#high neck one piece swimsuit

[onlyhuis]

daddy's day off (night vers.)

member — dad!cheol x f reader genre — smut, fluff, parents!au (dad!cheol / mom!reader; husband!cheol / wife!reader) word count — 2.7k synopsis — you and your husband take your newborn daughter on her first vacation. during the day, the pool is hers; at night, it's time for the adults to have a little fun, too. content warnings — female reader, they have a daughter, mentions of gross hotel pool water agsdjfsh smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, reader wears a bikini, breeding, praise, shower sex, unprotected sex and reader is not on birth control!, creampie, talk of kids & pregnancy (duh), nicknames (pretty girl, good girl, my wife, sexy, beautiful, etc you get the idea). please lmk if i missed any! notes — i wrote this bc dilf!svt plagues my mind at all times and i need all of you to suffer with me. @duhnova especially

“cheollie, we can’t!”

he shushes you, covering his mouth with his hand to muffle his giggles. “be quiet, you’ll wake her!”

you cross your arms, scowling at him but lowering your voice. “what if she wakes up while we’re gone?”

“we’ll be so fast, she won’t even have time to think about it. we’ll be right back. ten minutes, tops.” he wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you closer. “c’mon, baby, please?”

he tilts his head and bats his eyelashes at you, the pout on his face wordlessly pleading with you to take his side. 

and of course, you sigh, relenting. “fine. but fast.”

he grins and kisses you on the cheek, jogging into the bathroom to grab towels as you roll your eyes. you glance over at your daughter one more time, sleeping peacefully in the crib you borrowed from the hotel, before walking to your suitcase to unpack your swimsuit. 

the one you’d worn earlier in the day when you’d taken your daughter out to see the pool is still hanging to dry on the sink, a simple one piece with a sun shirt over the top. but tonight, late in the evening where the sun won’t be out and not many people will be around, you’re free to wear your favorite bikini instead. it’s cheol’s favorite bikini, too, and he never fails to make it known how attractive he thinks you look in it.

you pull off your shirt, tying the strings quickly around your neck before slipping the bottoms on too. you hear a low whistle behind you, and you turn to see your husband, dressed in nothing but swim trunks, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

you pretend to glare at him, throwing an old t-shirt on over your swimsuit. "are you just gonna stand there and admire the view or are we gonna go before she wakes up?"

he chuckles, grabbing his shirt from the bed and crossing the room. he slips a hand around your waist and pulls you in, glancing at your eyes before he presses his lips to yours. "always gonna admire how beautiful and sexy my wife is," he says with a grin once he pulls away, and you feel your cheeks begin to heat up.

"cheol…" you whine his name softly, and he groans, holding you tighter.

"don't say my name like that, or we won't even make it downstairs, baby," he says, the familiar look of lust beginning to cloud his eyes.

you humph, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards the door. "wait til we get home and we can get a babysitter, seungcheol. now hurry!"

he grabs the room key and his phone, along with the baby monitor you insist on taking with you just in case, though the pool is only just down the stairs.

you ease the door to your room shut with a gentle click, waiting for a minute to listen for any noise on the other side. once enough time has passed that you're certain your daughter hadn't been startled by the noise, you breathe out a sigh of relief. but you barely have time to relax, because cheol is pulling you down the stairs, giggling like high schoolers sneaking out to go on a date.

his laughter is contagious, and by the time you reach the gate of the pool your cheeks hurt from smiling and you can barely punch in the entrance code from how out of breath you are.

you drop your stuff on one of the lounge chairs by the edge of the pool, carefully setting everything on top of your towel.

"hey, babe," cheol calls out, and you turn around just in time to see your husband cannonball into the pool. you shriek as water splashes all over the deck, just barely missing you. 

seconds later his face pops up out of the water and he shakes his head, pushing his soaking hair out of his eyes.

"you coming?" he laughs, and you tug your shirt off over your head and toss it to the side before jumping in after him.

you resurface next to him, wiping the water out of your face. the water's not too deep, where you can rest your feet on the bottom without standing up fully.

eventually the ripples from your movement die down, the water gently waving around you and seungcheol. he has his arms out of the pool, resting his elbows on the edge of the concrete. you can see the dark lines of his tattoo peeking out across the back of his neck and you smile, taking in his figure. the broad shoulders your daughter sits on when he carries her around, the defined muscles you've run your hands along many times and the wet, slicked back hair you like to tangle your fingers in when you're in bed together. every part of him so perfect, and all yours.

"admiring the view?" he asks with a grin, parroting your words from earlier.

"as a matter of fact, i am," you say, giggling as you flick a little bit of water at him and watch the droplets roll down his arm. "i'm glad we did this."

"the pool, or the vacation?"

"the vacation. all of it." you sigh, kicking your feet as you lean back against the wall, the water coming up to just below your chin. "i was afraid we wouldn't get to do this as often, now that we have her to take care of. but i'm glad everything worked out."

he reaches out, grabbing your hand and lacing his fingers with yours under the water. "love you so much, baby. any time i get to spend with you and our daughter is my favorite thing in the whole world."

you squeeze his hand, smiling at him. "love you too, cheollie."

he leans over to kiss you again, but you pull away, sputtering. "cheol, gross! you have chlorine all in your mouth!"

"not like you haven't had worse things in your mouth," he says with a mischievous grin, and you splash more water in his face. "hey, i'm not wrong, aren't i!"

you pout, crossing your arms with a huff. “rather have your cock in my mouth ten times over than nasty hotel pool water.”

he grins. “ten times is a lot. we should probably get started on that.”

you whine. “cheol, we can’t!”

he pouts back at you, mirroring your expression. “who says we can’t?”

“our daughter sleeping in the same room as us, maybe?”

“oh, c’mon, she’s a year old, she’s not gonna know what’s happening. we’ll put a blanket on top of the crib or something so she can’t see. it’s not like we won’t hear her if she wakes up.”

you huff. “fine, i’ll think about it. but you have to shower first, i’m not fucking you while you smell like chlorine.”

his smile widens. “y’know, that’s a great idea, actually. the shower would be cleaner…”

“ugh, cheol, you’re so horny all the time!”

“how can i not be, when my wife is so hot?”

you splash water at him and try to swim away, but you don’t get very far before his strong hands are gripping your waist and pulling you back towards him. you laugh, struggling and kicking as he holds onto you tightly before throwing you into the water with a huge splash.

when you resurface, coughing the water out of your lungs, cheol looks a little worried at how you glare at him, thinking you’re really angry with him. but then you turn around and hit him in the face with another blast of water, using your faux-upset look to surprise him and get him back.

“oh, you shouldn’t have done that!” he says with a grin, and you shriek as he starts swimming after you.

after you’ve thoroughly exhausted yourselves in the pool, playing and swimming and splashing each other until your arms and legs are sore, you sit on one of the lounge chairs, quickly drying off. luckily your daughter hasn’t woken up yet, so if you hurry you might really have some extra time to “shower”.

seungcheol stands next to you, his towel hanging around his bare shoulders, water pooling at his feet. you have to admit, he does look hot, and you suddenly remember the reason you even have a daughter in the first place when he shakes his wet hair; droplets roll down his shoulders in a way that really shouldn’t be that sexy, but somehow it is.

your bikini suddenly feels too tight and too wet on your body, and you know it’s not just from the water. you stand up and grab his neck, pulling him closer to smash your lips against his.

“somebody’s eager,” he giggles when you pull away. “thought you didn’t want to kiss me when i was all dirty from the pool.”

you pout at him playfully, wrapping your towel around your waist as you grab his hand and pull him towards the gate. “be quiet and hurry up so we can go shower.”

you make your way back up to your room, relieved to find your daughter still sleeping peacefully as you throw your wet towels over the sink to dry. seungcheol’s already got the shower started, stripping out of his shorts and stepping in while he waits for you to catch up.

once you’re inside with him, he wraps his arms around you, the warm, clean water cascading from the shower above your heads. “hi,” he says, a soft smile on his face.

you grin back at him. “hi, cheollie.”

“you enjoying your vacation so far?”

you giggle, staring into his eyes as you watch droplets of water collect on his eyelashes. “it’s alright.”

he sticks out his bottom lip in a pout. “just alright?”

“mm. i‘m sure you could think of a way to make it better, though.” you run your fingers through his wet hair, messing it around a little before dropping your hands down to squeeze his ass.

he laughs, though it’s a gesture he’s more than gotten used to over the years. “oh, really?”

“mhm,” you hum. “i seem to remember you mentioning something in the pool earlier…”

with the way you’re pressed against his chest, you can already feel his cock growing harder, poking against your hip as you stand together under the water. “and what was that?” he asks, his eyes darkening.

you purse your lips and look at the ceiling, pretending to think hard about it. “y’know, i think it was— something like this…” 

you lean in, finally closing the distance to kiss him, and he reciprocates, eagerly chasing your lips. you push your hips up against him, putting pressure on his cock and he moans into your mouth, kisses growing rougher as his grip on you grows tighter. you groan as he pulls you closer, barely an inch of space between your bodies, and you can’t tell anymore where you end and he begins.

“want me to take care of you, pretty girl?” his voice rumbles as he pulls away from you before diving back in, attaching his mouth to your neck and sucking hard. you can already feel bruises forming on your skin, and it makes your cunt clench. “want me to fuck you like the good girl you are? like you deserve?”

you barely have time to whine out a “yes” before his hands are sliding down your body, lifting up one of your legs by the thigh and wrapping it around his hip. the head of his hard cock brushes against your clit at this new angle, and you gasp out his name as he slides his cock through your folds. “cheol, please–”

he carefully dips just the tip into your dripping hole, still teasing you with his words. “please, what, baby? want me to put another baby in you?”

“fuck— yes, cheol! please, want you to fill me up again, please, feels so good—”

he finally begins pushing into you, and you let out a broken moan as you feel him so deep inside you.

“better not be too loud, darling,” he scolds as his thrusts start to become rougher. “don’t wanna wake up our daughter.”

you whimper, holding onto his shoulders for balance. your legs ache from the position but you don’t want to stop, want him to keep fucking you until he cums inside you. 

you’d stopped taking birth control when you started trying for your first child, and you haven’t started it again since; it isn’t a very safe practice, but you wouldn’t be opposed to getting pregnant again, especially not when you’re so addicted to the feeling of him cumming inside you, the warm liquid making your heart race.

cheol’s hands slide to your waist, turning your hips just slightly so he can fuck up into you at a new angle, one that leaves you gasping for breath as the head of his cock kisses your walls just right.

you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the sensation of the water hitting your back and his cock jackhammering into you. even before you had your first child you could barely keep up with his stamina, and it seems he hasn’t lost an ounce of that energy he had when you first met him.

with just a few more strokes you’re falling apart around him, knees going weak but his strong arms wrapped around you force you to stay standing as you go limp in his hold, whimpering and struggling and pleading with him to keep going, go harder, more, please, please, please.

he fucks you through your orgasm with ease, the beautiful sound of his soft grunts ringing in your ears.

you continue to clench around him until you feel his cock jerk violently, releasing into your pussy with a guttural moan. coming down from your own high, you have half a mind to mock his words from earlier about being too loud; but every thought in your head flies out the window when he starts whispering in your ear about how well you’re taking him, milking every drop of his cum and letting him fill you up, letting him breed you, his beautiful wife.

thick globs of white drip down your leg onto the tile floor, and you whine against his lips, feeling his cum ooze out of your sore cunt. he keeps his cock nestled inside you, plugging you up as you clench around him in an effort to keep his cum from spilling out.

you lay your forehead on his shoulder, taking a second to catch your breath and briefly you wonder how many people have fucked in this exact shower before. but the thought doesn’t stay for long, because your attention is soon pulled away by cheol, who’s spiked his hair up with the shampoo and it’s dripping all over your ears.

he lets his softening cock gently slip out of you, and the rest of your shower goes (somewhat) normally, once you start washing each other like the shower is supposed to be used for.

you only have to stop him once, when he starts to get on his knees on the nasty hotel shower floor because he wants to eat you out and you have to scold him about how disgusting that would be; he doesn’t seem to care about that, though, and only relents after you promise you’ll let him eat you out on the bed instead.

“you better not actually get me pregnant again so soon,” you scowl at him when you’ve both rinsed off enough, and you smack his arm when he starts giggling.

“but you look so cute,” he says with a mischievous grin. “you don’t like being stuffed all full of my cum? see how many more beautiful babies we can make together?”

you don’t reply, but your silence is enough of an answer. he hums, reaching around you to turn off the water. “how about we dry off and continue this conversation in bed, sweetheart?”

> i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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[strawhbrrries]

Cowgirl

pairing: dbf!southern!frank castle x afab!reader

summary: a trip to the store with your dad’s best friend ends in a lack of a swimsuit and the feeling of his beard scratching you forever engraved in your mind.

warnings: age gap (reader is 22, frank is 52), use of pet names, dirty dirty thoughts!!!, mention of a divorced dad?, fingering, no real sex, bearded frank <3, no mentions of y/n, no descriptions of reader, not proofread

word count: 2711 words

author’s note: the line “ride cowgirl” in pyramid by frank ocean inspired this whole fic, which i kinda wanna make into multiple fics?? a story if you will?? anyway, i think this is a huge step up from my last writing piece so please enjoy :)

read the sequel ride, cowgirl !

“I'm telling you to loosen up my buttons, babe.” You sang along to the song blaring from your dad’s speaker, you hijacked it when he went inside to get more beer for him and his friends, swinging your hips and slowly spinning in a circle. Your music was way better than his divorced dad rock music, which you secretly enjoyed, and if you were going to enjoy the get together he was throwing you were absolutely going to play your own music. 

“But you keep fronting.” Tiffany, your long time best friend, sang back into the imaginary microphone in her hand as she pranced around you in a circle. The two of you putting on a performance to the imaginary crowd in your backyard, or so you thought. Twenty feet away, sitting in perfect position across the fire to watch you swing your hips around, was your dad’s best friend Frank.

Frank was only half listening to the conversation between the men around him, he was more focused on the way you danced and how it was making him rethink every decision he ever made and was about to make, his knuckles going white from the grip he had on the bottle in his hand. Sure, he’d always known you were a gorgeous girl but something about tonight was different. The fire barely illuminating your skin softly had him wanting to slide behind you as your hips moved in time with the song, his lips dragging across the skin of your neck before moving to your ear where he whispered promises of what he’d do to you later. He took a sip of the lukewarm beer, watching you for a second more before turning back to whatever bullshit conversation that was going on. It paled in comparison to you. Currently, everything did. 

The summers in Texas were your favorite, the air was never too humid and warmed you up when the wind came through at night, the lightning bugs never failed to show up every night and lit up the trees if you paid enough attention. Truthfully you were biased, but the thing that made them truly the best was having no true responsibilities again and you would always enjoy that, especially when your beloved dad bought your alcohol for three months. One of your favorite perks was the swimming pool, you were either swimming with a few of your friends or tanning on the side but you were almost always found by it. The swimsuits you typically donned weren’t the slightest bit modest, and now wasn’t any different. You were barely covered in a green bikini, the top consisting of two triangles and a string, and the bottoms high cut and covered with a mesh skirt. 

“Castle, how’s work been man? Ain’t heard much bout it ‘n normally ya don’t shut up bout it.” Goddamnit is all Frank thought as your dad dragged him back into the conversation, ruining the imagery in his head. If looks could kill, the one he shot your dad would’ve murdered him beyond recognition. “‘s alright, busy. Always picks up in the summertime. Ready to have some more downtime, spend it with family.” More like with your daughter. 

“I hear ya. Promise ol’ girl over there we’d do some family shit this summer, if business keeps the way it is I ain’t too sure how well I can keep that promise.” Your dad responded, pointing you out to the guys as if Frank hadn’t been oogling you all night. You and Tiff had stopped dancing to the music and instead opted to sitting with your legs in the pool, gossiping about town drama and Tiff’s newest boy of the week. 

“Understandable, if ya’ll need anything just holler at me.” Frank responded, ready for the conversation to be done, ready to continue watching you like a creep from afar. He’d be a creep if it meant staring at you all night, he’d be a creep if it meant a chance to feel your hair wrapped around his hand while he-

“Dad, Tiff and I are going to get snacks from the gas station!” You called out happily, ripping Frank out of his delusion with the angelic smile of yours, walking over to the group of men surrounding the fire. 

“C’mere, I’ll give you my card so you can get some more drinks.” You happily grabbed the card from your dad, bending over to give him a small hug. Frank was no better than the next man, he scratched at his scruff as he admired the way the green of your bikini complimented the tan skin threatening to spill from the lack of support. 

“Frank, can you drive us? It’s dark and neither of us wanna drive.” It was like the perfect opportunity fell right into his lap and he’d be damned if he wasn’t taking it. The smile you were flashing him made him want to get down on his knees and beg, a god he wasn’t sure existed for, forgiveness for what he was about to do. 

“Course darlin’, let me get my wallet.” He looked at your dad who seemed to have no qualms about the situation before getting out of the chair, placing his mostly empty bottle of now warm beer on the ground and following you into the house. 

“I’m gonna go put a shirt on, give me a second.” Up until tonight, much like Frank with you, you hadn’t noticed how attractive he was. Older men had always excited you but this was different. Frank was big, strong, rough around the edges but had that southern hospitality you loved. You couldn’t help but think about how his scruff would feel rubbing against your skin, would it leave redness in its wake? would it help spur your orgasm as he fucked you with his fingers? 

You picked up some oversized t shirt that probably once belonged to your dad and put it on, shaking your head as if it would get rid of the thoughts. 

“Hey, I’m gonna head out. Horrible timing I know! But y’know, boy of the week is calling.” Tiff spoke, her expression clearly apologetic, giving you a hug and promising to make plans for later this week before grabbing her things and leaving.

“So for taking so long, got caught up in my thoughts.” Of you. You smiled softly, suddenly aware of how the sun had brought out freckles you didn’t know he had and how muscular he truly was.

“‘S alright, lets get goin’ ‘for your dad starts wonderin’.” He matched your smile, placing his hand on the small of your back as the two of you walked out of the house and to his truck. You were painfully aware of how big his hands felt, triggering your mind to think about his fingers. You rubbed your thighs together to relieve some of the tension aching at your core, it felt so taboo to lust after a man your dad’s age. Not just his age! His own best friend! 

The trip to the gas station was uneventful, unfortunately, the two of you exchanged conversation like the tension wasn’t thick enough to cut. Like Frank’s jeans were getting uncomfortably tight and your bikini bottoms uncomfortably wet. Like neither of you wanted to jump the bones of the other person.

“Hey, Frank?” You asked softly, trying to gain the courage to ask the question you wanted the answer to.

“Darlin’?” He put the car in park, looking over at you expecting you to call him every disgusting name under the sun for his thoughts about you tonight.

“Do you, uhm…”

“I’m not a mind reader, baby.” At first you thought you imagined the word, that he didn’t actually say it but it was your imagination fueling the growing fire you had for Frank Castle. But he did say it, and he did it on purpose. Testing the waters, seeing how far he could go without making you uncomfortable. 

“Have you ever been with someone younger?” Not the fucking question, idiot. You scolded yourself, you didn’t want to know the answer to this. What if his answer was yes and you were imagining his interest in you, that you weren’t special. 

“No, I uh haven’t. Not yet, anyway.” There he went again, saying things that made you think you were imagining it. Maybe you’d wake up any minute and none of it was real. He could see the wheels turning in your head, you were a smart girl and he knew that. 

