#no shade to those gifting people those gift sets

[leftover-cheesecake]

getting pre-made gift sets from other people feels a little boring and uninspired but getting gift sets for myself,,,,,,,,,,,, do you,,,,, do you see where i’m getting at

#idk it’s just better #happy holidays #no shade to those gifting people those gift sets

[zepskies]

Hello. I was wondering if you could write an imagine in the BMD-verse (been following it for a while now; love, love, love it, by the way!) where Ben cries?

Like something really bad happens in general or to the Reader, and he losses it? I mean, personally, I have never known this man to cry, and I would love to see you conjure up something that could possibly elicite that reaction from him.

But no pressure - will definitely understand if you don't want to write it!

Oooh, so you really wanna kill me, huh? 🫠😭😭

Lol it's okay, thank you for loving Break Me Down!! It's one of my favorite story verses that I've been able to create on here. ❤️❤️

This request was difficult for me on multiple levels, but I think I was able to pull it off? (I'll let you be the judge.) This is set in the BMD-verse, shortly after "Love Actually."

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Word Count: 2,400 Tags/Warnings: Major angst, show-level violence, hurt/comfort, "twist" ending (you'll want to read until the end, trust me).

Imagine: Ben loses you.

Ben restrained another sigh when he realized you were no longer walking next to him.

He turned and saw you stopping in another damn kiosk, this time looking at a selection of Pashmina scarves. As if you didn’t have enough clothes.

“We’re not here for a damn shopping spree,” he called after you.

He ignored the people who glanced at him as they walked past, a couple of them even shooting him an annoyed look.

One didn’t just stop in the middle of a busy sidewalk in New York City, but as with most societal protocols, Ben couldn't really give a fuck.

He almost started tapping his foot. Instead, he crossed his arms as he glared in your general direction. You were smiling and chatting with the woman selling her wares as you finished the transaction.

Ben at least could admire the view of you bent over in those tight jeans and ankle boots. You also wore the dark green winter coat he bought you last month, lined with faux fur to keep you warm.

When you eventually came back to him, you shot him an amused smile. You held a new scarf in shades of green and blue, to match your coat. But you also held out a new pair of leather gloves for him.

“Here you go, Grumpy. I didn't forget about you,” you teased. He raised a wry brow at you and took the gloves. He inspected them with a half-critical eye.

“And how much did these cost, five cents?”

You rolled your eyes and kept walking. He caught up with you and slipped the gloves into his pocket.

“My hands don’t get cold anyway,” he reminded you. And you often complained that his body heat was like a radiator, especially at night. Although, you hadn’t been complaining since the winter turned frigid this February.

“All right, whatever. Just don’t say I never get you anything,” you quipped. “Besides, you know you love to accessorize.”

A smirk pulled at Ben’s lips. The gloves were a half-assed gift, but he still wore the watch you got him for Christmas proudly on his wrist. That was a nice silver Rolex.

“All I know is, we’d better not be late for this damn meeting,” he said. “I don’t wanna hear Mallory’s fucking mouth.”

The two of you had made a day of coming into the city, hitting a nice brunch spot and ice skating at Rockefeller center before your date had been rudely interrupted—by a call for a new mission.

Grace Mallory had been a bit cryptic on the phone, but it had something to do with the mess Ben left of the drug cartels in South America. After they got back to the States, Ben left that “business” behind…he just hadn’t thought of how that would shake out in Colombia.  

So now, you two were headed to the Supe Affairs building. You slipped your arm around his, while his hands were in his pockets. You looked up at him with a smile.

“Try to enjoy the little things, Ben,” you told him. “We had mimosas and some bougie ass lobster tails with our eggs this morning. I skated circles around you on the ice. And now we’re going to get some work done.”

“On our day off,” he retorted.

“To be fair, you made the mess, Mr. Kingpin,” you pointed out. “We’ve just gotta clean it up…as usual.”

“Hey," he eyed you. But you both knew the warning had little heat behind it.

He still reached for your cheek and brushed his thumb across it. He felt how cold your face was, and he stopped for a moment in the middle of the sidewalk. Neither of you cared when pedestrians gave you dirty looks as they passed by.

Maybe you were right though. Maybe he should take stock of the small moments. Ben held your face with both hands and caressed some warmth back into your skin.

Your smile softened, and your eyes closed when his lips found their way to your forehead. He then took the newly bought scarf out of your hand and wrapped it comfortably around your neck.

“What a gentleman,” you said, with a small grin.

Ben smirked down at you…until his face fell.

He heard the whistle of the bullet before he saw it.

It took him another second to move, grabbing you and shielding you with his entire body when it hit his back. The bullet itself bounced harmlessly off his skin, but the inner compartment of Novichok exploded like a small smoke bomb. The smell was too familiar to him to be anything else.

Ben coughed and was forced to push you away from him before the gas reached you. You yelped and almost tripped on your feet, but you scrambled back against the wall of a drycleaners. Your wide eyes met his as his knees buckled; the gas had clouded around his head.

“Run!” he shouted through fits of coughing.

You hesitated, for just a second. But when another bullet ricocheted into the wall behind you, near your head, you ducked and had to take off running.

You wove through the busy sidewalk, pushing people out of your way as you went. Whoever was after him this time, you had a feeling these were the people Ben had pissed off in Colombia.

Fuck! You sprinted past an alleyway and saw the hand coming for your arm, but even when you turned, there was another man, dressed a black military-style uniform with his face covered by a black mask, waiting to grab you from behind.

It was muscle memory. You released an elbow into the man’s neck, a punch straight into his teeth and nose, then kicked his knee out with the heel of your boot.

You grabbed your gun from under your jacket and would've shot him, except the next man wheelhouse kicked it out of your hand. You stepped back on instinct, ducking the following punch, and the rest of his arm to run in the opposite direction.

The first man pointed a large automatic gun straight in your face. You gasped and put your hands up. With a quick glance in either direction, you realized that they’d cornered you.

Your hands were pulled behind your back by someone else. That’s when they started dragging you toward a black SUV parked in the corner.

Except that car was soon destroyed, by an old Honda Civic being shoved into it. The SUV's hood constantined like an accordion.

You looked up with wide eyes, and there stood Ben, at the crossroads of the alley. He was furious.

“Soldier Boy,” greeted the man who once again held the automatic gun poised at you. He pulled down his mask, revealing the tan face of a middle-aged man.

He moved over to you and grabbed your arm from his subordinate. He raised the gun to your back. With one press of his finger, your insides could become Swiss cheese.

Your jaw clenched as you tried to take in even breaths. You focused on Ben. His green eyes met yours, and briefly you caught the worry behind them before his steely gaze moved back to the man who held you.

“Pretty ballsy, Reyes,” Ben said. His voice was a drawl, more controlled than he felt. “You really thought this was gonna go down that easy?”

Reyes scoffed. “You’re the ballsy one. Taking off with all that product you stole.”

“You’ll have to take up with the CIA on that one,” Ben replied. “They confiscated all the smack from my place. Probably reselling it to a few hobos down the street. You’re welcome to check under the bridge over there.”

He gestured in the direction of the Hudson River.  

Reyes shrugged. The sound of a gun’s safety being clipped back resounded through the alley. You felt the vibration of it on your back. Your eyes closed for a moment.

“Bad news for her,” he said.

"Hey," Ben snapped. "There's no fucking need for that."

"I think I'll decide what we need," said Reyes. Your lips pursed as the gun dug into your back. "Maybe it's your bitch's insides at your feet."

Ben slowly raised a placating hand. Though his gait was still relaxed and arrogant, as always, you knew it was a well-crafted act. To hide his anger. His fear. To seem in control of himself, and to reinforce the intimidating presence he still was, even unarmed.

“Listen. If it’s money you want, we can work it out,” Ben replied.

His eyes once again found yours. He could see you were holding your breath. You were good at hiding it, but he knew you were scared. He wanted to tell you that he had this handled. That everything would be all right.

He focused on Reyes again. The other man considered the supe with a tilt of his head. He sucked his teeth and spit on the ground, out of the corner of his mouth. It was mixed with a bit of blood from when you'd punched him in the teeth.

“Okay, my friend,” said Reyes. “Let’s work this out. Pull out your phone.”

Ben made slow movements in grabbing his phone from his pocket. They all stepped further into the alley to avoid prying eyes and discussed the transfer of funds, and how much was fair. Ben claimed he was giving him a deal with his first offer.

Reyes demanded three times that amount. Ben raised his brows...but he complied. The money transferred from his bank account.

“Okay, we’re fucking done,” Ben snarked. He gestured at you with his eyes. “Let her go.”

