, then she starts grinding her hips again. “Only for you, daddy.” 

#ive smut #wonyoung smut #jang wonyoung smut #male reader #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #reader insert #smut

[charlottecutepie]

˚｡⋆୨🍓୧⋆｡˚ Strawberry jam (William Afton x fem!reader)

author notes: so this is the first part of my two-part mini fic! the second will be called “blueberry jam” and will have completely different tags and kinks <33 hope you like it :,,)

tags: dad’s best friend!William, smut, p in v, oral (m receiving), age gap, softdom!William, outdoor sex, unprotected sex, public sex

You're the sweetest girl in town that he knew. The cutest and delicate, like a little flower. All neat, always so fucking polite to him, he feels he didn't deserve it, you call him "sir", his heart stops. So pure, fragile. William often wondered what you tasted like.

He noticed you always used a strawberry-flavored balm. And your mom made the most delicious strawberry jam.

Your family always invited William for a cup of tea to share it with delicious sweet jam. William is your father's best friend, so he often comes to your house. Every time he tastes jam, he involuntarily remembers you. And here you are though, sitting across from him, flipping through something in your magazine and occasionally glancing at him. God. . . What a cutie, kinda naive. You think he doesn't notice your curious eyes.

You always have a lot of outfits for every day, especially in summer. William likes them, every of them is so cute and beautiful, your shorts, skirts, dresses, tops. Makes him feel young again, just by looking at you. Oh, he adores it especially when you braid a small pink bow in your hair.

As the jam coats the tongue, it's tantalizing texture, smooth like soft silk, melts in mouth.

It brings new sensations, as the subtle sharpness of strawberries is combined with the creamy sweetness of sugar. The rich aroma of jam is in the air, filling the kitchen with decadent sophistication.

Without a doubt, this jam is delicious, especially if it was prepared by your mother according to a secret family recipe. But fuck, it tastes even better if you lick it off the finger of your dad's best friend.

"So that's how you like it, hm?" he laughs at you as you continue to lick it off. The sensation of your wet tongue slowly tracing the curve of his digit excites him in a way. He bites on his bottom lip to contain himself as he watches you with growing desire. He feels his dick harden from such sight. "What a good girl, licked everything clean."

William's heart is pounding in his chest. It's wrong, but fuck it. He was waiting for this, he dreamed about it and fucking finally you took the initiative. He can't help but imagine his dearest friend's daughter underneath him, your lips wrapped around something else besides his finger.

He leans forward and kisses you. Softly but demanding, he forces your mouth open while he explores it with his tongue. Savouring the taste of strawberry jam, so that's how you taste, that's what you are. Sweet girl.

There's not a minute to lose, he has to fuck you.

As soon as his lips part from yours, William bends you over the countertop. You gasp softly as his strong hands run up and down your legs, tracing every curve of your thighs. He positions himself between them, gently rubbing the tip of his cock against your wet folds. You moan when he begins to slide inside you, stretching out your walls with each delicious thrust.

Your breath hitches as William starts to fuck you rougher, you can say he was holding himself before, his cock pumping in and out of your soaked cunt with increasing speed.

"God. . . Baby. . ." he murmurs softly against your ear and he grips tighter onto your hip. His other hand reaches around to rub your clit. Your pussy clings tightly around his shaft. "Fuck, babygirl, so good for me." you whimper, overwhelmed by the dirty words spilling from his mouth. As he pumps in and out of you harder, William becomes suddenly aware of the sound of a car pulling up outside the house. His pulse quickens as he realizes that it might be your father returning home earlier than expected.

You didn't came and neither did William. It needed to be fixed. That's why when your whole house was fell into darkness of night and your parents fell asleep, William found you under the covers in your bed. You were waiting for him, he knew.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you." you whisper to him. "I want more. . ."

That's how you find yourself plunged into mattress by your dad’s best friend. He wasted no time thrusting inside your pussy, filling you to the brim. "Agh. . ." he groans. "so fucking tight, baby." it feels like he fucked your brain out of you, you could do nothing, only lay here as his cock sweetly slides in and out of you. And you swear it feels like dream.

"Don't stop, don't stop, please!. . ." you whimper in his mouth. William plants a soft kiss on your nose and scoops you in his arms. He hides his face in your neck, scorching it with his hot heavy breathing. You must be quieter, no moaning, no whimpering, no loud noises allowed.

"Shh, shh, princess. I know it feels good, i know, but you must be quiet. Wouldn't want your parents to hear us?" soft, shallow breaths coming from him as he looses his mind from how tight you clamp around him. "Ugh, baby. . ."

He's fighting the urge to bite you and paint your neck in purple hickeys. The problem is that it's summer and it'll be very difficult to hide his marks, so fuck it. For now, all William can do is gently kiss and lick your skin. Even being balls deep inside you and fucking you senseless, William doesn't understand what's going on. How did he end up in your bed? He still doesn't realize that he's fucking you since he always thought that you liked that one boy same your age from the neighborhood. What a pity for him then. Turns our you preferred. . . Much older guys? Well, good for him then.

.🍓🍓🍓

It's morning, it's so damn hot outside that you don't wanna go out at all. Although it's no better at home as it's really stuffy here, and there's not a hint of a cloud in the sky. Your parents are at work, and you're very hot, so you didn't bother to wear anything but panties and a light t-shirt. This is probably William's favourite outfit of yours. When he doesn't have to spend time undressing you, but just move your panties aside and fill you with his cock.

But he needs to cool his girl down.

Taking strawberry jam out of the fridge, he smiles and comes up to you. He dips his fingers into the sweet jam, your t-shirt pulled up as he generously applying it to your right nipple in circular motions. The cool texture of the strawberry contrasts delightfully with the warmth of your skin.

"You taste so good. . ." he murmurs huskily as his finger trails towards your nipple, gently swirling it around before giving it a playful lick. As your senses are filled with the sweet aroma of strawberries, William's touch becomes increasingly bold. His lips enclose around your nipple, his tongue swirling and flicking against the hard bud. You shiver as he pays big attention to your breast, sucking gently before releasing it with a soft pop. "My doll." he whispers against your skin before moving onto the other nipple.

.🍓🍓🍓

You love nature, so on a fine summer day you like to ride a bike. You stop near the shore of the lake, watching the mirrored surface of the water. So beautiful and so… Fresh, you think. You want to plunge into water, but you don't have a swimsuit with you, so you go into the lake in your usual clothes. However you're not alone. William gives you a genuine smile as he stands by your side, eyeing the lake.

The two of you enter the water. You immediately begin to swim towards the middle, William following close behind. Little do you know he admires your every move, his eyes lingering on your curves and he playfully splashes you with water.

As William closes in on you, he grabs your waist and pulls you towards him. You giggle as his hands explore your sides, teasing your skin. "My girl. . . I've been wanting you since this morning." he brings his face closer to yours. You only laughed, splashing water into his face, which made William's hair get wet. "Hey, no, let me kiss you, doll." before you know it, your lips pressed together in a soft kiss. It's gentle and sweet, oh god, just like this fucking strawberry jam. You wrap your arms around William's neck, deepening the kiss.

"I love you. . ." you whisper against his lips as your wet bodies press closer together. The intensity of your kiss increases, William scoops you up in his hands. Your legs immediately wrap around his waist as water cascades off your bodies.

"My little princess." he says deeply while he carries you towards the lake shore, your bodies slick with water. He carefully sets you down on a soft patch of grass, staring deeply into your eyes. "You’re so beautiful." his voice is hoarse from growing aroual as he gently brushes his thumb over your cheek. So delicate.

Just when you take initiative, William moans into your mouth and you can't help but feel your pussy clench from how fucking hot his voice sounds like this. His fingers roam through your wet hair as your lips move hungrily against each other. "God. . . You're driving me insane, fuck." he pulls away for a moment, catching his breath.

.🍓🍓🍓

In your large garden with lots of bushes and trees grows that sweet reddish strawberry. Your mother often sends you to collect it for making her magical jam. While you were bending over a bush, a straw hat on your head to protect you from the scorching sun, you began to pull the berries until you felt a slap on the ass.

"Need any help?" a familiar voice sends sounds as William approaches you from behind. His pervert gaze drawn to your butt, showcased perfectly by your skirt. "Sorry, couldn't resist." he now whispers into your ear.

Soon enough his "couldn't resit" changes into groans of "fuck, your pussy feels so good." as he pounds you from behind, feeling your wetness coating his shaft completely. Your fingers dig deeper into the dirt as pleasure courses through your body. "God, babygirl, take it all, take it." he picks up pace.

As his heavy balls slap against your clit just fucking nicely, adding stimulation, it sends electricity through your body. You moan loudly, arching into him. "I'm so close, daddy. . . Don't hold back, please."

While your eyes roll back and you shudder through your blissful orgasm, clenching around his dick, you accidentally squeeze a strawberry until it bursts in your hand.

"What a fucking mess you are, doll."

.🍓🍓🍓

On the evening of the same day, you were in the yard of your house, your dad invited his friend to visit to share a conversation about work with him. But fortunately for William, your dad warns him that he’ll be right back and leaves into the house, most likely he forgot something there, you think. Nevertheless, you and William are left alone.

As soon as your father leaves, William turns to you with a wicked grin.

"Will you serve me lemonade, doll?" he winks at you, his gaze traveling up and down your body.

You smile flirtatiously, walking over to the pitcher of lemonade on the patio table. You fill a glass halfway before turning around. "Here's your lemonade, Will— daddy." you tease him and toss it lightly towards him, giving him a sly smile as you wait for his reaction.

"You have no idea how much I want to fuck you right now." he takes a sip of drink and lets out a groan. "Mmm. . . Perfect." then his big hand suddenly lands on your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"We literally did it this morning." you smile.

He squeezes your ass playfully. "I can't help myself when you're teasing me, naughty girl. Your father's making a huge mistake leaving his lovely daughter with me."

As your father returns, William instantly puts on an innocent smile and turns back to his lemonade. "Oh, here you are." he greets him in a polite tone. As your father starts talking about some work-related issues, you can't help but steal a few glances at William. He catches your eyes and winks at you before taking another sip of lemonade.

.🍓🍓🍓

William takes you to the town, driving you in his old fashioned car with expensive leather seats while you look out the window. As he speeds down the town road, you feel the wind in your hair, enjoying the ride.

The sun began to set, painting the sky with hues of red and orange. You felt like you were transported to another world as William's car made its way down the peaceful streets lined with vintage shops and cozy restaurants of little town. He put on some smooth jazz which seemed fitting enough for your ride. It perfectly filled the silence between you two. His fingers wrapped around yours and he looked at you with a gentle smile. "I love you."

As William drove, his hand slowly sliding up your thigh covered by a light dress. His large palm cupped you possessively, sending heat flowing straight to your core. His touch was confident yet tender, dominant, but so fucking sweet.

"I want to suck you off." William's eyes widened as you whispered in his ear, his grip on your thigh tightening. He looked down at your lips, imagining them engulfing him fully.

"Fuck, doll," he groaned before pulling over onto the side of the road. "Are you sure about that?" he asked, running his thumb along your bottom lip. The car slowed down to a halt by the side of a field, far from the town.

"Yeah, i want to make you feel good." you nodded. William turned on some soft music before leaning closer towards you.

"Do it then, bunny. Make me feel good with your little mouth."

As you lowered your head, he unzipped his pants, taking his hardening cock out. Your eyes locked onto him, admiring the sight of his thick dick in front of you. You leaned forward and ran your tongue over the tip. "Goddamn. . ." he groaned loudly at the sensation of your wet warm lips wrapping around him. You looked up at him with eager eyes as you took him deeper into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the base of his cock.

William threw his head back, clutching the edge of the car seat as you sucked him, bobbing your head.

"Fuck! . . ." he rasped breathlessly, enjoying the warmness of his doll's pretty mouth. "Such a good girl." William's hips bucked up a bit, moaning loudly as you took him deeper. Your lips wrapped tighter around his cock. "Fuck yes." he panted, threading his fingers through your hair lovingly. "Swallow it, baby. . ." he pushed on your head as his seed spilled into your mouth. He panted heavily, watching you greedily swallow his release.

.🍓🍓🍓

"My mom said she's going to make blueberry jam today." you whisper into William's lips while sitting on his lap. He takes off his sunglasses and gives you a questioned, but curious look.

"Then I'll come over for a cup of tea." he laughs.

#william afton smut #fnaf x reader #william afton x reader #fnaf x y/n #steve raglan smut #william afton #steve raglan x reader #dilf william #fnaf smut #fnaf william afton

[blue--ingenue]

Ominis Gaunt headcannons {Pt. 1}

Author's Note: hi loves! this is the first time i've written for Ominis Gaunt hehe. he's such a little guy™️ and i really enjoyed exploring his character a bit more. i'm going to start a taglist for this series as well, so let me know if you'd like to be added :)

you two aren’t particularly close at first, but that all changes after the events of the scriptorium. he has a difficult time trusting people (having survived his family’s atrocities), so when he meets you, a stranger leaving his most treasured safe space, he immediately shuts you out. after the scriptorium he decides to get to know you, and realizes he’s found a kindred spirit

he wants to give Noctua a proper burial, but he can’t move her remains to the family mausoleum without his parents finding out that he unlocked Salazar Slytherin’s scriptorium. (he won’t allow them to access the dark magic lying within. the last thing they need is more power.). you help him transport his aunt’s remains to a hilltop near the castle, the closest thing to home he has. you lay her to rest, conjure a simple headstone, and he just- breaks

all the terror, nerves, and stress of the last few days kept him wrought with tension, and this small mercy is what finally severs the strings holding him upright. he has no blood relatives left to lose, he can feel Anne slipping away, and he can feel Sebastian drifting farther and farther away in his desperation to save his twin. maybe it feels easier, then, crying into the shoulder of a near-stranger as he grieves the family he’s lost and those he’s currently losing

you walk to classes together, occasionally sit next to him at meals, and soon his presence becomes a constant in your life

he slowly lets his guard down as you grow closer. despite his posh exterior he’s perfectly capable of being a little shit (affectionate)

he doesn’t directly cuss, but his silver-tongued insults could rip anyone to shreds

he absolutely pretends to misplace his wand as an excuse to hold onto you. Sebastian sees through the ruse from a mile away, but bites his tongue

his hearing isn’t the only sense that can become painfully overstimulating. he learned early on that certain textures can be overwhelming (particularly scratchy wool, or too-tight dress shirts). you’ve gathered every type of clothing under the sun from the chests you’ve come across on your adventures, so you experiment with the different fabrics, finding ways to get Ominis to touch the fabric and cataloging each reaction. eventually you have a running list of his favorite and least-favorite textures. for christmas you buy him the softest, baggiest sweater from Gladrags. needless to say, he absolutely adores it

speaking of the sweater, he practically lives in it for the duration of Christmas break. it’s an incredibly endearing sight. the sleeves are loose and extend past his arms. the tip of his wand just barely pokes out from the end of his sleeve. when he sits to play piano, they pool gently around his wrists so that he can glide his hands across the keys unperturbed. you catch him asleep on the couch by the fire in the common room. he’s comfortably curled up, nestled into the neck of the sweater and tucking his hands into the sleeves to chase away the chill

likes downplay his fashion sense, but this boy knows exactly how good he looks in every curated outfit. it’s the one thing he’s grateful for learning from the Gaunt household

#ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x y/n #ominis gaunt x you #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort

[sad-not-glad]

We Know Something You Don’t

Pairing: Bucky x pregnant! Reader

Word count: 3415

Warnings: pregnancy symptoms, allusion to birth, tooth-rotting fluff

A/N: the second part to I Know Something You Don’t, This is going to become a series :) reposted, again, from the account I deleted like a stupid mf.

First part: Here

Bucky really was amazed at what the modern world could do now for expecting mothers. He had accompanied you to every doctors appointment and there was a healthy stack of parenting books growing on his bedside table. Everything that the doctor said he soaked in like a sponge, asking so many questions you had to tell him to stop more than once in your so far short pregnancy. They supposed you were only around 10 weeks along so you still had quite a while to go yet.

The best part by far was the ultrasound. Bucky was brought to tears when during your first appointment you both were shown the very first image of your precious little baby. He unashamedly began to brag on his child, praising them for growing so well and being so strong. He wouldn't listen when you told him that it was barely a tiny blob, because that in itself was amazing. One of the pictures now had a permanent place safe inside his wallet.

The one thing that was less than exciting to you both was the idea of telling your team the news. For Bucky it was the fear of judgment and potential for harm if anyone outside of your friend group caught wind of the upcoming child. Your fears revolved around losing your independence. It was bad enough that the team babied you already, you didn't think you could stand it if they got any worse. You valued your independence, and while you were on a leave from missions for the time being you had no intentions to stop your training. Maybe modify things a bit for your new condition, but you really wanted to remain active for as long as possible.