You, timidly, leaned over the console of his truck and experimentally ran your fingers through his scruff. You’d never been with a man, much less a man with a beard, you’d only been with what your father classified as boys. Frank leaned into your touch, placing his hand on top of yours and dragging it to his lips. Placing kisses on your palm, keeping eye contact with you. You were having trouble breathing, he was going to kill you. The beautiful hunk of a man was going to be the cause of your death, you’d make sure Tiff had it written on your tombstone. “Death by Frank Castle.”

Frank let your hand drop into your lap, threading his own hand through your hair to grab the back of your head and pull you closer to him. He leaned forward to meet you halfway, eyes scanning your face just taking in your beauty. His lips were made to fit yours, you were convinced, moving in motion with yours. His beard scratching your skin deliciously, his fingers wrapping themselves in your hair, his scent. He was everywhere, he consumed you. 

“Need you, Frank please.” You breathed, pleading with him. “Need you so bad, need to feel you, your fingers.” You carried on, your voice sounding like you were on the verge of tears. 

“Baby, not here.” He spoke softly, committing the way you sounded to memory for him to reference later when he was alone, “I’ll get you off though. Make you cum, all over my seat.” 

His words eliciting a whimper, you’d take anything he was willing to give you. It didn’t matter that anyone could see into his truck at any moment, made the situation so much more intense. He tapped your thigh, signaling he wanted you to open your legs. 

Frank let his fingers dance over the exposed skin your lack of pants left, dragging them up your thighs slowly. Painfully slow. He left open mouth kisses down your neck, occasionally biting and soothing the bite with his tongue. What felt like a decade later his middle finger traced your clothed folds, chuckling into your neck at how wet you were. You bucked your hips at the stimulation, earning another chuckle from the man in the driver’s seat, you were dying to receive some more stimulation from him. At this point, you’d sell a kidney and probably your soul to just have a singular finger inside you. You’d probably sell his soul too.

He dipped a finger underneath your swimsuit, groaning at how wet you truly were and that he was the cause of it all. His dreams were, partially, coming true and he needed to thank the heavens and the stars. Your moans and whimpers were music to Frank’s ears and he’d do anything and everything to keep them coming, to keep those angelic noises from leaving your pretty mouth. The truck was silent except for your noises and the squelch of Frank playing with your pussy.

“‘S wet, pretty girl. All for me? Did I do this to you, baby?” He taunted you, sliding his finger through your folds and swirling your clit as he waited for an answer.

“All for you, promise.” You whined, leaning your head against him, sweat beading on your skin as the car started to heat up from the summer air and the actions being performed. 

Your pleas were answered when he finally plunged a finger inside of you, pulling it all the way out and admiring how it glistened in the light provided by the street light in the corner of a parking lot. He did this a few times, thrusting his finger in and pulling it all the way back out before plunging it back inside of you. His lips found your neck again, moving your head back to the original position it was in, kissing every spot of open skin he could reach. As if he read your mind, he inserted another finger alongside the one already inside. The stretch burned in a way that made you feel alive, made you feel on top of the world. All because Frank’s fingers were inside you. God, his fingers were big. So big it made you think about how right your dad had been to call everyone else a boy and not a man. So big all you could do was think about how big his cock must be, if his jeans were any indication you were in for a real treat. Not here though, stupid stupid gas station stupid truck. Your thoughts soon turned to mush.

His fingers curled right against the spongy spot inside of you, hitting it over and over again, he readjusted his hand to put his thumb on your clit.

“C’mon pretty girl, let go for me.” He spoke low, trailing kisses back up your neck and nipping at your earlobe. 

You could feel the warmth growing in your stomach, the knots forming into bigger knots and then even bigger knots. Could feel the heat spreading throughout your body, your orgasm so close you could taste it. It was right there, his fingers hitting all the right spots and his thumb working wonders on your clit, his scruff scratching your skin and his mouth kissing everywhere. He was suffocating you in all the best ways possible. All you could see, hear, smell and taste was Frank fucking Castle.

Stars. Your vision turned to stars as your orgasm washed over you, your body shaking in the passenger seat as he fucked you with his fingers. Those damn fingers. You couldn’t see anything but stars, for all you knew you had gone to heaven and it was thanks to the magical orgasm given to you at the hands of your new god. 

When you came down from your high, Frank was whispering how well you had done and how pretty you were. He was caressing your thigh and placing kisses to your head. 

“Did so good, gonna get me addicted.” He reached behind your seat and handed you a water bottle, opening it and holding the lid so you could drink it.

“Thank you.” You smiled up at him, that killer smile that got him here in the first place. He truly was going to get addicted to you and he had no complaints about it, could die a happy man tonight if fingering you in his passenger seat is all he gets to do to you. His phone ringing in his pocket brought him back to the situation at hand.

Shit. Both of you thought, remembering what you were supposed to be doing and how it was now an entire forty-five minutes later.

“Hey, ah yeah we’re good. Small fender bender, yeah….to make it all worse the gas station was closed when we got here.” Frank spoke to your dad on the phone, coming up with a lie like his life depended on it and he hadn’t just fingered you to the edge of your life. “Should be back soon, don’t worry man. I’m keepin’ her safe, precious cargo.”

You chuckled softly at his sentence, relaxing completely in the seat and taking a few sips of water, thinking about the future of your relationship with him. Or whatever it was, you made out and he had his fingers inside you but that didn’t mean shit. What if he regretted it and now didn’t want anything to do with you, what if he was too worried about his friendship with your dad?

“Quit thinkin’ too much. We’ll figure out whatever this is, all I know for sure is I need to see you again. And you to ride me, like a fuckin’ cowgirl. Ya hear?”

#maddies fics #dbf frank castle #frank castle #frank castle smut #frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #jon bernthal #dads best friend #dbf!frank castle #dads best friend frank castle #jon bernthal smut #the punisher #punisher smut #fic: cowgirl <3

[simpliciaty-cc]

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[vintageshanny]

Don’t Go Changing

I wrote this for an anonymous request that Big Daddy Elvis walk in on reader while she’s changing and smut and fluff ensue. 18+ I hope you enjoy! 😘

I envisioned this taking place in 1976-77, but there’s no real date references, so you can imagine it however you wish! ❤️

You drummed your fingers anxiously against the inside of the door frame as the car pulled up the driveway and around to the carport. George glanced over at you with a little smile. “Nervous?”

“What? No,” you scoffed. “I get set up on dates with superstars all the time.” George had been friends with your older brother and sister for years, and apparently had decided that you’d be perfect for his other long-time friend, Elvis Presley. You knew plenty of girls would still jump at the chance to meet him, but you had hemmed and hawed over the decision. Sure, he’d always been easy on the eyes when your sister had dragged you along to some of his movies, and you enjoyed his music, but the posters on your wall growing up had been of David Ruffin and Stevie Wonder. Although you were a little embarrassed to admit it, your latest celebrity crush was Jackie Jackson, who was honestly much more age appropriate for you than Elvis. But George had pleaded with you to just meet Elvis and see how it went.

“I really think you’ll hit it off,” George was saying as he jumped out of the car and came around to open your door. “Just be yourself. Elvis is usually very warm and friendly, nothing to be scared about.” You just nodded wordlessly as you stepped out of the car and smoothed down your pale pink eyelet sundress.

George led the way through the back door into what appeared to be a very gaudy den area where a handful of people were sitting around, talking and laughing. Every surface seemed to be covered with green carpeting, and the furniture was all elaborately carved. Your heart skipped a beat when you spotted Elvis sitting in a high-backed chair. As you locked eyes with him, you could feel a magnetic attraction that seemed to pull all of the reservations right out of you. He rose from his chair and strode over to you. His face was definitely fuller than what you remembered from the movies, but the trademark crooked grin that spread across it as he approached you sent a flutter through your body that caught you completely off guard. Elvis beamed as George introduced the two of you.

“Nice ta meet ya honey,” he drawled as he pulled you into a big hug, the swell of his belly pressing into you. The affection was making you weak in the knees. Elvis smiled as he pulled back and noticed the flush spreading over your cheeks. “Ya okay, doll?” he teased. “Ya ain’t scared of me, are ya?”

“No, no, um, it’s just, uh, kind of warm in here,” you whispered, knowing full well that everyone in the room could see that your face was on fire.

Elvis just chuckled and nodded. “It is a little warm in here. But now that you’re here, we can go swimmin’. Ya brought a bathing suit, right?” You nodded and motioned to the tote bag that you were clutching. George had warned you to bring a swimsuit and change of clothes because you never knew what Elvis might suddenly be in the mood for. Elvis grabbed your free hand and pulled you down a little hallway toward the bathroom. “You can change in here, honey, then jus’ go outside that way toward the pool,” he pointed. “I’ll be waitin’ for ya out there.”

You pulled on your swimsuit and examined yourself in the bathroom mirror, certain you had worn the wrong thing. Your royal blue one-piece had a halter neck that showed off your cleavage a little bit, but the bottom had a skirt that covered your thighs. You figured that Elvis was used to being around actresses and models, and you felt insecure showing too much of yourself. Now you worried that you looked too frumpy though. Just be yourself, you repeated George’s advice in your head. If he likes you, great. If not, his loss. With one last glance in the mirror, you turned and headed for the pool.

The others were already splashing around and playing a game of keep-away with a beach ball, but Elvis was relaxing on a lounge chair, his head tilted toward the sun, still wearing the powder blue tracksuit he’d had on when you arrived. You approached his chair and cleared your throat. “Are you, um, not going in the water?” you asked, clinging shyly to the pale pink beach towel you had brought.

“I was jus’ waitin’ for you, honey,” Elvis smiled, turning your insides right back to jelly. “Y’know,” he continued as he stood to remove his tracksuit, revealing a navy blue T-shirt and swim trunks underneath, “I do have towels here sweetheart. I wouldn’t have made ya stand out in the sun ta dry off.”

“I didn’t think you would,” you laughed, trying not to let your gaze linger too long on his sturdy thighs, “but George said to come prepared, so I didn’t want to take any chances.”

“And did ya?” Elvis asked with a little smirk.

“Did I what?” you responded, confused.

“Come prepared,” Elvis smiled, his blue eyes twinkling behind his tinted glasses.

“Oh,” you giggled nervously. “I don’t think so, actually. I wasn’t really prepared to like you so much.” The awkward words tumbled out before you could stop them. Elvis tilted his head back and let out a big laugh as you blushed profusely. “I mean,” you continued on, “it’s not like I’m some groupie and you’re, y’know, a bit older than me and, I mean, oh my gosh, I’m sorry, that was so rude, I didn’t mean, it’s just that you’re so nice and funny and cute and I wasn’t expecting…” your voice trailed off as Elvis’ laughter grew louder.

“Wow, ya really had high hopes for me, huh?” he teased, trying to recover from his amusement.

At that, you started giggling a bit too. “I’m sorry, I guess I just kept digging myself in deeper and deeper.”

“That’s okay, honey, it’s nice ta know I can still take people by surprise,” he joked with a wink. “Now let’s cool off. I can’t tell if that’s a blush or a sunburn covering you.” Elvis grabbed your hand and led you down into the water. As you passed through the game everyone was playing, Elvis suddenly dove for the ball. He came up sputtering and laughing, tossing the ball to you to keep the game going. As one of the other guys, whose name you couldn’t recall from George’s introductions earlier, lunged toward you to get it back, Elvis quickly grabbed it and tossed it to the other end of the pool. “Y’all stay down there with that,” he snapped as he shot the guy a glare for daring to get close to you, seemingly forgetting his own role in joining the game. He pulled you over to the side of the pool and smiled again. “Tell me more about yourself, honey.”

As you chatted with Elvis about your recent graduation from UT Memphis and what you were thinking of doing next, you couldn’t help but notice how his T-shirt, now soaking wet, clung to him like a second skin. You could see very clearly the bumps of his nipples and the raised pattern where a trail of hair led down from his chest to his stomach and beyond. It was like a very sexy topographical map. It was taking everything in you not to reach out and touch him.

“Honey, wh-wh-what do ya keep lookin’ down at?” Elvis asked with a frown. “Do I got somethin’ on myself?”

“No, I’m sorry, it’s nothing like that,” you blushed, caught red-handed checking him out.

“W-w-well what is it? T-t-tell me what you’re thinkin’ ‘bout.” Elvis sounded almost nervous, and for the first time you realized he might have insecurities too. You’d been so focused on your own nerves that you hadn’t even questioned why he would wear a shirt in the pool in the first place.

You leaned in closer, your breasts brushing up against his chest as you whispered nervously, “It’s just that I think you’re so sexy. It’s hard for me to stop looking at your body.” You pulled back in time to see Elvis’ eyes widen and his face turn a brilliant shade of red.

“I feel the same way about you, honey,” he murmured as he leaned in and softly pressed his lips against yours, apparently unconcerned about anyone else witnessing this display of affection. A little shiver ran through your body, and you could feel your nipples harden against his soft chest. Elvis pulled back, a blissful smile spread across his face. “Ya cold, baby? Ya wanna go inside with me?” You nodded, feeling a compulsive urge to follow him absolutely anywhere. “We’re gonna go in and have a little tour,” Elvis announced to his friends as the two of you got out and dried off. “Y’all can stay out here.” You slipped your hand into Elvis’ as you headed back inside. “Where ya goin’, baby?” Elvis asked as you walked back toward the bathroom.

“I was just going to change back into my clothes,” you responded, a little confused.

“Bring ‘em upstairs, honey, you can change in my bathroom. It’s a lot more spacious, and then we can keep gettin’ ta know each other.” You grabbed your bag of clothes and followed him, wondering just how well you’d get to know each other. As soon as you entered the dark, cool bedroom, you could feel the nerves set in. As if completely attuned to your emotions, Elvis squeezed your hand reassuringly. “Honey, we ain’t gonna do anything you don’t wanna do. I-I-I really like ya and jus’ wanna keep talkin’, okay?” You smiled and nodded. “Look, you can go right in the bathroom and change. I’ll be out here.”

“Thanks, Elvis. I really like you too,” you whispered, feeling suddenly very shy again now that the two of you were alone together. You slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind you. As you reached back to untie the halter neck of your suit, you realized that in your nervous state while putting it on, you had knotted it way too tightly. The water had tightened the knot even more, and now it was completely stuck. “Shoot,” you muttered as you kept picking at the knot. There was a soft rap at the door.

“Honey, ya okay?” Elvis called out.

“Yes, I’m almost done!” you lied, starting to feel panicked. You were too embarrassed to ask him for help getting undressed. Out of sheer determination, you finally loosened the knot and untied it. Right as you rolled your still-damp swimsuit all the way down your body and stepped out of it, there was another soft knock. Before you could answer, Elvis opened the door gingerly.

“Honey, are you sure you’re okay?” he started to ask before his voice trailed off to nothing, his jaw dropped a little bit at the sight of you standing there completely naked.

“Elvis!” you shrieked, trying to cover yourself with your hands. “Don’t look! I’m naked!”

“Well I can see that honey,” Elvis couldn’t help teasing. “What’d ya say before? Somethin’ about bein’ so sexy it’s hard not to look?”

“Elvis, it’s not funny! I’m embarrassed,” you whimpered, still trying to cover your top half with one hand and your bottom half with the other.

“Honey, you ain’t got a thing to be embarrassed about. You were hidin’ all that under that swimsuit? Goddamn,” he let out a low whistle as he gently moved your hands out of the way and pulled you in close to him, looking you up and down. He let one of his hands trace slowly down your side, over the curve of your hip, while the other reached around and gave your butt a squeeze.

“Elvis, I-” you started to protest but the words didn’t seem to want to come out after all.

“I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean ta embarrass ya. I really thought ya were changed already. Do ya want me ta stop?” he whispered into your ear, the warmth of his breath tickling you.

“Don’t stop, Elvis,” you whispered as you leaned up and kissed him passionately, your tongues dancing together.

“Mmm,” Elvis moaned as he walked you back toward the counter and hoisted you on top of it. “I won’t stop until ya say so.”

“Wait, Elvis, before you do anything, can you, um, let me see you?” you whispered.

Elvis blushed and shrugged. “I guess fair is fair,” he said as he pulled off the dry shirt he had changed into. You could feel yourself growing slick at the sight of his broad hairy chest and soft belly.

“What about those?” you asked, nodding toward his pants.

“Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, baby,” Elvis teased. “You jus’ relax and let me make ya feel good.” He spread your legs apart and groaned at the sight of your arousal. He slipped two of his fingers through your folds and slid them inside of you.

“Oh, god,” you moaned as you reached out and ran your hands over his chest, down his stomach, and gently palmed what was growing hard inside his pants. Elvis let his tongue travel down your neck and over your chest as he continued pumping his fingers, crooking them just right to hit a spot that drove you wild. You explored his body as much as you could with your hands, and when you pulled him in for another deep kiss, you noticed he was panting just as much as you were. The simultaneous action of his hands and tongue finally took you right over the edge, your moans filling the room.

“I’m sorry, I usually don’t move so quickly with anyone,” you whispered as you came down from your state of euphoria, wondering what he must think of you.

“Neither do I,” he grinned. “But I can tell you’re somethin’ special that deserves to be taken care of.”

“Can I, um, take care of you?” you asked, looking down at where you had felt his chubby length through his pants.

Elvis grinned that sweet crooked grin again. “We should probably save somethin’ for next time, huh?” You smiled back, but you had noticed that there was a suspicious wet spot on his pants, and the noises he’d been making started to make a lot of sense. “Here honey, jus’ put this on and come lay by me,” Elvis said, handing you a silky robe from a hook by the door. “I jus’ wanna hold ya.”

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @whositmcwhatsit @missmaywemeetagain @lookingforrainbows @thatbanditqueen @be-my-ally @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @arrolyn1114

#elvis #elvis fan fic #elvis fan fiction #big daddy elvis #elvis x reader #I love this man

[y3ager]

MATERIAL GIRL.

— and what do you give the girl who has everything? two rich boyfriends!

jean k. x eren y. x black!fem!reader

tags: modern au, fluff, polyamorous relationship. socialite!reader. lovergirldeepdown!reader. 4k word count. inspired by this blurb.

HAILING FROM OLD money— your father the CEO of a century old automobile brand and your mother the third generation runway model—you have seen all there is to see, worn what there is to wear, had every priceless stone dangle from your neck and fingers, and tasted the most decadent of foods. the belief that just superficial things would be enough to sway you offends you greatly. if you don’t have it, you will have it as if it’s your right at this point. it takes much more than dinner and a yacht ride to make you squeal.

and that’s what’s so tiring about the whole dating scene. the pool is filled to the brim with arrogant nepotism babies in khaki shorts and sweaters around their shoulders. they’ll never worry about a thing because daddy kisses the ass of this man and mommy grins in the face of that woman, and by god, do they make it known. if another man brags about owning original modigliani pieces over dinner, he’ll be met with an oyster shell to the eye. who are you supposed to be, some bright-eyed influencer? please. check the pedigree.

things changed when you met them, however. one in the summer, and one in the winter.

you were on the jet back home from italy when hitch, a girl you’ve known since you were a tyke, bombarded your phone with messages about christening her new penthouse with a pool party you just had to come to, lest she’d drag you there. after confirming your attendance, you rolled back over in the white leather reclining seat and pulled your silk eye mask back down, making a mental note to get your braids refreshed and place an order for a new bikini.

you’re reborn as a literal doll, the braids on the left side of your head coaxed into an intricate butterfly while the others lay flat against your scalp in faultless rows and hang low to your hipbones. white, white, white everywhere, from the nails, the strappy swimsuit, the miu miu sandals; a beautiful contrasts against your glistening ebon skin dusted with body shimmer for good measure. perfect, as usual.

hitch’s new high rise penthouse is something out of a multimillion dollar budget drama, with its dozens of crystal clear windows and modern interior. sitting far away enough from the city to avoid the hustle and bustle, but close enough to gaze at the twinkling lights, it’s practically a palace for the dreyse corporation heir.

champagne flute filled with 1820 juglar cuvée, you mingle amongst the next generation of the one percent. hitch’s friends, and your friends by proxy you assume, are a breath of fresh air. human.

but there’s one person amongst the gaggle you don’t recognize. from your spot next to the slightly tispy miss dreyse, your dark eyes glance over the rim of your ivory framed sunnies, glass rim tapping absentmindedly against lined, glossed lips. light brown mullet, slightly tanned skin, dark brown eyes...