In his mind, he was already contemplating how thoroughly he'd rip Reyes apart for this. After you were safe. He'd have a first class ticket to Medellin by tonight, ready to Colombian-necktie this cocksucker.

Reyes sighed through his nose. There was still about ten feet between him and Ben. He didn't seem to think it was enough. He took the gun off your back and backed up with you a few steps. Eventually, he released your arm.

“Come ‘ere, sweetheart,” Ben reached a hand out, beckoning for you. You met his gaze once again, and let out a subtle breath.

You took three hesitant steps forward.

And the gunshots echoed horribly through the alley.

As it turned out, Reyes always had an escape plan. You were merely the distraction.

It proved effective, as Ben’s protest rang out as soon as the bullets fired. He raced forward and caught you as you stumbled, but his hands soon became coated in your blood; it fled from your back in thin rivulets.

You gasped and clung to his arms. His ears rang with the sound, along with tires squealing and shouts and police sirens. All he could focus on was the color draining from your face.

Both of your breaths came out ragged as he slid with you down to his knees. He brushed your hair away from your face, even as his blood-covered hand stained your cheek. Your pained eyes drew up to his face. You tried to speak, but you didn't have the strength.

“I hear the sirens. They’re coming for you, take you to the hospital,” he promised. His voice was rough, but his throat was tight. His eyes scanned over you. “All you need is my blood and…Christ. Fuck it all.”

He laid you down on the dirty asphalt and hurriedly yanked up his coat sleeve until it ripped. It exposed his arm. He was about to drag a blunt nail across his own skin to bleed into you.

“Ben.” Your fingers twitched against his knee.

When he looked at your face, there was no longer life in your eyes.

His own were wide, almost uncomprehending. His breathing was harsh as empty hands fell to his thighs. His head felt heavy, though his ears were still ringing.

He drew enough strength in his hand to wipe the blood from your cold cheek…but your face was beginning to blur.

Or not, he realized, as the sting in his eyes took him by surprise.

In a fit of mania, he gathered you back up in his arms and ignored the wetness covering your back. He held you, impossibly tight. Tighter than he’d ever held you, because he was alone in the alley…because he was alone again.

And it was his own fault.

His eyes squeezed shut against the burn, but it was futile. Everything was. His breaths were sharp and stifled as pain tore inside. A pain worse than anything the Russian's could've inflicted on him.

His lips pressed against your forehead, trembling there. The first drops of wetness rolled down his cheek. He couldn't stop it from happening, but then again. He guessed he truly was a failure, after all.

You made the mess…

His first tears had been spent at his mother’s funeral, when he stood alone at her gravestone.

His last ones would fall and die with you.

“Ben,” your voice was soft but insistent.

He finally woke with a start. A sharp inhale through his nose.

He had been sleeping on his side. Before he even truly registered where he was, in the safety of his bedroom, he turned his head toward you.

His eyes found your face in the dark, over his shoulder. Your hair was frizzy from sleep. The strap of your nightgown had fallen off one shoulder. Your face looked bleary and tired, but you frowned in concern.

“You okay, baby?” you asked. Your hand soothed across the dewy skin on his arm.

Ben’s throat constricted. He was starting to remember bits and pieces of the dream…the nightmare. He rubbed at his eyes, then dragged a hand over his mouth.

“Yeah,” he said at last.

“Hmm.” Your gaze narrowed at him. “You sure?”

Ben had only enough energy in him to nod in response. His heart was still racing. Maybe you sensed that, because you leaned onto his arm and dropped a hand down his chest. You kissed his bare shoulder with soft lips, and he couldn’t help himself.

He raised a hand to cup the back of your head. He let out a long, relieved sigh through his nose, closing his eyes. Then he turned onto his back and brought you closer, with an arm slipping around your frame and pulling you against his chest. You made a sound of surprise, but you went willingly.

You brushed the sweaty strands of hair away from his face and pressed a kiss against his neck, to his jaw, his cheek and above his brow. He accepted it all and tried to calm his breathing with the feeling of your touch, and the smell of your flowery soap that lingered on your skin.

With a hand still cupping your head, he guided your lips to his. He claimed you slowly, but with purpose. You answered him by tilting your head, deepening the kiss for a moment.

You parted from him just as slowly. You knew everything wasn’t okay, but you also knew it wasn’t the time to push him for an answer.

Maybe in the morning, you thought. …I’ll make pancakes. Haven't done that in a while. And he’s always happier with something sweet.

You rested contentedly against his warm chest and let his heartbeat, gradually slowing back into a steady rhythm, lull you back to sleep.

Ben tangled his fingers into your hair. He laid one more kiss on the top of your head.

And for damn sure, he was going to cancel that trip into the city tomorrow.

AN: I know, I know. The "it was all a dream" thing is super cheesy, but I couldn't leave it on heartbreak. I just don't have it in me with these two. 🥲❤️‍🩹

Read the Sequel:

A friend of mine requested a sequel to this imagine: "You confront Ben about his fears."

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD Tag List (Part 1):

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

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

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

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

#ask me stuff #soldier boy #Imagine Ben losing you #angst to the max #hurt/comfort #Soldier Boy imagine #soft!Ben #BMD verse #the boys #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x you #Break Me Down verse #zepskies answers

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Family Affair

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, violence, humiliation, biting, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your sister surprises you with good news but you find it difficult to be happy for her. (older, short reader)

Character: Curtis Everett

Note: Happy Curtmas.

For @the-slumberparty Naughty or Nice Challenge.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 💞

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Chatter buzzes from the front room as you brace the wall and lift your foot to unzip your wedge boot. You’re late and the guests are already in the throes of their celebration. You wiggle off both boots and set them amid the clutter of many. As you stand straight and gather up your gift bags and purse, you’re met with an unexpected sight.

You lift a brow, slightly confused by the unfamiliar man. He’s tall, his hair is cut short, and dark stubble adds definition to his well-formed jaw. His eyes are a bold shade of aquamarine but are glossed over with an almost indifferent gleam. He doesn’t say a word as your eyes meet and he just as quickly turns into the front room, hands tucked into the pockets of his black jeans.

It’s been a few years. You’re sure a lot has changed. You head down the hall, past the broad archway of the front room, and into the kitchen. As usual, your mother is there, readying another tray of finger foods.

She looks up from her intent work and gives a wide smile, “you’re here!” She chimes, “I was half-waiting for a call saying you wouldn’t make it.”

Her arrow hits the bullseye of your guilt. You haven’t been the most reliable. You can make excuses; the divorce, work, depression. None of that can assuage her.

“Sorry, mom,” you go to put the gift bags down and she stops you with a tut.

“Ah, ah, you go add those to the pile and say hello,” she demands, “you’re not hiding in here.”

You look at her, almost desperate. You love her but sometimes you wonder if that feeling is mutual. As much as she’s right, you hoped she might have some empathy. She’s been through a turbulent split, she’s had to start again, but she expects you to do it flawlessly. As she has anything else.

“Love you, mom,” you give a sheepish smile.

“Love you too, hon,” she goes back to arrange the spiral of cocktail weenies, “make sure you say hello to your sister. She’s so excited to see you.”

You nod and a real smile breaks through. That was the one light at the end of the tunnel. Your baby sister was always your favourite. Despite nearly two decades between you, she’s your best friend. In a way, you feel like a second mother, taking pride in her like you would a child of your own.

The front room is filled to the brim. Aunt Geri and Uncle Val sit on a sofa with their son, Miko. A cluster of similarly aged cousins stand at the edge of the couch chatting. Aunt Maureen argues with Aunt Kaya, and the latter’s husband stands by the window with a glass in hand and his mind a million miles away.

You always found yourself out of place at these things. When you were a child, you were the youngest one in the room. Too immature to understand the dialogue of your elders. As you got older, the other cousins came along and were too young for your angsty teenage self. Now, you’re caught in the desert between the eras; the retirees complain too much and the coeds talk too loud.

You peer around. A set of broad shoulders draws your eye in the corner of the room. It’s that same man you saw before. He has his back to you as he maintains a casual posture. As he leans on one leg, you see your sister, Adeline, gabbing to him. Oh, he must be with her…

As you drop your gifts under the tree, you mull the revelation. You suppose the assumption wasn’t obvious. At first glance, he’s older than her, or maybe he just looks it. She’s still a sophomore in college but you suppose that makes even more sense. These are the years she gets to figure it all out.

You face the room and stop as Aunt Maureen latches onto your arm, blindsiding you with Kaya as they close in like hyenas.

“There she is,” Maureen slurs.

“Not too good for us after all, huh?” Kaya challenges.

“What? No, uh, Merry Christmas–”

“Where’s Benny?” Maureen interrupts. You blanch, nearly choking on your tongue. The mention of your ex-husband has you breathless.