So the both of you kept dancing around the subject. Excuses for why you weren't going on missions, faking dates for doctors appointments, avoiding any situation where alcohol would be involved. Of course you knew that you couldn't hide it forever but it would be nice to adjust to the idea of becoming parents before they overwhelmed you with their own excitement.

Tonight was making that hard though. It was supposed to be a simple, slow evening in which everyone could be lazy and watch TV together. And it had been up until a few minutes ago, when Tony appeared with some kind of new takeout from a place that had recently opened nearby. The food is passed around and you decide on a serving of spicy chicken with rice. It was something you usually loved and you were sure this place would be no different. The first bite was… odd. You chewed slowly, poking at the chicken before cautiously lifting the fork to your mouth again. All at once the spice and smell and texture hit you as you threw down the container and made a mad dash for the kitchen.

“Holy shit-” There's the sound of something being tossed down as footsteps follow you. But that doesnt matter. Not when you're about to blow chunks all over the countertops. With one last strain of effort you launch yourself over the sink as you begin to vomit painfully. Carefully you feel two hands sweep the hair from your face into a makeshift ponytail as cold fingers press against the back of your neck. You heave in a deep breath before hurling again. Tears are streaming down your face and you know there's bile stuck in your hair and to your face, but all you can focus on is getting the sickness out of your system. After several grueling minutes of emptying your stomach you finally felt the nausea fade off.

“Is she okay, Barnes?” That was Tony. Bucky struggled to find an answer to the questioning stares as you heave in deep breaths. “Yeah, she's gonna be okay.” You shake your head softly, glancing back at him with wavering eyes. This was a secret you had to spill, you couldn't hide it any longer. Not from a team filled with assassins and geniuses.

“Buck, tell them”

“Tell us what? What's going on you two?” Bucky takes your still shaking hand into his, nodding softly before turning towards the team littered around the kitchen. “(Y/N) is pregnant.” The silence is deafening and it puts you on edge for a moment before the tension is broken by Steve’s sharp cry of surprise. All hell breaks loose suddenly and you're both swept up and passed between people for long, tight hugs.

“Oh my god, Baby Banres!”

“You’re pregnant?!”

“I'm so happy for you two!!!”

Nobody seemed to mind the mess you had made of yourself as they all took turns hugging and showing you with praises. After a considerable amount of time Bucky managed to pry you from Natasha’s tight hold, slightly take aback by the reaction to such a simple sentence. But it wasnt simple, your entire life was going to be changing drastically in the next year. You beamed up at him, simply glowing after being showered in so much affection. And he was so ready to start to journey with you at his side.

Bucky was sure that he was going to die right there in the stiff hospital chair he sat in. The doctor’s kind words flew right over his head and the only thought in his mind was that she had said this baby was a little girl. A daughter, he was going to have a little baby princess with you. A little girl with your soft hair and striking eyes, listening to her giggles as her Daddy dotes on her, heading her call him Daddy. That alone was what broke the dam of his eyes, allowing the tears to fly freely over his cheeks. By now the doctor had left you alone and you were already sitting up on the bed.

“Sweetheart?” He turned to you, opening his mouth to respond but coming up short. Your expression melted as you reached out and pulled him forward into your arms. He gripped tightly to you, overwhelmed with the pure love flowing through his veins. He had no idea what he had done along the way to deserve this, but god Bucky would do anything to keep his little family safe. After the tears slow he finally looks up at you, sniffing as you wipe the dampness from his face. “Its a girl?” You nod softly and he chokes on another sob as it becomes so much more real. He held tightly to you as together you celebrated in the news of your upcoming daughter.

Upon returning from your appointment the tower was suspiciously quiet. Nobody in the communal area, nobody on the floor you stayed in with Bucky and Steve, and nobody inside your little shared space. Bucky was too caught up in admiring the new pictures of your baby to notice but you immediately took note of the striking silence that lingered everywhere you went. After shedding your shoes and coat you pulled out your phone, checking for a text from anyone really. Nothing. You called Tony, no answer. And then Natasha, and again no answer. By now your nerves were standing on edge and you couldn’t ignore the creeping feeling in your gut.

“Bucky, where is everyone?” He looks up from the photo held tightly in his hands to you in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“The tower is empty. I-“

You paused, trying to think of any reason the entire team would disappear like this. After finding none you sighed, finally calling out to the AI within the walls for some help . “FRIDAY, where is everyone?”

“I’m afraid I’m not permitted to say, Ms Barnes. I can tell you they will be returning in around half an hour though.” Bucky now looked just as confused as you did. But for now it seemed the only thing you could do was wait, so you did just that. Half an hour passed, then an hour, and then two. The day was crawling towards the evening and still with no word from anyone the anxiety began to run high. It was nearly 8pm when finally FRIDAY announced you and Bucky were being asked to join the team in the conference room.

Bucky held the door open for you to enter and you jumped in surprise as several loud pops sounded and you were both showered with confetti.

“Surprise!”

The room was decorated from floor to ceiling, filled with pastel colors and various baby-themed decorations. You can’t help the tears that flood your eyes at the display of your team’s love for you and your husband. “Guys, what is all this?” Bucky steps forward, gently wrapping his arm over your shoulders as you take a really good look around. It’s absolutely beautiful, with just the right amount of tacky to make it funny and cute. “It’s your baby shower, silly! You didn’t think you were going to have a kid and not let up spoil them rotten, did you?” Tony laughs, pulling you forward into his arms as he pats your back. One by one both you and Bucky receive a tight hug from everyone before you’re being led to sit at the head of the table.

One by one each person presents you with an array of gifts for your unborn child. Clint provides you with a surplus of diapers and wipes, Natasha gifts you a set of avenger themes onesies she found and a pump, Sam gives you a giant teddy bear in a falcon uniform that was holding a basket of clothes, and so on and so forth. After two full hours of unwrapping presents and being blown away by the generosity of the people who loved you, both you and Bucky were surrounded by piles of baby gear. Ranging in variety from cribs and diapers to toys they wouldn’t be able to play with for years to come. Despite the fatigue seeping down into your bones you just couldn’t pull the smile from your face. Things were finally calming down as everyone split into groups and chatted amongst themselves while snacking from the small buffet provided by Tony. Bucky gently pulled you closer to his side, guiding your head to rest on his shoulder as you soaked in the moment. It was strikingly normal, almost in a funny way. These were the avengers, earth's mightiest heroes. And they were all bouncing with excitement over a baby that wasn’t even born yet. Your baby. The thought made your smile stretch even wider as you observed the love everyone held for your child.

“You getting tired, mama?” The new pet name made your heart skip a beat, he had taken to calling you that lately. With a subtle nod you shifted your gaze up to him, smiling despite the exhaustion settling over your mind. “Yeah, I’m pretty pooped. Do you think they would be offended if we went to bed?” He chuckled, shaking his head as he moved a piece of your hair away from your face. “I don’t really care. If the baby needs sleep then that’s what the baby gets. Let’s go, sweet thing.” As he gently helped you raise from the chair everyone’s eyes turned, conversations stilling. “You two heading up to bed?” He nods, wrapping his arms around you as a means of support. You hadn’t realized how truly tired you were until now as you fought to keep your eyes open while you swayed on your feet. “Yeah, (Y/N) needs the sleep right now. Thank you guys for this, really. It’s… more than I expected, it’s amazing. Thank you.”

There are several mumbles of goodnight and no problem as he leads you to the door, making your way back to your room and your oh-so-sweet bed that is calling your name loudly right now. The elevator ride up was short and you were asleep the moment you laid down, not even changed out of your clothes for the day. Bucky took a moment to kneel by your side, eyes drifting slowly over your face down to the swollen bump in your midsection. Carefully he reached out and ran his fingers over your exposed skin as the little girl inside got the sleep she deserved. ‘My girls’ he thought to himself with a small smile.

By now you were nearly 30 weeks along in your pregnancy. Tony had helped set up a nursery space for you both and it was bursting at the seams with toys and clothes for your child. You told the team about the gender several weeks ago and they all celebrated greatly at the news of a baby girl joining them. You sweat that Steve cried but he very much denies it every time you mention how his eyes misted over. Today was surprisingly slow, half the team gone on various missions and political trips which left the tower quiet and peaceful for once. You were enjoying the silence by laying on the couch in the living room, dazing in and out of sleep and Bucky filed away some paperwork for the team he was now supervising. Instead of doing active field missions he elected to take a backseat, now mostly filling out papers and instructing his team on how to conduct their own missions. You were just about to slip back into your dreamless slumber when a strong tap against your navel made you gasp. Bucky turned in mild alarm, tossing down his pen to give you his full attention from where he sat next to you on the floor.

“(Y/N), you okay?” You shrug, hand sliding down to cover the spot your daughter had just elbowed. She was usually asleep this time of day so it surprised you to feel such a prominent shove against your insides. “Yeah, baby is just moving a little-“ your sentence breaks off into a sharp cry of shock as you pull your hand away from your bump. Now Bucky is very worried, sitting up next to you and inspecting your body closely for signs of harm. “What’s wrong?” Instead of answering you rush to grab his hand, pressing it firmly where yours had been only moments before. A few second pass in silence before-

Bump

Now it was Bucky’s turn to gape in surprise, staring down at his hand where his daughter had kicked him for the first time. “Did you feel that?!” Your voice is brimming with excitement as you also watch your stomach carefully. Before Bucky can respond there’s another, softer tap against his palm. He chokes on his laugh, head swiveling to catch you in a joyful kiss.

“She kicked me, (Y/N)!” You nod, holding his face as he laughs with glee. He pauses after a moment before springing to his feet and grabbing up his phone. “Bucky?”

“I have to tell Steve!” He rushes from the room to call his best friend, who is probably halfway across the world asleep right now. But his excitement is contagious and you giggle as you watch him pace the room before the blonde answers.

“Steve, you’ll never guess what. She kicked me! Yeah I know, it’s great isn’t it? She was so strong too, such a little fighter already-“

Slowly you settled back into the couch, letting your eyes drift closed as you listened to Bucky brag about your child and all of her capabilities thus far, no doubt in your mind about his fatherly love. Your daughter was already the center of his entire universe. You fell asleep to his warm voice and images of your baby girl floating through your mind.

It was nearly 3 am, and you felt absolutely miserable. Braxton hicks had been keeping you awake all night and no matter how you tossed and turned about you just couldn’t seem to get comfortable. Bucky had no issue, snoring like a brick beside you as you languished about your condition. You loved your baby so much but you couldn’t wait for her to finally arrive. Your body was always aching from the added weight you were carrying and you were always bloated and cranky. With a sigh you shuffled to sit up in the bed, freezing in place when there’s a soft pop that comes from inside you and a gush of fluids between your legs. Your mind is reeling, mostly mortified that you had managed to have an accident in the bed. Your good luck could only last so long. Slowly you shifted your weight so you could stand and walk to the bathroom in order to clean up, stopping suddenly as an intense pain seizes through your abdomen. It takes you off guard and steals your breath, leaving you gasping for air as the pain subsides. These weren’t Braxton hicks, they were contractions. You had been in labor, apparently. Without giving it much thought you blindly reached backwards, smacking your husband in the face clumsily in an effort to wake him up. It works as he bolts into a sitting position with a small shout of confusion. After a moment to gather himself he looks over, noticing the grimace in your face and the way your holding tightly to your midsection. His eyes blow wide as the realization strikes him. “Are you…?”

“In labor? Yes, yes Bucky I am. Would you mind helping?” Your voice is strained, panicked even, and that’s all it takes for him to spring into action. Within five minutes he had you changed into new pajamas and gathered all the bags that had been packed over a month ago, despite not really being needed. After all, Tony had paid to have specialized doctors live-in at the tower over the last month in preparation for this very moment. The tense silence of the elevator ride is broken by your sharp hiss of pain as another contraction rips through you. Helen and the delivery nurse are waiting for you when the doors open, courtesy of FRIDAY. You make a mental note to thank the AI for her kindness later. Everything happens so quickly after that. You’re helped into a hospital gown and set up in a room. The delivery doctor arrives to check your progress and before the hour is up you’re told it’s time to push. Bucky has one arm anchored around your shoulders, the other held tightly in your hand as you mentally prepare yourself for what was about to take place.

One by one the team arrives at the waiting room, everyone having been notified of your labor and progression into birth. There’s little conversation as they wait and watch the clock tick on. The sun has risen across the horizon and breakfast had long passed by the time a nurse came to get them. Before entering the room she instructs them to stay quiet, explains that both you and the baby were sleeping after such a long delivery. The door opens to reveal your sleeping figure on the bed, sweaty hair stuck to your face and cheeks flushed from the strain you had gone through. Seated next to you is Bucky, a tiny bundle of blankets cuddled closely in his arms. He’s completely enamored by the little life, not even noticing the arrival of his friends and family. All his attention is focused on the baby girl in his arms, her chubby cheeks and dark curls. A spitting image of her father.

“Hey, we brought some food for you guys.” Steve sets the takeout on the hospital tray as the team crowds around the chair. All of them are fighting for a change to look at the sleeping child held safely against her father’s chest. Bucky finally takes notice of his company, flashing a blinding smile as he gently lifts the little girl in his arms. Everyone visibly melts at the sight of her, sleeping so peacefully after such a dramatic entrance to the world.

“She’s perfect.” Several nods and words of agreement are shared around before Wanda speaks up. “What’s her name?” That was one thing you had elected to keep a secret. Bucky’s smile softens as he carefully readjusts the sleeping miracle in his arms. “Her name is Rebecca Natalia Barnes. Named after two of the strongest women I’ve ever known.” Nat meets his eyes, her own wet with tears. She gives him a small nod and he smiles in return as his gaze turns back to his precious daughter. “A perfect name for a perfect girl.”

#bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #james bucky buchanan barnes #marvel #the avengers #bucky fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #bucky x pregnant!reader #pregnant #pregnant reader #avengers

[little-emerald-snake]

Duncan - degredation kink (on himself) ("who's my little coward?") Leander - praise ("you are so strooong" (we all know you aren't but please fuck me) )

Garreth - feral/kinda breeding kink

Ominis - lingerie/clothed - touch-different fabrics

Everett - body worship (him on male mc? "MC is build/ quidditch player maybe)

all I could think off, hope this inspires/helps :)

I’m SO doing more than just this one prompt you gave me but this one jumped out to me because I LOVE Ominis. You’ve clearly inspired me! I hope you enjoy 💕

Fabric - Ominis Gaunt X F!MC

🔥NSFW 🔞 MDNI

708 words

She’d known for a long time that Ominis loved feeling the different layers of her clothing and comparing how the textiles felt different under his slender fingers.

At first she’d found it a bit silly but after hearing him describe the textures of different things she’d worn that day while he was buried deep inside of her, it had left her hot and heavy that he truly paid that much attention to things he could feel on her.

Right now in his bed, tucked away behind the thick Slytherin green curtains, he was on top of her, kissing her softly while his hands explored the soft wool of her thigh high stockings.

He teased the hem at the top, dipping his cool fingers underneath just to draw patterns on her soft sensitive thighs that spread for him like butter.

Her breath hitched as his lips left hers dipped down so they met the column of her throat, hot breath cascading over the sensitive skin there.

He delicately rolled her stockings down, finally pulling her legs up to tug them off one at a time. His attention turned to the thick linen of her skirt next, sliding it down her long legs.

Her skirt met its fate on the floor with her stockings while his fingers teased the silk between her legs. He pressed two fingers over the damp spot, comparing the dry silk to the soiled bit where it had been dampened by her mess.

He tsked her, sliding off her underwear. “What a waste of perfectly good silk panties. You’ve gone and made a mess of them with your weeping little pussy, my love.”

She groaned softly, his teeth scraping against the column of her neck before repositioning himself between her legs. His tongue slid through her folds, causing her head to tip back against his pillow, the feel of him was overwhelming.

His hands carefully crept up under her shirt to the lace bralette she wore. He groaned, licking at her pussy again while he let his fingers trace over the intricacies of the lace pattern.

His fingers were distracting to say the least, she knew he was just letting himself get worked up over the texture but his fingers deftly swept over her nipples and if she didn’t know better she’d think he was purposely driving her crazy with those long alabaster fingers.

She arched up, pussy chasing his fluttering tongue and begging for more stimulation to her nipples. Her arching caused him to groan above her. She could only imagine how hard he was. She knew he loved it when she wore special things just for him to touch and caress while he pleased her.

Finally deciding she’d had enough he stopped, hands still on her body as he lapped up her mess and sat up. He used his hands on her body to help flip her over and get her on her hands and knees.

Once he had her positioned, he pulled himself from his trousers, lining up with her soaking entrance before plunging into her willing sex. She gasped at the feeling, stretching around him expertly.

He groaned, leaning over her to reach up and cup her breasts under her shirt once again. “These fucking tits feel perfect like this, I love what you’ve worn for me tonight.”