“hitchie...” your elbow gently bumps into the blonde’s sides, snatching her out of her mild stupor. “who’s that?” you ask innocently, gesturing with your half full flute. it’s casual, inquisitive.

hitch squints a little bit, pure concentration written all over her features as she tries to put a name to the face. “oh!” when the name comes to her, her hand meets the back of your shoulder in a kinda hard slap, totally unintentional, of course. “jean, kirschtein! you know, from-” a hiccup interrupts her introduction, making her burst into a quick giggle. “-the oil company.”

the pieces begin to come together, you know the names all of the elite; the braun’s, the leonhart’s, the ackerman’s, names listed amongst yours and names you close deals with. clans with power, influence, wealth, distinction.

he, jean, is walking over now; casual with an easy stride that shows he’s in no rush, he’s confident. he pays his respects to the girl of the hour, congratulating her on her new playhouse before her attention is diverted by another guest calling her name to get her to come over there. hitch slips off, but not before discreetly tapping your lower back in excitement; an unspoken ‘get him.’

“jean,” he introduces himself, extending his hand in a polite greeting. “i wanted to speak to hitch, but i wanted to talk to you, too. you are breathtaking.” his eyes drink you in, from head to toe, even though they’ve been roaming your frame since you first caught his attention. the heir simply cannot get enough. “but you get told that a lot, yes?”

“thank you.” your lips spread into a small smile, one hand slipping into his larger one as the other pulls off your sunnies, sticking one of the arms down into your top. “i’m ___” jean bore a lean swimmer’s build, dark navy beach shorts hung low on his hips, and his tanned skin decorated with a dusting of faint, brown freckles over his body. years of private villas and yachts, no doubt. he was impossibly tall, too, you find yourself having to gently tilt your head back to see his face fully. it was cute from afar, maturely handsome up close. was that a faint hint of a mustache? it was hot.

jean repeats your name slowly, enjoying the feeling of that line of syllables rolling off his tongue. “i’d love to get to know you more. ___, you’re so beautiful. i have to impress you somehow. name it,” his other hand comes up to rest of top of yours, successfully encasing it in a gentle hold. an excuse to touch you just a little bit more. “i’ll make it happen.”

your smile becomes a grin, and your dark eyes glint mischievously under your delicate lashes. one quick test, because where’s the fun in not initiating one? you just want to see what he’d say, pick at his brain. what sweet words will he spin from his golden cords now? “but jean,” you begin softly, “what if i was the type of girl that liked a man that took control? told me we were doing this, at this time, on this day, and in my prettiest red dress?”

“it’d be rude, ___, at least in my eyes, to so quickly assume i had a right to your time, and drag you around this way and that. allow me the privilege of occupying your time, and space.”

before you can catch it, one of your expertly threaded and sculpted eyebrows quirks up in mild surprise. you beckon him a bit closer to your face with a wave of your acrylics. “good answer,” you tease, honeyed voice playful and whispery. “phone? i can put my number in, and we can talk about how you can try to romance me when i have my schedules laid out in front of me.” you watch as he fishes the device out of his shorts pocket.

you were captivating afar, but up close with your tawny skin soft, glittery, and emanating an intoxicating vanilla scent, your dark eyes glistening with mirth and playfulness… it makes jean’s body go into some type of shock, his heart plummeting to his feet and his blood running cold but racing through his veins at the same time.

“well then,” you chime as you save your digits into the millionaire’s phone, the contact simply your name with no bells or whistles to adorn it. “i hope we can get to know each soon, mr. kirschtein.”

jean thinks that pearly white smile will be the death of him.

…

every year, no matter what, your father throws his annual christmas party. you long assumed that it brings him a special type of happiness because your normally humble father goes all out for them, each year being better than the last. he flies out the best chefs in the world to cook for hours, orders the tallest, greenest tree for the foyer, and has the house cleaned til someone could check their reflection in the perfect marble floors. when it comes to this, the man skimps on nothing.

you take it upon yourself to make the most of it, requesting custom design dresses from the most exclusive sewing tables over in Europe, shoes fresh from the runway. only the very best for you, the heiress, the crème de la crème, the girl who has never known the word no.

“dance with me?”

you had been absentmindedly swirling your wine glass by its delicate stem, attempting to place its origin (red, tart-like with its cranberry flavor and a strange orange bite near the end), when you’re approached. once you turn your head, you’re meet with striking green eyes and a sharp little smile.

“you looked bored, and that’s what these parties are for, right?”

eren yeager, the german-american son of grisha and carla yeager, 2nd generation genius neurosurgeon with a net worth in the 7 figures, and the just-as-talented, third generation wedding gown designer. according to the rumor mill, after graduating in the top of class in one of those ivy’s upstate, he gallivanted across the country (no, the world) as the not-so-favorable yeager son. of course, there are entirely too many eyes on the yeager clan for grisha to do too much of anything and a son can do no wrong in a doting mother’s eyes; so eren is left free to his disagreeable desires. everyone wonders how long that will last.

steely dark eyes and your naturally neutral face does nothing to deter him. you decide to indulge him, slipping your hand into his and raising up, allowing him the luxury of whisking you to the dance floor. “i guess i don’t see why not.”

“great.” his hand is soft and a little cool against your own, the woody, cedar notes of penhaligon the inimitable gently wafting off his skin and pressed shirt. unbeknownst to you, a few pairs of eyes bore into yeager’s back. the arrogance he has to whisk you away so early into the party, especially with it being his first one. if eren was the wiser, he’d revel in their envy.

there’s a handful of other couples waltzing across the floor when you two arrive. your fingers thread through his as his free hand finds a respectful place on your waist, blessed with the feeling of the smooth skin exposed by the opening in your dress.

no matter how much money your father makes, he’s an old black man at heart. old r&b plays from the expensive sound system he had installed, tevin campbell’s can we talk playing through the speakers. the irony of the situation isn’t lost on you. nonetheless, you hum nonchalantly to the tune and glide around the floor with your partner.

“i gotta ask, do you enjoy these things? or does your dad put you up to it?” your arm is held above your head and you’re spun around in a quick circle before being guided back to eren’s chest. face still impartial, you nod your head towards your five o clock, the wavy blonde strands dangling from your delicate updo tickling your face. a table teems with gifts for you and you only, bachelors from afar vying for a wisp of your attention with shiny, expensive gifts. they fail to realize that a girl like yourself isn’t so easily bought. but, it’s their money not yours, and few things in life bring you greater joy than pulling ribbon and wrapping paper from luxury brand boxes.

“of course i do. i’m not ‘put up’ to anything. i dress up, i get my presents. what isn’t there to love?” manicured hand splayed across the man’s back, you’re dipped towards the floor. you’re one to give credit where credit is due, yeager is a good dancer; the confidence in his movements isn’t a lame front and he maintains the delicate balance between taking the lead and dragging his poor partner around. since this is suddenly an interview, you have questions of your own. “when i have time to go through them, will i find your name on anything?”

“of course you will. be pretty damn rude to show up to a party empty handed. especially when it might be my only chance to get a gift for the princess.” a name your normally cringe and scrunch your nose at sounds surprisingly nice passing by his lips. he grinned boyishly. “no hints.”

“i can wait. for your sake, i hope it’s no ring. it’s going straight into the garbage.” just the thought of such a “present” makes your blood want to boil. who raised these “men”? i mean honestly, what brain dead fool buys a ring for a girl who didn’t even know his face? and expected her to wear it? you would sooner die and go to hell first.

“no way someone is that dumb. you’re fucking with me.”

“what do i have to lie for?”

"well, taking a look at these guests, i take it back. some of these bastards look dumb enough to pull a stunt like that." eren scans the array of guests over your shoulder, and you can't even feign offense for your father's sake. scanning over a guestlist for former flames and explaining why you didn't want them in attendance would take too much time, and you really didn't feel like explaining "relationship troubles" to your dad of all people. loved him as much as you did that really wasn't his business. besides, watching them shiver and skulk away from your disinterested and annoyed glance made up for everything. "are you a betting woman?"

"did you waste grisha's money on a degree in journalism?" your eyebrows furrow and eren laughs again.

"you're funny, ___. most of our peers aren't so witty. and if it so pleases her majesty, i want to bet on the odds of one of these dumbasses putting a ring under your tree." eren's green eyes stare down into yours, gleaming with playfulness, mirth, and confidence. "what do you say? someone does, and we can go on a date, just us two, and you can smile and laugh a little bit."

"and if there's no ring?"

"i'll leave you alone and fall in place in your long string of broken hearts."

luck has always been on your side. look at the family you were in born in, the riches that are your birthright! the universe has never dealt you a bad hand and surely wouldn’t start now. and worse case scenario, you hang out with one of the few men that can mark your plump lips twitch in the shadow of a giggle. “fine.” your brown eyes meet his green, and neither of the waver. “deal.”

several days later, gifts from around the globe surround you. handbags, shoes, dresses, envelopes bursting with cash; you’ll have to tell your dad you need some walls knocked down in your already spacious closet to make room for more. amidst all this, though, a godforsaken ring is gripped between your fingers. if looks could kill, it would melting and dripping from your grasp. holding it like it’s contaminated, you snap a picture to send to yeager:

‘i’m free the 3rd weekend and tuesdays.’

…

as temperatures rise again, you spend the next few months allowing jean kirstein and eren yeager the luxury of whisking you away when your schedule permits.

the former is a bit... old fashioned, in a good way! you're led off to slow paced, cozy dates; the two of you roaming italian streets, attending shows in their original opera houses, he never strayed you out of the bubble you two were born in. it was casual, soft, predictable in a good way.

eren on the other hand, spent money like it would burn through his pocket if it sat there too long. he spent money like a man who just felt its crispness in his palms and was addicted to the feeling, knowing deep down it'd never stop flowing for him. you're frequenting the night scene in your tight, revealing dress, his firm hands on your hips as you two grind to the pounding beats. shopping spree dates that lasted all day, if your hand so much as brushed it, it was bought, packaged up, and in the car. spontaneous flights abroad, stealing you away for weekends. it was exhilarating.

they both provide the things you're looking for. jean is the type of man you imagine yourself settling down with one day, when the whole young and turnt shtick melts away into something more domestic and slow paced. he has gentle hands and treats you so delicately, softly. his reliability will be something you can learn to lean on and need.

eren could possibly be that type of man too, but for now he has a fire, impulses that keep you oh so entertained. having everything in the world gets boring, and eren brings that spark that you crave.

you ruminate at your vanity. hair tied down and tucked away under a silky soft bonnet, you run your gua sha across your moisturized face, long sweeping strokes that end with a gentle tug. eye masks rest on your face, your feet clothed by a exfoliating mask, and a fluffy robe envelopes your body. you stare at your reflection, you're the only one who gets you.

you're really at a crossroads. you choosing between something is unheard of. you're ___, you get everything you deserve and want tenfold. you like jean, you like eren. the way they look at you with such adoration, how their hands and lips caress your body, the sweets words they declare, and how every promise they've made to you remains unbroken, oh how they must certainly feel the same for you.

as greedy as it may make you sound, you want both. your cake and to eat it too. two of your richest peers fawning over you day in and day out, them caring for you and you caring for them. them loving you, and you loving them. it’s a dream that will be your reality.

…

after a long day at sea on one of many jean’s yachts, the sun beaming down on not only the beautiful blue water but the two of you, entangled in each other’s arms, docks at the private harbor.

you’re running your fingers through your french curl braids as jean talks to one of the dock’s attendees, slightly sleepy from your sunbathing session. the gentle breeze of the day brings the smell of saltwater up to your nostrils and you hear seagulls squawking from spots on the wooden posts. obviously, a day at the water leaves you craving seafood, juicy lobster tails with a decadent pasta on the side. your daydreams of the soon to be dinner are interrupted by an extremely familiar “yo!”

heads turn, and it’s none other than eren striding across the dock’s walkway towards where you and jean are standing. his green eyes shine at the sight of you, the hot pink of your two piece bikini a perfect contrast to your skin and showing curves and bends he’d worship for the rest of his life. oh, and jean’s here too.

another woman might falter, her heart catching in her throat and sweat beading up on her flesh as her suitors stand before her, but you’re the epitome of calm, brown eyes smoothly meeting eren’s. there’s no ring on your finger, and besides, you know what you’re after right now.

“haven’t seen you in a while, yeager.” knowing it’d be cliche, jean fights against the urge to wrap a protective arm around your waist. “done gallivanting the world?”

“seen all there is to see kirschtein, and you say that like it’s insult. what use is money if it just sits in accounts collecting dust.” eren looks at you again, god you’re a sight for sore eyes. “especially when there’s a woman like her to spend it on.”

jean’s eyes can’t help but to roll. what a cornball. “well, good chat, but ___ and i are on a little time crunch. i’m taking her to niccolo’s, especially after being on the water.” his hand slips into yours, taking charge but not tugging you along. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like this side of him.

“well, now that you mention it, i could go for some niccolo’s too.” eren’s grin is shit-eating. what a cute dynamic these too have, one you know has a bit more bite to it when a lady isn’t in their presence. “how about i join? matter of fact, my treat.”

“that won’t be necessary.”

“i insist.”

“you two would argue all day if i let you,” you interrupt this small tussle, and now their attention is back on you. a manicured hand raises up to cover your small yawn. “like an old married couple.”

“it’s all in good fun,” eren’s shoulder nudges jean, and if jean had lasers for eyes, the youngest heir to yeager fortune would be a pile of dust before your feet. “we go way back.”

jean ignores him entirely, but eren finds it hilarious. “what he’s suggesting is insane, ___.”

you give a gentle shrug of your shoulder, coyness at the ready. “it’s nothing serious, it’s a lunch date between friends, and i bet you’d like to catch up.”

jean’s jaw tenses. he turns to you completely as eren looks on curiously. “i think it’s a sign that you say that, ___. i’ve been meaning to have this conversation with you for a while. yes, we are friends, but i want to be more with you.”

this moment, with the waves crashing across the dock, the sun illuminating the two of you, jean clasping your hands tight, would’ve been a soft, tender, picturesque one had it not been for eren’s booming laughter.

“oh, so now this is a pissing contest, huh, jean? well, since we’re confessing feelings, i have my own to speak for you.” his outburst breaks your gaze, and you and jean both turn in unison. “___, i want you to be my girlfriend, and i’ve felt this way for a while. i’ve been waiting for just the perfect moment, but i can’t let this jack-off take this one for himself right?” comically, you’re put between them, each of your hands in theirs.

“i…” this takes tact, a delicate way of stringing together words and honestly, with their eyes boring into yours, you find yourself falling just a touch short.

“i respect any decision you make,” jean assures.

“___, i will do anything for you,” eren promises.

any decision. anything.

you bit your bottom lip, hands minutely twitching in their clasp. you lean in neither direction, at the center of them. “any?”

and then there’s a beat of silence. and everyone’s looking at each other. this feels like a scene in a sitcom, something that should be accompanied with a laugh-track, but there’s no closed mouth that’s been fed.

“because in the time i’ve gotten to know both of you, i’ve begin to care for both of you. and i’ve made great memories with the two of you. i know i could make even more. i don’t value any time spent with you over each other’s.” your voice shakes just a tiny, tiny bit, vulnerability creeping in. “you too make me… so happy.”

eren cuts the silence first, ever the impulsive one. “i’ll do it.”

“you cut me off,” jean quickly interjects. eren really puts him on his toes, ignites an aggressive fire deep within, steps on just the right nerves. “i’m doing it too.”

“i said i’d do anything.”

“and i said i’d respect any decision.”

“okay!” you voice crashes down like a gavel. “okay. i’m glad that you two are hearing me out,” a smile tugs at your glossed lips, this feels so easy and lighthearted, a stark contrast from the seriousness you impose upon yourself. already, you feel yourself loosening up, because the two of them bring out the true, relaxed you like nothing else can. “but for our sanity the bickering needs to come down a notch before we all kill each other, yeah?”

two strong pairs of arms envelop you. it takes some effort, but you wrap your own around the two of them. three heads together, you find yourselves laughing. a weight eases of your shoulders, but not because you got your way, but because you know this is the death of a mask created by the circle you were born in. a mask that hides the love you can feel in an attempt to guard it.

“well, we won’t kill you.”

nov 13. 2021. nov 9. 2023. i nearly gave up. i almost threw in the towel. but goddammit she’s done. praise god.

#eren jaeger x black reader #eren x black reader #eren yeager x you #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x black reader #jean kirschstein x black reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean x reader #jean x black reader #🏙.aotmodern #🧸.aotfluff

[beansprean]

beach episode when???

....you can really tell we're in hiatus, huh.

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Full body of the whole household standing on the beach at night. From left to right we have: Colin Robinson, dressed in a beige speedo, striped brown bucket hat, white socks, and leather sandals, smiling and holding the Nadja doll in the crook of his elbow. He is completely hairless. Dolly, Nadja, and Laszlo are dressed in matching vintage bathing suits, a black one piece with red polka dots at booty short length with a sweetheart neckline and thin shoulder straps. They also all have matching wedge shoes in the same color. Dolly has all her hair pulled up in a high bun with a pink flower tucked on the left side and is wearing a pink coverup. She is smiling easily in Colin's arms with her hinged knees pulled up daintily. Nadja stands with her hair in the same style, dark leg hair free to the wind, holding a clear green inner tube under her right arm and her left hand laced with Laszlo's. She looks excited to be back on a beach and is smiling, peeking over at her husband from the corner of her eye. Laszlo peeks back with a grin of his own, twirling a lacy parasol over his shoulder with his free hand. The neckline of his swimsuit shows off some moderate chest hair. His hair is up in a bun and he has a red kerchief tied gayly around his neck. Standing slightly in front is Nandor, hands on his hips, wearing what looks like either a wrestler's leotard or an extremely skimpy one piece swimsuit. Brick red, cut high in the leg and low at the chest to show off maximum body hair, of which there is a relative forest. He also has the same ring necklace and leather arm brace he wore to the gym along with knee high leather boots. On the far end is Guillermo, dressed in flipflops, plain blue swim trunks, and a white tee shirt. He has a soft cooler strapped over his shoulder and is holding an ornate long-handled feather fan in both hands, which he is flapping continuously by the side of Nandor's head. Nandor has a vaguely annoyed expression, hair blowing around and into his face, and says, "That is enough fanning, now, Guillermo." Guillermo, who is tomato-red and nervously looking everywhere except at his housemates, doesn't seem to hear.

2. Nandor, soaking wet and leaning over to squeeze out his hair with both hands, steps up next to Guillermo to ask "Guillermo, will you not get in the water?" He is surrounded by sparkles and Guillermo looks away with red cheeks and a pained smile, holding his hand up as if warding off the shine. He replies, "No, thank you. I'm good."

3a. Nandor shouts, "Nonsense!" and with a big fangy grin he tosses Guillermo up in the air, spinning towards the ocean. Guillermo, upside down in midair, looks understandably shocked. 3b. Close up on a big sploosh in the sea as Guillermo makes his landing, Nandor standing on the beach in the background with a big grin, hands proudly on his hips.