“Maur,” Kaya hisses, “remember…”

“Probably with his new girlfriend,” you say tersely.

“Oh my,” Maureen lets you go and slaps her forehead, “I’m so sorry. The wine…”

“It’s… okay,” you shrug. “Not talking about it won’t undo it.”

“He was such a charming man,” Maureen hums mournfully. You blink at her.

“His loss,” Kaya pats your arm gently, trying to clean up her sister’s mess. You know they all think the same. You had a good thing and you blew it. Even if you told them he fucked his co-worker, you’d be the one who threw it all away.

“Pity you never got a kid outta him,” Maureen sighs.

“Really, divorce has been final for a year, I’m good,” you insist and shuffle past them, “I’m going to make the rounds.”

“Don’t forget to have some wine,” Maureen calls after you, “takes the edge off disappointment, you know?”

You growl and shake your head as you stalk away. You wave hello to your other aunt and uncle, hoping to avoid a similarly humiliating encounter, and weave through the sea of guffawing cousins. You come out on the other side as Adeline beams up at her guest.

Her gaze is drawn by your movement and her face lights up. She bounces in place and throws her arms out. She rushes past the man and has you wrapped up in a hug. It’s kind of ridiculous how much taller she is. You’re supposed to be the bigger sister.

“You’re here!” She rocks you in her embrace, “eek! I’m so excited.”

You croak out a breath as she squeezes the air out of you. She releases you with a giggle, apologising as she steps back. She wears a long tulle skirt and a beaded sweater. She’s beautiful. You could never pull something like that off, even twenty years ago.

“Oh, oh, you have to meet Curtis,” she snatches your hand and tugs you over the tall man as he turns to face you. Those same vague eyes fall upon you, “Curtis, this is my sister!”

“Curtis,” you repeat, “it’s nice to meet you.”

You look between them with a brittle smile. He offers his hand as he returns the sentiment. You shake, his palm rough and calloused. Adeline vibrates with joy.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he says. 

“And I’ve heard nothing about you,” you grin at Adeline, “Addy?”

“I’m sorry,” she cups her cheeks guiltily, a sparkle on her ring finger. Your heart drops. “I didn’t know how to– the divorce and–”

“Ad,” you wisp and nearly sway on your feet, “what is that?”

You point to her hand and she quickly swipes it away, hiding it behind her back. “Nothing,” she gulps, the same way she did when she was a child and you caught her playing with your makeup.

There’s a tense silence as you gape in shock. Your mouth hangs open as you search for the words. Your eyes tinge with hot tears but you swallow them back.

“Congratulations,” you draw her into a hug, “really, I’m happy for you.”

She hugs you back, gentler than before. As you part, she looks nervous. Curtis clears his throat.

“Both of you,” you offer him a fragile smile. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little… shocked. Does mom know?”

Adeline nods as she clasps her hands together. You take a breath, and calm yourself. It’s not anything that she fears, you’re not jealous. You’re nervous, you’re afraid for her. It’s a big thing and she’s so young.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around to share the good news,” you say, “I’d love to help, if I can?”

“We got it,” Curtis insists.

“Oh,” you wince, “I didn’t mean– I could help with the planning or the engagement part–”

“We’re eloping,” he crosses his arms, “we’re not wedding people. Whole lot of money and fanfare for nothing.”

You nod, holding back your surprise as best you can. Nothing? It’s marriage. Even if they don’t want a big ceremony, it means something.

“I could help pay for the trip–”

“I got it,” he enunciates each word as he sidles over to sling his arm around your sister’s back. She looks away meekly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep. She’s my sister, I just want to–”

“If you wanted to help, you would’ve been around the last two years,” he interjects.

Adeline’s head snaps around as she gives him a look. She nudges him with her elbow and whispers his name. He glares at you as you wilt. You’re not sure what you’ve done or said.

“Well, I think maybe me and Addy can talk about that,” you look at your sister, “when you have a chance, of course. I don’t want to spoil the holiday.”

“Adeline,” he corrects you, “Addy is so juvenile.”

The benefit of the doubt splinters as his tone cuts through you. You bite your tongue. Perhaps a twenty-one year old is juvenile to someone his age. You’ll talk to Addy about that too.

“Adeline,” you force a smile, “I… I’m going to go check on mom.” You show a palm in deference as you excuse yourself, “we’ll catch up later.”

As you back away, your eyes meet Curtis’. He watches you with a scowl. You are taken completely off balance. How could she end up with someone like him? She’s so sweet and he’s so scary…

Maybe she’s afraid too.

🎄

Christmas Eve ends much the same as you remember. The elders sit around the dining table to play cards as the kids, now adults, disperse in the living room or outside to entertain themselves. There’s a vague stench near the front door that no one will comment on but everyone knows what it is as it wafts in from outside.

You find yourself in limbo, once more caught in the in-between. You hole up in the kitchen, staring at the kettle as you wait for it to tremble. You won’t be missed if you take a tea up to your assigned room without a good night.

You lean on the counter and sigh, your finger brushing over the brim of the white porcelain cup with the hen on it. Strange how your mother’s house never seems to change but your life is inextricably altered. Your melancholy dims the cheery decor around you as you wallow away from the voices of the merry.

“There you are,” Adeline startles you as she sweeps in, “oh, is there any of the hot choccy left?”

You smile at her question. Everything about her reminds you of the time passed, of her newfound adulthood, yet she’s just the same little girl you always knew. You turn and pull the tin forward, “one packet left, just for you.”

You pull it out and face her again. She pulls out a mug from the cupboard and sets it down. The kettle hums between you as it heats up.

She exhales as you linger in a tense silence. You both have so much to say but neither of you know where to start. She finds her words first. Despite being younger, she was always the more outspoken.

“Do you like him?” She asks.

You poke your tongue into your cheek, “well, I’ve barely spoken to him. He seems to like you though.”

Her cheeks bulb as she grins bashfully, “I love him.”

Your chest seizes as you recognize that glimmer in her eye. She’s genuine, she feels that love so deeply it consumes her. It’s a naive love but real nonetheless. The sort you can’t see for what it is until it turns sour.

“I can tell,” you reach forward to fix the bow on her headband, “I’m happy for you. And my offer still stands. Maybe if it’s not the wedding, a honeymoon, or help with a house…” you wet your lips and steady your voice, “I only want you to be happy, Addy– Adeline.”

“Oh, he’s just… he’s like that. I can’t even call him Curt. He balances me out,” she beams.

“Yeah,” you say noncommittally.

“What?” Her voice dampens.

“Nothing,” you distract yourself with the variety of tea bags in the wooden chest next to the breadbox, “it’s… a lot. I’m surprised, is all. I just hope it goes well.”

She sniffs and lets her breath out long and heavy, “I’m sorry, I knew– he kinda said you’d probably be upset. After Benny–”

“This has nothing to do with him,” you narrow your eyes at her, a bag of chai in your hand, “this is about you. I only want what’s best for you.”

“He’s so good to me, you don’t have to worry.”

“I can worry, you’re my baby sister,” you insist, “and…” You shake your head, refusing to let the thought escape.

“And what?” She challenges, her pitch squeaking.

“Nothing.”

“No, tell me. I can always tell when you’re dying to say something. What?”

You shrug, “it’s just… how old is he?”

She scoffs, “wow.”

“What? I’m just asking.”

“It’s not like he’s old enough to be dad,” she pouts and crosses her arms.

“I know, I didn’t mean– Ad–Adeline, I just— you have time to figure it out. So I hope you’re not rushing this.”

“I’m not,” she snips, an uncharacteristic edge in her voice.

“I believe you… but what about him?”

She’s quiet as the kettle clicks, signalling the boiling point. You turn and drop the tea bag into your cup and pour the water. She tears open the packet and empties it into her own mug.

“Sorry,” you utter, “forget it. I… I don’t know him so maybe I need to get to know him. I’m here, Ad, and I will always be here for you.”

She nods and reaches for the kettle, not looking at you.

“Really, I trust you. I just worry about you,” you clap your hand on her shoulder, “you’re my lil teddy bear.”

She chuckles and looks down at you, your statement made absurd by the difference in your heights.

“And you’re the big grizzly, scaring off the wolves,” she kids back.

“Adeline,” the deep rumble thunders in ahead of the man, making both of you jump. You pull back your hand as Curtis strides in, “hey, I’ve been waiting on you.”

“Oh, sorry, baby,” she preens at him, “I was just–”

“You said we’d call my family after dinner,” he interrupts.

“I forgot,” she squeals, “oh, I’m so sorry.” She glances over at you, “I did promise.”

“Go on,” you try to smile but you’re not sure it’s showing.