She shivered in pleasure as his hips thrust into her, his fingers teasing her nipples through the fabric, driving her absolutely mad. She arched into his touch as he drove into her body, fucking herself back into his thrusts till she felt him deeper inside. “Oh! Ominis…”

He pinched her nipples, bucking into her exactly where it would make her see stars. “That’s right baby. I know. Cum for me, needy little thing. You feel so good in my hands and on my cock.”

Lights exploded in her vision as she came, starbursts danced across her eyelids while she tightened almost impossibly around his twitching member.

He toppled over his own edge directly after, pumping her so full of thick ropes of cum he knew it would be leaking out of her well after she left his bed. “Mm fuck. Now this will surely ruin your silk panties when it drips out of you.”

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy smut #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt fanfiction #ominis gaunt smut #requests

[whovianofmidgard]

Day 4 – Caranthir – Childhood, Appearance

For @feanorianweek You can also read on AO3

Life in Valinor for someone like Caranthir was an overwhelming existence. His dark eyes never quite got used to the brightness of Laurelin, like most babes usually did after some months. He ran away so fast on his short legs from the clanging of forges and choirs singing, the sounds too loud for his sensitive ears. He screamed and cried when certain fabrics and textures touched his skin, blotchy red patches and rashes forming inexplicably after an hour of wearing new clothes.

Caranthir didn’t like going outside. He especially didn’t like going out for chores. However, Ammë and Atar were busy with their work, and Maglor and Celegorm had their studies, so he was left in Maedhros’ care while he did chores that needed to be done. Like shopping.

Caranthir trotted after his eldest brother, small hand clutching large hand, as they waded through the noisy market. He was mostly being guided by Maedhros, for the elfling was left half-blind from the mid-flowering light of Laurelin. Caranthir alternated between staring down at his feet, squinting with tears obscuring his sight, or just simply closing his eyes.

Maedhros stopped by some vegetable stall, leaving Caranthir to hold on to him and be bored. The swish of fabric caught the edge of his sight, a rich dark purple in colour, yet so thin it let light peek through its weave. Letting go of his brother’s hand, he went closer to the textile stall curiously. He slid his little fingers through the dark fabric, unfortunately it was itchy and burning, but he lifted it over his head.

Caranthir could perfectly see right through it, he could see the market, the elves milling about, everything. The only difference the fabric made was that the light and colours were muted. And most importantly, it didn’t bother his eyes.

“Nelyo, Nelyo!” he bounded over to his brother, purple textile still on his head. “Look, Nelyo! I can see and my eyes don’t hurt!”

Used to his little brothers’ oddities, the strange image Caranthir made didn’t even phase him.

“You can see everything?”

“Uh-huh,” Caranthir nodded.

“And there is no pain at all?”

“Nuh-uh,” Caranthir shook his head. “Well, the fabric is itchy.”

Maedhros looked at his little brother for some time, deep in thought. Then he removed the fabric from Caranthir’s face and after returning it to the stall he led them to different part of the market.

“Come, I have an idea,” he said, stopping in front of a vendor selling glassware.

Maedhros talked with the vendor for a while, then the elf rummaged for something underneath the stall, finally producing a small sheet of glass. Maedhros took it then handed it to Caranthir.

“Try looking through it.”

The glass was almost completely black, but it still let a little bit of light through. He put the glass up against his eyes, and relief flooded him as the stinging sensation abated.

“It doesn’t hurt!” Caranthir exclaimed, his hands fluttering about him in a rare show of joy.

Maedhros ordered a full sheet of coloured glass to be delivered home, and the very next day Caranthir was gifted with dark spectacles that protected him from the light.

-

Caranthir liked sitting with Maglor. The harp had a gentle sound, not too loud, and his brother practicing his scales and harp solos made for enough repetition and predictability that he could read or do his numbers homework in peace.

Maglor’s voice was nice too, but not up close. There needed to be at least two walls dividing them, so his singing didn’t hurt Caranthir’s ears with its loudness. Usually, when Maglor reached the place in his practice where he’d start singing with his harp, Caranthir would pack his books up and leave Maglor’s room for his own.

Noticing the pattern, Maglor once asked his little brother about it, and once hearing the answer he fell into silent contemplation.

The next time they were comfortably doing their own thing in Maglor’s room, his older brother gave him something.

“Try it on and tell me what you hear,” Maglor said, and helped Caranthir put the thing over his head, two padded pom-pom-like balls covering his ears.

“Can you hear me? And is it itchy at all?”

“You’re all muffled but I can hear you a little. Not itchy, but it tickles.”

Maglor just grinned, and later when he started to sing during practice, Caranthir stayed and continued his studies, unbothered by the loud sound.

-

The itchiness he partially figured out on his own, when a bit older Caranthir ironically got into fibre crafts. He now knew which fabrics his skin tolerated and which ones he didn’t, yet from time to time his hands would still turn red with rashes. An occupational hazard when working with all sorts of textiles.

#feanorianweek #feanorian week #caranthir #maedhros #maglor #silmarillion #the silmarillion #silm fic #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing

[astrum99]

I can’t stop thinking about angel anatomy.

How are they made? What are they made of? If we break them down limb by limb, flesh by flesh, molecule by molecule, would we find the same structures that echoes our DNA? The same stable, constraining carbon? The same heavy metals? The same blood that flows with life, with death? Are they made of the same stardust that echoed in me?

Do they have a brain? A large raw organ, fragile and limited, capable of complex imaginary hallucinatory mathematics with scheduled periods of unconsciousness to make up for the capacity? A liver and two kidneys? To distill the holy light from the contaminates of the polluting environments akin to a dialysis machine cycling the liquids within the veins? A spine that holds strong? Riddled with the same 33 bones and ridges and intervertebral disks and fluids and sensitive nerves and has a habit of bending over for tedious work? A stomach that stirs and shifts constantly? To hold food? Souls? Light? To churn and froth at the consumption of concepts? An appendix? This small unless thing that rests and nestles between the layers of warm, worm-like intestines? How many teeth do you have? How many fingers? How many knees? What is the shape of your nails? What is the colour of your esophagus? How deep are the socket of your eyes?

How fast does your heart beat?

Is it faster? Slower? Do you even have a heart?

Do you feel in the same way that I feel? The pressure of processed wood against my feet, the nagging buzzing of LED light above my head, the smell of faint smoke from a cooking disaster weeks ago. The sound of people laughing unruly in the distance, putting on a show in the TV program that no one watches. The dampness of the towel against my face. The pain of a needle sliding into soft flesh that gives way willingly to metal. The bruises blooming slowly, aching like love. The chirping of songbirds, the shape of cumulus clouds, the haziness of a morning fog that really stayed for far too long. The way that my mother worked around the hard peels of an orange with the sharpest knife in the kitchen, just to present the sweetest parts to me. The tenderness of a shoulder touching mine before stealing my blankets (again) with a giggle that indicated no remorse. The sluggish sunlight that sneaks through the shades just to press a kiss on my forearm. The sorrow and passion of the symphony on the last show on the last tour, followed by cheers and drunken (revered) confessions during the post-performance celebration at 3am in a random bar of a random city. The foot print of an animal in the first winter snow of the year, like a human pressing their hand print on to the cave walls, chanting I am here I am here I am here, chanting remember me remember me remember me.

Do you bear the shame of sacred inabilities as we humans do? Unable to see beyond the visible spectrum of light? Unable to distinguish the difference between wet and dry, only to assume based on temperature and texture? Unable to know if someone else was speaking of the truth? Unable to see inside someone’s mind? Unable to thread words in a way that completely gives you away like you intended to? Unable to turn back into a child and speak of love so easily? Unable to run forever and ever? Unable to peak into the veil beyond space and time and death? Unable to tell your pet that you’re sorry for making them take the awful medicine and please don’t hate me please don’t hate me please don’t hate me? Unable to be remembered and recognized, at least not wholly, at least not without mistakes?

Do you ever feel the strangeness of existence? Why you? Why now? Why here? That sometimes it feels like the world is five degrees to the left and you are just out of sync enough to keep going. That sometimes you are so overwhelmed with the the giant coincidence that is the world so you weep uncontrollably at the wonder of it all. That you feel like suffocation as you dig into the earth with your bloody fingers because a bird hit your window and died and you didn’t know and you kneeled by it for an hour before realizing it wasn’t breathing.

It died so long ago. It won’t get up again. The first time you held a bird was its cold hard corpse. So small between your palms, so fragile. It’s feathers iridescent. You have never seen one so up close. It was the prettiest and the deadest thing you’ve ever touched. It feels like the world. It feels like a prayer. Do you understand?

Do you regret like me? Love like me? Despair like me? Do you dream like me? Pray like me? Cry like me?

How close are you?

Let me touch you.

Please, I have to know.

#reblog welcome #yea this is about Gabriel #I thought too hard abt his anatomy and my brain broke #fuck it im tagging #Gabriel ultrakill #ultrakill #what r u gonna do #restrain me? #ow owow oww stop hitting me stop hitting me #anyways yea I’d love to vivisect him #<- going insane #writing #godcore #angelcore #<- tags that I’ve seen ppl use for this kind of thing but let me know if inappropriate I can remove #az thoughts

[daddy-suguru]

geto + exhibitionism and breeding 🛐🛐

asked a question-anonymous!

Two different parts!

𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 ❥ exhibition ft satoru

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ❥ explicit, dom!suguru, sub!reader, voyeurism, dacryphila, exhibitionism, face fucking, Satoru is jerking off, praise and degradation, hints of satosugu since Satoru freely admired how attractive suguru is alongside you

“Don’t worry about him princess Satoru is loving what he’s seeing.” Looking up from where you kneel in front of him to where Satoru sits on the chair near your bedroom dresser. Before he asks,

“Aren’t you?” Suguru pulls off his cock by your hair. As spit drips down your chin, mixing with the tears that have trickled down your cheek.

Suguru forces you to turn your head and look at his best friend, Satoru. Someone you hadn’t met until two month ago when Suguru introduced you to his friends. And now you are watching him stroke his long cock. Which is so pretty with the pink on his tip and the curved of it.

Satoru tells you, “I’ve wanted to see your pretty ass crying and gagging on Suguru thick cock since I saw you both together.” The loud slick sounds making your mouth water. As you think about replacing Satoru’s hand with your mouth.

Opening your mouth to say something but Suguru slips his cock deep into your throat. Holding himself there and groaning while you gag around him. Your throat squeezing his fat cock.

Satoru moans, it’s a pretty, breathy long sound that makes you grind against nothing. As your hips jerk, the frustration becoming too much. But you know if you reach between your legs that Suguru isn’t going to touch your pussy.

Suguru slips his cock out of your throat. While you hollow your cheeks. And take a quick breath through your nose that comes out as a loud groan. Which sends vibrations down to Suguru’s heavy balls. That slap your chin with each thrust.

Satoru slides his hand down to base of his cock and says, “Fuck she has a pool of cum underneath her pussy. So fucking wet, you can be selfish and keep such a sloppy pussy to yourself. She might need two cocks to stop the dripping.” And Suguru let’s our a dry chuckle and then he shares with Satoru,

“I can’t ruin my darlings fun, not when it looks like she is getting her off. Maybe after I fill her pretty throat, if you haven’t cummed yet then we can see if she wants to be a good girl for you too.”

 ❥ breeding

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ❥ explicit, breeding, dom!suguru, sub!reader, sex swing, squirting, mind break, overstimulation, hints of soft suguru, praise and encouragement

Grabbing onto the small metal bar above your head. Squeezing it as you brace yourself as the intensity of the pressure building between your legs becomes too much to bare.

Bringing some panic which has you whining, “Can’t, too-too-too—nnhg daddy.” His name comes off your tongue faster. And the urgency at which you cry his name encourages Suguru to go harder. While he angles his is up.

His cock head rubbing your sweet spot roughly with each hard thrust. His heavy balls slapping your ass, just as loud his his hips does. While he digs his nails into the squish of your thighs. Which are held wide apart by the bindings of the sex swing.

Suguru tells you, “You can do this for me mama, let go and cream on me. Let me feel your pussy squeeze my cock while I fill my pretty pussy full of cum. You want that, my cum deep in your pussy? Then be a good girl and let go.” Your thoughts of panic being unable to handle whatever feeling his long veiny cock is creating. Are quickly vanishing to thoughts of needing more.

You’re become acutely aware of the soft texture of his skin and how it contrasts to the hardness of him hitting the back of your pussy. And the pressure snaps, the overwhelming relief unlike anything else before that. As your body trembles and your eyes roll back.

Suguru’s hips go still while his hot cum spills inside of you. As lips give to a soft smile that reaches his dark warm. Which looking into them has you feeling like your the only thought on Suguru’s mind.

Softly he says, “You are going to be such a pretty mommy for me.”

#jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto smut #geto x reader #gojo smut #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #geto suguru #suguru geto #jjk geto

[doumadono]

Anxious amidst the crowds - Douma x Reader

Warnings: mentions of agoraphobia, fem!reader Synopsis: Douma comforts you as your agoraphobia triggers anxiety in the Entertainment District Requested by: anonymous

MASTERLIST

You and Douma strolled hand in hand through the vibrant streets of the Entertainment District, your destination clear in your minds. Today, the purpose of your visit was to find the perfect materials to create new kimonos.

The district was alive with colors, textures, and the hum of conversations. Shopfronts displayed an array of fabrics, from delicate silks to intricate patterns.

As the two of you entered the bustling streets of the Entertainment District, the cacophony of voices, music, and laughter surrounded you. As you made your way through the lively streets of the Entertainment District, the overwhelming sounds of chatter, music, and footsteps began to intensify. The crowd grew thicker, and your heart started to race with each passing moment. You could feel beads of sweat forming on your forehead, your breath becoming shallow and quick.

Douma, perceptive as always, noticed the change in your demeanor. He paused, turning to face me with a concerned expression. "Are you feeling alright?" he asked, his voice gentle yet laced with worry.

You tried to muster a smile, but it came out as a faint grimace. "I-I'm just… feeling a little anxious," you managed to reply, your voice trembling. "I don't like crowds..."

The air was filled with the enticing aroma of street food and the colorful lights of the bustling shops illuminated the night. But for you, the overwhelming crowds brought a sense of unease that was difficult to shake.

Douma gently took your hand, his touch comforting and warm. "Hey," he said softly, his voice melodic and soothing. "Remember, you don't have to push yourself too hard. I'm here with you, and I won't let anything happen to you."

You glanced at him, finding solace in his calm demeanor. "I know, but it's just… it gets really overwhelming sometimes, my lord," you admitted, your voice barely audible amidst the surrounding noise.

Douma gave you an understanding smile. "I understand, my dear. Sometimes the world can be a little too much for us, but that doesn't mean we have to face it alone."

He gently guided you toward a quieter side street, away from the bustling main thoroughfare. As you walked, he spoke softly, his words like a gentle breeze. "You have incredible strength, and it's okay to acknowledge your limits. You don't have to force yourself into situations that make you uncomfortable. I admire your courage for even coming here with me every time, dear Y/N."

You sighed, feeling the tension in your body start to ease. Douma's presence had a calming effect on you, his words resonating deep within your heart. "Thank you, lord Douma. It means a lot to me… Your understanding, I mean…"

He turned to you, his rainbow eyes filled with genuine warmth. "You don't have to thank me, Y/N. Being by your side, supporting you, it's my duty as your master. Remember, we all have different strengths and weaknesses. Your sensitivity to the world around you is what makes you unique. Embrace it, and don't be afraid to take breaks when you need them." As you reached a quiet spot in the district, away from the bustling crowds, Douma pulled you into an embrace. His arms enveloped you, creating a safe haven from the outside world. "Take all the time you need," he whispered, his voice low and soothing. "Breathe. I'm here for you, always, Y/N."

In that moment, the noise of the Entertainment District seemed to fade away, replaced by the warmth and comfort of Douma's presence. You closed your eyes, finding solace in his embrace, knowing that he understood and accepted you for who you were.

#douma #douma x reader #douma x y/n #douma x you #kny douma #douma kny #kimetsu no yaiba douma #douma fluff #kny fluff #demon slayer fluff #request completed #x reader #douma headcanons #douma demon slayer #upper moon two #doma demon slayer #kny x reader #kny x y/n #kimetsu no yaiba blurb #douma blurb

[millerscoffee]

dancing is a dangerous game | part three

"the only thing i'll ever ask of you, you've gotta promise not to stop when i say when," she sang.

6.8k | joel miller x f!reader

this is part 3 of the "dancing is a dangerous game" series | other parts below:

part one | part two | part three | masterlist

rating: 18+ MDNI

warnings (for this chapter): post-outbreak au. no ellie. no clickers. mentions of consensual non-con (spoiler: it's more that reader is nervous and is scared things will fuck up, so she tells joel not to stop if that tension in her rises). survivalist!joel, age gap (joel is 56, reader is late 20s or early 30s), soft!dom joel, introduction of safe word, oral (f receiving), fingering, piv (unprotected), cum eating (whoops), biting, crying, fluff, angst, READER RIDES A HORSE! no use of y/n.

summary: within your second week at joel's, there are things you are forced to look within yourself. joel helps you through it.