4a. Close up on Guillermo as he breaches the sea with a gasp, standing up in the waist-high water with his arms spread out in surprise, eyes wide and angry as he catches his breath. His white shirt is now see through and plastered to the skin of his belly and chest, dark nipples visible through the fabric. He shouts, "Nandor, what the fuck!!" 4b. Close up on Nandor in profile as he watches Guillermo heatedly from the beach, biting his lip with a small smile as his cheeks flush purple. Offscreen, Guillermo shouts "Wha- my glasses, where are my glasses?!" In the background, Nadja and Laszlo are reclined together on a towel under the parasol, watching Guillermo with mild interest. Laszlo has dug out a pair of opera glasses to see better. At their feet, Dolly is buried to her neck in sand with two large bucket-shaped sand boobs above her chest. On their far side is Colin, sitting cross-legged on the sand and slathering sunscreen uselessly over every exposed bit of skin. He grins over toward Guillermo and shouts back, "Looking good, Gizmo!" /end ID

#wwdits #nandermo #mlm #colin robinson #nadja doll #lasja #what we do in the shadows fx #what we do in the shadows #my art #fanart #image described

[masterstr0ke]

AQUAMARINE MOONLIT SWIMMING POOL, WHAT IF ALL I NEED IS YOU?

AVENTURINE x FEM!READER.

WARNINGS: mentions of expensive dresses and shoes, makeup, and swimsuits. fear of abandonment (reader) Aventurine calls reader ‘love’ and ‘darling’. 2nd person POV. (you/yours/yourself.)

WORD COUNT: 565.

You stand in front of the hotel’s closet mirror, tidying yourself and straightening your one piece swimsuit with your hands. You looked gorgeous, to say the least. Wearing and owning the best of dresses and dozens of shoes and heels to go with them, having mountains worth of makeup, and owning many high-quality swimsuits should be every girl’s dream, right? That is if their partner, who buys them all this, spends enough time with them.

You loved Aventurine, but you began to overthink his absence. He brushed it off as IPC work, and although you knew the IPC’s workload, it hurt you. You found yourself wiping your tears as you saw them falling out your eyes in the mirror. You eventually step out, the wide swimming pool, a gorgeous turquoise color due to the lights in the water, filling your view.

In the corner of the pool, you notice your lover mindlessly splashing the water with his hand, before diverting his attention to you. “Love,” he smiled at you, before swimming over to you. You sat near the pool, putting your feet in the water and hissing as the cold water harshly enveloped your warm legs.

Aventurine looked at you. “Not coming in the water?” He tilted his head ever so slightly to the right. You shook your head, to which Aventurine chuckled. He then splashed some water onto you, catching you off-guard. As you cover your eyes from any incoming splashes you couldn’t predict, you felt hands coming to your waist and pulling you into the pool. Instinctively, your arms held onto Aventurine’s neck, as support.

You sighed as you relished in the skin-to-skin contact, it’s been a while, you missed this. Aventurine kissed the top of your head as he sat himself on one of the steps leading out and in the pool, and he placed you beside him, the warmth of his body quickly falling out your body.

You looked around the pool, then at Aventurine. You.. didn’t want all this. You wanted him, not his riches. “Hey, ‘Turine?” you called. “Yeah, darling?” He looked at you almost immediately. “Don’t like the water?” He asked. You shook your head.

“I.. I’m upset.” You abruptly said, you even pouted a little. Aventurine blinked at you “Why? I- Have I been doing something to you, love?” He frowned ever so slightly, searching for an answer in your facial expression.

“Not really..” Your voice trailed off. “I- Just- Why aren’t you spending as much time with me as you used to?” You asked, sadness coating your voice. “I don’t feel value to the things you buy if you aren’t with me.” You frowned.

Aventurine pulled you closer to him. “You want time with me, huh?” He teased. You smiled and nodded. “I can do that for you, yeah.” He nodded to himself. “Anything for my lucky charm.” He kissed the top of your head. You looked up at him, and smiled. “There we go!” Aventurine smiled back. “There’s my love,” he brushed some of your hair back, the water putting it in place. “Don’t feel upset, i’m sorry.” He apologized.

“It’s fine.” You reassured.

BONUS:

A week, two? A month? no, that’s too much. 3 weeks feel fine.

Aventurine gave the IPC a notice, gone for THREE weeks? why is that?

The reasoning was “I need some time off.”

Time off, for his lucky charm.

#aventurine honkai star rail #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #star rail aventurine #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr x fem reader #first post*

[maddytheegg]

All of Bridgets outfits (I can find)

(Bridgets original design from XX) -Daisuke Ishiwatari

Eh, It's popular for a reason, but it's not really one of my favourites.

(Bridget's default outfit from Strive) -Hidehiko Sakamura / Asano Kenta (Not sure)

I love the beige shirt and more lighter greyish blue for the jacket, it helps increase the pallet variety that GG suffered from. (Ky, Sin, Justice, Millia, Robo Ky etc all have blues and whites) Also love how poofy it is.

(Bridgets Pop-up Shop 2022 outfit) -Hidehiko Sakamura / Asano Kenta (Also not sure)

I need more outfits with glasses, also I like that this outfit hides the neck and chest area, like her Strive look, it could be unintentional but it implies that Bridget has dysphoria around those places(edit: it is intentinonal, im stupid).

(Bridgets XX outfit with a pirate hat)

It's super cute, yeah its just a different hat but fuck you I like it too much okay :3

(Bridgets XX mission illustration outfit) -Daisuke Ishiwatari

It's one of her few simple outfits (Other than the Pop-up shop one) and I really like it, I tend to really like simple-ish outfits and more casual clothing. It's also really fun seeing characters with intricate outfits were something more normal.

(Bridget XX slash mission illustration outfit)

BRIDGET FUCKING HUNG ROGER, and with that out of the way. It's alright, I dont really have much to say about the outfit really.

(Bridget XXAC special illustration)

I really love how the hat and scarf work to mimic the nun habit, though I wish we got to see the front of it.

(Bridget XXAC Mission Illustration) -Hiroko Ogawa

This basically looks like a winter version of her normal XX look, but I prefer this one, the sleeves and thigh highs makes this outfit look more cozy. It's probably my favourite of her outfits.

(Bridgets XXAC+ Swimsuit)

You cant even see the whole thing, what else do I say about it? I just thought I'd mention it cause it's a different outfit.

(Bridget Vastedge outfit)

Im pretty sure the Pink and Blue neon colours are meant to be yellow or gold, but I cant be bothered to change it to normal, (It's this or the crusty animations of her attacks I found) I probably prefer this over her XX outfit.

And thats all the ones I can find, I may or may not do this with other skrunglies from Guilty Gear.

Also help correct me if I got any of the artists wrong. And please let me know who some of the artists I dont know are.

I really did try to find who drew these pieces, but its mostly not written anywhere.

#bridget #guilty gear #GGST #guilty gear strive #guilty gear xx #ggxxacpr

[mermmarie]

Wash Day

Pair: Donatello x Black Female Reader

Word Count: 4k

Rating: T?? (Characters depicted are adults)

Content/Trigger Warnings: N/A

Author Notes: Sooo… This is a bit random but I wanted to practice writing more fluff and felt compelled to do this. Sometimes it feels like I'm the only black person in the fandom, lol… So, I wrote this for the Melanin Queens out there.

I didn't go into great detail about hair type/hair length/hair products, because I wanted to keep this as open as possible for readers, but skin is: 'bronze", eyes are: "dark" and hair is: "coily/wavey."

(Slight spoiler: I also don't go into styling for this same reason.)

For my black girlies: I hope you enjoy. For everyone else: I hope you'll enjoy reading from a different perspective~ 🤎

—————————————————–

It shouldn’t have surprised you that Donatello had taken interest in a routine of yours. He was very attentive of all details about you… It was how he was with everyone if you were being honest. He liked to study and make note of things which made sense since he was the scientist of the group. But it was kind of different for him to specifically ask if you could demonstrate your hair washing process to him.

He had wanted to hang out and when you told him you wouldn’t have time because it was wash day you didn’t expect him to casually suggest allowing him to observe. You explained to him that you had nearly gone a whole month without cleaning your hair, so it would be a long and somewhat boring process from an outsider's perspective, but that didn’t deter him. He only smiled and suggested that the time would pass more quickly with company and that he was curious to learn about the procedure.

So… You invited him over to… watch.

It still felt weird that he was going to be observing. You had never done something like this for anyone before. Not even past lovers… Not that you and Donatello were a thing or anything like that…  But it was just a personal routine that you had done on your own for a long time now. You never thought about how someone else might find it interesting, especially a mutant turtle man who didn’t have a single hair follicle on his being. 

Although, you had caught him grazing the ends of your locks with the tip of his fingers once. In retrospect, the act had been harmless. But at the time, you had reared on him so quickly; thinking it was Mikey instead who had once bawled his green sausages into your luscious mane and messed up the style you had put your hair in for the day. The reaction miiight’ve  scared Donatello from showing more interest until now.

Amidst your surprise, you hadn’t thought about the arrangements of your process. Normally, you did your work in the bathroom of your apartment. However, with Donatello coming over to watch, you felt it would be too cramped and personal… But the alternative was breaking your neck over the kitchen sink, since you didn’t have a detachable hose to work with. So, the shower it was… Although unlike your typical wash day experience, you’d be clothed during. 

You wore a two-piece swimsuit under an old, light colored tee with black gym shorts. It felt strange stepping into the porcelain tub with all the garments on, especially since Donatello was just as dressed down as you were. And by that you meant: without his tech. 

He had been standing just in front of your bathroom doorway, hands intertwined thoughtfully at his waist. Thankfully, the ceiling of the room had been high enough to where he didn’t have to crouch to fit in with his giant form but since it was a bathroom, and the two of you were just hanging out, he left his tech… elsewhere in your apartment.

As if he would go anywhere without his gadgets. 

Still, it was one of the few times you saw him dressed so casually. He traded in his usual maintenance suspenders for black sweats tucked into some frankensteined basketball sneakers versus his signature boots. He still donned his trademark features such as his purple mask and tortoiseshell glasses of course. But overall, his whole demeanor looked more relaxed despite being in a private space with you.

“So…um…” you trailed off into a nervous laugh. “I was never good with presentations.” You joked as you turned towards your shower's knobs.

“You’re doing fine.” Donatello smiled warmly at you.

Your cheeks warmed in return, so you focused your attention away from him before he could notice your complexion darkening. You grabbed both the hot and cold handles of the shower. Turning them both about halfway, water came rushing out of the bottom faucet. You bent down a little bit, touching one hand to the running water to gauge its temperature. Dialing the cold handle back, the water began to heat up until it was at your preferred temperature of hot. 

Turning your head back to him, you spoke. “So, like with cleaning most things, I start off with hot water. It makes detangling my hair much easier and removes grime and buildup from the product I use.” You shrugged and quickly added, “Oh! And hot water opens the pores on my scalp.” You brought your hands to the top of your head and ever so lightly scratched at it in a show of the motion of exfoliating. 

Donatello nodded his head in acknowledgement, so you continued. 

Pulling up the diverter valve of the bottom faucet, your shower head came to life. 

You flinched a little when the water hit you. Not used to the feeling of being clothed when it happened, but you fell into your usual rhythm after the initial impact. Turning your back to the water, you dipped your head back and directly into the stream. You stood in place, turning your head back in forth slowly so the water would fully soak your hair. A few rogue streams cascaded down your face, and your eyes instinctively shut at the sensation. Feeling your locks become significantly heavier, you knew that they were thoroughly drenched and primed for detangling. 

You wiped water from your eyes before opening them enough to glance at him. Seeing him patiently waiting for your input, you continued with the process. “I wait until my hair is pretty soaked before detangling it. Some people will use a special brush like this,” you bent over in the tub to pick up the nylon tool in question. 

Using both of your hands, you spread the bristles open, showing the wide length in between them and the brushes flexibility. “This is specifically a detangling brush. It’s made to be so open and have give because you want something that glides through your hair effortlessly. The more resistance the more likely you are to cause breakage and frizz. Although, I generally prefer to use my fingers for the process. More control that way.” 

“Interesting… May I?” Donatello extended his arm.

You smiled a little, finding amusement in the fact that he was curious about a hairbrush, but you gave it to him anyways. It only made you smile more when he turned it over in his hands and surveyed it like it was some ancient relic. 

As he poked and prodded at the bristles you got to work. Gently, you combed through your hair with your fingers. Your eyes falling shut again as you relaxed into the process. You went over it in sections. Going through it a couple of times until it felt akin to a hot knife cutting through butter. 

You opened your eyes and glanced Donnie’s way to speak again, but noticed his attention wasn’t on you anymore… Or at least, wasn’t on your hair.

His gaze had drifted lower, which made yours do the same. Searching for whatever it was that pulled his focus, a brow arched in confusion when you couldn’t find anything. You then wondered if there had been a stain or something of the like on your shirt, but there was nothing incriminating on the now translucent fabric. 

You looked up at him questioningly, but his eyes were elsewhere now. Off to the side, looking into your bathroom mirror for seemingly no reason. It was then that you noticed the color on his cheeks were the faintest shade darker and it hit you.

You looked down to your chest again, which had been drenched in water. Your light tee was practically invisible as it clung to your glistening bronze skin, but you had prepared for that by wearing the two piece. Though, you couldn’t deny how good your breast had looked sopping wet with the creases of your shirt folding into your cleavage. 

“...Perv.” You smirked, and stopped running your fingers through your hair momentarily to fling some water at him.

He recoiled as if the droplets had stung him and his green complexion darkened even more on his face. He fiddled with the brush in his hands but said nothing in defense. You saw a small smile creep up on his face, and his eyes flickered back to you shyly as he felt your staring presence. 

You huffed with satisfaction before continuing. “Now that my hair is detangled, it can go one of two ways. If I wanna be in and out of the shower, I’ll just run my shampoo through my hair. But if I’m doing a deep clean, I’ll part it into twists; but the later usually takes longer so to save you some boredom I’ll–”

“No! No!” Donatello faced you again, holding out a halting hand. “You don’t have to worry about me. Please, take your time.”

“Seriously?” Your brows knitted. “Isn’t it… kind of boring? I mean, I know you're a genius and all so you like learning about stuff but– this isn’t really something of use to you.”

“Sure it is. It’s an important process of your lifestyle, and I…” His sentence began to taper off as he realized what he was saying. You noticed the deeper green in his cheeks come up again.

“like learning things about you...” He muttered but you were able to make it out through the sound of the rushing water. 

Feeling the all too familiar heat, you were certain your cheeks had darkened in hue now. 

“Okay… Do you at least want to grab a chair or something?” 

A soft chuckle shook his shoulders. “I’m fine, thank you. I’ve endured far worse in the Hashi.”

“Alright… ” You cocked your head and averted your eyes to the bottom of the tub. “I section my hair into twists, because it makes sure my hair stays untangled, and it’s easier to clean my scalp that way…” You mumbled bashfuly.

You were teasing him only moments ago. How the hell had he turned it on you so quickly?! 

Donatello watched attentively as you weaved your fingers through your hair. Lapping the coily strands over one another into loose twists. They were firm enough to hold their shape underneath the constant current of the water, but lax enough to not cause damage to the cuticles. When you were nearing the end of that process, he suddenly spoke. 

“Could I?...” 

Your dark eyes rounded at the implication. 

“...You wanna try twisting my hair?” You asked for confirmation. 

He nodded his head gently. “If that’s alright with you.”

“Uh… Sure, but… you’ll get wet.”

He huffed at the notion, smirking slightly. “Water doesn’t bother me.”

“Offf course it doesn’t. You’re a turtle. Duh.” You chided yourself. 

You turned your shower off temporarily, not wanting to waste water and then you nodded your head at him, signaling for him to come forth. You faced the unfinished side of your head towards him and waited in silence for his touch. 

You drew in a breath and held it, feeling his large digits take your delicate hair into his hands. 

He was gentle, which didn’t come as a surprise. You had watched him work on gizmos and gadgets a lot, and you witnessed how precise and delicate he could be. Even with hands that were two times as big as yours. You felt him wind a section of your locks together and then pull away. 

Leaning into your peripheral view, the top of his mask pushed upwards behind his glasses, giving a look of uncertainty. 

How’s that?” He asked, and you pawed the section. 

It wasn’t like you had tasked him to do some kind of difficult braid, but you were still impressed that the end result had felt similar to one of your own. Especially since you assumed it was his first time doing such.

“It’s good.” You glanced up at him with a small smile on your face. “Just one more section if you don’t mind.”

His chest swelled and he beamed at your approval, nodding his head eagerly. “Not at all.” 

When he finished, you moved right into the shampooing process. 

“Since it’s been about a month since I last washed my hair, I’m gonna shampoo twice.” You said, bending over to the rim of the tub and picking up your preferred choice of shampoo. “The bottle says to use a dime worth but–” You blew a raspberry and playfully rolled your eyes. “I don’t fuck with dimes. Quarters at a minimum. ” 

Donatello chuckled again at your remark.

You squeezed the desired amount into one hand. Setting the bottle back on the rim of the tub, you pressed your hands together. Rubbing the substance between your palms until it was a nice lathered consistency. You pulled the shampoo to your fingertips and then applied it to your scalp. Firmly, but carefully working it into your pores.

You closed your eyes again as you worked. Not caring if that meant Donatello would sneak more glances at your body while you did so.

“I give it a nice scrub down for a good…. Thirty-seconds to a minute. Then rinse.”

“You're not gonna cover your twist?” Donatello spoke in an inquiring tone.

“No, the water will carry the shampoo down and through them. Plus, it’s why I do two washes.” You opened your eyes to give him a wink. 

His brow line jumped, and he smiled down at you. “I see…” 

Turning the shower back on, you did your first rinse and then left the water running for the second. 

Bringing up the bottle to dispense some more shampoo, you paused when Donatello spoke.

“May I?” He asked again and you looked at him just as surprised as before. 

It was one thing to do your twists, but to wash your hair? The only other people to do it were your parents and your stylist. You weren’t sure if you wanted to get that personal with him…

“S-Sure.” 

Ok– Maybe you did want to get that personal with him.

Before you could hand him the bottle, he did something else that thoroughly surprised you. He lifted a foot, and ducked down to remove his shoe and sock, then did the same with the other foot. He placed both articles neatly together and off to the side of the bathroom, and then stepped into the tub behind you before you could object. 

Your eyes widened and mouth hung open with disbelief. Instantly, you felt a feverish heat rush up to your chest and up your neck to your face. The embarrassment seemed a bit foolish considering the both of you were technically clothed but-- he had gotten in the shower with you like it was nothing!!

You quickly turned forward out of sheer panic and sputtered. “Y-Your pants!” He was fast with a response. “Trust me, they’ve been through worse.”

“Won’t your glasses fog up?”

“I designed them to have anti-fog lenses.”

“I didn’t bring a towel for you!”

“Then I’ll just wait in here for you to bring me one.” You could hear a smile in his tone and it made the corners of your mouth twitch.

“You’re a tall shit, you know that?” You huffed and he did as well before extending an arm in front of you. 

He held out his palm and flexed it open and close in a grabbing motion. Physically asking for the shampoo bottle. You plopped it in his hand and remained facing forwards. Taking the brunt of the water to your chest. 

“A quarters worth?” He asked.

“Mhmm.” You hummed in response. 

You could hear him rubbing the substance between his hands, but you weren’t prepared for the warm touch of his fingertips against your scalp. You flinched in an exaggerated manner and he immediately pulled away. 

“Sorry! Did I press too hard?” This time he sounded genuinely concerned. 

“...No, I just– It’s nothing.” You shook your head lightly. Taking in a deep breath, you composed yourself and held your chin up. “Go ahead.” You commanded and braced yourself for his touch this time. 