She spins and flits over to Curtis. His eyes meet yours over her shoulder. His brows arch as his jaw is set in stone. A chill runs up your spine at the ice in his dark pupils. He grabs Adeline’s hand and drags her out.

You’re left in silence. You look over at the unmixed powder floating in the steaming water. You chew your lip as you stare at it. It’s just hot chocolate but there’s something about her abandoning something she loves so much for him. You try not to let your own failed marriage echo over her relationship, but it just feels off.

Well, Benny always did say you never did handle change very well.

🎄

The night before Christmas is rarely a restful one. Even without the childish belief in Saint Nick, you find yourself awake, anxious but not for presents. You keep replaying the night through your head; not the awkward interactions with aunts and uncles, or the silent judgment from the younger crowd, but Adeline and Curtis. Let it go, it’s none of your business.

You huff and roll on your back. Sleep eludes you. You sit up and bend over the side of the bed. You hold your head. You’ll sneak out the bathroom and hopefully an empty bladder will help.

You drag your feet across the floor, the legs of your pajama pants too long and trailing down your feet. You open the door and yawn as you enter the hall, only to collide with another unexpected barrier. Before you can react, you’re being forced back into the guestroom, stumbling as your fingers claw at the door frame and slip off.

A hand smothers your mouth, rough against your lips, as a foot kicks the door shut with a sharp click. You murmur into the calloused flesh as an arm loops around your back, trapping you as you’re urged further into the dark. You grasp at the cotton clinging to muscular shoulder. You’re kept off balance by your attacker’s certainty.

“I fucking heard you,” Curtis’ silty grit seeps into your ears, “you think I’d hurt her?” He snarls as he stops you at the foot of the bed. His shadow looms over you, breath puffing from his nostrils as he growls like a beast, “I wouldn’t, but I’ll hurt you.”

He pushes you back so your legs meet the side of the bed. You teeter and clasp your hand around his wrist, squeaking as he easily takes you down onto the mattress. He pins you, your legs hanging off the end, kicking weakly as his other hand curves around your throat.

He bends over you, straddling your chest heavily. You can’t breathe. Your heart pounds until your ears throb. Your temples pulse violently and your throat dries to a sandy scrape.

“Stay out of my fucking business,” he snarls, sliding down your body.

You whimper into his hand as he drops his knees off the bed, holding himself over you. He squeezes your neck, choking out your voice as he drags his hand from your mouth. He feels along your chest and flicks open the top button of your shirt. Your eyes wet in horror.

“Fucking show you…” he sneers as his breath scours over your flesh.

Another button undone as his lips tick along your shoulder. You squeak once more as he sinks his teeth into your flesh, biting a mean pinch until you spasm. The pain is unbearable. You feel the skin break as the hot flow of blood mingles with his spit.

He detaches only to bite you again. You can’t make a noise as his grip grows tighter on your neck. Even if you could scream, you’re too terrified and confused to understand what he’s doing. He’s like an animal tearing you apart. 

He lays a tortured path down your chest, lingering on the rise of flesh, gnawing into the tenderness there. His nails dig into your side, pushing up your shirt as he scratches hot lines into your skin. You push on his shoulders desperately but he’s too strong.

“Stop filling her head with your bitterness,” he growls before he bites into your nipple. 

You shake and beat on his head, shoulders, and back. You writhe and wrestle, trying to free yourself from him. He continues on, down your stomach, lingering on the soft flesh as his fingers hook into the elastic of your pants.

Your panic overflows with your tears. This can’t be happening. Why would he do this? He could talk to you? You would listen. You didn’t say anything wrong, you just want Adeline to be careful.

The very thought of your sister throttles you. Does he do this to her? Is this why she’s so defensive? The idea makes you sick to your stomach.

He lifts himself, his weight centering on your neck. You think he’ll crush your windpipe as he looms over you, snarling in the blackness. He pushes you higher onto the bed, forcing your legs open with his knees.

“Don’t make a fucking noise or I’ll make sure you can’t,” he threatens, giving a last squeeze before slowly slackening his grip.

You hold your breath. You believe him. Your body goes limp and you close your eyes. The bed shifts as he sits back on his heels. He pulls your pants down your thighs and you whine. He hushes you, a harsh tap across your cheek to get his point across.

You let your head drift to one side as you clench the blanket beneath you in tight fists. He keeps your legs trapped in your pants, knees bent as the fabric strains across his stomach. He tilts and movies around, his fingernails scratching the back of your thighs.

“Bet the husband couldn’t stand your fucking mouth,” he snarls as he pushes roughly against your cunt. “Didn’t know how to train you.” He jams two fingers into you, jolting your entire body, “dry bitch like you, he was probably thirsty as fuck.”

You seal your eyes tight, tears trickling through as a sob bubbles in your throat. You want to tell him to stop. You want to ask why. You want to scream. You can’t do anything as your body locks up.

He fingers you meanly, pulling his fingers out only to ram them in again, each time his knuckles hit you painfully. He keeps it up, growling with each intrusion as your muscles knots and pathetic noises rise from your throat.

He forces your legs higher, tearing his hand away from your pelvis. He adjusts his knees and you feel something else against your cunt. 

“No…” you whisper right as he ruts into you.

He splits you apart around him. You let out a holler and he quickly silences you with a crack of his knuckles. The back of his hand snaps off your cheek and turns your head to the other side. You gulp and sob, choking back any noise that threatens to bubble over.

He holds himself as deep as he can. He puts his large hands on your shoulders and pins you flat. He bucks, agony rippling up your spine. He snaps his hips, again and again, each time harder than the last.

“This is what you need. So fucking jealous, aren’t you? Dried up old bitch,” he pumps into you as his breath picks up, “why kind of sister are you, huh? Fucking your baby sister’s man. Fucking slut.”

You cover your face and heave. You’re drowned in pain and humiliation. You’re disgusted with him for doing this to you; and yourself for letting him.

“You don’t wanna hurt her, do you?” He growls, “that’s why this is happening… cause you wanna keep her safe, right?”

He puts his hand against your head and pushes it down into the bed, fucking you into the mattress. The frame pounds the wall, matching his furious rhythm. You reach to brace his thick arm, begging silently for it to end.

“Oh, it’ll be over soon,” he rasps as his hand once more frames your throat, “fuck, you got me ready to blow quicker than I thought.” He puffs, each thrust rattling your bones, “I love how weak you are.”

#curtis everett #dark curtis everett #dark!curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #one shot #snowpiercer #au #christmas #naught or nice

[charlie-lec-stories]

Everything happens for a reason // CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Stroll!Sister

Summary: After a whole life of following her father's orders, Y/N's tired of being the good girl and when she finally stood up for herself with the help of her best friend, all hell broke loose.

Warnings: Sexual comments and scenarios, cheating, strong vocabulary.

Author’s Note: Well guys, gals and non-binary pals, you know I love messy stories, this is no exception. Rate: +18 (adult content)

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"UGHHHHHH". Y/N couldn't help but laugh out loud when her brother, Lance, sat down beside her, grunting as if it was the hardest thing his body had done in 20 years.

"Really, Lance, was it really that hard? Are you that old?". She rolled her eyes as the boy fixed his position on the roof, making sure that he wouldn't fall off. They had the tradition of sitting on the roof of their mansion after dinner and before bed time. They had an hour before the staff would start looking for them, the only time they could be normal and not billionaires.

"I'm not old, it was that hard, some of us train, you know. Not everyone is naturally gifted at driving cars". She laughed again. Even though her brother tried to act annoyed with her great driving, he was actually proud of her.

"I'm not that good". She lied, but he shook his head, then let it rest on her shoulder, getting comfortable next to her under the blanket she had. Her hand went to his hair, lovingly running her fingers through the locks.

"Don't lie. Gees, I'm not ever sure who you got that from, because dad sucks". She felt his body shake as he giggled at his own comment. "That old man may love racing but God knows he should never touch a steering wheel".

"Hey, don't be like that, he's an average driver...". Lance moved his head up to give her a pointed look. "He is!... When it comes to tennis karts he is". They stayed silent for a moment before bursting out laughing so hard that they got worried someone might have heard.

"Okay, okay, enough with roasting the old man". Lance said once they calmed down. He resumed his position close to her and changed the subject. "Are you excited for the new season? I mean, you have a real chance this time, sis".

"Carlos said the same". She said, sighing and looking into the horizon. The sun was setting and the sky had that perfect shade between pink and purple, it was lovely, it made her feel at peace.

"Well, we are right. I'm always right, as you obviously know, and Carlos is your best friend, he could never lie to you, that's illegal". Y/N smile, that was true, her best friend was the most honest person she had ever met, and if there were two people in the world she trusted with her life, those were Lance and Carlos.