A/N: i really appreciate all of the notes and comments for this series! i didn't know where it would lead when i wrote that first chapter, but it's all overwhelming and sweet! i know the last chapter was more plot, but i feel progression with these twooooo 👀

"I don't think it's trust." "Then. What. Is. It?" Joel moves over to you at the bed's edge, taking your chin in his warm hands. It's as if the breath got knocked out of you. Like he's doing what you asked without you realising it. "I can't–" you feel undeniably small. Tears fall easily when you look down at your laps side by side until your vision gets blurry. His booming stirs in you. Not fear, but not necessarily happiness. He's compelling you to look at patterns within yourself, it makes you want to break down. Panic threatening to tap at the door of your sternum. Just when Joel's index finger, large and calloused, curls under your chin. It gently coaxes you to lock eyes and your lip wavers. "You're doing so good," when he says it, voice like honey in comparison to the rough-textured grip he has on your face, your heart races.

When Joel back turns around, his eyes are dark. Like he’s thirsty, but would only drink if you let him. He’s deliberate in brushing past you on his way up to the loft, his presence lingering just at the end of the stairs. “Come to bed.” It’s simple, and what you come to learn, is Joel’s way of asking. He don’t. But he gives you room to make the choice. You don’t recall your eyes even scanning the living room. They only land on the broad frame in front of you, and you follow it like a beacon of light. Beginning your second week, you don’t sleep on the couch anymore.

You're skittish when reach the top of the loft.

What if he expected something from you? What if it was more than what you were willing to give?

What did you want to give?

"It's nice up here," an attempt to purchase to any sort of gravity. Anything to make sense of just how you ended up in the situation in the first place. The feeling of Joel's lips still very much present on your own.

But your eyes stay at the ground, more in your own head than you are able to look at the man you're in front of. Joel tilts his head to catch your gaze.

"You sayin' that to me, or y'erself?"

"Oh... uh... to you. To you." You flash a crooked, but distant smile.

"Hey," Joel hushes, walks over to you, his frame seeming somehow even larger in the petite space. "If this is too much, we can get you back down there. Y'know. Extra blankets."

"No–" you object so quickly you have to clear your throat. "I mean... no. I want to stay. Just..."

"Hadn't shared a bed with someone?"

"Not in a long time." You think of your past lover. The warmth the two of you made together under makeshift tents and old buildings with shitty furniture. Taking turns sleeping while keeping an eye out for danger. This was different, and so were the circumstances.

Joel walks over to what you presume is at least the start of his side of the bed before his inevitable migration to the centre of it at night, and gets undressed until he's left in his boxers. Unlike when the two of you had sex and he wasn't wearing anything under his jeans. It was like he didn't know you were gonna be up there with him tonight.

"We'll take it slow, if that's what you want." Climbing into bed, Joel opens the opposing side of the blankets for you. His hair slick back from your fingers combing through it downstairs. Orbs seeking to learn your quiet demeanor. He looks sweet. Patient, even.

How could you say no to that? Not when he's being so compassionate. And certainly not when he's giving you the choice.

The temptation to be vulnerable could kill you. Could be dangerous.

Then again, the situations you continuously put yourself in before you met Joel had more consequences than getting in this man's bed. A man who was shifting your perspective. He didn't seem like any other person that entered your life only to leave it.

You choose to ignore the expiration date in a few short weeks.

So you abandon your jeans. Neatly fold them in a chair tucked away in the corner of the room. Everything in slow motion to quell the reality of your emotions towards the man you currently have your back to. The man who made you feel melted and was being uncharacteristically open with you long before whiskey was involved.

Not that the whiskey mattered, you weren't really feeling its effects anymore anyway. This experience had you both to a sober, cognitive state. You had control of yourself considering how out of control you felt on the inside.

In your underwear you stand with a blue cotton t-shirt that just grazed the crease of your bottom and your exhales are shakier than you'd like to admit.

Because if you admit it, then it's true.

If you admit it, he could have a lot more control over you than you knew what to do with.

"Joel," you sound faraway when you break the silence. Back still to him, you tilt your chin at your shoulder before closing your eyes and inhaling deeply. You can't believe what you're about to say.

"If I tell you to stop, I don't want you to listen," Tears wick at your eyes, blinking them away rapidly before turning to face Joel directly. You can't bring yourself to look at him, yet.

And he's silent.

"Because if we start this... it–it's not gonna be easy for me," you your hands, shaking them off as if the energy could ease by doing it. Pleased when it kind of works. "I'm not gonna be easy, and I don't mean sexually...," you laugh pitifully, "My impulses may make me want to stop. From what I've... god I sound so pathetic, from what I've been through." Teeth grit, tears fall, "It could be too much. And, too–," sentences chop, "I want this. If we start this I don't think I could stop. Which sounds counterintuitive, but... yeah."

You want to fucking vomit from exposing yourself this way. Your mind swirling from the brain break you just gave yourself. Did any of it make sense? Did you come all the way up the ladder just to ruin any chance of being close to him? Why did you want to be close to him? You feel like an idiot, to put it crassly. A credulous girl making hasty decisions only to retrieve back into complacency.

These thoughts flood your mind and you're sure the storm is evident as it crosses your brow. So caught up in forbidding your heart to find resolution that you can't see what's in front of you.

What's been in front of you, if only you'd pluck it.

When you finally land on him, he looks concerned. Like he's taking in every word you say and committing it to memory. He doesn't move from his spot, but he does sit up straighter. Body language letting you know he is open, but not withdrawing.

"You want... this," he repeats you, but in his voice it sounds more seductive. Did you say it this seductively? "And you want me to keep going if you say no...,"

"Sounds kinda worse when you say it out loud." You mumble.

"You trust me."

That makes your face screw up. Shoulders creep towards your ears, the bridge of your nose collides on itself.

"Trust. I don't... I don't do that."

"Well, what else would y'call this request?"

Climbing on the edge of the bed, you sit on it in contemplation. What else could this be? Surveying the room, you come back to him in your line of sight and the furrow of his brow – soft, but covetous – makes you swallow hard.

You have two choices: hit the wall you put up. The one you'd been hitting every day for a week, or you could push through it.

"I don't think it's trust."

"Then. What. Is. It?" Joel moves over to you at the bed's edge, taking your chin in his warm hands. It's as if the breath got knocked out of you. Like he's doing what you asked without you realising it.

"I can't–" you feel undeniably small. Tears fall easily when you look down at your laps side by side until your vision gets blurry. His booming stirs in you. Not fear, but not necessarily happiness. He's compelling you to look at patterns within yourself, it makes you want to break down. Panic threatening to tap at the door of your sternum.

Just when Joel's index finger, large and calloused, curls under your chin. It gently coaxes you to lock eyes and your lip wavers. "You're doing so good," when he says it, voice like honey in comparison to the rough-textured grip he has on your face, your heart races.

This simple act triggers your fight or flight, but you choose to stay and confront this. It helped that any of your other thoughts were ripped from you. All there ever could be was the thumping hum of him in your hippocampus, burning your memories alive. Joel.

"Taking all this in, so well, angel. I know it's for a reason, but I need you to say it. And I need you to mean it. If you want this as bad as you do," his nose brushes against the tip of yours, "you can do it."

It's definitely not the magic of him that clouds your mind. It's more of the fact that this human in front of you, someone who could have killed you, could have just run you off after fucking you – is showing devotion in making sure you find this. That you use your voice. Like he's dangling a key right in front of you, and all you have to do is tell him the truth.

A key to your paradise.

Staring at his lips, you tempt forward, but he pulls away just a centimetre. Not so fast, not until you give me what I want.

You exhale through your nose in reflection. Close your eyes like you're about to jump, and maybe you are.

Jumping off into nothing.

Worse, jumping into something.

His hand moves to the side of your neck, and that causes your own hand to move over his. As small as you feel in his grasp, you try to hold him, too.

"I don't know how this happened," you mutter like you're cursing yourself, but your eyes open. Melting into Joel's touch. "I don't know how you did it, but I... I trust you."

It doesn't register immediately that you are holding your breath as soon as you say it. Half expecting the world to explode, or eight thousand clickers eat at your flesh. Something bad because any time you let someone in, something bad happened. Your superstitions getting the best of you.

But there is no earthquake. No slew of cordyceps-infested human shells scurrying up the stairs– well, ladder.

It's softer. It's solid. It's Joel wrapping you up in his arms, making light work in picking you up to land you gently on the bed that you soon realise is more comfortable than it looks.

Joel's face is a mix of admiration and determination. You can see by the flare of his nostrils that he's proud of you. And you don't know why, but basking under his pride brings a sense of peace you'd long forgotten. It wasn't that you needed his stare to appreciate yourself, but there was no mistaking the safety it gave you.

Your worry doesn't simply melt, though. You meant what you said in that you weren't sure you could do this. Legs spread wide to accommodate the width of his frame, and your breath hitches when he takes the pillow from behind you and guides your head down onto it. Treating you like a delicate thing makes you wonder what it would be like if you did soften. If you did allow yourself to become malleable beneath the grasp of someone so new, but had such hold on you. Not for him, but for yourself. What would it be like to trust? Fully. Under conditions that were so harsh outside the two of you in this moment. Could it be done?

The chatter in your mind stops at the drop of a hat when Joel leans down to kiss you. Even more curious than downstairs, your bodies find it easy to meld together.

You're grateful for Joel's lips to dim the thoughts reeling of what could or couldn't happen. He fills your senses, facial hair brushing against your features, and you're amazed at how that pout of his sends prickles to your skin. How skilled he is in wielding your mind to quiet, and your core to pay attention. All of the blood rushing downward in your haze.

Joel's tongue is the first to tempt in. It brushes into the tangle of your kiss. It's cliche to say it feels like heaven, but you imagine that's what it is like if you had to guess. Like a quiet white, nothing else but the feeling of him and your breaths taking up space as you give yourself permission to move your hands. Fingers snake up his hair, the backs of your knuckles brushing over the old scar at his left cheek down to his jaw. You feel him shudder above you, and wrap his large paw around your wrists to stop you. It makes your heart skip to feel how tender is he knowing you have felt his strength.

It's a secret shared between the two of you that he can be this disarming. And you keep it tight to your chest.

You focus on the heat emitting from his skin. Like he's burning the candle at both ends and his stomach creates all this centralised heat. Your bare legs brush against each other and the sensation from this and his weight brings you direct, but silent communication that this feels good to him, too. That he needs this as much as you do, and wants you. You yet to decipher if it's merely physical.

You don't realise it right away, that your hips are squirming beneath the weight that is the man kissing you like his life depends on it. This makes him pull away from the kiss, and right when you let out a whimper you can feel how damp the fabric clings to your folds.

"Can you hold still?" He's asking you, but it's out of genuine curiosity than a scold. And now that you think about it, now that you're an inch apart you can feel the heat of you radiate from your cheeks, lips, neck, chest. Splotched and muddy, you wonder what you must look like. You manage a weak nod, he nods back, going in for your neck.

"Joel," you gasp, hands moving against his wrists that tighten the tiniest amount against the pressure. His teeth graze over your heartbeat, littering open kisses over the skin and you moan at the same time as him when he sucks. Taking the skin of your neck between his lips and turning marks out of it. Urging you to slip completely under. Your body feels pliable to him, your moans turn to quiet whimpers as he pulls back again. Admiring his work, he rolls his thumbs over the insides of your wrists individually.

"Look at you," he suspires and it's in contrast from when he said it with your ass in the air for him a week ago. It makes you feel adored, whether he did or not. You are stronger than to let tears come up, and you don't. But you know you could if you thought about it long enough. "Gorgeous."

You blush, a full smile tugging your mouth and he pauses, tilting his head. Like he's learning what you like, and taking you in at the same time. "You're being a good girl. You know that, dontchu?"

Oh.

You nod, but it's hard not to bite your lip at that and you're aching now. Your need for him too strong than succumb to your need to guard. Your gesture makes Joel smirk, the tips of his fingers at the base of your shirt and he peels it up to your chest, just at the underside of your breasts and his eyes shift from a golden brown to black in the endeavours of his own hunger. You aren't alarmed that he isn't saying anything, and really it's nice to not verbalise your desires. It was already so difficult for you.

He knows.

And he finds it as no surprise, the keen noises you make when Joel's teeth sink into your flank right under your ribs, but it doesn't tickle surprisingly. Instead it feels good, like an itch you've been wanting to scratch. Like your sides have this constraint from your holding that he's chewing out. His mouth travels up, nosing past the fabric to kiss and suck over the shape of your breasts before cupping his lips around one of your nipples, keeping the other preoccupied under his thumb.

You let out a heady sigh, his whiskers prodding into your skin in the best possible way. His eyes slip shut, and you take in the way his eyelashes splay across his cheeks. It would be innocent if the work he's doing on the peaked bit of your flesh wasn't sending a direct signal to your clit. "Joel, I–"

He pops his mouth off of you instantly. Like your words break a spell, gaze soft and round when they look up at you. "This okay?" You bite down a groan when you hear just how fucked he sounds. Fucked like you sounded when he all but caught you cumming on his couch.

You nod, but he's not so lenient this time. "Words, darlin'."

"This is okay."

"Just okay?"

That seemed to be more of a challenge than a question or disappointment. As if he could do better, go deeper as he explored what you liked.

But you want his mouth back on you, to feel him and not just to quiet your mind. To genuinely feel him take you, and you let out a whine in response. "Joel, you know."

"I can't know unless you tell me, baby."

The slip of this pet name knocks your breath out. Half naked on his bed, your nipples glistening from his spit. Your hand smooths over the side of his neck and you tilt your head down to look at him better. He's being brave, and so should you.

"It feels good. It makes me want more." You're blushing now. To admit that, to tell him you want more – out loud with your words rather than the bucking of your hips leaves you feeling more naked despite being exposed.

But it's the green light Joel needs from you. To know you want him like this as opposed to the first time the two of you got stripped down. It was just you who was naked, then. It was him who was calling the shots. You blink in awareness that he's giving you the reigns in the way he knows how.

Giving you the reigns in light grasp while he takes the rest of the lead, tight in his palms.

He is background hum. He is thunder loud and present – you never see it, but you feel the humidity, and when he grows closer, the wind that moves your hair.

This is what it's like to hand over control to him. He knows what to do with it and he doesn't make you guilty for holding it. You're learning that of him, just as he's learning you.

Affection drips when his brushes his nose against the inside of your tits, lips trailing down your stomach until he grows increasingly aware of the ache between your legs. The pool of wetness slicking over the fabric of your underwear.

This makes him drone, low and hungry, and you blink up at the ceiling because fuck what if he didn't like it? Now wasn't the time for your self-consciousness to invade your thoughts, but it sat with you when you licked your lips – just before sitting on your elbows to get a better look at him.

You didn't do this last time. What if he wasn't into you?

"Fuck," he curses under his breath. Nope, definitely not. He's into you. While his lips press and teeth nip at the insides of your thighs, your breath hitches in the process. "Wet for me?" His question rhetorical, he thumbs over the blotch in your panties and that is enough to make you whine. For your hips to raise.

He pauses then with a serious look about him.

"Say red if it's too much. Understood?" You nod and he pulls his head away, producing a mewl from you. Desperate for contact. "Repeat it." Your eyes roll back all on their own and it feels like sandpaper to swallow from your dry throat.

"If it is too much I will let you know by saying red." Though the words felt formal, the delicious growl coming from Joel's throat lets you know it was exactly the correct way to form the words.

Because he's peeling your undies off completely, giving him a good view of what's in store. "I missed this," he admits and you blush deeper than you did when he was being corporeal. The exhales cool your dampened skin as he gets closer. Wraps his hands around your hips while keeping your legs secure underneath his flexed arms.

His eyes dance between yours and your cunt. Like he's watching what gets you twitching for him, and he's found that it's a mixture between his words and the way he stares at you like you're his last meal. Hard not to, to be fair.

It starts with his tongue at your entrance, like you're letting yourself pour over his tongue and he likes that. His grunts flush your clit, a buzz of him under your skin when he finally presses his tongue inside you. You both let out a sigh of relief by this. And you would run your fingers through his hair if he'd let you, but while he's wrapped his hands around your hips, your arms are on either side of those strong arms. He's subconsciously saying to you: you're not going anywhere, you're going to take it.

And that sends your head to spin. Your chest rises and falls irregularly to the feeling of him ghosting his pouty mouth over your folds until your clit is on fire just to be touched. "J-Joel," it's faint, like you can barely get it out.

"Mm?" He's busy.

"I... I need–"

"What is it, angel?" He asked a lot of rhetorical questions, his breath warm against your sex. "You want this?" His tongue ghosts over your clit and he has to use force to keep your hips in place in order for you to not buck his teeth out.

"Joel!" The sight of your hardened nipples makes him mutter under his breath again, his teeth lightly grazing over the sensitive nub.