He waited a few seconds before bringing his finger tips to your head again. He pressed them carefully into your scalp and slowly started moving his fingers in small circles. Your head gently rocked at the motion and the two of you stood in silence for a few seconds as he worked.

“.....You can go a little harder.” You instructed.

“O-okay…” He said hesitantly but did as he was told. 

He kneaded his fingertips firmly against your head and you couldn’t help but crane your neck backwards to add to the effect. It wasn’t long before your eyelids fell heavy and you relaxed into his hands. Allowing him to massage your scalp clean. You relished in how good it felt not having to break your neck over the salon sink, but still having someone else to do the work. 

Despite it being his first wash, he had managed to apply the perfect amount of pressure that your conscious almost drifted away, but the constant stream of water kept your senses alert. He seemed to recognize your peaceful state however, as he leaned in close to speak in a hushed tone. 

“I think you’re ready to rinse…” The words tickled your ear and sent a delightful shiver down your spine. 

Reluctantly, you opened your eyes.

Donatello stepped backwards, giving you the space to turn around in the shower so you could position yourself underneath the water again. Putting your back to the water, you let it run over you. Gently rubbing out the bubbles and suds on your scalp. 

With clean hair, you shut off your shower and started the final process of your routine. 

“So… You’re undoing your twist now?” He asked in a curious tone. 

“Yes, because unlike with the shampoo, I do want to cover every inch of my hair with conditioner.” You answered as you unraveled one section. “Hand me that little tub over there.” You pointed and waited for him to retrieve the product for you.

He took a second to examine the label on the back of the container before handing it over to you. You twist open the top, and placed it down on the rim of the tub before holding it up and within the vicinity of his face. 

“Smell.” You scooped out a glob of the product onto your fingers and held the container with your other hand for him to take. 

He took the container from you, bringing it up to his snout and taking a dainty whiff of it. His eyes grew a little and he looked at you with recognition. “Oooh. So, this is what makes your hair smell so good.”

“That and a few other products.” You giggled as you applied the thick cream to your strands. “Sooo… You’ve smelled my hair before?” You raised a brow at him and smirked teasingly. 

“Not in a creepy way.” He mimicked your expression.

“Mhmm .”

“I’m a mutant turtle. Turtles naturally have a heightened sense of smell, and when you combine that with biogenetic mutation–”

“Yeah! Yeah! You’re in the clear!” You waved him off with a hand. “For now…”

Pulling out each section of twists, you lathered your locks with a generous amount of conditioner. Donatello reached out with his free hand and gently touched the ends of your hair with his fingertips. His head cocking slightly as he admired your freshly cleaned coils. 

“It already looks rejuvenated.”

“Just wait and see how it looks tomorrow.” 

He lifted his head at your comment. “Tomorrow?” He echoed. 

You blinked at the question but then realized that he probably assumed you’d be washing out the conditioner immediately. “Oh! Yeah,” you bent down picking up a small bottle of ochre colored liquid infused with crushed herbs. Twisting the cap off of it, you used the attached dropper to apply the product to your hair. Stroking it in with the conditioner. “This is why I generally can’t hang out on wash day. It’s an overnight process.” You answered. 

Pulling your hair back into a loose bun, you reached across Donatello and grabbed the towel that was hanging on a rack next to the tub. You used it to dry only your face and body before folding it around you and stepping out of the shower. 

“I wrap my head up with a shower cap, and then my bonnet.” You picked up a plastic head wrap from your bathroom sink counter and then the satin one to show him the two head pieces before putting them on in said order. “The heat coming off my head underneath the wraps will essentially bake the product into my cuticles. And the longer I do that for, the better… In my opinion.” You shrugged and smiled a little. 

“O-Oh… So, technically the process is done in the morning then?” He asked.

“Or whenever I wake up.” 

You watched with confusion, however, when Donatello’s gaze dropped to the bottom of the tub. Cocking your head, you waited for him to speak, but seconds passed in silence. Just as you parted your lips to call out to him, he looked back up at you. 

“I guess you’ll have to show me how you style your hair another time then.” One side of his mouth quirked into what looked like a disappointed smile. “I have to get back to the sewers before day break, and I shouldn’t move in the light either…” He cupped his hands below his waist and shrugged as well.

“The whole… ‘work in the shadows’ thing. ”

“Oh… Right.” Your lips stayed agape as you thought on his circumstances. You knew them to be true, and they were completely justified. Even though there were a handful of humans that did know about his existence, he and his family wanted to remain unknown to the general public. He wouldn’t be able to return to your apartment until the next night, and while the treatment would stay in your hair for at least eight hours; you weren’t sure if it would be advised to leave it in any longer than that.

Your tongue swiped over your bottom lip while you considered your options. You could do a thirty-minute treatment instead, or make another day with him styling your hair.

…..Or a third option.

Your fingertips rubbed together at your sides, and you bit your lip at the idea. It was probably too forward, but you wouldn’t know until you suggested it. 

“Or…” You started and instantly felt your cheeks burn hot. “You could stay the night?...” You looked to him with arched brows before quickly adding, “If you want! And if that’s okay?..”

His bottom lip dropped and his eyes blinked rapidly behind his glasses. The smooth confidence he emitted before seemed to have vanished as he was loss for words. You winced at the silence that filled the space between the two of you again, but the motion must’ve turned a gear in his head. Suddenly, he jolted and nodded eagerly. 

“Ye-Yeah!!” He sputtered out. Flush darkening his cheeks as well. “That would be fine! I just– will have to let the others know that I won’t be coming home till later…” His sentence trailed off at the end as his gaze dropped again, although it was clear that he was processing everything in his head.

You couldn’t help but to giggle and feel satisfaction in catching him off guard. 

“Cool.” You smiled. “We can stay up late playing video games, or watch some movies.”

Or cuddle… You thought.

“Two of my favorite things to do with my favorite person!...” 

You watched his eyes widen with panic when you gave him a look of surprise. He held up his hands, and went to speak, but you quickly cut him off by ducking out of the bathroom. You returned shortly after with a fluffy large towel in hand, and Donatello was still standing in the tub. You chucked the towel into his chest, and he grasped it with one hand.

“Make sure you wipe down good. You wouldn’t want to get your 'favorite persons’ couch wet.” You winked at him. 

Eventually, his faced relaxed into a soft smile. “Right.”

The two of you stared at each other with content for several seconds before you broke the silence with another teasing remark. 

“I’mma see if I got a bonnet that will fit your head.” You snickered and he chortled. 

#TMNT #TMNT Bayverse #TMNT 2014 #TMNT 2016 #TMNT x Reader #Donatello #Donatello x Reader #Black Reader #TMNT Imagine #TMNT Lit #Mermies Writing

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Beach Baby (Eddie Munson x Female Reader)

A short, fluffy summertime drabble based on this text post by @sunflowerdaydreamer

Word Count:701

Authour’s Note:I even went to the trouble of looking up beaches in Indiana for this one lmao. Also we’re ignoring the canon that Eddie died in 1986 because of course we are and that he lived long enough to see Baywatch.

Masterlist

“Alright, you kids got everything you need, now?” Wayne asks just as you and Eddie are about to head out the door.

“Yeah, I think we’re good, right babe?” Eddie turns to you, a wide smile stretching across his lips.

It was a warm summer day and Eddie decided that instead of being cooped up in that hot tin-can trailer he called home, he was going to treat you to a day out at the beach.

“Yeah, we’ve got everything, Mr.Munson” 

“How many times do I gotta tell you, call me Wayne” he tells you, a soft smile pulling at the older Munson’s features. “Alright you kids go have fun now” he shouts as he waves you off, before quickly pulling Eddie back for one moment “..and son, you look after her, take good care of your girl, now, you hear me?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good, now be off with you” Wayne laughs as he ruffles his nephew’s hair and gently pushes him out the door.

Eddie opens up the passenger side door to his van, offering you his hand as you step in

“Your chariot awaits, M’lady” he jokes, bowing in a grand gesture as he helps you into your seat.

Eddie rushes around to jump into the driver’s seat next to you, before turning to you with a smile.

“TO THE BEACH!” he cheers as he twists the key in the ignition.

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you at your boyfriend’s antics. He never failed to make you laugh.

_______

The drive to the beach, although filled with comfortable silences, soundtracked by the sound of one of Eddie’s Metallica tapes playing on low in the background, was a lot harder than you had first anticipated. A lot harder. Eddie was sitting there, one  hand loosely gripping the steering wheel, the other hand resting on your thigh. His long, dark, unruly curls tied back in a little bun at the nape of his neck. He’s wearing his Black swim shorts that have the little skull and crossbones on them (which you had told him you found  incredibly adorable) and an old loose fitting Black Sabbath t-shirt which had been on the receiving end of Eddie and his scissors, turning the t-shirt into a crop top. He looked so good like this, in your eyes he was so effortlessly handsome, with his dark sunglasses perched up on his head, and a growing cluster of freckles spreading across his button nose and rosy cheeks. 

Wether or not he was aware of the effect he had on you, he had you slyly squeezing your thighs together to ease the tension.  

You finally reach the warm soft sands and welcoming ocean breeze of Whihala beach, and despite there already being a handful people there, it wasn’t overly busy. Eddie pulled up his van into the car park just outside the beach, and then you both made your way down to the beach.

Setting your towels and bags down on the perfect spot, you shimmy out of your high-waisted denim shorts and throw off your baggy white t-shirt to reveal a perfectly fitting red one-piece swimsuit.

Eddie rarely found himself lost for words, but he was not ready to see you, every inch of soft skin and delicious curves perfectly covered by a bright red swimsuit. He felt his mouth water, and his swim-shorts tighten ever so slightly. If you asked Eddie, Pamela Anderson had nothing on you. 

His idea of spending a fun-filled beach day with his girl, turned into him thinking of all the ways he could get you alone. To spend some quality, one-on-one time with you away from prying eyes. How he so badly wanted to hold you close to him whilst he showed you just how sexy he thought you were.

He’s immediately brought out of his daydream of beach sex with his girlfriend, by the sound of your voice.

“Eddie! Are we getting in the water or not?” you laugh.

He immediately tugs you by the hand towards the sea.

“C’mon Sweetheart, the sea’s waiting for us!”

Yeah this was a good idea, Eddie thinks to himself. The perfect way to cool down on a hot summer’s day.

______

@mcbeanzontoast @munsonology @penguinsandpotterheads

#Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x reader fluff #Eddie Munson Fluff #Eddie Munson fanfiction #Eddie Munson x reader fanfic #Eddie Munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble

[howlingday]

Harley Quinn arc: Pyrrha gets her therapy session

"Um, hello? Dr. Quinn?"

"Pyrrha!" Harley sang, waving her arm towards herself. "Come in, come in! I was wonderin' when you'd get in here!"

"Well, Nora, Ren, and Jaune all said you were good."

"Oh, that's so great! I'm glad to see my reviews are so high. Now, would you like to take a seat for your first session with Dr. Harley Quinn?"

"Is there a form I need to sign?" Pyrrha asked.

"Ya know, you're the first person to catch in the middle of the session." She began to rifle through her desk. "I get so caught up in these sessions that I always forget until the session is over to get these papers signed." She giggled. "Of course, I'd nevah breathe a word about my patients, paper or no paper."

"Oh, well, if it's not too much trouble..."

"It ain't, Ms. Nikos." She pulled up the non-disclosure agreement from the cabinet and handed it to her. "If anything, I'd get in more trouble because I wasn't catching these soonah."

Pyrrha looked over the paper carefully, pen in her hand and ready to sign. Once she did, she handed the paper back over to Dr. Quinn, who took the paper and placed it delicately on the desk. She gave a giggle, then slid her notebook in front of her.

"So, I take it this isn't your first therapy session."

"Er, no, it isn't." Pyrrha shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "After a... falling out I had with one of my agents, I was recommended to seek counseling."

"Ooh, juicy~! Care to share?"

"It wasn't anything too serious. My agent just made some suggestions that I didn't feel comfortable with. When he pressed the issue, I may have... threatened him."

"Oohoohoohoo~!" Harley quickly caught herself. "I'm sorry. That was unprofessional of me. I just didn't expect you to be the threatenin' type."

"I... guess not."

"What was it yer agent tried to get ya into? Somethin' sleazy?"

"Yes, it was... It was a swimsuit photoshoot."

"Ick! And at your age?"

"Mhm," Pyrrha nodded, "my new agent was concerned of 'lingering issues' and recommended I receive counseling to ensure I'd be able to compete."

"I know just the type." Harley shook her head. "Where I come from, there's a lotta folks like that, tryin' ta get ya to do things ya don't wanna. Thankfully, ya ain't gotta deal wit the creeps like them."

"I... guess so." Pyrrha sighed. "Still, there are times when I think about what he said would happen if I didn't do it. Things like how I'd 'fall out of the spotlight,' that I'd 'get replaced in no time'. Things like that."

"Mhm, and do ya think that may have affected yer sense of self-worth?"

"Would it?"

"It did fer me. See, when I was younger, I met a guy and he made me feel special. When I left him, or he left me, he'd find someone else to take my place. Then I met the gal he replaced me with."

"Really?"

"Yuh-huh, and some piece of work she was!" Harley sighed. "I tried to talk some sense into her, but all I got for it was this nasty scar on my neck and my current beau's home getting burned down."

"Oh my!"

"I doubt something so drastic happened to you, but let me tell you something I told myself when I was going through it. Something that literally save my life. Every voice in my head was telling me this new gal was supposed to be the newer, better, hotter version of me. And I admitted to some facts."

Pyrrha leaned in.

"One, yes, she was younger than me. And yeah, maybe she was hotter than me. And sure, I went to easy on her and she whooped my butt. BUT there was one thing she didn't have on me. She'd NEVER be Harley Quinn, and I made sure she never fucking forgot it!"

Pyrrha leapt at the profanity.

"Sorry, sorry!" Harley waved. "Totally unprofessional. But maybe you should try it out sometime. Next time you feel like you could be replaced, just tell yourself this one thing. Look in the mirror, and say 'I'm Pyrrha Nikos! And ain't nobody gonna replace me!' Got it?"

"Y-Yes, Dr. Quinn!"

"Call me Harley, sweetie. Everyone already does."

#rwby #rwby au #mama harley au #harley quinn #pyrrha nikos #harleen quinzel

[avidfics]

I’ve never requested anything so sorry if i do this wrong! I was hoping for a fic about vi and a female reader. The reader is shy and is JUST starting to realize that she likes girls and vi is teasing/flirting with her a LOT

Coming Out to Vi In The Locker Room

A/N: No, this is perfect! I think I answered your request - I'm kinda bad at interpreting. This request reminds me of how confused I felt when coming out. Hope you like it.

Pairing: Vi (Arcane) x Reader

Summary: You finally get the courage to come out to your bestfriend, Vi. (Set in modern-day high school)

Warning: I'm so bad at this, fluff, some cursing, flirting/teasing

You could only wait outside the women’s locker room for so long until it became officially “weird,” and that moment was fifteen minutes ago. Still, you anxiously wrung your hands over and over again, trying to gather the courage to talk to your bestfriend, Vi.

You usually never kept secrets from one another because you were always joined at the hip. That was until an event on campus made you realize you were attracted to women. In fact. your heart had been steering you to this direction for a long time. Now it felt like an invisible weight had been lifted off your shoulders.  

Except you hadn’t told Vi about any of this yet. Even though Vi was openly gay, what if she acted weird when you expressed your feelings. Afterall this was still new to you and everyday was still confusing. Did this mean you were a lesbian? Or bi? Shoot, was it okay to be this confused? Would Vi be annoyed because you didn’t know how to title this?

Whatever. Shaking off your nerves, you march into the locker room with renewed determination because what’s the worst that could happen?

Vi standing in her team’s swimsuit, still drenched from the pool is not what you had in mind.

“Oh crap, sorry Vi.” Your eyes try to look everywhere that wasn’t her impressive athletic body. Quickly, you retreat backwards to escape the visual before you.

But Vi doesn’t let you as her face lights up, finally seeing you since you’ve disappeared. “Finally!” She drags out. Her smile beams at you as she bounds over to you, her wet feet slapping against the tile, and tackles you, knocking you both sideways. Reminding you too much of an over-energetic dog.  

“Vi.” You whine, struggling with the tight press of her chest against yours. “Please let me go. You’re soaking wet,” you plead.

“Oh no, whatever will we do if my baby gets a little wet, huh?” And despite your little yelps as the chilled drops prick your skin, she bends to shake her pink hair. Pushing the wet top of her head into the clove of your neck, soaking through your shirt collar. Warm glee spreads through your chest at the nickname and the nostalgia of being back in her arms. Even if said arms were chilly.

“Stop it tickles! Quit acting like a dog and get changed. I. Uhm. I have something to tell you.”

With a reluctant groan, she eases away, but drags her arms down to circle your waist. “You haven’t talked to me in forever and the first thing you tell me is to strip down and get naked.” Her arms leave your waist to cross over her chest in false modesty. “I’m not just a piece of meat.”

“No, what you are is a pain. Just get changed already. Being this close to you is nauseating.” The lie came out bulky and Vi’s smirk showed she didn’t believe a word of it as you shove her weight off of you.

“Fine, fine, fine.” Only stepping back slightly, a challenge sharp in her eyes. “Always eager to get me naked. But as you command princess.” Swift fingers plucks one strap of her swimsuit before pulling it down her toned shoulder.

“Crap, Vi! I didn’t mean right in front of me.” You swing around so fast you experience whiplash; however, that wasn’t fast enough. Even as you closed your eyes, and placed a shaky hand over your closed eyelids, what you saw was still implanted behind your lids like a stain. Smooth skin, sinewy muscles, and the steady rise and fall of her slightly revealed chest… Your lips pressed together in a tight line. That was the thing about Vi. She was always open and honest with you. Plus she never understood the concept of personal space which made you beyond anxious. If you needed confirmation of your attraction to women, this was a strong one.

Vi’s teasing laughter makes your ears ring hot. “Are you okay? You seem… off. Don’t tell me your bashful around a little nudity? Maybe I shouldn’t tease you. Wouldn’t want you hiding from me again-“

“Hiding!” Incredulous you turn to question your friend, but your eyes drop as she slips gray sweats over her hips. Her hands go to tighten the drawstrings. It takes incredible effort to not linger on her toned torso or the black sports bra but you see Vi, eyebrow raised knowingly. Gosh, there was no hiding from Vi.

Shaking your head, feeling sheepish by your actions, you turn around once again. “I wasn’t hiding. I mean technically I was avoiding you but that’s not what I wanted. But not avoiding because I was mad at you. Even when I’m mad at you I can’t avoid you.”

A tug on your jean belt hoop halts your rambling. “Is there an explanation at the end of this or should we take a short nap and come back?” Her presence at your back sent your body on high alert, as it always did. Even though you two were friends her nearness made you self-conscious of every move you made.

Another hard tug on your belt hoops swings you around, facing Vi’s magnificent inquisitive eyes. “I’m assuming there's a reason you finally came to me other than to check out my team’s uniform. How about we finish this conversation in my car?”

It was hard to return her gaze as you scrambled with the perfect words to describe how you felt. Diverting them down didn’t work, that dang sports bra was still the only item adorning her chest.

“Vi, you can’t step outside in just sweats, a bra, and a varsity jacket.” Biting your lips, you wave at her damp hair slicked back off her forehead. “At least let me finish drying your hair. That’s how you can catch a cold.”

“Fine.” She nicks her towel off the bench and hangs it around her neck. “It’s about time you pampered me like I deserve.” With her eyes closed and the towel between your fingers you finally take a labored sigh.