"Speaking of Carlos, I have something to tell you about this season". Lance could feel the tension in her voice so he fixed his position again, showing her that he was giving her his full attention. "Nelson, you know, the PR guy, he told me that I have to get into a PR relationship. He gave me two options: Carlos or Leclerc. Of course, I chose Carlos. I'd rather fake-date my best friend than Charles-stupid-Leclerc".

"You should let go of that anger, your beef with Charles was years ago, he's a nice guy". Lance rolled his eyes at his sister. Y/N and Charles fought after a karting race when they were 16 and never got along after that. He was unnecessarily mean to her and she always over-reacted. But to be fair to Charles, she did say to him that he had a small penis in front of the whole grid, and that can be really harmful for a teenage boy. The fact that everyone knew that they had hooked up once only made the accusation seem more reliable, humiliating Charles even more in front of their peers. To add to the feud, Y/N called him "Peanut" and he called her "Matagot", which is basically a south-french mythology monster that only treats you well if you keep it well-fed, otherwise it can be your biggest nightmare. It was Charles' way of calling her a spoiled brat, that only cares for others when she can get something in return.

"He's not nice. But I don't want to talk about him, I want advice. I have never been in a PR relationship before and you have. It's pretty uncomfortable to have to do this with Carlos, but I have to make it work".

Lance and Y/N spent their hour talking, he gave her advice on what to do and how to keep the friendship strong after having to be all over each other in public. It was going to be awkward, but her contract said that there were things she had to do to get a better public image and Carlos was a great way to keep things interesting. Drive to Survive, the Netflix series about the sport needed something to talk about, and a relationship between two drivers from different teams was perfect, and that's how she ended up trapped with a PR relationship. Around 10 pm, they got down the roof and made their way to their rooms. Before bed, Y/N checked her phone and found a text from her best friend.

Chili-man: Hey kiddo! I know that this is going to be awkward, but remember that we're best friends first, if you ever feel uncomfortable, you let me know and I'll do everything to help out. Okay?

Y/N: Thanks Chili-man. I love to know that you're always on my corner. You're the best. And the same goes for you. It's gonna be weird, but at least I'm not fake-dating Peanut.

Chili-man: Don't be mean, he's a nice guy.

Y/N: You and my brother need to stop being such Leclerc's advocates, I'm sure he can pay his own defense lawyers, you guys don't need to do it for free. Anyways, good night and I'll see you tomorrow for the first day!

Chili-man: I promise he's not that bad. But whatever. Sleep tight kiddo. I'll see you tomorrow.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to the sound of her father shouting and her mother begging him to lower his voice. Still half asleep, she walked to the door and cracked it open. Outside, she saw Lance peeking out of his own room and after sharing a puzzled look, they moved their attention to their father. He was at the end of the hall, at the door of his room, their mother was pulling at his arm, trying to pull him into the room without success. It was strange to say the least, that their mother interfered with their father's affairs, she had her own business to worry about, but she seemed actually worried about the discussion their father was taking part in over the phone.

"I SAID NO. I don't care about the numbers, I don't care about the stupid show. She's not dating Carlos Sainz Jr. She'll do that over my dead body!". Both Lance and her looked at each other. Why was he so upset? He loved the Sainz; he had been friends with Carlos Sainz Sr. for as long as they could remember. "I DON'T CARE IF IT'S FAKE".

"Honey, please, they'll hear you". Their mother tried to calm him down, but he was furious.

"THEN USE LECLERC, BUT SHE'S NOT DATING CARLOS AND THAT'S MY FINAL WORD". She definitely didn't like that last statement. Her father hung up and stormed into his room. It was her turn to be upset, she didn't want to date Charles Leclerc, fake or for real, it was a nightmare both ways. A little later that morning she tried to convince her father in her favor, but he was so angry that it was impossible to make his change his mind. Carlos texted her mid-day, while she was on the jet on her way towards Bahrain, asking her what happened and why his PR team told him that he was replaced by Charles. She didn't want Carlos to feel bad or inadequate in the eyes of her father, so she lied and said that she had no idea and that as soon as she had an answer for that, she would tell him. When she made it to Sakhir, she was told to leave her luggage at her room and then go back to the lobby so she could wait for a car there with Nelson. They had to meet with Charles and his team to discuss the details of the arrangement. It was a quiet car ride, Nelson was aware of what she thought of Charles and that the change had not been her decision, so he let her off the hook for a few minutes.

"Welcome, Miss Stroll, please have a seat". Kathy, Charles' PR head of the department greeted her when they made it to the hotel where Ferrari was staying. The room they used for the meeting was a last time arrangement, but it had space and it made her feel better, considering how bad things could get once Charles arrived.

"Thank you". She sat down on the couch and Kathy handed her a glass of water. They didn't have to wait much before Charles walked through the door. If it wasn't for her being completely aware of how much of a prick he was, she was sure that she could fall at his feet over and over again every time she saw him. He was the most handsome man on Earth, she knew that, but he was also aware of that so it posed a problem for her.

"Sorry I'm late, I wanted to shower after the flight". He sat on the bed of the room and looked at Y/N when she scoffed.

"Thank you for that! Now the only thing that stinks in this room is your shitty personality". Charles growled. They spent less than two minutes together, 2 meters apart, and they were already at each other's throats.

"I told you this was not gonna work". He told Kathy. "She's a spoiled little shit and I can't stand her close to me. The feeling is obviously mutual, why force this?".

"Because you're the perfect marketing option and it's our job-". Kathy pointed between her and Nelson. "- to make you both a selling machine. So you'll both make it work or your teams will reduce money from your salaries for breaching your contracts".

"That's not fair. I need my money and this Matagot doesn't give two shits about her contract, her Daddy is a billionaire, you're giving her all the power in the world over me!". Charles complained. He knew that she didn't need the money, she could make his life a living hell without a problem and he would have to take it all like a good boy not to lower his income.

"Suck it up, Peanut. Compensate that small pecker of yours by being the bigger person!". She was enjoying the moment.

"The itinerary is long. Read it, learn it and follow it". Nelson explained to ease up the tension. "Remember to be caring and loving, but do not overdo it. Kiss once in a while, hold hands while you walk together. We'll take care of the interviews and the press. Act the part for Netflix and we'll help you with the conflict for the show-".

"We don't need help with conflict". Charles interrupted.

"We need conflict, not first degree murder, Charles". Kathy sent them a stern look as she let the comment out and both drivers looked at their laps.

"Okay, I got it all. Can I go now?". She wanted nothing more than to get out of there.

That night she texted Carlos, and he told her something interesting: His PR team and his father told him to put some distance with her. They were both surprised, since when did their parents dislike the idea of them being friends? They had been friends their whole lives, close since they remembered. They were like siblings, why couldn't they be friends anymore? They understood the whole PR thing, that she needed to sell and that there was drama that had to occur between her and her fake boyfriend, but why did it all have to happen with Carlos at an arms' length? It was weird and she needed to know. It was hard enough that her father had controlled her whole life, she was already old enough to make her own decision. Why did he care so much about her friends? It wasn't like she was going to date Carlos for real. Carlos had his own questions, he was almost 30, his father was stepping over a line trying to control his life like that, but he respected his old man and he was going to listen, as long as the decision didn't prove to be hurtful for his best friend.

"I'm not kissing you". She said as soon as she met Charles at the lobby of her hotel. They were supposed to show up together for the first day at the paddock. Of course, she wanted to make it difficult for him. "I'm not doing the same stupid shit twice".

"You don't have to do me this time, Matagot". Charles hissed at her. "Plus, it's not like I will enjoy it so shut up and make this easy for everyone".

"I said-". But he cut her off with his lips over hers. As fast as he did it, he pulled away and before she could say anything, he was practically dragging her to his car.

The day went by incredibly slowly, but at some point she became numb to holding hands and kissing with Charles. They would kiss and she would instantly start talking about something racing related, like Lance suggested she do to get rid of the awkwardness. Charles seemed okay with that. What was actually bothering her more was the fact that she spent the whole day without talking to Carlos. Charles noticed her looking for his teammate a few times but decided to ignore the raging fire it started inside his veins. He hated the idea that he had to date her, but he dated more the idea of her dating Carlos. He wasn't surprised when Carlos told him that he was going to date Y/N as a PR stunt, what surprised Charles was that they weren't actually dating for real. He could never understand why the Spaniard would refuse to date a woman like her. Charles found Y/N the most amazing woman, when she was nice, and she was definitely nice to Carlos. The older man explained that he never felt like that about her and it never made sense to Charles, after all, he did feel that way about her when she used to be nice to him. But that was a decade ago, and she had never been nice once to him since that time. Still, he felt pleased that Carlos wasn't a threat. She may have looked around for him, and liked him over Charles, but he didn't reciprocate her feelings, so Charles was safe. He was torn between a need for her to love him and constant reaction of disgust to everything she said.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Peanut? There are no cameras here". She said when he appeared at her room door.