You choke a whine, curling your fingers into themselves.

"Is that it?"

"P-please. Please!"

"Manners. Such a sweet little thing." His tongue flicks his tease against the hood of your clit and you practically howl in response. "Taste just as sweet, too."

To say your core is sticky is an understatement, your thighs pull apart slightly every now and then and it feels like effort to pull them apart from just how wet you are. Joel's mouth, Joel's fucking mouth, makes a meal of you then. Tongue rolling and flicking over the glistening skin until he finds sucking is what takes you there above all else.

His plush lips press around the nub of nerves, pulling it into his mouth with such a rush it makes you a whimpering mess far to quickly than you want to be. Thighs trembling involuntarily.

You'd only thought about this from the first day he fucked you. What his mouth would feel like right where it is, and it doesn't disappoint.

You're reduced to a slack jaw, his tongue skilled at the repetitious movements that send you to your climax.

"Cou-could I – fingers?" You quite literally can't get another word out of yourself. You're close, but he obliges – perfectly timed as his middle finger presses inside; working tandem with his tongue. He seems to like the way you feel by the noises he makes, the spongy spot inside you easy to find when you're like this. But that's just Joel, you knew that now. Nothing was hidden when he was in charge of your pleasure.

Although just one, his finger feels thick inside you. Way bigger than yours, and the steady push/pull of his while his mouth sucks on your clit is just too much not to submit to.

So it's volcanic, the eruption within you.

Seriously, it's like one moment you're not cumming and the next your pelvis and thighs are shifting like tectonic plates beneath him. Writhing and igniting with every axon that starts from the core of you and traverses your limbs. You're a mess, physically and mentally. No real words coming out, just a slew of curses and Joel's name as if it is a profanity in itself.

And with the way he's keeping his mouth tightened on you until you've reached it, you aren't too sure his name isn't a blasphemous word that should be left from your lips every second of the day.

On the comedown, your body spasms. Small noises leave your throat until it's a bounded release of giggles, your arm slung over your eyes. "What the fuck have you done?" Fucking giggles. You're giggling for the first time in... god knows how long.

Your sentence is slurred and sloppy, rubbing your eyes as if you're taking your time before you must face him. His soft eyes, mindful kisses along the insides of your thighs – each one sending a signal to your brain to jolt a little each time. Then you feel it, or well, you don't feel it anymore. His finger leaving you empty, an ache you want back.

"Is it such a bad thing?" When he speaks, you notice how hooded his eyes look like this. He's thoroughly enjoying himself, his tongue laps at your folds one last time for the night, mindful to miss the central core of you.

"I don't think so." An honest revelation.

When he comes up, his middle finger tempts your lips from where he was and you aren't shy when you wrap your lips around his finger, cleaning yourself off of him. You reach down when you pop your lips off of him, your hand eager to find his length that's straining beneath the fabric.

But Joel swats your hand away when you tempt it near him, "You’re not doin' that. Not right now." You can see the outline of it, like what's between his legs is begging a different story. Joel, however, has his arm draped around you so heavy that the weight of him won't let you do much else other than drift off to sleep.

"I'll get you back," you warn, yawning into the air. Face greeting the crease of his neck.

"We'll see, darlin'."

You drift off. Your top on, him in his boxers. In bed with a man who was making you understand trust could be on the table without transaction.

---

You wake before sunrise.

It's just the sound of your lungs sharing oxygen in the same space, you shift your body to face his. His back is to you, but you can make out the way his shoulders slope in the dark.

You like this Joel. Not because he's asleep, but because there was no holding between the two of you. Both easy to contract, but seeing him as pliable as you were last night tugs you.

Any pretense disappears until you are both left with your wanting; lying in wait.

And that drives a fire within you. You move forward, your breasts pressing against the broad scope of his back. It's warm, the scent behind his neck lulls you deeper into relaxation until you close your eyes. But Joel's a light sleeper, and the slightest movement towards him wakes him up. He's cautious not to stir right away.

Joel turns then. Fluid in its motion, he faces you. Arms wrap around you, flex and strengthen against the soft frame of your body. Rolling on top of you, your legs come apart naturally and he is warm from the bed. This version of him isn't much changed from last night, but he's more involved in his own taking than accounting for yourself – a grown woman who can make her own resolutions. You choose to stay under him, and he picks up on that.

Your mouths collide in the dark, touching and searching each other and you're slick from its gathering of your night's sleep. Right at the core, he presses his hips down and you respond in your own wave up to meet his. It's easy to slip off your shirt, leaving it abandoned somewhere in the sheets.

His boxers come down enough, then, to feel his cock thump against your folds and you inhale sharply – needing him more and more. He's hard, dripping, white hot against your skin. You clench around nothing before his hand guides himself through the slick of you, tempting over your clit before going back down. "I need you, too," thick with sleep, you groan at the sound of him and the sound of your slick being slipped against.

He's slow, only holding the tip at your entrance and you wriggle – becoming wide awake now with the width of him at your ache. "Please," you whisper, and he indulges. Doesn't make a fuss. Because he wants this, too. Wants you. Said it himself.

"You feel so damn good, swallowin' my tip like that." His face buries into your neck, lazy and sleepy when you wrap your legs around his waist. Fingernails engage his skin when he pushes, stretching you wider and deeper. It feels different from last night. More complete with this involved, too. Your lips brush against his neck while you shiver and experience. In the break of dawn with sleep lines still on both of your skins. It starts off gentle, at least.

Keeping it together is arduous, like you're both bursting at the seams to... let it all go. You have the opportunity to say it, to tell him you want this. It's everything you were explaining last night. How you want this, but it could be difficult to express. And if you were wriggling away from it, you didn't want him to stop.

One minor detail, though. You weren't wriggling away.

Physically, your legs spread further apart, your hand reaching down to touch him. Inviting the tips of your fingers to graze the bed of coarse hairs that resided just above his cock. His breath hitches then, and you both roll your hips; up and down respectively. Allowing him to go deeper, and he is deeper.

"You feel that?" His grip now on the side of your neck, keeping your eyes poured into his – even in the indigo of dawn – and your moans are turned to nothing but choking mewls when you nod. "S-so big," not that he needed his ego stroked, it's the only thing you can think about.

He's blocking any other sense having you like this. You feel every twitch, the rush of his cock growing harder inside you, if that were even possible. Your eyes flutter back in your skull for a moment in time.

"That's what you do to me, baby." His hips are merciless in the way they recoil against yours over and over. The sounds of your skin slapping mesh with the squelching of your cunt. Your hands moving to his head, fingers in his hair and you share the same breath – his exhales, your inhales and the other way around. Leaving you both dizzy and on the precipice.

Your hair sticks to the sides of your neck that he's abandoned to rest his forearms on either side of your head, fingers lost just above your head as he holds you together like this. His eye contact isn't as intimidating as it was before, and this time you crave it. The sun's coming up and it's seeping through the window that he built with the same fucking hands that are tugging your hair to look at him. His cock pulling all the way out to thrust all the way in, and he repeats the process. Tits bouncing, claws finding purchase on the sheets, on anything while he fucks you like this. A wonder fleets of how he can even keep up like this for his age, but it's washed away as soon as it comes. Your toes curling, a guttural scream of his name coming from you when your release is found. Cream coating his cock, you think you're there, but that's when you hear him.

"Easy, baby. That's it. That's fuckin' it, don't you dare fuckin' stop for me. Cum all over this cock. You can take it, that's it." His words send stars to your eyes, mouth lax just like last night but you don't remember. You don't remember anything other than the feeling of him pounding you into his mattress that is rattling and squeaking because fuck, it feels like it could break at any moment. "Joel!" You mean to say more, you really do, but it's too much to. Not while he's fucking and talking you through it, not while his own orgasm hits him when he feels the twitching of your clenched cunt around his cock. Tightening and releasing repeatedly through your bliss.

"Shit, darlin' – fuck!" Joel leaves you as late as he can, and it still feel too soon. He palms his cock a couple of strokes before spilling his hot cum over your stomach and that was sexy enough, but the sounds he's making. The animalistic grunts found through the structure of his nose has you blinking up at him like he's the most magnificent thing you've ever seen.

Maybe he is.

And you wonder then, what it would feel like to have his seed buried inside you, but you don't ask for it.

It's not the right time.

Sun cascades itself through the sky, leaving the room lilac and blue. You're both panting, his body half on you, half on the bed.

"Y'good? Y'okay?" You hear him, but it's muffled from his arm that's over your shoulder, his face plastered into the side of your bruised neck from last night.

"Mmn," you respond, but make an annoyed sound when he's soon to sit up. He looks worried over your body.

"Shit– gotta clean y'up. Sorry 'bout that."

But you smirk instead, thumbing over the pool at your stomach. You bring it up to your mouth with your eyes round and wet when they gaze into his, sucking it clean. "I got it."

Joel blinks with a look of arousal and a grin spread across his face as if to say, what am I going to do with you? "Dirty girl."

"You like it."

"Not wrong."

---

Midway through your second week, it's early when you both start off your chores for the day. You try to pacify the idea of you two being some sort of post-apocalyptic cowboys on a homestead that barely has the proper tools to sustain it half the time. It works for the both of you.

Outside the air is thick, but sky clear as you walk towards the stables. And there's Joel, exactly where you knew he would be. Bent down on his knees, working on the same project you were last week on the stables.

Security and routine close cousins to abandonment and disappointment – this plays in the background of your thoughts. You intentionally swallow it down as you approach him.

"Could I ride her?" You come into his line of vision, and you see him make a sweet face of happy to see you and did I hear you correctly?

"You can ride?" His question has amusement in it, and you scoff – grin tugging at your face. Ignoring the blatant double entendre that he probably didn't even mean to slip out, anyway. But Joel is pleased when you pick up on it because he did in fact say it on purpose.

Of course he did.

"I have a few tricks up my sleeve yet, Miller."

Joel grunts on his way up onto his feet, bowing graciously. "Go right ahead, ma'am."

She's set up to ride when you approach her and you reach out to scratch behind her ear before saddling up on top of her.

"Hey, girl," you smile, petting over the coarse hair of her back. She's gentle, but not exactly willing to go straight away. It makes you laugh, and the ease of tension makes it easier for her to trot. "Same here, sister." You snicker to yourself, and the horse takes you out of the stables. You mostly let her do the leading, but she's easy to work with as you take her around the land Joel has claimed for himself.

There's a freedom you haven't experienced in so long while you're riding her. You remember being a kid on the back of your dad's horse, the wind against your skin like this. The prospect of new. You slow her down in your approach back to the stables after a few minutes.

When you come back, you're welcomed by Joel's clapping hands a toothy smile across his face that hurts in the best way. His pride and entertainment.

Joel basking in this side of you as you open up to him.

"Damn, maybe you could give me some lessons, darlin'. You teach yourself that?"

You appreciate him not assuming someone taught you how to do this, but the truth is you were. "My dad, actually. He taught me how to ride a horse, how to shoot a gun–"

"Not well on that last one," he jabs, motioning towards his leg you purposefully missed.

"You don't know what you don't know."

For a moment, you forget. All that burned to the ground in your previous life. Your father dying in your arms. All of it.

"She and I had a talk," you start, climbing out of the stirrups.

"Oh, did you?" Joel lifts his brow, urging you to go on.

"Her name is Bandit."

"Like you?"

"Like me."

"Figures."

---

You're both asleep up in the loft. Each morning, you were beginning to notice that Joel's night terrors were becoming less and less frequent. Subsequently, so were your own.

That was until one night you were awoken by the sound of your own sobbing, and Joel's arms tight around you. He knew not to wake you up, but he was too concerned not to try to settle you down.

"W-what?" Your voice is groggy, palpitations in your chest high. Confusion suffuses you.

"Shh, s'okay. Close y'er eyes."

Joel feels bad for waking you up, he didn't mean to. He thought he was doing the right thing. Yet even though it takes takes you awhile to fall back asleep, you do fall asleep and stay asleep.

His arm stuck around you. His protection like a blanket.

Joel's eyes stay open until they cannot and slumber creeps up for him.

All in the pursuit of your safety. He doesn't mention it, doesn't ask questions or bring it up.

---

It feels pleasant with Joel. The two of you have a routine of working on your individual duties in the day, but you always come back to each other in the evening. He's rough around the edges, there's still things that he's keeping to himself. But you don't mind because you are too, and there's no rush.

The leisure of this is what takes you by surprise the most. Not Joel being kind, or slow, or even sweet to you.

It's the fact that in the middle of chaos, you have found a pocket of serenity. The stillness between breaths.

Towards the end of your second week at Joel's, you find it brave to drape your calves over his lap while you both read worn books that have been well-loved and repeatedly grazed. In the living room you've chosen poetry tonight. Audre Lorde. Because it's there and it feels appropriate to go for poetry.

You hum to yourself when you read something striking, and now Joel is curious.

"Let's hear it," he calls, not moving his eyes from his own pages and his free palm curls over your shin.

"You want me to perform for you?"

"Quit bein' weird and just read it."

You laugh, licking over your lips before theatrically clearing your throat.

"Kinda liked it better when you were shy," Joel adds, but you know he doesn't mean it.

"You'll get used to it. Okay. Let's see... 'Always / in the middle of our bloodiest battles / you lay down your arms / like flowering mines / to conqueror me home.'"

There's a long pause between the two of you.

"I don't get it."

"You're a bad liar."

"Flowerin' mines don't even exist."

"Joel–" you huff, but that's what he wanted out of you. A response, a reaction, a rise. He puts down his book to look over to you and he's at mercy to your gaze.

"I know what you mean."

It's supported, this comfortable silence. The underbelly of what was the start of a bloodied battle. Unwillingness metamorphosing into a budding bouquet of trust.

You both go back to your books.

No need to say what is right in front of you.

He knew what you meant. Understanding.

It was all you wanted.

taglist: @cool-iguana - comment to be added!

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #tlou fic #tlou smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo #soft!dom joel #softdom!joel #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #by bee #dancing is a dangerous game

[emeritusemeritus]

Just wanna bewitch you in the moonlight. Pt 3.

[Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley]

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Title: Just wanna bewitch you in the moonlight.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley

Timeline: Predominately set between GOF and OOTP (some canon has been altered to fit the story)

Summary: Both twins like Gryffindor!reader. Reader likes both twins. How will she decide who to chose in the end? Amortentia might be able to help, or not.

Warnings: Smut, mentions of sex, established relationships, threesomes, friends to lovers, all the good stuff. NO Twincest. Mentions of illness, Brief mentions of vomiting. Tiny bit of angst, possessiveness, talk of kids.

A bit more Georgie smut for you (sorry Fred)🌹

George walked back into the room after quite a while and smiled seeing you and Fred cuddled up in bed. Fred's arm never left your waist as he read some of his quidditch annual to you, pointing out various players and teams he was fond of. You didn't have much interest in quidditch, other than supporting your secret boyfriends on the field, but Fred's voice had always been soothing to you and you relished in an uncommon peaceful moment with him.

"Where have you been?" You asked, catching sight of George standing by the door. He smiled and walked towards you, sitting on the edge of the bed as his hand rested on your leg, stroking gently.

"Just had a few things to sort angel, don't worry," he says vaguely. "Mum said teas nearly ready."

"Godric I'm starving," Fred says, suddenly overwhelmed with hunger at the mention of food, a good sign that his appetite was improving.

Tea was had, a lovely roast chicken dinner with homemade pumpkin spiced tarts for dessert. Fred managed to scare everyone he came into contact with on the way down to the kitchen on account of his still pale and sallow complexion, a fact he was most pleased about. When tea was finished, you offered to help with the pots but Molly insisted she didn't need help and so George whisked you away quickly. Fred gave a little salute with his hands as he disappeared into their bedroom on the second floor but George lead you further up the staircase, much to your surprise, only stopping once you reached the fourth floor.

You creeped up the staircase that lead past Molly and Arthur's room towards the little walkway up to Ron's attic bedroom but instead of ascending the stairs, George lead you out into a little cubby hole you'd never noticed before. He pulled open the hatch and urged you to climb through, realising within moments that you have walked out into the little balcony over the bathroom.

You couldn't believe your eyes at you looked at the sight around you. Everything added up in your head as realised what exactly George had been doing whilst he'd been gone as you looked around at the beautiful sight before you.

The balcony had been adorned with magically imposed twinkling lights that looked like fireflies wrapped around the wooden beams and lit tea candles off the side . There were an obscene number of blankets and throw cushions arranged on the wooden floor, all different textures and patterns which blended together beautifully to create the most comfy looking spot you could imagine. There were two goblets placed to the side filled with dark liquid and an old telescope next to a star map placed beside them.

You turned round to George as soon as you sensed him behind you, gazing at him with a look of sheer amazement at what he had done. All he had to do was give you his trademark shy but wicked smile and you were gone, reaching up to kiss him with sheer adoration. He chuckled against your lips, wrapping one arm around your waist whilst the other held onto the wooden rail as he kissed you back passionately.