“You know that tool, Aaron, on the football team our group sits with at lunch? The guy who asked me out and I said no? Well last month during lunch, some cheerleaders walked past our table and he told everyone I was checking out their butts. So now everyone thinks I turned him down because I’m gay.”

Vi’s eyes snap open, flaring. “What the hell! He lied because of his inflated ego? Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that asshole.”

You stop drying her hair. Wordlessly telling her to calm herself down. Continuing only when she begrudgingly closes her eyes again, grumbling obscenities.  You watch her face closely as you admit what took you a long time to accept. “Technically, he wasn’t lying. I was definitely checking out their asses because I might definitely positively like women?”

A pregnant pause hung in the air. The silence was so long that your doubts resurfaced. Wringing your hands again, your eyes drop to stare down at your shoes. The idea of running away to hide made you take a tiny step back but you stop at the thump from Vi’s body slumping against the locker.

“When are you breaking the news to your dog?”

The question is so random that you stop backing away to look at her, confused. “Excuse me?”

“Your pet dog? When are you getting rid of it to make room for a cat. All lesbians are cat owners. It’s a rule.” 

Your blank stare just adds fuel to the fire.

“And don’t worry, I have some spare crystals at my place I can give you. Oh, and how many pairs of cargo pants do you own? Whatever it is you’ll have to double it.”

“Vi why are you joking around!” Yet your cheeks puff out, a small laugh trying to escape. You shove at her chest but she doesn’t even move and captures your fist in her hands. Her contagious laugh has a small smile breaking across your face.

“Because HELLO I’m hella gay. If there’s anyone you shouldn’t have been nervous to talk to, it’s me.”

Her easygoing smile doesn’t hide the soft hurt in her eyes. “Vi, I’m not like you. You’re so sure of who you are and that’s awesome but it’s not me. Each day I’m confused on what I am. How can I come out when I can’t even give myself a label?”

“Whoa slow down my baby queer. First of all, fuck the labels. Like what you like and that’s the end of it. Secondly, your awesome. Lastly, which cheerleader were you checking out or was it the entire squad?”

Telling her was a mistake.

“Vi, stop bringing it up! Better yet, maybe I’m not gay at all.”

The words barely left your lips before you where slammed against the lockers. Vi keeps your hands in a vise behind her back while pressing against you. “Come again?”

The shudder that vibrates through your chest is hard to hide. Gingerly you nod your head, pushing Vi off. “Yup, point made. I’m definitely gay.”

On wooden legs, you walk out the locker room to the echoing laughter of Vi at your back. It takes only a few seconds before she jogs up to you and wraps you in a backward hug, making you both waddle down the hall as she teases you about buying rainbow bumper stickers for your car.

#vi x reader #vi arcane #vi x you #arcane vi x reader #arcane x reader

[candidapple]

Love your work on ao3!

I was wondering if I may request Leona with a female reader? If it isn’t too specific, could it be like a beach day and the reader is wearing a swimsuit for the first time and Leona’s getting jealous because she’s getting a lot of attention? NSFW if possible :)

Have a nice day!

a/n sorry this took so long, anon, it's just that i... got a little carried away. i hope you like how it turned out 👑💛

cw adult content, possessive behavior, some of the other boys get a little grabby, leona has a barbed dick. minors dni 🔞

leona kingscholar x f!reader

Ruggie stops slurping on his piña colada mocktail to push up the designer sunglasses he borrowed from Leona and give an exaggerated wince. “Oof. That one’s gonna hurt.”

You frown at Ruggie over the tops of your own oversized sunglasses. They were also bought with Leona’s money, but they were a gift rather than a hand-me-down. “What?” you ask Ruggie. “What’s going to hur —”

A pained cry startles a nearby flock of hungry seagulls into flight, and you snap your mouth shut, whipping around to face the source of the noise. Some distance away, Deuce is clutching his nose with both hands, the volleyball he and his teammates were playing with lying discarded at his feet. It must’ve smacked him right in the face; no wonder Ruggie cringed when he saw where it was headed.

You rise onto one knee, toes digging into your sand-speckled beach towel. “Deuce!” You want to run over there and check on him, but you don’t want to embarrass him by acting like a mother hen, either. “Are you alright?”

Deuce waves you off, flashing a weak thumbs up. You’re relieved to see that his nose isn’t bleeding, although his face does look a little red. At first you can’t tell if he’s flushed with mortification or sunburn, but decide on the latter when something Ace says makes him turn even redder. Deuce rounds on Ace and smacks him hard on the shoulder while everyone else on the volleyball court hoots and hollers, and you plop back down with a scoff. Idiots.

Ruggie snickers, widening his eyes and (poorly) feigning innocence when you shoot him a quelling look. “What? I’m only laughing ’cause he brought it on himself. If he didn’t wanna get beaned in the face, then he should’ve been paying attention to the game instead of you.”

You shift uncomfortably and glance at Leona, who’s stretched out on the towel between you and Ruggie, sunning himself. When he only flicks his tail in irritation at all the noise, you turn back to Ruggie and say, “I really don’t get it. I mean, it’s just a swimsuit.”

A fairly modest two-piece suit at that, comprised of high-waisted bottoms that cover your navel and a ruffled top that doesn’t even show cleavage; hardly a string bikini. Is it because you’re the only female student at an all-boys’ boarding school? Is it the novelty you present that has them so fascinated?

Ruggie rolls his eyes, sucking up the last dregs of his drink and smacking his lips. “Just a swimsuit, she says.” Impatiently, he hitches up the waistband of his dangerously loose trunks (also hand-me-downs, and dangerously loose because they belonged to Jack). “Lessee if you’re still singing that tune when the riot breaks out.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you say stiffly, then steal another peek at Leona. Still no reaction. Maybe he’s asleep? “That’s not going to happen, and even if it did — which it won’t — the Headmage would put a stop to it before anyone got hurt.”

You and Ruggie both look over at Crowley, who was very quick to volunteer his services as a chaperon when Kalim announced his intention to sponsor a trip to the local beach. He’s not doing much in the way of chaperoning at the moment, fast asleep in a reclined lounge chair with a paperback book draped over his face. You won’t be surprised if he winds up buried up to his neck in sand before the day’s out.

“Or not,” you mutter. You don’t know what you were thinking, really.

Just then, Leona rolls onto his stomach with an appropriately feline stretch and reaches lazily for the drink cooler, grumbling under his breath when he finds it empty. He props himself up on his folded arms, back arching and biceps tensing, the neck of his tanktop swooping low to flash dark brown nipples and a sculpted chest. He doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t have to; his accusatory glare speaks volumes. Sagas, even.

Ruggie, who’s holding a sweating bottle of Mystery Drink you didn’t even notice him take, answers Leona’s silent rebuke with a shrug. “Hey, if you wanted it that bad, you should’ve done somethin’ about it before somebody else came along and took it.”

For some reason, Ruggie’s looking at you when he says this. Leona makes a disgusted noise and lies back down with an imperious wave of his hand.

“One of you go get some more, then,” he says, and shuts his eyes to resume his nap.

You frown at him, not that he notices or cares. “Would you like us to fan you with palm fronds while we’re at it, Your Highness?”

Ruggie snickers into his Mystery Drink, and Leona smacks you on the hip with his tail without opening his eyes. Biting back a reluctant smile, you push to your feet and heave a pointed sigh.

“I’ll go get them,” you say, heading in the direction of the communal coolers. “You’re welcome.”

Ruggie lifts his drink in a respectful salute, but Leona just rolls onto his side, putting his back to you. You resist the urge to kick sand over his head and continue on your way.

A few of your classmates wave hello or call out to you in passing, but the majority of them can only seem to stare in captivated silence — some more discreetly than others. Self-consciously, you peer down the length of your body, at the curves of your breasts and stomach and the stretch of your bare legs. You shake your head, baffled, and hug your arms to your chest as you pick up your pace. Just a bit farther to the drink coolers, and then maybe you’ll detour to the changing room and throw on a t-shirt —

Or maybe you won’t be doing either of those things, seeing as a pair of long, lean arms just snaked around you from behind and squeezed.

“Where’re you off to in such a hurry, Shrimpy?”

Dammit. Of all the times to run into these two.

Jade steps neatly in front of you, looking distressingly good in a pair of sleek purple trunks, his cheeks and shoulders freckled with scintillating grains of golden mica. You imagine Floyd looks much the same. Too bad you’re in no mood to enjoy the view.

“Afternoon, Prefect. Are you enjoying your day out?”

Jade makes you sound like a dog at the park. You push at Floyd’s arm, but it’s no good; you don’t think he even felt it. The diplomatic route it is, then.

“Look, guys.” You try to sound firm but not rude, because you really don’t want to piss them off when Floyd’s in the perfect position to squeeze your innards out through your eye sockets. “It was nice of you to stop by and say hello, but I’m kind of busy right now.”

“Huh?” Floyd digs his fingers into your abdomen — not painfully hard, but with enough of a pinch to make you think of sharp teeth trying to burrow into your guts. Ulp. “You didn’t look busy. Why don’t you come and play with us instead?”

What, as in play with their food? Hard pass. “I really don’t think that’s —”

Jade smiles disarmingly. You are not disarmed. “No need to look so untrusting, now. We only wanted to ask if you were in the mood for a swim. The water’s quite pleasant, you know.”

You’re probably overreacting, but you think of every story you’ve ever heard about mermaids drowning hapless sailors at sea and instinctively start to struggle in Floyd’s arms, throwing desperate looks across the beach toward Leona and Ruggie. Leona still has his back to you, but Ruggie’s frowning in your direction. He leans down and says something to Leona, but you can’t tell if Leona responds, or if he’s even awake.

Either way, you can’t just wait around for them to rescue you. You’re preparing to execute Plan C (Plan C is biting Floyd on the arm and hoping you’re fast enough to outrun them) when someone reaches into the fray and pulls you free. You’re tucked safely into the newcomer’s side, their smooth skin brushing yours, a glossy tumble of coppery curls flirting with your peripheral vision.

“C’mon, boys, give the poor thing a little breathing room. How’s she supposed to enjoy her day of fun in the sun with everybody fighting over her like the last strawberry tart at an unbirthday party?”

Liquid relief courses through you. You’re so happy to see a friendly, ulterior motive-free face that you stop checking if Leona’s gotten up. “Cater!”

Cater hugs you around the shoulders and tosses you a wink. “Hey there, cutie. Thought you could use a Cay-Cay in shining armor.”

Floyd pouts, thwarted, but Jade only clasps his hands and smiles agreeably. “As gallant as it was of you to come riding to the lady’s rescue, Cater, I can assure you that we bore her no ill will.”

“Oh, no doubt,” Cater says breezily. “But sweetie pie over here was looking just a tad bit uncomfy from where I was sitting, so I thought I’d swing by and make sure. It’s an upperclassman’s job to look out for the little baby freshies, right?”

You give Cater’s waist a grateful squeeze, and he flashes you a camera-ready smile. “Hey, light-bulb moment.”  Cater produces his phone from who-knows-where — do his swim trunks even have pockets? — and taps the screen awake with his thumb. “How ’bout we take a quick selfie? We’re bound to get a ton of likes with this scrumptious little thing taking center stage. Hashtag #BeachDay.”

Jade cups his chin and chuckles quietly — at your expense, you’re sure. “I certainly wouldn’t mind. What do you think, Floyd?”

“Um, actually,” you cut in, “I was just on my way to get changed, so…” You shrug Cater off and start to back away slowly. “Rain check?”

“Awww,” Floyd whines. “You’re gettin’ dressed already? How come?”

So people will stop staring at me like I’m an exotic animal at the zoo? “Uh, well, I kinda ran out of sunblock —”

“You can borrow some of mine,” Cater says helpfully. Shit. You scramble to formulate a new excuse.

“That’s, um, really sweet of you to offer, but the thing is if I don’t use this one specific brand of hypoallergenic sunscreen I tend to break out in super bad hives — not a pretty picture, let me tell you — so I’ll juuust — beonmywaynowbye!”

With that, you turn tail and flee, kicking up clouds of sand that irritate your eyes as you practically sprint to the changing room. You don’t even stop by the coolers first; if Leona’s that thirsty, he can march his ass over here and fetch his stupid drinks himself.

The changing rooms are located on a silty patch of land where the beach rises to meet the scrubby grass. The building itself is nothing to write home about; just a long, low wooden shack with an open doorway and a pitted tin roof, a half-deflated orange life preserver hanging off the northern wall as if to add a splash of color to an otherwise painfully drab view. To you, it might as well be the goddamn Palace of Versailles.

You begin to relax the moment you step inside the narrow building with its two rows of wooden changing stalls, your feet sifting through the thin layer of sand that’s been tracked in here by all the beachgoers who have come before you, and which will eventually be washed away the next time it rains. The shack isn’t wired and the rough-hewn walls are bare of the magestone-powered lamps that light much of NRC, but there’s enough sunshine filtering in through the doorway and the high paneless windows for you to see by. You pluck off your sunglasses, fold them, and set them down on the narrow ledge that serves as a shelf.

You should hurry up and change before someone comes looking for you, but you hesitate, frowning down at the glasses. They’re sleek and sturdy and they look like money, and when Leona first gave them to you you’d badgered him about the price until he finally told you just to shut you up. When you tried to return them, reluctant to accept such an expensive gift, he said if you didn’t want them then you might as well throw them out, since he had no use for them.

You kept them, obviously. Mostly out of spite, but also because you were not-so-secretly happy he’d thought of you.

You huff, irked (with yourself, with the twins, with him), and crouch by the pile of duffel bags and backpacks to dig for your things. So Leona didn’t throw a hissy fit just because some other guys looked at you sideways, so what? It’s not like you want a crazy possessive boyfriend who can’t stand to see you breathe in anyone else’s direction.

You successfully excavate your bag and yank the zipper open with a hiss of metal teeth. You tell yourself your eyes are stinging from all the sand you kicked up earlier, that’s all.

But, god, couldn’t Leona have acted just a little bit annoyed?

“The hell’re you hiding out in here for?”

You startle and clutch your shirt to your chest, right over the uneven kick of your heart. You swivel around to scowl at Leona, looming in the doorway and backlit by a halo of sunlight that dyes the tips of his hair and ears a dark, molten gold. It almost looks like he’s wearing a crown. You suppose that’s fitting.

“What am I doing?” You stand up, still gripping your shirt like a cotton shield. “What’re you doing, sneaking up on me like that? Should I get you a collar with a bell for your next birthday?”

He crosses his arms and leans a shoulder against the door jamb, then hooks one ankle over the other to complete the picture of perfect of indolence. “Try it and see what happens. And I didn’t sneak. Ain’t my fault your senses are so dull.” He wrinkles his lips back from his fangs and yawns. “I saw you scurrying off this way like a scared little mouse, so I followed. Got a problem with that?”

You twist your fingers in the folds of your shirt, tugging the elastic collar out of shape. “I’m just surprised you bothered to notice,” you mumble, mostly to yourself.

Of course, since Leona’s senses aren’t nearly so dull as yours, he hears every word. He puts back his ears, jaw ticking. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you say curtly, and pull your shirt over your head before bending down to root for your denim cutoffs. Maybe you’ll head back to campus early; with the mood you’re in, what point is there in sticking around other than to make yourself even more miserable?

But then a broad, dry hand fits itself to the curve of your shoulder and tugs you back against a warm, firm chest, and your senses may be weaker than his but the scents of sweat and sunshine perfuming his skin are still strong enough to make your nostrils tingle. You didn’t even hear the sand rustle beneath his feet when he snuck up behind you, again.

Collar, you think, squeezing your hands into fists. Bell.

His jaw brushes your cheek as he lowers his head, long hair falling over his shoulder to tickle yours. “If you’ve got somethin’ to say, then say it.” He curls his other hand around your hip, palm burning you like a firebrand through the worn cotton of your shirt. “You know I hate that passive aggressive shit.”

“You’re one to talk,” you retort, thinking of the petty heights Leona’s capable of climbing whenever a certain fairy prince is involved. “And I’m not being passive aggressive. I just don’t feel like picking a fight with you right now.”

“Heh. Maybe I wouldn’t mind a fight.” The hand on your hip roams up and over to your belly, well-maintained claws plucking at your shirt. “What’re you wearing this thing for, anyway?”

You snag his wrist with half a mind to push him away, but you just end up holding on to him, feeling his pulse thump steadily away beneath your fingers. You lick the taste of salt from your lips and say, “I was thinking of heading home.”

“Yeah? What were you gonna do — walk the whole way back?” Leona hooks his fingers in your collar and tugs it down your shoulder, sweeping his thumb over the newly exposed skin to trigger a wave of shivers that start at your neck before crawling all the way down to the root of your spine. “What’s the matter, herbivore? Sun getting to your head?”

Something’s getting to your head, alright. “Sure,” you say thinly. “Let’s go with that.”

Leona makes a chuffing noise and presses his nose to the crook of your shoulder to breathe you in deep. You feel something tickling your leg and realize it’s his tail just before he slips it beneath your shirt to wrap it tightly around your thigh.

“That right?” he drawls.

You’re not surprised when he cups your breast and circles his palm over your nipple until it flares up full and stiff, but it still rocks you. Good thing he’s holding on to you, because you don’t trust your legs to support your weight right now.

He drags his tongue up your neck, and as you shudder in helpless reaction you wonder — not for the first time — how you might taste to him. Beneath the sweat and sunblock, do you taste savory or sweet? Can he taste the heat of your blood pounding beneath your skin?

Leona’s tongue retreats with a parting nip of shivery-sharp teeth. He pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pulling on it through two layers of fabric until it almost hurts, only to let go just when you’re ready to whine for him to stop. He draws you back against him and presses down on your stomach, coaxing your hips to rock.

“’Cause I can think of a few good reasons for you to stick around.”

You’re awfully interested in hearing these reasons, all the better if they’re accompanied by a practical demonstration, but then a dark smudge flutters by one of the windows and kicks you back to reality with a cold, hard jolt. The shadow you just saw was too small and too high up to be anything but a bird, but there’s a very good chance that next time, it won’t be just a bird.

You dig your nails into Leona’s wrists and feel him lift his head to look at you. “Not here. Anyone could walk in. There’s no door.”

“Huh?” Leona stills his movements, tail coiling tighter around your thigh before abruptly loosening. He growls low in his throat, then says in the aggrieved tone of someone who is being greatly inconvenienced, “Fuck, fine.”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed, but it’s for the best that you pumped the breaks. Exhibitionism as a concept might give you a wicked little thrill, but being fined for indecent exposure decidedly doesn’t. You start to turn in Leona’s arms, reaching up to give his satin-smooth cheek a conciliatory stroke.

“It’s okay,” you tell him. “We can always —”

Pick this up later, is what you were going to say, but the words get caught in your throat when Leona turns you the rest of the way around, settles your feet on top of his like he’s teaching you to dance, and walks you backwards until your back thumps gently against a wall. The sunlight beaming in through the open doorway is extinguished with a creak of unoiled hinges, leaving only the light coming through the narrow windows to see by, and you blink rapidly as your eyes struggle to adjust to the sudden change. Leona shifts against you, and you hear the scraping click of a rusted lock being shot into place.

He’s shut the two of you up inside a changing stall.

“There’s a door now,” Leona informs you, just in case you missed it. His breath warms your lips and his lashes scrape your cheek, the green glow of his eyeshine flickering as he blinks. “Happy?”

“Um.” You grip the hem of his top and fidget, then go still when he presses his hips flush to yours, tail sliding up your leg to circle your thigh once more. “Someone could still walk in, though?”

“Let them,” Leona says dismissively, bowing his head to drag his teeth over your shoulder. You have to lock your knees to keep them from wobbling. “If they try to peep, I’ll kick their ass.”