"We need to talk". He made his way inside the room and she sighed, already too tired to complain.

"What do you want to talk about?". He sat on her bed and she went to the couch, not wanting to be near him.

"Do you like Carlos?". He decided that dancing around the question was pointless and she was kind of thankful that he cut to the chase.

"That's none of your business, Charles"

"Well, but we are fake dating, and he's my teammate, so I need to know". Lie, that wasn't the real reason, and she knew, but she let it slide.

"I don't like Carlos that way". She saw the accusatory look on his face and explained further. "We're best friends. Something happened. I don't know what. I think our fathers may have something to do with it. He told me that we can't hang out much for now. It's weird".

"Does this have anything to do with us getting together?". 'Failed act', Freud would say.

"We're not together Charles, we can't stand each other". He could pick up on her tired tone, maybe it was the right time to finally get her out of her shell.

"We used to. I remember that time. We had a great moment". But what he thought was going to be a comment that made her happy, completely backlashes at him.

"A great moment?! That's what it was for you? Just a great time?". She stood up, tears at the corners of her eyes and Charles suddenly felt the need to get up and hold her. He didn't, though. "That's why you just simply walked out and ignored me then? Because I was just another good time for you?"

"What? No, how did you even get there?! I never said that!". Now he was the one in a defensive mood.

"Your actions speak better than your words. You ignored me, after everything we did together, after how vulnerable I was with you. I gave you my virginity and you simply threw me away!". She was fully on crying and Charles just could take it anymore, he got up and pulled her to his body, hugging her as tightly as he could.

"I was embarrassed. I felt like I did it like shit. I was stupid and had zero experience. I came so fast because I liked you so much. I thought I let you down". He wasn't sure if she heard him, his words muffed by her hair and his sobs. "I thought you had not enjoyed that moment as much as I did and it was embarrassing, because I loved every second of it. I wanted to talk to you but your parents kind of scared me off from the house the next morning. It felt like I had done everything wrong. Then we saw each other at the race and you were so cold that I believed I was right. You then said those things... I- I just didn't know what to do".

"I shouldn't have said that. I was hurt and felt humiliated, I was wrong". She was grabbing at him as tightly as he was at her.

"We both were". He kissed her head and they broke apart. "I never stopped thinking about you. I always wondered what we could have been...". He let that linger in the air, the possibility. She took his hand and led him to the bed. Her actions spoke better than her words.

They woke up the next morning to someone pounding on the door. Charles quickly fell asleep again, but Y/N got up to tell the person at the other side to get lost. She was surprised when she found Carlos on the other side. The man didn't even say hi, he walked into the room, pushing her inside with him and slamming the door shut. The noise woke Charles up again, this time he did get up, furious when he noticed that his teammate was grabbing his girlfriend's arms with a python's grip. Carlos looked worried, but it was mixed with a bit of anger and something else Charles couldn't decipher. It wasn't until he spoke up that Carlos actually noticed his presence.

"What the fuck are you doing?!". The monegasque walked towards him, and Carlos noticed the lack of clothing, the black Calvin Klein's hanging from Charles' hips were the only thing keeping him decent.

"You two...". He suddenly smiled. "It was about time. A decade. Never met two people this slow".

"You're on thin ice, mate". Charles said, sternly.

"Then you're not going to like what I'm going to say next". Carlos took a deep breath. "I need us to fake-date, Y/N. I want to pressure my father. I think he's planning on setting me up with someone. But if he thinks we're dating even though he said no, he'll leave me alone". She looked at Charles, he didn't seem happy with the idea, but she also wanted to find out why her father was so against Carlos so suddenly.

"If- IF I do it, do you think we can make it happen sometime when both our parents are there?". Charles looked down at her frowning. "Remember last night, when I told you that I didn't know what happened? I want to find out".

"I don't know, mon Ange". She took his hand and his face relaxed a bit. He used to call her that, when they were younger, it felt right.

"I need to know, something feels off. This is the reason why we are together now. Over ten years of history fixed by one phone call by my father". He let out the breath he was holding, she was right. "Please, everything happens for a reason, Charlie".

"Okay, let's do this".

They had to wait until after the race. Carlos Sr. and Lawrence, Lance and Y/N’s father, were sitting at the hotel restaurant, chatting with frowns on their faces. Carlos and Y/N held hands and walked towards them, Charles following them close behind. He had a part in the plan, and he was ready to execute it perfectly, even if it was harder for him to act mad at Y/N now that they had made up. The older men looked up at their children when the three drivers approached them. To say that they looked horrified would be an understatement. Carlos Sr. seemed about to throw up, while Lawrence was simply shocked. The first part of the plan was done, keeping the element of surprise. Now to phase two: the lie itself. They sat at the table, Carlos in the middle of Charles and Y/N, his hand interlocked with hers resting on the table so their fathers could see them. It took the older men a moment to get the color back to their faces, but when they did, Lawrence went from white to red in a second.

"What the hell is this?". He asked, trying to keep the little cool he had left.

"We're dating, Mr. Stroll. We wanted you both to know". Carlos was the oldest, he took the lead.

"You can't". Carlos Sr. said with his voice rough thanks to the lump in his throat.

"That's not your decision, Dad". Everything was going as expected, but they had to admit that their fathers did look more disturbed than they had foreseen.

"It is. You won't date Carlos, you will date Charles as it was planned by the PR team and I don't want to hear anything else about it". That was Charles’ cue.

"I won't date her if she's in love with my teammate. We can barely stand each other, I won't get stuck into this mess for her". It hurt, but he had to say it like that. The other two didn't budge, and they had to pull out the last resort they had to press their fathers' buttons. Y/N saw their mothers walking to the table, so she took Carlos by the chin and started to get closer to him, ready to kiss him. Before they could make contact, Carlos Sr. was pushing them away.

"You can't do that, don't do that". He was almost losing it.

"Why?". She whispered, her eyes looking into his and a chill ran down her spine.

"You're half-siblings". It was Lawrence who said it. There was a long list of options that Carlos and Y/N had made of what could have happened, being siblings was not on the list.

"What?". Charles was as stunned as them. Lawrence and Carlos Sr. sighed and rested against the backs of the seat. Their wives, paralyzed behind them, were still unnoticed by the rest of the table.

"I had an affair with Lawrence's assistant. Of course your mother didn't know about it". Carlos Jr. had an expression impossible to read as his hand gripped Y/N tightly. "She got pregnant, asked me to leave your mother. I refused. She had the baby, Y/N. But then she got postpartum depression. She killed herself three weeks after giving birth".

"Y/N, you mother had just lost a pregnancy, no one knew, I found you in that house, alone, crying. It was the chance to give your mother a baby after the one she lost". Lawrence continued.

"You had the power and money to make it happen". Charles was officially angry, and it wasn't even his identity on the line. "What did you do with her mother? Where is she buried?".

"She was cremated. I took care of everything. I gave her the best there is". Carlos Sr.'s wife was looking at Lawrence's with pain in her eyes. She knew, all this time she knew that they were raising her husband's offspring and she hid it from her.

"Why did you let us become friends?". It was Carlos Jr.'s time to ask. 

"I wanted to keep in contact with her, watch her grow. You two got along so well, she ended up liking racing too. Everything led to you two in my life". Carlos Sr. let a few tears free. "Ten years ago, we considered letting you know the truth".

"Your mother and I discussed it, but then we saw that Charles was in the house, we kind of got rid of him to talk to you, but then you looked so upset. You got disqualified from the race for fighting with Charles. We understood that you were going through a lot, so we desisted". Lawrence added.

Carlos Jr.'s mother made her presence known and the three drivers took the chance to run away from the situation, knowing that the argument the two couples had was going to be too much to witness. The three ran to Y/N's room, crossing paths with Lance on their way there. Telling Lance that his sister was not his biological sister was one of the worst conversations they had. But they were all victims of so much, they found solace in sharing the tears together. They refused their parents' calls for the night, sending a text explaining that they needed time and that they would reach out when they felt like it. The four of them stayed in the room, chatting and calming themselves down. The irony of it all struck Y/N like a lighting and she couldn't help but laugh.

"What's so funny, mon Ange?". Charles asked and then kissed the back of her hand.