"You did all this for me?" You asked, looking up into his beautiful eyes. He nodded and smiled, though he was a little bashful.

"George it's wonderful, thank you," you gushed, reaching up on your tip toes to place another kiss to his lips, already feeling as if you couldn't get enough of him.

"And the pièce de résistance," he says with a smirk, crouching down to pull back one of the blankets on the edge, showing a plate of pumpkin spice tarts he had clearly smuggled from the kitchen when Molly wasn't looking. You laughed as he wiggled his eyebrows and took a seat on the floor amongst the pile of fabric, crouching and then extending his long legs to drape across the balcony. He held out his hand for you and you placed your hand in his, moving to sit beside him. He immediately leant back on the cushions and pulled you down with him, your head resting on his chest as you both looked out at the night sky.

You let out a gasp at seeing the vibrancy of the stars in the sky, the lack of light pollution in the open countryside did wonders for the stars to sparkle in their full glory. You'd never seen so many stars at once like this, it was utterly breathtaking.

George entwined his hand with yours and stroked your hand with his thumb, fingers playing with your own as you felt him relax behind you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You don't know how long you both sat there, flicking between gazing peacefully at the night sky, chatting quietly between yourselves, eating the delicious stolen pumpkin tarts, taking turns looking through the telescope at the different constellations you could see, trying to match them to the diagrams on the star map.

After a while, you started to get chilly even with the array of blankets on you, your shoulders exposed in your short T-shirt, having not expected to be sat outside for too long. You didn't want the night to end and so you tried to hold off your shivering and blanket heaping as long as you could, trying to be subtle as to not concern George but it was pointless, he noticed everything.

"Are you cold angel?" He asked quietly, a gentle murmur beside your ear. You simply nodded, trying to slink down further into the blankets until he moved you forward off his body just enough to remove the thick sweater he'd been wearing. It was navy with a large, gold, emblazoned 'G' on the front and his long sleeved T-shirt below was an off burgundy colour which suited him so much. He immediately began to stretch the jumper around you, telling you to raise your arms as he slipped the sweater over your head.

"Twice in one day you steal my clothes," he smirks as he looks at you wearing his sweater, liking it a little too much. The initial on the front only heightened these feelings, knowing that even just temporarily, you were his and his alone, at least in this moment.

"If it means you stripping down, I'd take your clothes all the time," you flirted. He immediately leaned down, twisting a little awkwardly as he gave you a bruising kiss. You turned in his lap, only breaking the kiss momentarily as you moved to lie in your stomach, over George's body as you deepened the kiss, feeling as if you couldn't get enough of him.

His hands began to wander, as did yours, feeling the soft but toned plains of his body, the soft material of his T-shirt and the roughness of his corduroy trousers. Your hand reached down his body towards the edge of his trousers as you felt the obvious sign of arousal you were hoping for. He moaned a little into the kiss as he felt you cup his rigid length through his trousers, running your fingers over it deliciously to tease him.

"Angel," he warned against your lips and you had to hide your smirk as you began to undo the buttons to his trousers, needing to feel him immediately. You tore off his trousers, kicking them to the side and immediately climbed into his lap. You were eternally grateful to yourself that you'd chosen to wear a skirt at tea, feeling too restricted in your jeans and you were immediately rewarded for your decision as your clothed sex came into contact with his.

You gasped into his mouth as your hot and wet core slid deliciously over his, the material of yours and George's underwear only adding to the teasing aspect, feeling so close and get so far apart. You didn't doubt that George would be able to feel your arousal through your panties, you'd been wet for him for hours. You rode him lazily, rubbing your clothes cores together to create the most pleasurable friction you could. George was gasping and grunting with each undulation of your hips, his grip on your buttocks getting tighter and tighter as his kisses became feverish and frantic.

His hands left your butt for a split second as he reached under your skirt and ripped the side of your panties open, the lace side parts slicing in two from his brutish move. The one remaining, intact side of your panties did nothing to shield you anymore, falling limply down to your knees where they bent over George's legs, the chilly air hitting your hot pussy deliciously as you were immediately exposed. George managed to lift his hips just enough to pull his boxers down and you couldn't help but let out a moan at the feeling of his dick springing up out of his underwear and tapping your thigh, the rigidity and weight of it making you gush.

George's hands returned to your now naked bum underneath your skirt as he fondles, pinches and lightly spanks your naked skin, making gasps fall from your lips without thought. He suddenly places his hands on each cheek and spreads them apart, completely exposing you to the cold air around you, your clit throbbing at the sensation.

You couldn't wait any longer and dropped your hips down to meet his, the instant gratification overwhelming you as you began to ride your wet pussy across his hardness, your clit dragging deliciously over the ridges of his thick cock.

George's head slams back as he fights to hold back a deep and loud groan as the sensation.

It wouldn't take much to get you off, already so worked up from having him so close to you all night, his romantic gestures and sweetness making you want to show him your appreciation. You wanted to cum around his cock, suddenly feeling a little too empty at the very thought of his beautifully filling cock and so you reached down with your right hand, placed your left on his shoulder and grabbed hold of his cock and lined him up with your aching pussy.

You rocked your hips as he eased inside of you, moans and curses falling from each of your lips as the sensation.

His cock truly was perfect, perfect length and thickness for you with the most delicious, subtle upward curve that seemed to always hit the right spot within you. Both of your men were similar lengths, with Fred maybe having half an inch on his twin but George was just a fraction thicker than Fred and right now it was really working for you.

George's hands were everywhere, as if he didn't know where to touch you next, his mouth wide open and his eyes flicking everywhere they could see. His left hand suddenly crept up underneath the sweater you had borrowed, under the T-shirt and grabbed your naked breast, his long and deft fingers toying with your pebbled nipple. His right hand stayed firmly lodged on your right bum cheek, pressing gently as he guided your rhythm.

"Fuck angel, just like that," he moaned as you slightly increased your rhythm, bouncing up and down on his cock as your clit rubbed perfectly against his happy trail.

You were in heaven, you were sure of it. The beautiful stars, a sweet date planned by your boyfriend, said boyfriend's cock stretching you out and hitting every single erotic spot inside of you with each thrust, it could hardly be real.

"Georgie, George, I'm," you began to chant, trying your hardest to stay quiet, the conscious part at the back of your mind warning you to keep it down when your body wanted to scream. George nodded, as if he was agreeing with his internal monologue and immediately slipped the hand that was caressing your breast down to your clit. It only took two circles of your clit by his expert hands before you were cresting on your climax. You could feel your pussy tighten around his cock, twitching with desperation to fall over the edge and George rewarded you with instant groans and moans that he could no longer keep in.

You grabbed hold of his shoulders hard as you rode him, your orgasm suddenly overwhelming you enough to stop the thrusting as you let the tingling, hot sensation wash over your body. George has seemingly already anticipated this adn had began thrusting up into you as he neared his edge, his thrusts getting harder and sloppier as the desperate need to cum overwhelmed him. You had to lean forward and bite down on the juncture between his neck and shoulders to silence the scream that threatened to spill out and wreck the peaceful atmosphere surrounding the burrow.

George began muttering absolute nonsense, though you made out a few curses, groans and 'Angels' as his own climax overtook him, never stopping his hard thrusting as he dragged your hips up and down on his cock, using you for his own pleasure as he spilled himself deep inside you.

Once the orgasmic fog had cleared from your minds, you turned to each other with sappy, loving smiles on your faces, chuckling a little at the desperation you'd just encountered and shared a lovingly sensual kiss. His tongue licked along yours, never claiming dominance as Fred would but just caressing. You sucked on the lip of his tongue and immediately felt his softening cock twitch inside you, earning a loud groan from George.

You pecked his nose, watching a bashful smile wash over his gorgeous face and you began to climb off of him, feeling his cum begin to drip out of you in a slow trickle.

"I don't know how you do it angel," George says in wonder. You look back to him and see his lazing back on the pillows, arms behind his head and eyes closed with a wide, content smile on his face. He was still wearing his T-shirt but his spent cock was proudly still on display with no shame.

"Me? That was all your Georgie," you chuckled, leaning your head back against his chest and you repositioned yourself to how you were sat before, looking out at the stars. He removed one of his hands from behind his head and entwined your hands again, bringing your joined hands up to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

It was peaceful again.

George eventually got recovered, slipping his boxers and sweats up over his hips as you continued to stargaze, his hand never really leaving yours. The lights had slowly began to turn off in the burrow as each member turned in for the night so you were left with just your twinkling lights and the last weak dregs of candlelight that remained.

"So if you don't do music, what would you want to do when you leave hogwarts?" He asks, breaking the comfortable silence as he mentions your conversation earlier in the car in the car. You considered the question for a moment, not really knowing what to say. You knew George and Fred's dream of opening their own shop, growing their business that they operated via owl post and at school, but you didn't really know where you fit into that dream, assuming you did. You still had a choice to make between them both, which you'd been omitting from your mind constantly, hating the overhanging unease you felt at the entire concept.

"I can't say I've thought about it much," you replied honestly, "I like potions, I mean I'm fairly good at it, I suppose something to do with that but it's kind of a limited career. I just don't have the burning urge to go out and break curses or be an auror or anything like that, nor do I want to be a trophy wife stuck at home with a bunch of children."

"Good thing you weren't placed into Slytherin then," George jokes, knowing that half of the Slytherin female population were raised to be married off to another pureblood family to essentially breed and maintain status. You snorted in acknowledgement, considering the ridiculous idea for a moment before falling silent again, suddenly feeling the weight of a building existential crisis as your thoughts spiralled.

"Do you want kids?" He asks after a moment.

"Yeah definitely, maybe just one or two though not a whole pack of Weasleys," you joked, before realising the implication of what you just said. "I mean, not like your kids or Fred's or anything I just meant because you have like a hundred siblings."

Your face must have turned beet red as words tumbled out of your mouth to recover from your misstep but the damage had already been done.

Surprisingly, George didn't laugh like you thought he would or made a sarcastic quip like his brother, he remained ominously quiet. Worried that you'd ruined the moment, or worse your relationship, you turned to face George and instead of seeing discomfort or anger, he had a small smile tugging at his lips.

"I don't know, I can think of worse things than seeing you knocked up with my kid," he says, looking down at you. You smile and nudge him with your arm, a little bashful from his words.

"Do you, want kids I mean?" You ask, trying to deflect, earning a definitive nod from him.

"Yeah, one or two, knowing my luck I'd get twins," he chuckled, staring up at the skies.

"Your mum would love that, finally a-bit of payback for the mischief you and Fred have caused," you joked, glad that there was no lingering awkwardness between you. He laughed and pulled you tighter into his body, agreeing with you.

"What about your plans? Still dreaming of the shop?" You asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to let him have his moment to talk about his passion.

"Yeah definitely, you know Harry gave us his tri-wizard winnings to set us up, so we've just got to get through this last year of school and start scouting for storefronts," George smiles. You smile along with him, nodding your head as you him adoringly.

"You know, I'm so proud of both of you, it's amazing to see how far you've come already," you say, stroking your thumb along his hand, "defying convention and other's opinions, being unashamedly yourselves and knowing what you want, it's kind of inspiring actually."

George blushes under your praise and gives you a warm smile at your words though you can see he doesn't fully believe it.

"I'm serious!" You smile, dripping his hand as you turn to sit and face him, "you're 17 and you have it all figured out, I'm literally not even close to figuring out what I want to do! You've already created so many wonderful things, started a business and have your next move all planned out, honestly I'm so amazed by you both."

"You know, we'll always need a helping hand at the shop, you could always take some time out after you finish school and come work with us," George says.

"You planning on keeping me that long?" You joke, though your fears had slipped through. You were uncomfortable at the thought of your future with the boys because at this point you couldn't see how you could chose just one of them. They'd be leaving and you'd have one more year of school left to finish, would either of them even still want you then?

"I'm planning on keeping you forever, if you chose me," George replies quietly, almost like he didn't mean to say it out loud. "But that's not important, right now, in this moment, I have you and you have me."

"George Fabian Weasley, how romantic of you," you said, trying to lighten the rather intense conversation. He immediately burst into a wide smile and pulled you in for one last cuddle, kissing the top of your head.

"Want to head back in?" He asks.

"Five more minutes," you mumble, cuddling into him further. He chuckles but says nothing, happy to be holding you for just a little while longer.

#emeritusemeritus #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #harry potter #george weasley smut #george weasley x you #george weasley x reader x fred weasley #weasley twins x reader #Weasley twins smut #emeritusemerituswrites #fred weasley masterlist #george weasley masterlist

[sapph1cyearning]

Wilhelm's Mental Health; Autism or Borderline Personality Disorder?

Wilhelm’s mental health status is a complex issue that has been heavily commentated on by the fandom, from what I've observed within the YR fandom, a large number of fans headcanon Wilhelm as having autism but I hope to explore autism and it's symptomology outside of the white male perspective that is defaulted upon in autistic representation by overviewing symptoms that contribute to the interpretations of Wilhelm having either Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) or Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD). These two disorders can show up in similar forms, and often get misdiagnosed (especially women and non-white people are immediately pointed toward the BPD diagnosis rather than ASD due to assessor’s prejudice and society's higher expectations for minority groups to mask autistic traits while in public). A key difference between the two is that ASD is a genetic disorder while BPD is a disorder that develops due to childhood trauma. Both disorders have a high likelihood for comorbidity with other mental disorders such as depression, anxiety, and PTSD.

Content Warning: Frank commentary of symptoms associated with Borderline Personality Disorder and Autism Spectrum Disorder, including: self-harm, substance abuse, and emotional dysregulation.

Disclaimer: I am not a mental health professional but I am autistic, and I’ve known quite a number of people with either BPD or autism [In my teenage years, I stayed at a long-term DBT-based treatment center, a therapeutic specialty for created to address BPD that has been expanded to treat other mental health struggles and disorders that go hand-in-hand with BPD symptoms (Substance abuse, self-harm, OCD, etc.)]. This is also solely based on what is seen in the show, not actors' interpretations that are expressed through interviews.

Throughout the series Wilhelm (W) is seen engaging in a multitude of behaviors and experiences feelings that he expresses verbally that could be interpreted as fitting as symptoms of both.

Notably the scene where W is seen smacking his temple with his palm (1x05) can be interpreted as either: purposeful self-harm (a common self-destructive coping mechanism for overwhelming emotions in BPD; his alcohol and drug use could be described similarly) or a self-stimulatory behavior (stimming), a characteristic of ASD to aid in regulating or expressing intense emotions (while W is engaging in this with a “negative” emotion, stimming is used with all emotions), other example include his chest-rubbing, and frequent caressing of different textures.

Intense mood-swings, anger, and difficulties with emotion processing, this is quite evident in W's actions, emotional responses, and feelings he expresses verbally. Both disorders have been observed to have intense changes of emotions at a “drop of a hat.” ASD mood-swings are typically related to exposure to sensory input that is quite uncomfortable, overstimulation, and/or meltdowns (breakdowns due to a culmination of intense feelings, sensory input and/or overwhelming experiences). BPD mood-swings and impulsive actions are more related to triggers of trauma responses, and a lack of regulatory measures

Symptoms Specific to Each Disorder:

BPD:

Attachment to Favorite Person (FP), a symptom of BPD where one idolizes one person in their life to an extreme degree, wanting to spend all their time with their FP, and intense anger and despair with perceived betrayals/slights against them/mistakes. W goes through 2 FPs (Erik and Simon). He adores Erik, and feels betrayal when Erik leaves him at Hillerska. Simon quickly becomes a FP, seeing him as perfect and feeling betrayal when Simon messes up (drug dealing) and the utter despair and hopelessness when Simon needs space and starts dating Marcus; “It feels like I’m going to die” (2x04) (Could be a consequence of being utterly isolated due to being Royal and latching onto anyone who shows care to him)

Unstable / Ineffective Relationships (Simon, Kristina, Minou, and other hierarchy figures): BPD is often associated with people with the disorder lashing out against "completely innocent" people for "no reason", while this can be accurate, it does not account for the triggering of such episodes (See above)

Substance Abuse: People with BPD may utilize alcohol and/or other substances to "numb themselves" from BPD symptoms or distance themselves from harmful memories (autistic people also experience substance abuse and addiction at higher rates than the general allistic population but it is often seen as a crutch to cope with the constant stress of existing in an allistic world which is not implied in what pulls W to substance use throughout the show)

ASD:

Expansion on Sensory Issues: W seemingly wears the same sweater-button up combo often, just with different sweater colors — Grey, teal, and that god-awful bright orange — ensures safe textures when buying new items but he might just have a clothing stylist with horrid taste. W's struggles with the suffocating feel of the suit (2x05). He rarely utilized the overhead lights in his room, instead relied on his string lights, lamps or natural lighting (Florescent and LED lights can trigger light sensitivity and contribute to sensory processing difficulties in autistic people)

Preoccupation with the concept of normalcy (1x01), as a kid being autistic often ostracizes you from your peers, being deemed the “weird kid” is very damaging thus W may have been enticed by the prospect attending a regular high school to like "normal people" (this concept is intrinsically tied to social class throughout the show, W wants normalcy of a lower class while Sara wants conform to a higher class but that's a different spiel). This can lead to masking; the act of forcing oneself to hide their autistic traits in order to fit into Allistic norms. (My one dispute to this interpretation is he's seemingly more disgruntled by the pomp and circumstance of being Royal that "others" him rather than peers judging him)

Lack of social cues (Not even going to waste my time explaining this one, the man had no game, absolutely none, it’s a wonder that he pulled Simon)

This far from a full list of symptoms seen in W's characterization but it's a broad overview of the signs I saw from an autistic lens. I lean towards Wille having Borderline Personality Disorder based on the fact that significant aspects of Autism Spectrum Disorder can be correlated to his unfortunate circumstance of being royalty.