“Because violence is the answer to everything,” you say, more breathlessly than you’d like. You’re supposed to be the voice of reason here, but you can’t help but press your face to his shoulder in turn to take a deep, shuddering inhale of his sweat-and-sunshine scent, tongue darting out to taste him.

Leona’s tail flexes around your thigh, the tufted tip rubbing up against the cleft of your cunt through your nylon bottoms. A gasp escapes your open mouth, and his answering laughter rumbles down your spine like a sine wave through a tuning fork.

“Not everything,” he says. He slips his hand down your back to give your ass a smug squeeze, and something inside of you snaps, then dissolves. Your sense of shame, maybe.

By now, your eyes have adjusted well enough for you to just make out the fanged curve of his smirk. You’re going to wipe that look right off his face, you decided, and push up on your toes — still overlapping his — to catch his full lower lip between your teeth and bite down, hard.

Leona snarls and jerks back his head, lip pulling free of yours like a stretched rubber band snapping back into shape, then presses back in to take your lip between his teeth. He bites down, more gently than you had, but it still stings because he has fangs. He worries your lip between those fangs like it’s a tender cut of meat he wants to savor, only relenting when you yield with a whine. He swipes his tongue over the bloodless dents his teeth left behind, then tilts his head and gathers you close to give you a proper kiss.

Your lips bloom beneath his, one hand fisting tightly in his shirt while the other burrows beneath his hair to curl around his nape. You licked the taste of salt from your mouth only a few moments ago but now you taste it again, along with the tang of sunblock and the fizzy sweetness of some soft drink. Leona’s tongue is rough in your mouth, the heavy ridge of his hips pinning you in place against the half-rotted wall, which groans in protest beneath your combined weight.

You are briefly concerned about splinters, then quickly forget to care when you feel a tugging on the hem of your shirt. Leona’s trying to undress you, and you know from experience that he’ll just tear your clothes and replace them later if you don’t move fast enough to suit His Highness.

You obligingly raise your arms, then help him wrestle out of his own shirt, blue arcs of static crackling through the air when you drag it over his head. You smooth down his mussed hair and twine your arms around his neck, every square inch of your skin prickling with delight at being pressed so close to his. Your pulse pounds in your ears, your bruised lips a slick, swollen echo of how you feel between your legs. You turn your head to kiss him again, but he denies you, nipping your chin before dropping to his knees.

Your knees start to wobble again, and you brace your hands against his shoulders to keep yourself standing. You’ll never get used to seeing him like this, never get used to knowing that you’re the only person he’d ever kneel for, that he’d make his beautiful face into a throne just for you. You’ve already sweated through your bottoms in the heat, but now a pulse of anticipation slicks your cunt with a thicker, more viscous kind of moisture, your suit’s stretchy nylon crotch clinging to you like sticky paper.

Leona wets his lips and inhales through his nose, scenting your arousal like a wine bouquet. You whimper, knees finally giving out, and he catches you. Squeezes your hips. His hands are so big his fingers curve all the way around to your ass.

“Hey. Were you really gonna make me wait until later?” He licks a filthy trail up your inner thigh, spined tongue abrading your skin like a pumice stone. “Smells to me like you wouldn’t’ve lasted that long.”

That earns him a tug on his hair, another privilege afforded only to you. “Shut up.” The sharp tone you meant to adopt is belied by the obvious quiver in your voice. “Don’t be disgusting.”

Another slow, indulgent lash of his tongue makes you wonder if he enjoys the taste of salt on your skin, be it sweat or sea spray. “You like it.”

You do — not that you’d ever admit to it. “I told you to shut — ah.”

Your legs jerk, thighs trembling so hard your knees would knock together if Leona hadn’t shouldered between them to mouth at your sex through your swimsuit bottoms. The fabric is just thin enough for you to feel each individual spine on his tongue as it scrapes over your lips and clit like sandpaper, rubbing you raw. It’s not an unpleasant sensation, but it does skirt the edge of too much, to the point that you’re already squirming even with the fabric in the way.

He lifts one hand to tap you smartly on the ass, making you jolt. “Knock that off and hold still. You’re gonna gimme a black eye.”

You bristle at the order but lock your knees and do as he says, because if you don’t he might stop, and you don’t want to have to beg him to keep going. Leona chuffs, pleased, and hooks his fingers in your bottoms to ease them down an inch, then two, uncovering your navel and hipbones. He sweeps his tongue up the slope of your lower belly, so you have to fight even harder not to squirm — but then he stops, and hisses. Really hisses, not at all like a human but exactly like a cat, a wet, angry, spitting sound that makes your skin break out in goosebumps.

“The fuck is this?”

The fuck is what? you wonder dazedly. You look down, eyes skittering past the angry glow of his to land on the hands wrapped jealously around your waist. Only then do you comprehend what he meant: etched across your stomach are a series of thin, shallow scratches, brilliantly red in color and obviously the work of someone’s nails. Looking at them, your heart gives a hard, anxious thump.

“It’s nothing serious,” you say quickly. Your hands flutter like nervous birds across Leona’s shoulders, which feel coiled to spring. “I’m not hurt. Floyd was just messing around earlier and I guess he must’ve scratched me on accident.”

Leona’s upper lip lifts at one corner to flash a curved canine tooth. He’s not angry with you, but you’re still shaken by the intensity of his reaction to something so minor. What happened to his earlier indifference?

Maybe… maybe he wasn’t as indifferent as you’d thought?

“Yeah, I know,” Leona grumbles, surprising you into silence. “You think I didn’t notice him hanging off of you like a damn coat? I was about to come over there and knock him on his ass when you ran off.”

He rocks forward on his knees and pulls a mouthful of your flesh between his pointed teeth, sucking hard like he intends to cover Floyd’s marks with his own, then releases it with a damp pop just as you begins to ache. He leans his forehead against your stomach like he doesn’t want you to see his face, ears laid flat along his skull.

“Bad enough I had to listen to Hunt singing your praises from all the way across the damn beach earlier.” The low register of his voice rumbles through your abdomen like an echo in a chamber, sinking into the cradle of your hips to hum through your clit. “Now I’ve gotta go gut a fuckin’ fish, too.”

Ah. So he is jealous.

You school the dopey grin that wants to unfurl across your face and say, reasonably, “Rook sings everyone’s praises. And you’re not going to gut anyone.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Leona says in a way that makes it clear he’s not really listening and is only acknowledging that you spoke at all to keep you off his back. He tugs your bottoms down another inch, bunching them up around your hips, then wraps his tail around your right ankle and pulls. “Now c’mon and lift your foot so I can get you outta these fuckin’ things.”

Your stomach swoops as if he reached inside you and tugged. Oh, you think, okay, and hurriedly lift your foot, clutching Leona’s shoulders for balance while he works the bottoms down your legs. With one leg freed, you start to lower your foot so you can lift the other just for Leona to leave the bottoms slung around your left ankle and rise fluidly from his crouch, muscles flickering beneath his skin like shadows cast by the noonday sun. He braces one hand beneath your ass to hoist you up and pushes the other between your legs to squeeze your cunt.

You yelp and cling to Leona’s arms, your head spinning drunkenly as the floor falls out from under you. Chuckling, Leona nuzzles into the crook of your neck and dips two fingers inside of you as if testing the waters. When he feels how wet you already are, sweating in the humidity and sticky with arousal, the folds of your cunt squishing beneath his fingers like carpels of pulpy, overripe fruit, he breathes out a satisfied groan that seems to resonate in the very core of your stomach.

You answer that groan with a pleading whine, hugging his hips with your thighs and digging your toes into his waistband to try and push it down. You can feel the bulk of his dick through his shorts, so close to where you need him but not close enough, driving you half crazy with hot, frustrated want.

Leona gives your throat a reprimanding nip. “Pipe down. Someone could walk in, remember?”

Leave it to Leona to throw those words back in your face while he does everything in his power to ensure that you can’t pipe down, angling his wrist to stroke his thumb over your clit and thrust his fingers deeper inside you like he’s searching an oyster he dug out of the sand for pearls. You tighten up around him, digging your nails into his arms to press little red half moons into his sun-warmed flesh.

If he’s gonna play it like that, then so will you.

“If you’re that worried about someone walking in on us” — you push your heels against the small of his back, nudging his trunks down another inch — “then why don’t you hurry up and fuck me before they do?”

Leona snarls in your ear, and your scalp pulls taut, the hair on the nape of your neck standing straight up. “Who the fuck’re you ordering around?”

He pulls his fingers out of you with a harsh twist of his wrist and yanks up your top, smearing your breasts with warm, gooey streaks of your own slick, then shoves his hand back down between your legs to push at his shorts until his cock springs free to slap your cunt. Your thighs tense and your clit tingles, heart leaping into your throat.

Leona huffs impatiently and hauls you closer, claws scratching lightly at your ass. “Why’re you clamming up now? You’ve taken it before.” He curls his hand around the root of his cock and presses the damp, flared head to your opening like he’s nocking an arrow in a bow. “You’re the one who said to hurry up and fuck you, so let me fuck you.”

Your cunt wrings out another gush of syrupy moisture at the blunt reminder of what he intends to do to you, and because you want him to do it to you, you try your best to unclench even as your thighs begin to shake from the strain of staying spread around his hips. Leona grunts through his teeth and hefts you up a little higher, cockhead slipping further down your slit to breach that first shallow inch. Shallow, yes, but still deep enough for you to feel a familiar prickle.

Unlike him, you are entirely and mundanely human, but you still arch your back like a cat in heat to take him deeper, your clit throbbing so hard you can feel the pulse of it in your ears as the barbs crowning his shaft rake your cunt like dozens of blunted claws. The first time you saw them, you nearly balked, certain that the two of you would never be able to fit together without blood and pain. Obviously, he proved you wrong — again and again and again.

Now he scrapes his cuspids down the apple of your cheek and laps up more of your sweat with a pass of his rough tongue. “Maybe you don’t want me to hurry.” He drags his hand up your thigh, hitching your leg higher around his waist to tilt your hips and sink in another prickling inch. “Maybe you want somebody to walk in and see.”

You mean to tell him that’s the very last thing you want, but all that comes out is a gasp, that wicked little thrill from earlier returning in full force to quiver in your belly and tighten the walls of your cunt. Leona hisses through his teeth at the squeeze and pushes forward till his chest crushes your breasts flat, hooking your knees over his elbows so he can palm two covetous handfuls of your ass. You feel strung up, weightless, pinned on his cock as if on a spear. Your legs tremble harder, your toes curling so tight they cramp.

“Fuck,” he bites out, half growling, half laughing. “You really do, don’t you? Who would’ve thought the little herbivore had it in her?”

When he says “in her,” he braces his feet and thrusts up his hips, fucking the rest of the way in until there’s no more room left, barbs snagging on your walls to hook him deep inside of you. Those barbs catch against your clit on the way out and your foot gives a reflexive kick, a garbled moan falling from your mouth. Leona licks your chin, a gruff purr rumbling in his throat. It’s a comforting gesture, but if you thought it meant he was finished teasing you, you really should’ve known better.

“You want those assholes outside to see me fucking you like this? Huh?” His tail bats your legs as it lashes back and forth, his spined shaft scouring your cunt as he fills you and fills you and fills you with cock. “You want them to know I’m the only one who can?”

His next thrust knocks your ass against the wall but you are too far gone to spare even a fleeting thought for splinters, for anything that’s not the wet glide of his cock inside you, stuffing you to the brim. There’s sand between your toes and a growing ache in your back and you are going to walk away from this stiff and sore all over, and you don’t care, you don’t care so long as he keeps fucking you just. Like. This. You duck your head to lick a trickle of sweat from the swell of his chest and he growls, butting your head aside with a thrust of his chin so he can run his nose up your neck and suck your earlobe between his teeth.

“But I’m not gonna let ’em look,” he mumbles, grinding his hips in a tight, hot circle. He pushes your knees back till they almost touch your shoulders, winding every muscle in your body tense as a spring with your cunt coiled taut at the center. “I’ll fuckin’ kill them if they look.”

Something in you seizes but doesn’t release, trembling, waiting. Waiting for him to drag his cock halfway out of your sex, barbs raking your clit to pull your building orgasm out of you by the heels. You bite at his shoulder with your nubby human teeth, stomach cramping, cunt pulsing, and he buries his groan in the crook of your neck like he doesn’t want you to hear it. One-two-three more thrusts plant him so deep inside you you can feel his head pressing at the back of your throat as a treacly warmth floods your cunt and trickles down your thighs, dousing you in the scent of him.

You don’t doubt that was his plan all along.

You come down in fits and shivering starts, your orgasm’s pulsating aftershocks growing weaker and weaker with each passing minute. Enough of those minutes have gone by in total silence for you to wonder if Leona’s fallen asleep standing up when he finally speaks.

“Hey,” he grunts. He doesn’t lift his head from your shoulder, either because he’s too lazy to bother or because his cheek’s been glued there by your sweat. “The next time some grabby asshole touches you without your permission, you fucking tell me.”

You blink over his shoulder at the dust motes spiraling through a bright beam of sunlight, a ticklish kind of feeling stirring in your chest.

Oh, you think. Not just jealous, then — worried, too. You hug him as tightly as you can with your noodly arms and legs and comb your fingers through his sweaty hair, even daring to give him a brief scratch behind the ears. He grumbles and butts your cheek lightly with his forehead, and you smile.

“Okay,” you say softly. “Just don’t get yourself expelled for my sake, alright?”

Leona scoffs. “If Crowley didn’t expel me for wrecking the Spelldrive Stadium, then he’s not gonna kick me out over a couple of snot-nosed brats who had it comin’.” He shifts his feet, dick tugging at your insides and making you wince. “You good to walk?”

“No promises.”

You let him ease you out of the human pretzel he’d contorted you into, pulling a face when his cum oozes down your leg to splatter on the floor. Leona smirks faintly, unrepentant. Not that you ever expected him to be.

“Hold on.” He hitches up his trunks with one hand and unlocks the door with the other, ducking outside. He returns a moment later with a t-shirt dangling from his fist and proceeds to wipe you clean, gentler in his post-coital contentment than he ever is otherwise.

The shirt isn’t his, or yours. You frown at him, tugging your swimsuit into place while he loops his tanktop over his head. “Whose is that?”

Leona just shrugs and tosses the soiled shirt aside. Someone’s going to be extremely unhappy about that. “Leona, you can’t just —”

“Trust me, you do not wanna go in there.”

You freeze and shoot Leona a panicked look, but he just scrubs his hands through his hair and yawns, sleepy and satiated. You don’t hear the rest of the conversation clearly, just an indistinct back-and-forth, but it doesn’t last long. When the voices outside fall silent, Leona flicks his ears and turns to leave.

“C’mon.”

You really don’t want to, but it’s not like you can hide in here all day — or you could, but you doubt Leona would let you. Resigned to your fate, you grab your sunglasses and head outside to face the music, the music in this case being Ruggie’s disgusted scowl. You don’t ask him how long he’s been standing guard for; you’re probably better off not knowing.

“Ugh, seriously?” Ruggie mutters, already turning away like he can’t bear to look at the two of you. You can’t say you blame him. “You owe me a week’s worth of meals for this, Leona. No, two. No, four —”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Leona presses a hand to the small of your back to nudge you forward, and it’s only when you feel his bare skin on yours that you realize you forgot to change into your t-shirt. Peeking at Leona’s profile and taking stock of the aching tenderness that persists between your legs, you decide you actually don’t mind going without it so long as Leona’s there to scare your more tenacious admirers off.

Crowley’s being buried up to his neck in sand by Epel and Grim, and Ruggie’s going on about how he doesn’t get paid enough for this crap. You take Leona’s warm hand in yours and he lets you keep it, tail twining loosely around your thigh.

You think you’ll have a talk with Kalim about funding another trip to the beach sometime very soon.

#leona kingscholar x reader #twst x reader #!candid fic #!apples of my eye

[vintageshanny]

Officer Presley and the Librarian - Part 7 - Pool Party of Two

Writing Prompt: Summer theme

Content: Smut, fluff (You might actually need to see a dentist after reading this due to the sweetness quotient. I guess this is just what my heart and brain needed to express right now). 18+

You glanced up over the edge of your book when you felt the water droplets hitting your leg. You had been lounging by the pool reading a book while Elvis cooled off in the water. Now he was standing over you with a little pouty look on his face. “I thought you were gonna come in with me, baby,” he said. “I am, I just finished my chapter. Let’s go in.” You set your book down and smiled up at him as the water from his hair and T-shirt dripped down onto your red one-piece swimsuit. “Hold on, I’m thirsty,” he said, reaching for his bottle of Pepsi on the little table next to your lounge chair. “That’s okay, take your time. I have a nice view right now,” you teased as you eyed his crotch that was at your eye level. You could see the entire outline of all he had to offer. “You know, those wet swim shorts cling to you real nice. I’ve heard a lot of men shrink in the cold water, but I see you don’t have that problem.” You giggled as Elvis’ face turned red and he turned to pull his chair closer to yours. “Mmm you look good from the back too,” you said, reaching out to give his perfect round butt a gentle pat. “Hush, woman,” he said with an embarrassed chuckle as he swatted your hand away and sat down next to you.

“You look pretty good yourself, y’know,” Elvis smirked as he eyed you up and down, leaning his head back against the chair. “I love seein’ ya look so happy.” It had been two weeks since you and Elvis had confessed your love for each other, and you’d been on an emotional high since then. You’d essentially been living at Graceland, leaving only to go to work at the library, and you could tell that if Elvis had his way, you wouldn’t be leaving for that either. He didn’t put up too much of a fight yet, but you knew it was coming. For now, though, you were just trying to enjoy the bliss of those first stages of love.

“Well, being with you makes me so happy, baby. Especially when you come out of the water shoving this in my face,” you leaned over and ran your fingertips gently over the outline of his cock, making him shiver. “There’s my handsy girl,” he said with a wink. “I see you’ve got one thing on your mind today. Do ya need daddy ta take care of ya?” he whispered. You glanced over your shoulder at where some of the guys were playing football in the grass, but no one seemed to be paying attention to the two of you. “Out here? Anyone could look over,” you said with a blush. “So you’re jus’ gonna touch Little Elvis, get ‘im all riled up, and that’s it? That don’t sound fair, do it?” he said, his hand reaching over to trace over your stomach and down your hip. “Do you want to go inside?” you asked, starting to feel very hot and bothered. “Nah, ya promised me that ya’d swim with me.” Elvis stood and grabbed your hand, pulling you up and toward the pool.

“What are we going to do in the pool?” you asked as you followed him down the steps into the water. “Whatever we want, baby. If no one wants to see it, they shouldn’t come over here when I’m spendin’ quality time with my sexy librarian.” At that he lunged at you and you squealed as he pressed you up against the side of the pool. Goosebumps were rising all over your body, and you weren’t sure if it was from the cool water or the feel of his open lips pressing against your neck. “Mmm,” you moaned a little too loudly. Charlie turned from where they were playing and called out, “What’s goin’ on over there? Everything okay?” Elvis turned from you just long enough to say, “Don’ worry ‘bout it. Jus’ mind your business.” Charlie shrugged and turned back to the game.

“Ya need to be a little quieter baby, if ya don’ want an audience,” Elvis teased as he resumed his open-mouthed kisses down your neck and toward your chest. “Will you do me a favor, Elvis?” you asked softly as his hands roamed over your curves, squeezing your breasts gently. “I’ll do all kinds of favors for ya, baby,” he murmured into your skin. “Will you take this T-shirt off?” You could feel Elvis stop in his tracks and tense up a little bit. You knew he felt a little self-conscious to have no shirt on where other people could see him, but you wanted him to feel like he could be completely at ease with you. “I-I-I don’ know, baby, I, um, it-it,” he stumbled trying to find an explanation that wouldn’t require him to admit how insecure he felt without it. He knew some of his friends had gained weight over the years too, and they felt no need to hide, but their bodies weren’t being constantly scrutinized.