"If my parents hadn't scared you off that morning, we would have never discovered the truth". She explained, but her brothers didn't follow. "Charles walking out on me that morning is the reason why we fought that day in the race. Because of the fight in the race, we started hating each other. Because of the rivalry, I choose to fake-date Carlos instead of Charles. Because of my choice, Dad made the call and everything else followed".

"So, if you and Charles had made up that day...". Carlos started.

"We would have probably been together today, no need for PR, no need for your fathers to say anything".  Charles finished. All four laughed softly. "I was so sad that things didn't work out back then".

"Everything happens for a reason".

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Okay, this is a LONG ASS STORY, sorry guys for not posting in months, I've been so caught up with work I literally thought I could get fired, but I had some time to edit this one. I hope you liked it. Remember to like, comment, reblog and all those beautiful things you do.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader

[saradika]

— JUST A TASTE

[bleed for me masterlist] | [fic preview]

vampire!boba fett x f!reader

rated e - 8k

tags: vampire!au, blood/blood drinking, vampirism, longing and pining, biting, masturbation, chosen mates (instead of fated mates), teasing, fingering, brief edging, mind-meld, implied aphrodisiacs, piv, marking

a/n: I thought it would be fun to write a halloween one-shot for Boba, in the same world as bleed for me. This is with a different Reader, so there are some references to the series, but you don't have to read to enjoy!

When Fennec Shand appears in town with her new red eyes, everyone knows it’s only a matter of time before the Daimyo will be seeking a new Companion.

Luckily, you think you know just how to make sure he picks you.

Heat still lingers in your neck, your cheeks, as you slip from your tiny cottage to rush to the town square.

Cursing yourself for almost being late to the ceremony - a long table already in place within the old tavern, moved to the middle of the room. The old wood and stone ceiling blocking out the setting sun, making it safe.

He’s there. Your eyes find him right away - all that green against the shades of brown and grey.

The Daimyo.

Positioned at the head of the table, that helmet fixed in place. Looking like a ruler with the way he sits - so strong and straight-backed in the velvet chair, brought out just for him. It sends a shiver up your spine as you slip to the back, to give your own offering.

A small goblet, brought from home. The carvings in the wood smooth, burnished from the press of your fingers over the years. Curving petals worn down at the edges - traced over with your thumb, again and again.

It’s dull, next to all the gold and glass. The candles glinting off the gifts that line the long table - an ache still throbbing in the crook of your elbow, as yours joins the flight of others.

It's warm, in the tavern. Fuller than you've ever seen - bodies packed together. Your back presses against the thick wooden wall, standing on tip-toe to see over the pair in front of you.

Wanting to watch when that helmet lifts.

The tanned skin beneath, those red eyes that flicker in the candlelight. It's a rarity to see him this bare. Something precious that you tuck away, as your eyes rove over every detail.

You think he must be starving, from the dark shadows under his eyes. You can count back two months as to when Lady Shand had stopped walking through the marketplace in the day. Appearing again in her oil-blackened armor - a new, deadly quiet about her.

Everyone had known she would turn.

It had only been a matter of time.

Secrets were hard to keep, in a town as small as this.

You still had some. Others had theirs. Most you did not care about, but when it came to the coven of vampires, in their looming castle at the top of the tall hill - it had always been a fascination.

How beautiful - how benevolent - they are.

A hush settles over the crowd, as the first cup is lifted. Restraint shown in the tip of the glass, the single bobbing swallow of his throat as he drinks.

He could gorge. He could swallow every drop, but there's a carefulness in the way he moves.

Continuing the old tradition of the town - one that the Mand'alor had not followed. But after hearing of his searching - the path that had been so set for him - none of you could begrudge his choice.

The first goblet is placed back down.

His methods are unknown - he had arrived at the castle with Lady Shand by his side, already his Companion.

Would taste from each one?

Or stop, if one is pleasing to him?

Your odds are not in your favor, with the amount of offerings. Nothing stands out about your goblet - you had no gold, no bronze. Only an heirloom and yourself.

Fifth from the end, of a line of people who all had their own reasons to want to uproot their lives. Fortune. Pleasure. Running to something, or running from.

But did any of them see him for who he was? Like you did?

You don’t really care that he was a Daimyo, not really.

He could be anyone - a lesser lord. A commoner, like yourself.

Your wishes would stay the same.

It was what he had done, that had made Boba Fett a fixture in your mind.

To him, perhaps it had been a small thing.

Not worth remembering, in the life of someone who has lived for so long, with such experiences. Barely a blip, compared to the stories you'd heard.

Bounty Hunting and Rancors and Sarlaacs.

But to you, it had meant everything.

He had saved you.

Not in such a way as the Mand'alor had done for his Queen. That sort of saving would be written in song or word, someday, with the way the story was whispered in the streets.

There had been no witches, no fated meetings. No burned towns for Lord Fett to pull you from, to whisk you away to safety. No enemies torn apart, in revenge.

But it had been no less chivalrous.

It had been early in the day, and luckily so. Mid-morning and he would not have been out, not with what he was.

A few weeks into Spring, when your little stall in the market should have been blooming with your home-grown flowers, baskets of vegetables from your leased garden.

A late frost and a family of hungry rabbits had you far behind. On goods to sell and your payment for your use of the space. The few coins you had from the week before clutched in your fist as Lord Gorian Shard had loomed over you, demanding more than what you could spare.

Cutting down your promises to pay him back, if you could just have another week - a day, even. Deaf to your pleas.

You knew what you owed, but it hadn't been fair. Everyone knew he charged far too much for his stalls. But you had been desperate then, almost as much as you had been now.

A shadow had loomed, as every last silver and copper had been shaken from your coin purse. Tucked away into deep pockets, the pitiful amount added to what he already carried.

"Is there an issue here, Shard?"

The voice had cut through the morning haze was one you thought of often, the low timber. Slicing, like a knife.

You're sure you looked pathetic. Shard's hand gripping your forearm, pinching. The half-filled stall, the dust covering your tunic - swiped across your forehead from the back of your hand, while setting up.

But, the grip had loosened. And for the first time, the Merchant had lost some of his aloof, elitist air. A flash of worry crossing his features, as a Mandalorian had approached from the shadows.

His face had been covered, since dawn had broken - but there had been no mistaking him.

Boba Fett.

"No issue, my lord." Gorian Shard had smiled, his voice changing from the sharp tone he had used with you, "Just business, I assure you. Far too small for someone as busy as yourself, I'm sure."

There was a rough buzz from the helmet, the sound of a hum.

"How much more is owed?"

It became clear he had been listening. You hadn't looked to the shadows, and your heart had sunk. Embarrassment creeping around you, tightening like vines around your ribs.

“Fifty more gold." Shard had sniffed, making a show of checking his pockets.

Another hum, "A little early to be collecting payments, isn't? The quarter isn't for another month."

Shard had frowned, "I collect monthly, thank you."

Silence lingered then, for a moment too long. That worn green helmet flicked you way - your eyes only able to hold it for a moment, before they dropped. Examining the worn toes of your boots, wondering what he must think of you.

"Give us a moment."

You had thought he meant you - getting ready to step away, to give them some space.

Not expecting the helmet to snap towards the Merchant, as another order was growled out, "Did you not hear me, Shard?"

He had been too happy to oblige, quickly finding another debtor three stalls over.

You had also not expected the soft pouch of leather to be held out, pressed into your hands from Lord Fett's own belt.

Far heavier than your own, and you had immediately found the strength to meet his gaze again - to hand the gift back.

"I can't accept this." You had protested, "It is far too much, I can't pay this back."

He had considered you, for a long moment. You had wished you could see his face - your own reflected back at you. Pinched and worried and tired.

Pivoting gracefully, as he turned to look at your stall, "If you will not accept my help, then I wish to purchase your stock. Everything you have."

It's an out, for you. Another gift, a way to accept with what little dignity you had left intact.

Even if you were both aware that he had no use for your ware. That vampires did not dine on the food of humans. That the kitchens within the castle were already stocked with the finest goods available.

The gold had been offered, again. His voice low - almost gentle.

"Please do me this honor, my lady."

This bit of kindness, his voice, his honorifics - as if your presence had meant something, as if he truly considered this a favor to him - had stunned you. Enough that you had allowed him to press the pouch into your hand.

Enough that you had allowed the woman that had stepped to his side to pack up the flowers, the vegetables. Every single piece until your stall was as empty as it was, when you had arrived that morning.

Shard had watched, with narrowed eyes.

But - your debt had been paid. This month, and then the next. And then the next.

You began to look forward to his visits. Not for the gold, of course, but for him. The snippets of conversation - the solemn way he checked on you, the low timbre of his voice.

“Have you been treated well?”

“Is this enough?”

You’re sure you had looked foolish. Ankles crossing as you leaned across the booth. Trying to hide your smile but failing, as you protested. A game, you had played.