#young royals #young royals analysis #prince wilhelm #wilmon #Was this entire thing inspired by a Wille / BoJack Horseman edit I saw on tiktok? Yes yes it was

[parrythisucasual]

Heyaa! How your doing? Can I request how Jax would react to his s/o being just like ENA? When she always swapping personality for being too overwhelmed whit all and then vomiting (just like that scene whit her and Moony, and if you can may add Moony being...Moony? Being mean to her)

I DID MY BEST SORRY SORRY I REALLY AM GETTING TO ALL ASKS I PROMISE!!!!!!

Jax  ENA! Reader

��Wh-where am I? What is this place?” you cry out, grabbing either side of your head in a panic. You grip your oddly-cut hair, clenching it in yur fists and tugging, “Who are you people?! I hate people! I’m allergic!!” you suddenly feel rather calm, that little outburst nothing more than an embarrassing slip of the mind, “So very sorry about that!” You smoot your hair into its original, calm state.

“Uh… wow, what an entrance,” a strange, mix-and-match creature speaks first, “that’s even weirder than half the (DINK!!) that comes out of Kinger’s mouth.” The doll steps closer to you, reaching forward to get your attention, “She’s rather divided anyways, look at her,” she hums, “two entirely different halves, down to the color and texture.”

You glance down at your hands, confused, “I am not two dif-” you stop. You were. You were two separate colors, two opposing textures. It was dizzyingly terrifying.You scream, the sorrow and fear rushing over you once more.

,”No, no! I don’t wanna be like this!” you wail, waving your hands, “I’m so hideous I could-” you retch, liquified censoring spewing from your lips. You hurl your guts at the group’s feet. “Is this a bad time?” A new voice questioned. The doll glanced up, “Oh, Caine, good! Can you do your whole… you know, introduction? It might help?”

“Or it’ll make her have even more of a crisis,” The rabbit pointed out, “I don’t know about you all, but I don’t exactly want to deal with her puking again. “HEY! You leave her alone, only I’M allowed to bully her, you wad!” A floating sphere appeared behind you. 