“Please, daddy, for me,” you cooed in his ear as you traced over the area where his wet shirt clung to his nipples. “You know how I like to feel your skin pressed up against me. And that trail of hair…it drives me wild,” you whispered. Elvis blushed a little bit and relaxed his grip on you. “O-o-okay, baby, only for you. You helped him peel the wet shirt off, and he set it next to the pool. “Oh, that’s more like it,” you breathed out as you ran your fingers through his wet chest hair and down over his soft belly. Elvis’ mouth turned up in his trademark crooked grin and he stared at you with a funny look in his eyes. “What is it? Are you okay?” you asked, worried maybe you had pushed him too much. Elvis pressed his body close to yours and cradled the back of your head with his large hand. “I-I-I’m better than okay, baby. I jus’ never thought I’d find someone who could love and accept every part of me. B-B-but here you are.” “Each little piece of you makes up the beautiful man that you are. So I can’t help but love every part,” you said softly as you leaned your head down and kissed the smooth skin of his shoulder. As your lips moved up to meet his, you could feel Little Elvis responding in the best way.

“Is anyone watching us, baby?” Elvis asked as he pulled back from your lips. You looked over his shoulder and shook your head. “No, they moved further away.” “That’s good, they musta got the hint.” He smiled and moved his hand down your side until he was gripping your thigh, his thumb rubbing over the elastic band of your swimsuit. “These little strands of hair creepin’ out are jus’ drivin’ me crazy, honey, I need ta see more.” He pulled the elastic to the side exposing your entire pubic area. As he looked down into the water at you, Little Elvis started poking at you more insistently. “I need to see more of you too, daddy,” you whispered as you pulled at the waistband of his swim shorts. You reached your hand down inside of them and found what you were looking for. Elvis let out a soft groan as you started pumping him in your hand. At the same time, he used one of his knees to spread your legs open a little bit and stuck one long finger inside of you.

Your body let out a shudder as he added a second finger and rubbed his thumb against your clit. You tried to focus on pumping his cock, but your whole body seemed to be responding to his touch. “Oh, baby, seein’ ya like this, I’m almost ready ta finish. Let me get inside of ya, honey,” he said as he looked into your blissful face. You nodded, unable to think straight from the pleasure of his fingers. He pulled his shorts down in the front just enough to pull out his cock and tried to pull your swimsuit even further to the side. The fabric could not withstand this strong tug, and the entire crotch of your suit ripped open, leaving your bottom half fully exposed. “Oh goddamn that’s a beautiful sight,” Elvis groaned when he looked down at you. Your pussy was just throbbing with need for him, and he wasted no time in thrusting into you. It was fortunate the guys had moved their game further away, because the two of you were failing in your attempts to keep things quiet. Elvis finished with a grunt and leaned over you, holding onto the side of the pool.

“Did I take care of ya, baby?” he asked nervously. Usually he could feel you shaking and calling out his name, but the position was a little more awkward in the pool. You bit your lip, not sure what to say. You didn’t want to lie, but you also didn’t want him to feel bad about it. “I always feel good when we’re together, Elvis. I always feel taken care of,” you said, scratching one of his sideburns gently. He leaned into your touch, closed his eyes, and sighed a little bit. “But ya didn’t quite get there, did ya? I’m sorry, let me help ya finish,” he said, pulling out of you slowly and reaching his hand back down. “No, Elvis, it’s not you, I think I’m just too nervous that someone’s going to walk back over here. I couldn’t fully let go.” “I’ll make it up to ya inside then,” he insisted. “With your tongue?” you said with a wink. Elvis laughed at that. “Whatever my baby wants,” he said, sticking his tongue out and licking your cheek, making you squeal.

“Um, how am I supposed to get out of the pool with my suit wrecked?” you asked with a nervous laugh. “Hmm I guess I did really use some force tryin’ ta get at ya,” Elvis chuckled. “You should wear a bikini next time for…easier access.” You blushed at the thought of that but kept your insecurities to yourself. “You stay here, and I’ll get your towel,” Elvis announced. He climbed out of the pool while you tried to keep your hands over yourself in case anyone walked over. “Okay, baby, I got ya,” Elvis said, shielding you with a towel as you climbed the stairs. Right after he wrapped it around you, the guys started heading toward the pool. “Whew…just in time,” Elvis joked.

“Hey, we were just coming to join you. It’s getting too hot out here,” Charlie announced. “Sorry fellas, we’re done for now.” “Aw, c’mon, you can stay a little long-” Charlie was cut off by an elbow to the ribs. Joe motioned with his head to where a little scrap of red swimsuit fabric was floating in the pool. Your face turned scarlet when you realized everyone knew what had just happened. “Hey, where’s your shirt?” Charlie asked Elvis, changing the subject. You nervously glanced at Elvis, hoping he wasn’t embarrassed. His face flushed a little bit, but he just grabbed his sopping wet shirt and said, “Well boys, when the most beautiful girl in the world wants ta get busy in the pool, ya jus’ do what she asks.” He gave a little wink as you buried your head in his chest, too embarrassed to look anyone in the face. “C’mon, baby, let’s go and I’ll make it up to ya.” The guys looked a little confused as you and Elvis walked toward the house giggling like teenagers in love.

Thank you to my beautiful sister wives @whositmcwhatsit @thatbanditqueen @missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @be-my-ally @from-memphis-with-love. You all inspire me every day and I love you! ❤️

Thank you to everyone who has expressed continued interest in this series and in my writing! I appreciate you all so much! ❤️

Tag list: @eliseinmemphis @18lkpeters @doll-elvis @elvispresleygf @artlover8992 @richardslady121 @lookingforrainbows

#elvis #big daddy elvis #writing prompt game #elvis fan fic #officer presley and the librarian #officer presley #i love this man

[eeclare]

I was at the beach today so here are some bobs burgers beach headcanons

Bob applies LAYERS of sunscreen to himself

It’s pretty gross looking, actually

To the point where even Linda is like “yikes” 😬

It’s fine though because at some point (always sooner than later) Louise WILL dump a pail of water in him

She says it’s for the prank but irl she just thinks that her dad slathered in sunscreen in public is of the utmost embarrassment

Gene and Tina wholeheartedly agree

Gene isn’t allowed to bring his keyboard to the beach anymore

There was an incident

But the family doesn’t talk about it so just drop it, okay?

So yeah

He brings a little radio instead

And Gene just plays the most unhinged shit

Drives Louise crazy (so she says)

Honestly, it bothers Tina even more bcs it makes her senses go brrrrrr in a bad way

she does NOT vibe with the gummy bear song

Gene wears a swim shirt/rash guard

And despite the fact that she hates it, Louise's swimsuit has one of those cute ruffled skirts attached to it

She's tried to cut it off but Linda ALWAYS sews it back on again

Linda brings wine coolers disguised inside her travel thermos (stanley knock off??)

But she has extras in the cooler

Obvi bobby brings his portable grill

his burger of the day is the "Beach Burger"

Just a reg burg except he arranges the sesame seeds into a sand dollar pattern

well, an attempted sand dollar pattern

tbh he gets through one burger bun and gives up

To make up for it he attempted to add fish sauce to the burger meat, but it's okay bcs Gene spit it at him and he got the message

Bob also wears a rash guard btw

Linda is a bikini lady; always red, always high waisted

Tina just sticks with the sexy one piece with the wonky stripe

Louise will always invite her friends along

and they always end up coming, much to bob's chagrin

Andy and Ollie let her bury them up to their necks in sand

Rudy (who not only wears a rash guard, but it's a long sleeved rash guard) just watches from a distance

He really does not like it when any parent gets him in trouble, let alone bob

Gene tans, he loves it

It's a lifestyle, not a skin colour

Linda is right behind him on that one

Tina spends most of her time collecting shells and cool rocks she finds

One time she found a heart-shaped stone and gave it to Jimmy jr

but he thought she was handing him a skipping stone so he chucked it right back into the water

(Zeke spent the rest of the day trying to find it, but it was gone forever)

Louise loves skipping rocks

but literally only because it means that she can throw rocks at people on purpose and say that she's just practicing

Bob ends up with wicked tan lines

Every time he takes off his shirt, for weeks afterwards Louise screams bloody murder

Louise can't really swim

she can pull off a mean doggy paddle but quite frankly she doesn't like getting her ears wet

Tina is the strongest swimmer of all of them

but even still, she mostly just sinks

Gene just floats

The kids are pretty sure they have never seen bob get in the water

Something that he denies, even though it's true

He can swim

He just chooses not to

Linda doesn't get in the water much anymore but she used to be an avid swimmer

She briefly got back into it during her syncro phase but after she embarrassed herself and her kids so it didn't last too long

but she does like to go to some sort of community centre pool sometimes just to swim a couple laps

Anyway

when Linda's at the beach she, like Gene, spends most of her time tanning

where else do you think he got it from?

The only difference is that she makes Gene put at least a little sunblock on

While Linda herself does not put any on at all and gets horrifically burned

BUT its okay! Her skin eventually peels off into a nice, dark tan

bob is terrified of her getting skin cancer, and honestly, its a valid concern

One Linda brushes off, naturally

Tina and Louise LOVE the feeling of the hot sand on their feet

Louise loves the beach because she can comfortably go shoeless

Gene, however, wears his red sneakers

just without socks

stinky boy

Bob also wears a sunhat btw

It's linda's, but as if she uses it lolol

It makes him look classy

Louise WILL clown him for it tho

#I wrote these when I was actually at the beach in august #but i forgot about it #so here we #summer in the winter #bob’s burgers #bob’s burgers headcannon #character headcanons #bobs burgers headcanon #bob belcher #tina belcher #louise belcher #gene belcher #linda belcher #headcannons

[freesia-writes]

I love your Gregor dates fics and not just because I requested them! So I have another idea since they're starting to get more comfortable with one another. They're on an island right? Maybe there needs to be a followup date where they go to the beach and go swimming/spend time in the water enjoying the weather?

Gregor Date #3!

Summer has arrived on the island with a sudden and oppressive wave of dry heat, and the inhabitants take to the waters to cool off. Gregor invites you to join him after work one day for a sunset swim, and promises to regale you with tales of bravery, all of which he will make up on the spot since he doesn't actually remember any of them. His giggle at the end of the offer seals the deal, and as you drop your work bag in your entryway, you feel a sense of excitement rising. Preparation is fairly quick, although you gripe over your swimsuit selection. They all seemed to look great when you bought them, but now as you try them on in front of the mirror, you find every single nitpicky flaw. Finally settling for a high-waisted two piece with a high neck halter top, you wrap a thin, flowy cover-up over it all and plop a big, floppy hat on your head. 

Gregor is knocking at the door, right on time, and you open it with a huge smile. Each date has left you feeling increasingly comfortable (and increasingly infatuated) with his expressive eyebrows, disarming giggles, and infectious joy for life. He's equipped with a backpack, wearing swim trunks and a tank top, and you're quick to notice his nicely-rounded shoulders and strong arms, remembering how he carried you so effortlessly. 

"Well hellooooo my lady!" he says in greeting, opening his arms for a hug. You've never felt so much of his bare skin, and it radiates heat as you nestle yourself against his chest, catching a delightful whiff of musky soap mixed with a slight bit of sweaty man stank. He releases you, stepping back to look you up and down, and for once you don't feel sheepish or under scrutiny. "You look like a fresh island breeze! Let's go!" he declares, offering you a gentlemanly arm. 

The walk down to the water is a smooth, winding path through the village, and the delicious smells wafting from all the restaurants and food carts makes your mouth water. One street vendor in particular has an eye-catching array of gyros, stuffed with thinly-shaved meat slices, tomatoes, cucumbers, and sauce, and both you and Gregor pull over to check them out. 

Five minutes later, you're on your way, hands full of a warm pita wrapped in blue and white checkered paper, continuing your conversation between bites. The beach stretches out before you; it's one of the more remote ones on the island but the heat has driven almost everyone to the ocean, so there are a handful of people scattered around it. The water is impossibly bright, a glowing blue-green, and you can see the bottom all the way out to sea. 

The sand is impossibly soft, and its pastel peach color makes it look even more inviting. Finding a snug little spot against a large piece of driftwood, Gregor drops the backpack, tucking his food wrapper in a side pocket, and brings out a large beach blanket, throwing it across the sand and tucking it underneath the wood. 

"Might want to cool off first, eh?" he asks, whipping off his tank top without waiting for an answer, and you're distracted by a sudden urge to touch his broad chest and nestle your fingers in the little tuft of hair in the middle. You shake your head to try to brush the thought aside, which he takes as a response to his question. "Oh, no? No worries!" he continues brightly.

"Oh, sorry!" you correct, "No! I was... thinking about something else. No, that sounds great! Just... gotta put some sunscreen on first," you assure him, slowly unwrapping your cover-up and trying not to look at your body with judgment. You've been working on loving yourself just as you are, focusing on all that your body does your you, viewing it through an appreciative eye that's unburdened by unrealistic societal expectations. But it's still a lifelong struggle. Gregor, however, is a delightful assistance in that realm. 

"Look at you!" he exclaims, unabashedly enraptured at the sight of you. His gaze doesn't feel unwelcome, though he doesn't let it linger too long. "Need some help with that?" he asks, without a trace of ulterior motives, as you fix your hair on top of your head, shake the sunscreen bottle, and pour some into your hands. 

"Oh, um... Thanks," you admit, handing him the bottle and turning your back to him. He gently spreads it across your shoulders and up the back of your neck, hands firm and yet incredibly gentle. You try not to shiver visibly at his touch, relishing the sensations. He continues down the outsides of your arms and puts an extra little blob across the middle of your back that pokes out from the high-waisted bottoms. You could swear you hear a self-conscious little giggle as he smooths it back and forth. 

"Your turn," you say, finishing rubbing it into your face, and one of his sharp eyebrows arches in playful delight. He stands before you, lifting his arms out to the sides, and closes his eyes, upturning his face toward the sun as though he is totally at your mercy. This is going quite well. You pour a decent amount onto your hands, rubbing them together before spreading it across his back. You're trying not to enjoy yourself too much as your hands slide down his ribs and across his muscular little waist, and when you rub the sunscreen up the outsides of his arms, his eyes meet yours in a way that makes your heart skip a beat, and you'd very much like to kiss him in that moment. 

"Well that was an unexpected perk! We might need to venture out into the sun more often," he chuckles, waggling his eyebrows suggestively and earning a blushing little chortle from you. "So shall we?" he asks, gently taking your hand in his, giving you a lovely little case of the tingles, and walks toward the water. The two of you wade in, savoring the warm yet refreshing water as it rises to your waists. There's a gentle sea breeze, just enough to brush your hair back from your face, and Gregor gives you another affectionate look. 

"So, you want to hear the tale of the commando droid ambush?" he says conspiratorially, arching an eyebrow with mock intensity. You laugh, wading in a little deeper, and nod. "Excellent!" he continues, "So there we were... on a mission on some planet... and we were charging into a cave... to find... something... or fight someone..." He giggles, swirling the water around him with his arms as a wave gently splashes against his chest. "It was dark, and it had become totally silent... except for the sound of our feet... when all of a sudden... ATTACK!"

The last word is yelled, for dramatic effect, and he leaps suddenly into the water behind you, casting a flurry of water droplets up your back and hair that startles you. His arms find you from behind and wrap you snugly as he rises to his feet, shooting back up out of the water with you in his grasp, holding you slightly up out of the water and turning in a little circle. You laugh at the absolute surprise and ridiculousness of it all, heart thrilling at his closeness and strength. 

"They were all around us! Every direction! We were outnumbered! But never you worry -- I was quick on my feet! Lightning fast, I whipped out not one, but five electromagnetic pulse grenades! I scattered them in every direction, and we dove for cover," his voice increases in volume, getting slightly more squeaky, and you're giggling uncontrollably now. "Then BOOM!"

With perhaps too much enthusiasm, he throws you in the air, and you land in the water with the most ungraceful kerplunk you could have imagined. Momentarily underwater, you burst to the surface, hat floating away, chunks of loose hair escaping your bun and framing your face in a straggled mess. The shock on your face gives him a clue that he may have gone too far, and his excitement is immediately mixed with contrition.

"Ohhhh I'm sorry!" he says with a nervous chuckle, "I got carried away!"

"It's okay," you laugh, pushing your hair out of your eyes and attempting to salvage any sort of put-together look. 

"Well, I guess I should be fair," Gregor squeaks, taking a deep breath and plunging himself under the next wave. He comes back up, slicked-back hair now flat and wet on his forehead, and you never realized you were such an overly-romantic sucker for glistening droplets of water on a strong, manly chest. He catches your gaze, running both hands over his head to push his hair back, and grows slightly serious. 

"Thank you for coming with me," he says, sincerity across his face. 

"Of course! I love our time together!" 

He giggles, a bit sheepishly, and draws closer, eyes darting to the side, and you feel his hand reach your waist, sending an electric shock through your body at the touch of his skin on yours under the water. His eyes come back to yours, a meek inquisitiveness about them, and you smile, taking a step toward him as the small waves rock the two of you back and forth. You put a hand on his forearm, and, feeling emboldened by the bliss on his face, reach the other one up to his chest, giving it a light caress before flattening your palm against it. His other arm wraps around your back, pulling you up against him, and the warmth and touch is intoxicating. 

He holds you close for a moment, gazing into your eyes with a joyful calm, and slowly leans in, causing your heart to pound in your chest. He touches his forehead to yours, tracing his nose gently across yours a time or two, then lifts his head and places an unfathomably tender kiss on your forehead. The gentle lulling motion of the waves, combined with his firm yet soft embrace, blend in with the lingering spark of his lips on your skin, and you suddenly realize why the women on the holo films do that swooning thing. 

He pulls away, slowly, eyes closed as if continuing to savor it, mouth curving into a huge smile. You let out a content sigh, and he opens those honey brown eyes, giving you one last squeeze before releasing you into the ocean. 

"Race you to the shore?" he invites, suddenly grinning with an ambitious spark in his eye, and you laugh, wading as quickly as you can, trundling through the water with arms waving back and forth for momentum and balance. He dives ahead like a dolphin, arms pointed in front of him, and pops up a few feet ahead. The two of you feel like kids again, cackling and pushing toward the sand with absolutely no attempt at graceful movement. He's got you by a few feet, and in a last-ditch effort, you grab an ankle that he foolishly let come too close. You didn't mean to, but your grasp throws him off balance, and he flops onto the sand on his side, letting out a little squawk of surprise.

"Ohhh my bad!" you exclaim worriedly, rushing to bend over him to see if he's alright. On closer inspection, however, he is laughing, and pulls you to the ground next to him. The sand is soft, but immediately sticks to every inch of your wet body, and you let fly a little curse word before you can hold it back. 

"What a mess!" Gregor giggles, rolling closer to brush your hair from your face. You're both lying on your sides, facing each other, with the waves barely tickling your toes. The setting sun beams the last of its warm golden rays, and you find yourself lost in his eyes again, eyes that can somehow be intense yet giddy, soulfully old yet childishly innocent. You sigh at his gentle caress, as the backs of his fingers linger on your cheek before resting on your arm. "I don't think I'm doing all of this right," he admits sheepishly. 

"I wouldn't have it any other way," you say quietly, and his blissful smile grows. 

#star wars the clone wars #clone fanfiction #clone fanfic #clone fanfics #gregor fic #gregor fanfic #captain gregor #tbb gregor #gregor #gregor one shot #gregor x reader #gregor bad batch #x reader #gregor x you #clone simp