“Moony!” Thank goodness, I was worried about you!” You chirp, somehow knowing she is your friend. The calmness washed over you once more as you hopped up, smiling at her. You glance at the others once more, “Apologies again, dearest chums! I entirely forgot to introduce myself! I’m (Y/N)!”

~~~~~~~~~~TIMESKIP~~~~~~~~~~~

You’ve been stuck in the circus for a few weeks now. Part of you was used to it now, you resigned yourself to the fact this is how things were now. The other side, however, was the part that kept you thinking you’d wake up, or that you could find an exit soon. It was hard, being so bipolar, but you had gotten used to it.

Recently, you’d noticed Jax had been following you around. Well, more than he used to. He used to follow you occasionally, mostly to make snide comments. That was a pastime of his. But in these recent encounters, some of them you’d never directly interacted with him. You’d just see him at a distance, and he’d look away or leave. 

“Ugh! (Y/N), get your weird, gross boyfriend!” Moony complained loudly, making an exaggerated sick face. She floated around you, now in front of you. You glance up at her, “I don’t have a boyfriend, friend Moony!” you chirp, smiling. She nods her head behind you, “Then what do you call HIM?”

You turn, noticing the lavender rabbit quite a distance behind you. You blink in confusion, squinting at him. Why was he following you? You wave at him, arm making large swipes above your head, “JAX!” -you call- “Over here!”

He makes a face at you, although he quickens his pace. He’s now awkwardly jogging, trying to catch up to you. “EW! (Y/N), no! Don’t call him over! Ugh! It was supposed to be besties night!” Your shoulders droop, suddenly awash in despair, “You’re RIGHT! I’m sorry Moony! I’m such a horrible friend! I ruined everythiiiiiiing!” She rolls her eyes, then unexpectedly perked up.

“Wait, maybe we can hang out with him! He’s a guy, but having another person would make truth or dare funner!” She grinned, looking at you mischievously. You sniffle as Jax finally catches up with the two of you. 

“Half and half, nice to see ya,” his smile was wide, but his voice suggested a casual tone. You rub at your eyes, “It can’t be! I’m no-good! I’ll make you upset!” Your shoulders roll forward suddenly as you stand upright, at a slightly inclined angle.

Jax was unfazed by the sudden change, not sparing more than a bored stare. You smile at him regardless, “Ah! Yes! Come with us! Moony’s room ahead!” He followed behind, groaning, “A weird nonbinary and girl sleepover? No thanks! But fine.” 

The group of you entered Moony’s room. She’d already gotten everything ready. Snacks piled in one corner and a pile of pillows and blankets all over the floor. You clap your hands together happily, “Oh! All set up! How lonely! Deepest gratitude!” You settle yourself on the cat pillow and relax. Moony lays herself in the beanbag chair beside you, and Jax on your other side.

Moony sighed dramatically, “In proper besties night tradition, I will now spill all the latest drama I’ve come across,” she cleared her throat, and delved into a long-winded speech. You glance at Jax midway through her dialog drop. “So! Why were you truly following us?” you question him, “I’m well aware you do it a lot. I didn’t realize others knew as well, or I’d have asked sooner.” 

His cheeks flushed very slightly, barely noticeable, “What are you talking about?” Oh, so thats the direction- playing dumb. You get a wild urge and decide to play with this a bit.

Yeah, I could have sworn I've been seeing you everywhere I go,” you raise a brow playfully, letting him know how long you’ve been aware of it. He scoffs, waving you off, “Why would I do that? You sure you’re not going crazy?”

“Yeah, maybe… why? Why would you?” You turned his denial into a genuine question. Moony’s rambling filled the air between you two for far too long, his deciding on which answer to give taking much longer than it should. He is teetering on the verge of his response, and you sigh and shake your head.

“Its not honest if it's been this long, I don’t wanna hear it. If it’s something dumb like you like me just say it!” He stopped dead, then his face became one of a man about to get his revenge. “Akright,” he agreed, “yeah. I like you. You’re pretty cool. Way cooler than the others. And youre genuine. You get it?”

You’re stunned, the confession was very obviously genuine. You stammer a moment, trying to say something even you didn’t know what it would be. Moony shouted above your thoughts, however, adding only more confusion, “Oh my god, I TOLD you, (Y/N)! He likes you!” Your face flushes, and your friend giggles at you. Your gaze snaps between an eager to watch Moony and a worried about the response Jax.

You blink, mind finally catching up to you, “Y-you do? I… Would you like to… go on a date?” you tested nervously. Jax’s shoulders dipped in relief, “Yeah. Maybe a day at the fairgrounds.” You nod your agreement, scooting closer to him.

Moony puffed up her metaphorical chest, “My plan totally worked!” You glance at her, a disbeleiving frown playing on your lips, “Oh yeah? Plan?” She grinned, “Yeah, I definitely set this up so you two would confess.” You laughed, “Sure you did, Moony.”

As you spoke, Jax set his hand on yours. You respond by tanging your fingers with his, your heart picking up slightly. You weren’t sure, exactly, how it had happened, but you were positive is wasnt Moony. Either way, you were glad it had.

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc jax #jax #tadc x reader #jax x reader #tadc jax x reader #the amazing digital circus jax

[huenation]

seasons / kkh

word count: 1,696

genre: fluff and slight! angst

synopsis: making back the time with bf!hyuka now that he’s back from tour ★ request

note: i wanna give the largest fattest kith to the anon who requested this :’(

soundtrack: seasons by wave to earth

Kai is easily sunshine — in every single aspect. He warms you up, never fails to make you feel better even by text alone, and excluding the existence of gravity, he reels you in in orbit.

It’s the same reason that why now that he’s finally here with you after only four but very long months, it feels like you’re experiencing the first day without rain.

A gentle squeeze to your hand has you returning to Earth, thumb rubbing over your knuckles. Kai swings your intertwined hand back and forth as he continues telling you about one night after a certain stop during their tour. It’s so funny that he can’t seem to get through it, stopping to laugh and apologize for laughing, bringing your squeezed fingers to use them to move his bangs. He could have easily used his other hand, but he’s too busy rubbing circles mindlessly into your tummy. You can’t help yourself either. His smile and laughter is so contagious; it feels like you haven’t laughed or smiled this much since the last time he was here physically.

The soft bump in his nose is so beautiful, the sweet eye crinkles that reflect the sweetness that blossoms from his beam, that beauty mark on the right side of his warm neck, his light, clean, citrus scent mixed with his freshly washed clothes — it’s all here right in front of you. After so long. It seems silly in hindsight considering you’ve endured longer without being able to see each other. As years go by, you both have learned it gets harder saying goodbye every time.

Your boyfriend and the boys landed right before noon, and you’d waited for their arrival at their dorm, feeling like an obnoxious puppy with the way you anxiously paced for him. It was pure joy and love at first turn of the door knob. Kai had practically lifted you in his arms with all the endorphin driven adrenaline and momentum at his overwhelming happiness of being reunited with you. The boys simply chuckled and watched in amusement before FOMO hit. Such a reunion should have wrought tears and half-humiliated kisses, but instead, you two were grinning ear to ear, holding hands, being quietly lovey dovey.

Evening has taken over of the day you’d been waiting for for so long, and now, in the dorms, it’s just you and him. The boys had said they were heading over to play basketball, Yeonjun throwing you a wink, to which you both had whined in unison, making synchronized laughter of different accents and textures ring through the air.

There is no space between you, such a word doesn’t exist in this here. Why should it? You’d missed an entire season with him, and time persevered nonetheless. Impossibly, you wanted to make back all the time you’d missed with each other. He felt the ache of lost time, felt the ache of missing you, and even if more time like this was to be lost again, here and now outweighed everything else. Now with the way your legs are crossed into each other, your hand that’s molded with his, his hand on your tummy, your hand on his chest, playing with the string of his sweatshirt, on the living room sofa like it’s your own little world. It feels like it. It always does when it comes to him.

Now, that reality has settled, the dust of his arrival no longer flurries in the air, you feel like such a thing, such a moment as precious as here and now, can’t be. Not when you had shared some broken phone calls, yearning through the digital medium, showing half your faces through FaceTime, not when you’d worked your ass off everyday in hopes of making time go by faster with it being occupied, not when you’d prayed for his things to go smoothly throughout the tour and especially for him to comeback soon, even if it meant time were to skip and the universe would be tipped on its side. You were willing for anything if it guaranteed your Hyuka would be back.

And here he is. Laughing so big and contagious, the frequencies of it bring you effervescent warmth, his wide but love shaped body pressing into yours to ignite it even further. Even if the story reads Typical Tubatu, you’re smiling so big and laughing too, even if you get only part of the story because of his interrupting giggles. Maybe such untapped expressions explain why stray tears from what you thought were laughing too hard snowball into endless streams and a smile that turns into a frown.

“And Beomgyu hyung just kept going! Soobin hyung wasn’t having it, but it was still! — s-so — oh… Y/N?” A hiccup of a sob escapes your curled lips when he stops, leaning in and his own eyes glazing over at acknowledgement of your emotion. He’s still smiling, it’s softer now, the sunlight in his eyes still bright but again, softer now with brief overcast of his sensitivity towards your tears. His hand drops from your tummy and comes to catch the tears that keep flowing.

“‘M-I’m sorry!” You laugh, sniffling, or sniffle, laughing, really, you’re a mess of it all. Kai coos, shaking his head, so delicate in the way he holds your face, other hand still squeezing yours. You use your sleeve to rub at the rest of your face. He keeps shaking his head to your apologies, closing in to pepper kisses on your cheeks when you don’t let up, when you keep crying.

“Y/N,” he asks with a tone that suggest he’s pleading but for what, you don’t know. Your lips shake. Kai chuckles wetly, your heart squeezing at the thought of him even crying over this sudden slip up of emotion of yours. “I’m sorry,” you say not for the last time, he sighs against your salty lips. He places his forehead against yours, slotting his body closer against yours.

“I just — Kai, I missed you so much. I-I’m so happy, I can’t — I can’t help it! I missed you so much it hurts and I-I can’t…I’m so lucky you’re here. It’s too good to be real!” You cry brokenly, trailing off to giggle at yourself for being so taken, and Kai mirrors your expression entirely, nose reddening, sniffling, and giggling, too. He kisses your the column of your nose, nosing your own once he pecks your mouth a bit clumsily. He does so with purpose, it looks like.

“I’m sorry that I had to leave, I really am, but I swear, I’m here now. And I too am so, so, stupidly happy to be here with you,” Kai steals a few but meaningful kisses from you, keen on trailing the side of your face with his hand, as if to commit it to memory, to mind, to muscle, to heart. He steals your breaths from you, recycling them, when oxygen returns to your lungs slowly but surely — a sheepish laugh leaving your mouth against his because of it all. Kai brings your intertwined hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles, the backside of your palm, your phalanges, and your thumb.

“I missed you so much, my sweet. Feels like one of the many, many dreams I’d have all those lonely nights without you while I was abroad. All throughout the day, I’d think, ‘the alarm should go off any minute now…’ and it never does. I hope it never does. I wanna stay here forever with you.” You’re going to cry again, moving in to kiss him, and he meets you halfway. Lips against the other, your smiles all but mold together. “I love you, Y/N.” He whispers and you hear it twice: through your ears and the burning skin of your lips.

“I love you more.” You say, and his laugh comes out muffled.

It’s a long moment of closeness being fulfilled, soft kisses filling the air every now and then, before you pull away, cheeks red and tear streaked. You lean away, as he lays his head against the top of the sofa, your fingers brushing some of his trimmed fringe back. He cut his hair. He’s so handsome, it somehow makes him look all the more charming and adorable.

“I interrupted your story, Kai. Please continue for me, if you can. I want to hear every single thing you have to say.” Your fingers brush the warmth of his flesh, and he flutters his eyes shut almost in reverence. He nods, opening them, and pecking at your pulse point. Such an easygoing smile graces his lips, so gentle and serene, and yet the repercussions are enormous. Your heart falls back into place. Everything does. Now, that your Kai is back.

“If you say so.” He laughs and sighs after a brief pause, eyes meeting yours. “Thank you for waiting for me.”

You gasp, mouth forming a pout at that.

“Come on, Hyuka. You know me!” Your tone eases up especially when you reposition yourself on him, closer in on him, both of your hands flattening across the width of his chest to lean on him, legs curled with his, your face nuzzling against his shoulder. “I’d wait a thousand years and more just for you.” You whisper, cheeks hot at the shyness of your confession.

Practically swooning and sweating with how speechless you left him, Kai just sputters out an awkward, little, “thank you” before practically deflating and silently whining when you start laughing at him, quickly turning such a heartfelt moment back to the lighthearted scene that the boys had left, who now return to tease at the lovey dovey-ness. You peel off of Kai, back to hand holding, back to listening to his story telling — aided by the others who make it all the more funnier and real — and let the feeling home overtake you, stealing one last glance at your boyfriend, your eyes and his melting and closing like honey.

Kai may be your sunshine, but unbeknownst to you, you’re his entire life, you’re his seasons, and he’d trade everything for you within a heartbeat.

#txt imagines #txt x reader #hueningkai x reader #hueningkai imagines #hyuka fluff #hyuka x reader #txt soft hours #txt fluff #txt angst

[kairiscorner]

Ok ok I just read your NoirXFlorist and I am so in love. A personal HC I have is that Noir’s giving love language is acts of service and so ⬇️

-Imagine Noir being colorblind, but he wants to help at your shop and since the easiest way to differentiate between flowers is color he learns other ways to tell the difference- scent, texture, size, shape, or just memorizing where a certain type of flower is most often stored, because he wants to help. -Also, if any heavy lifting needs to be done, he rushes to do it before you even get the chance, even if it’s just a box. “No, no, I got it, doll.” “A lady of mine shall not do any heavy work, not while I’m here.”

anon are you trying to kill me with cuteness and fluff.

BC IT'S WORKING OMGGGGG YEAH, NO, I WANNA MAKE A FIC OF THIS, THANK YOU FOR THE IDEA AND FOR SHARING :>

(i wish i could credit you anon, you and your big beautiful brain 😭😭😭🫂🫂 also reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <;:D)

(part 1)

so imagine:

it was a real hectic, busy day at your floral shop; people came flooding into your place more frequently, and while it was good for business, you were completely and utterly overwhelmed.

you managed a small establishment, and business was going well recently, but you were the only one working there, of course a pair of hands and a couple of fast feet can only do so much work.

peter'd have come in all chipper and point out the long line of people coming in, and then he'd see your tired, overworked face still smiling and wrapping up bouquets so darn fast.

he'd be in awe, of course, and fall in love with your hardworking and capable self, but he'd be super concerned as well for you so he'd pull you to the side as the influx of people died down for a bit and ask you with a concerned smile if you were okay.

"dear, you good? looks like you had to run several laps back there." he joked lightheartedly as he put his hands on your shoulders. "i know i'm not exactly the most helpful guy out there for this job, but if it gives you any comfort, i can help. i'm around you and the flowers all the time, i... i kinda got everything down about them." he said in a slightly cocky tone, but of course, it was to impress you with his new confidence since you first met him as a bumbling fool who was head over heels in love with you the moment you showed him just what kind of hidden beauty was lying in wait for him to discover.

you hesitated telling him you were okay and that he didn't have to bother himself to help you, because you were seriously considering getting some help at the very last minute to complete your clients' requests. "well... i'm actually kind of drowning over here, pete. i'm worried i can't do this on my own." you admitted.

peter smiled as he put his hand to your cheek. "don't you worry about a thing, i've got you. i meant it when i said i know everything there is know about the flowers here. i may not be able to tell which flowers are what color, but you of all people know a flower's color isn't the only thing worth nothing." he said with a small wink at you. yes, he'd been practicing that wink, he waited for the right occasion to use it on you.

it made you smile widely as peter agreed to help, and you had a lot of faith in him that he'd be able to ease your burden. you had shown peter the ropes before after work hours, it was another option for a date between you two. you loved how fast he picked up at tying the bouquets together, ringing up change, and memorizing the descriptions of the flowers; it really warmed your heart that he took interest in these things and was determined to show you he could do these things for you if you needed him to.

he got to work immediately, hoping that him having to interact with the customers would come as natural and easy as learning everything there is to know about the flowers; but humans are no flowers, they're significantly much harder to please, so that thought kind of scared him. but you were counting on him, that was all he could think about--you counting on him, you needing him right then and there.

you couldn't believe how different peter seemed when he was talking to the customers, helping them out as you tied up the bouquets. he appeared like a door to door salesman, and you meant that in the nicest way possible.

he seemed more upbeat, cheery, and... you dare say, a lot more charming. you two soon switched shifts, he was on tying and ringing up the bouquets, and you were the one helping out the customers pick flowers.

you were a little worried because you knew peter didn't do so well when having other people wait for him, it sort of intimidated him. you never taught him everything he now knows during work hours, it was just you two--and as pleasant as it was for both of you, you were still concerned how he'd be doing applying that practice in a real scenario.

but lo and behold, peter did it all in a jiffy. he didn't even need to use a calculator or do the math on paper, the minute he saw the flowers, counted them, and took note of other things--he could instantly give them their total, with tax. he was extraordinarily fast, too; he was extremely agile yet delicate with handling the bouquets, they were flowers, after all; they needed room to breathe, a single mistake can end in them being crushed, so of course, he was mindful of that, too.

soon, the day was ending; the sky had red, orange, pink, and purple strewn out over the horizon as the sun set. you and peter just finished up the last round of orders, and the floral shop was nearly empty by the time you were finished.

you both breathed out a breath you both didn't realize you were both holding in this entire time. the two of you laughed since you did it at the exact same time. "thank you for helping, peter. really, i... i don't know what i'd've done without you." you said as you went over behind the counter and stood next to him.

now this is when the shy, flustered peter parker comes back to you. he smiled at you widely and blushed profusely; leading all the way up to the tips of his ears, an innocent and pleasing mix of red and pink dancing on his cheeks.

"it's no biggie." he muttered, trying to sound as confident as he was earlier, but his defenses broke down when he caught you leaning closer to his face, your nose mere inches away from his own. he chuckled. "well... maybe it is kind of a biggie." he said as he put his hands on your arms and rubbed them lightly.

"well, thank you, again, pete." you repeated as you put your hand on the back of his. soon, peter noticed a truck coming by and a man coming down the truck with a clipboard in his hand, a few other men bringing boxes about and laying them by the door of your floral shop.

"oh, wait right here, pete." you said as you went over to talk to the man. peter watched as you signed the papers on the man's clipboard, thanked him, and... they left without helping you carry those boxes!

peter was enraged just the slightest bit as he watched you, your poor, overworked self, carry them into the floral shop without contempt for those men who didn't even bother to help. immediately, peter rushed to your aid, flung the door open, and took the box you were trying to carry away from you and into his arms.

"peter--!" you exclaimed as he took the box with ease. "i've got it, don't worry, really! i've already asked for your help today, this... i got this." you tried telling him, but he refused to listen and took box after box into the floral shop.

he smiled up at you and adjusted his glasses with one hand, carrying a box in his other hand. "no, no, i got it, doll. don't you worry about a thing, a lady of mine shall not do any heavy work, not while i'm here." he said as he flashed you another wink, he was getting better at it, you had to admit.

you blushed at his gallantry and general altruism towards you. you decided to reward him for all his hard work afterwards. he finished carrying the boxes and putting them aside. he turned to look at you as you walked into the floral shop, blushing a bit as you kept admiring how sweet he was towards you and for all his help.

"i really can't thank you enough for today, peter. it's far beyond what i originally asked you to do." you said as you took his hands into your own, and he blushed yet again. "of course. anything for you, my darling." he murmured, still admiring how soft and warm your hands were. you giggled. you opened a box to unveil a flurry of flowers of every kind in it, and you placed a flower behind his ear yet again.

he chuckled. "my, you never get tired of doing that, don't you?" he asks. you shake your head playfully. "it looks beautiful." you remarked. "it does?" he asked, a little joyful at that compliment. "well..." he said as he took a flower from the box that he thought was the prettiest and tucked it behind your ear, too. "i've always wanted to do that. and now... oh goodness, you're a complete and total beauty on your own, and now... oh, call an ambulance, love, i'm having a heart attack!" he said as he leaned over to brush his nose against yours, smiling and chuckling to himself all the while as his eyes stared intently into your own big, beautiful ones.

"i truly, truly love you, dear." he tells you as his lips are just centimeters away from your own. "and i love you, truly, pete." you reply as you close the distance between you two, kissing him as the sun sank down into the horizon--you two greeting the night with a loving kiss shared between you two.

maybe he should come out to help you more often, after all, such is to be done when you're planning to become one's husband, no?

a/n: BUIREBFIUBEVIUBHIUFEHIFIRFRBVIURBVBRVR I LOVED WRITING THIS SM AAAAAA TY AGAIN ANON HOPE YOU LIKE ITTTTT <33

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @fictarian @pixqlsin

#spider noir x reader #spider noir #across the spiderverse #spider noir x y/n #spider noir x you #spider noir fluff #itsv x you #itsv x reader #itsv #itsv noir #thank you anon for the inspo and ideas

[soulofapatrick]

Baby Steps - Henry Fox x Male Reader

Summary: You wake to Henry in your room, having flown overnight to surprise you

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: fluff; the fluffiest shit ive written for a while

Y/N’s POV

I’m stirred awake by the soft, lingering pressure of familiar lips on mine. At first, I’m enveloped in the sensation of their plump softness, and for a moment, I think I must be dreaming. The kiss is gentle yet undeniably passionate, a perfect blend of love and longing that I’ve come to recognise as uniquely Henry’s. 

As my senses slowly awaken, I become aware of the delicate dance of his fingers across my cheek, tracing a path as tender as a whispered promise. It’s then that I open my eyes and my heart leaps in my chest as he’s here, leaning over me with a soft smile gracing those dreamy lips. Henry’s eyes, a shade of deep, stormy blue, lock onto mine with an intensity that takes my breath away. His honey hair falls in disarray around his face, adding to the allure of the tousled morning look he wears so effortlessly. Those plump, soft lips I had initially mistaken for a dream are now inches away, just waiting for another kiss, another taste of the love that binds us. 

I’m blinking again, still not actually sure he’s here, but when I open my eyes he’s still leaning ver me with an amused glint in his eyes. I raise a hand, my fingers trembling with disbelief, and with a mixture of caution and longing, I cup his cheek. The warmth of his skin against my palm is undeniably real, and the way he leans into the touch with a soft sigh. I can feel the subtle roughness of his morning stubble, the texture of his skin so familiar and comforting. My thumb grazes those plump, soft lips, the sensation electric. It sends a jolt of desire through me but, it’s more than just desire; it’s the tangible proof that Henry is here with me, that I’m not trapped in some wistful dream. 

I can no longer deny the reality of the situation. This isn’t a dream. This is Henry: my love, my anchor, my prince, here in the Whitehouse. 

Overwhelmed with emotions, I can’t contain my joy any longer. I reach out and grab Henry’s shoulders, yanking him down into a hug that has him letting out a surprised sound as he loses his balance and falls onto of me. He chuckles, a warm and melodious sound, as he hides his face in the crook of my neck, breath tickling my skin as he nuzzles against me. His laughter is music to my ears, a soothing balm to my heart. His nose is cold against my neck but I don’t care because he’s in my arms and he’s laughing. We’re wrapped up in each other, two souls intertwined in a world that often demands so much of us. 

Without a word, his hands roam any bare skin he can reach above the duvet, drawing a soft groan from me as we can’t right now. Alex and June are going to come bugging me about breakfast soon as Mum likes to have meals together because we’re still family even if we’re the now the Presidential family. 

“Hen, we can’t-“ I’m cut off by a pounding at the door. 

“Come on Mouse! Breakfast! I’m starving.” Alex’s voice rings through and Henry huffs lightly, warm breath tickling my neck. 

“Go ahead, give me a few minutes!” I call back as Henry wriggles his way off of me and back to his feet, “I need to get dressed!” 

“TMI!” Alex makes a fake vomiting sound before I hear him move on to June’s door. 

Suddenly, the duvet is ripped off me, Henry with a cheeky grin on his face but eyes telling a different story as he realises I’m completely naked. I want to cover myself up but the way he’s looking at me makes me stay there, raising myself to my elbows and just watching his expression. It’s a gaze that feels like a warm embrace, as if he’s holding me with his eyes alone. 

As I watch him watch me, I notice the subtle changes in his expressions. There’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes, as if he’s delighting in some secret joke that only the two of us share. It makes me feel shy, as if I’m being examined under a magnifying glass, my vulnerability and desires laid bare for him. 

But it’s not just amusement; there’s a hunger in his gaze too, a longing that’s mirrored in the way his pupils dilate ever so slightly. It’s the look of someone who can’t get enough of the person they love, as if he’s seeing me anew, every time, with the sam wonder and affection. 

Henry’s gaze holds me captive, and I can’t help it when my cheeks heat up under the weight of his attention. It’s as if I’m a work of art, and he’s a devoted enthusiast, lost in the beauty of what he sees before him. In this moment, I feel truly seen and cherished, and it fills me with a warmth that goes beyond worlds - a feeling that I am the most precious masterpiece in his world. It has me sitting up and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed for him to slot himself between them like he belongs there, his finger hooking under my chin to make me look up at him and I think I forget how to breathe. 

“I want to tell Mom.” It slips from me before I’ve processed it and instead of going into what Pez calls his cocoon phase his soft smile brightens and the corners of his eyes crinkle with joy, “I want to hold you and kiss you whenever I like. For as long as you need, the walls of the Whitehouse will hold our secret but Henry…” I reach for his hands, “I love you.” 

The moment those three words leave my lips, myriad of emotions play across Henry’s features like a fleeting storm. First, there’s joy, a radiant burst of happiness that lights up his eyes. Them fear flickers by briefly, a shadow of worry for what his grandma will say about him choosing love over his royal duties. Pain follow, a reminder of the sacrifices we’ll have to make to keep our love hidden until he’s ready to tell the world but I would wait forever for him. But as quickly as the pain appears, it’s replaced by something stronger - bliss. It’s a deep, overwhelming happiness, a promise of the love we share and the future we’ve chosen together. 

Without a word, Henry leans down, his lips brushing softly against mine. It’s a kiss filled with tenderness and reassurance, a silent affirmation of his love for me, and as we kiss, the worries and pressures of the outside world seem to fade into the background. 

However, our peaceful moment is interrupted by the buzzing of my phone on the nightstand. I pull away reluctantly, breaking the kiss with a soft sigh, already knowing it’s Alex as Henry moves to my wardrobe and begins to rifle through it. As predicted Alex leaves me a voice note telling me to hurry up or he’s drowning me in the pool next time we go swimming. Very mature. 

I watch Henry reach into my wardrobe, his fingers gliding over the familiar clothes that have become a part of both of our lives. He has an air of confidence and ease as he selects a few items for me to wear. 

First, he pulls out a pair of boxers from the drawers before grabbing some skinny jeans of mine that he’s complimented my ass in before. With a self-satisfied nod he’s heading back to the bed where I’m sat and handing them to me before pulling the polo shirt he’s wearing over his head. It’s his very famous riding shirt: the red and white checkered one with ‘Kensington Polo’ written across is and I don’t think twice about taking it. 

While I dress he goes back to my wardrobe and finds my favourite tee shirt, pulling it over his head and I can’t stop the giddy feeling when I see him raise the sleeve to his nose and inhale. The look of love and peace on his face as his eyes flutters shut has my heart clenching and my cheeks heating up. It’s moments like these that remind me of the depth of his feelings, of the way he cherishes even the smallest part of me like my clothes. 

I finish dressing quickly, my heart still dancing with the warmth of Henry’s presence. He suggests we head down to breakfast, and I just nod in agreement. My phone begins to buzz again, but this time, I can hardly focus on it as Henry is holding his hand out for me to hold, fingers extended in a silent invitation. Without hesitation, I reach out, our fingers interlacing effortlessly. My heart skips a beat at the simple yet profound gesture. 

We arrive at the dining room where my family is already gathered. My mom, the President, sits at the head of the table, her usual air of authority softened by the presence of the loved ones. Dad, Alex, June and Nora are all chatting and laughing as they wait for me. For us. 

I can’t help but swallow hard, my heart racing as I prepare to face the inevitable questions and scrutiny. But, as I glance at Henry, his grip on my hand remains steady, his expression almost more anxious than I feel. It’s a silent reminder that we’re in this together, facing whatever challenges that come our way one at a time. But together. 

Mom looks up from her place at the head of the table, and her eyes widen in surprise as she spits Henry beside me. Her Texan accent warms her voice as she greets us, her eyes falling to our interlocked hands, “I was wondering who the extra place was for.” She says, tone warm and loving. Her eyes hold a hint of curiosity but also deep affection and nothing short of love and support. 

I can’t help but exhale a sigh of relief as I witness her reaction. It’s as if a weight has been lifted, and I feel a newfound sense of ease in her presence. 

Dad’s the next to notice, ever the embodiment of warmth and hospitality, rises from his seat and starts to extend his hand to Henry. But, as he seems my hand in Henry’s, his face breaks into a warm and loving smile before he’s pulling Henry into a heartfelt hug that has Henry letting out a surprised sound. 

“Welcome to the family, son.” Dad says, voice filled with genuine warmth and acceptance. It’s a moment that fills me with overwhelming gratitude and Henry’s stormy blue eyes shine with tears as we sit in our seats between Dad and Alex. 

Nora, always perceptive and sharp, giggles excitedly from her seat opposite me when I place my hand on Henry’s leg and squeeze reassuringly. She turns to Alex and June, her eyes dancing with mirth, “I told you so!” She just about cackles, voice triumphant, “Pay up, pay up. I knew they’d end up together.” 

“Shut up.” Alex throws a note across the table, barely missing the jam and Mom just rolls her eyes as Nora snatches it up and holds it to the light to check if it’s real. 

Henry’s leaning close to me, lips practically brushing my ear and he murmurs, “I love you too.” My heart swells with affections and I can’t resist the urge any longer. I turn to towards him, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. It’s sweet and tender, a silent reaffirmation of our love admits the laughter and teasing. 

Alex, always the jokester, pretends to gag dramatically, earning an exaggerated fake vomiting motion from him. Mom playfully scolds him, smacking him gently with the newspaper while I kick him under the table, dragging a sharp cry of pain and a playful glare from him. 

But, in this moment, surrounded by my loving family, Henry’s presence beside me, and the shared laughter at the breakfast table, I know deep down that everything is going to be okay for us. We’ll take baby steps and I don’t care how long I have to wait for Henry to be ready. I’d kill for him. I want him to be written into the my history when historians write about me. I want them to know that this man, currently laughing at a joke Dad is telling is the love of my life and will always be. 

                           ┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

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