Always the same questions, the same answers.

“I can’t stop you from buying my wares… but I don’t want a copper more, my Lord.”

His fingers tapping twice on the wooden stall, before his reply.

“As you wish.”

Boba's kindness had changed your life.

The coin used to buy better seeds. Your little, rented home slowly filling out with warm bedding and good food and sturdy clothes - things you had always scrambled to find. Luxuries, before now.

And for a while, you had entertained the thought of leaving town. Saving up every gold piece, starting a new life.

You almost had enough.

But that had been before Lady Shand had turned. Before the rumors had spread that Boba Fett would be seeking a new Companion.

Your heart had twisted, with the news.

Jealousy. Longing.

It could be you.

He had become a fixture in your mind. Your evenings filled with daydreams. Keeping you company as you worked, dirt caking under your fingernails, as you imagined another life.

You could pay him back, in a ways. Show him how grateful you were, offering your blood - yourself - in exchange. You never would have dared hope before but this… this was worth trying, wasn’t it?

So, you did something risky.

Hoping it would pay off.

Hoping that perhaps… your feelings were not so singular.

It feels like you're holding your breath, as Boba moves down the table. Those cups handed over so carefully. That same, single taste from each one.

There's a tick of his jaw, at some. A pink peek of tongue dragging over a lower lip. No tells in his expression, no indication on where his mind leads.

And then, finally - he's at yours.

The wooden goblet hefted in his hand, his thumb brushing unconsciously over the etchings, like yours always did. Your fingernails biting into your palms, your heart pounding in your ears, an ache settling low in your belly - much like the one before, as you had been preparing.

And with the tip of a hand, he drinks.

The goblet lowers, as he swallows. A waver of his hand, as makes to set it back down to rejoin the others.

But then.... he pauses.

A lift of his brow, a slow tilt back - as he indulges in a second.

Before his eyes are sweeping across the room. Halting, when they find yours. The smallest lift of his lips, with his look of knowing.

Your cheeks burn, as he chooses you.

Everything happens so quickly.

Before you know it, you’re hoisted into a horse - whisked off to the castle that looms at the top of the hill. A promise to bring your things to you, though you’re sure it would take less than a wagonful.

Barely able to glance down the long halls, the ornate, stained glass windows, before there’s a hand at your elbow, guiding you.

A woman, younger than you. Quelling some of the unease at being in a new place with her gentle tone, as she takes you deep into the castle - up a wide stone staircase, through an ornate wooden door, and into a room.

It doesn’t appear to be his room, and you don’t know if you’re relieved or disappointed.

Bathed in shades of green and red and gold. Dark velvet curtains against the closed windows, blocking out the last rays of the sun.

Your guide parts from you here, a murmur that the ceremony will begin at sundown - that she will be back then to help you get ready.

Leaving you on your own to explore the space, until then.

A tall bed takes up the middle of the back wall, the frame a dark, carved wood. Thick blankets in tones of ivory and a rich forest green, lit candles on the wooden tables on either side.

There’s long wardrobe against the wall, the mirror glinting in the light. A ceramic vase painted with swirls of copper, roses and wildflowers spilling over the brim.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that some of the flowers almost looked familiar.

A door is half-opened to the left, next to the fireplace, the velvet chaise sitting in front of it. Already a thought lingers about how cozy the space will be in the winter, as you pad over to glance into the next room.

It’s all ceramic tile inside, opening up to a bathroom, The claw-foot copper tub filling with steaming water, and you long to slip into it, to wash the morning’s dirt from your knees.

And so, you do.

Your stripped clothes lie in a pile on the floor. A pleased hiss as you step into the water, the temperature tipping towards too hot. Sinking deep, up to your chin, as your head tips back against the rim.

It gives you time to think, as you all but float in the water.

Giddy, at the replay of the afternoon. That it had worked.

The way he had gone back, an indulgence. He had liked it - the taste of you - and that thought was thrilling.

A warmth settling in your bones, that had nothing to do with the water.

Picking apart the look in his eyes, where you felt certain he had been searching for you. It leaves you confident that your feelings had not changed.

The water is cold and you’re scrubbed clean by the time you leave. Lotions found on the countertop smoothed into your skin, the tired joints of your knuckles.

Fingers trace over the rack of robes you find next to the door. Soft silks and thick cotton and gauzy, see-through chiffon. Your cheeks burn at the thought, as you pull one out to hold it against you.

Imaging the red fabric against your skin. How little of you it would hide, in spite of it swishing around your ankles.

Eventually, you settle on something between the two - modest enough that you won’t be embarrassed to see your guide again.

Intentionally choosing something that reminds you of him - shades of green with thin, gold trim. The tie knotted carefully around your waist, skimming your thighs. The sleeves gathered at your forearms, the silky feeling luxurious against your scrubbed skin.

By the time you make it back to the bedroom, the edges around the curtains are dark - the sun long set. The blankets soft - the mattress dipping as you sit down on the edge, still taking in the room.

A knock comes, soon after. The gentle rapping of knuckles against the door - heavy as you pull it open.

Something flipping low in your belly, when you see your visitor.

Not the pleasant girl, who had chattered as she guided you up the steps. Smiling, as she bid you farewell.

It’s him.

Boba lingers outside your door, so unlike you’ve ever seen before. Clothed in black robes, his Beskar chest plate fitted on top. Your eyes follow down, seeing gloves and gauntlets, but no helmet - before you realize you’re staring. Your gaze quickly snapping up to his, already caught.

There’s a twitch of his lips. His own eyes wandering, though you missed them in your own exploration.

His voice low, amused as he asks, “May I come in?”

Heat licks at your skin as you nod - nerves skittering down your spine, at this unexpected development. Stepping back to allow him inside.

Ending up at the end of the bed again, your palms pressing into the bedspread to keep you from fidgeting.

“Is this room to your liking?” Boba asks, conversationally.

So casually, so pleasantly, that you’re frowning. Confused at his appearance. Assuming that he had come to feed - that he’d grown tired of waiting, his patience now thin.

“It’s beautiful,” You answer, honestly. Far finer than any room you’d seen before. The bath already feels like a dream, even though the perfume still lingers in your skin, “You are again too generous.”

“It is my pleasure.” His voice is low, his hands bracing against the chaise he stands behind, “By far the least I can do.”

A nod to your new situation. This new connection, binding you together. You knew about the ritual in the tavern, from the whispers from the Companions that visited your stall.

Flowers woven into their hair as they gossiped, your eager ears picking up everything you could.

But this, now, was unknown to you.

Was he just getting to know you? Or was there another step you were missing?

“Thank you, Lord Fett,” You smile. Fingers pinching at the blanket, gathering your nerves. A breath, before you can ask, “Are we… are we to begin now? I was told there would another ceremony.”

“Just Boba, please.” He clarifies, after a beat of silence - those dark eyes still fixed on you. That eye contact still holding, as his head tilts, “And yes, there is a ritual. When conducted, it takes place in front of the coven.”

It’s not an unpleasant thought. There’s something primal about such a ritual - the thought of him claiming you in front of his friends and peers.

Images leap to your mind, unbidden. Your imagining of the throne room, filled to the brim. Gathered up in his arms, the expanse of your neck appears as he dips you. Baring legs, baring arms, baring throat.

The flash of teeth, as they sink into your skin-

It takes another second, before you can gather your thoughts. Clearing your throat, as you ask, “Is that what you wish?”

“That would depend.” His steps are slow, as he rounds the chaise. Hands clasped behind his back, the green armor accentuating his broad chest.

“On?”

There’s the flash of teeth as he smiles, “On if you’re planning on changing.”

Heat flares in your cheeks, at the thought of your appearance. Acutely aware of the single layer that covers you, just a loose knot keeping the robe in place.

Is Boba Fett flirting with me?

Before you can answer, his head turns, “This ritual is more symbolic than binding. Any true decisions are made behind doors. We can continue here, if you’d like.”

You nod slowly. The thought of having him to yourself appealing, especially for the first night. A twinge of worry about the feeding - the crook of your arm still tender from where you were pricked to fill the goblet.

Not wanting to appear weak. Not wanting your desires to be laid out, exposed in front of everyone.

“I would not mind that.” You confess, “What kind of decisions do you mean?”

“There are many we can discuss.” His look turns thoughtful, “For one, your stall. If it is gold that brought you here, I would purchase it from Shard for you. You need not do this.”

That makes you blink - the offer kind. An unexpected, altruistic turn.

“No. That’s not why.” Your head shakes, “I’m here on my own. I wanted to-”

Your words cut off, afraid to say too much. A breath, before you add, “I have little other ties here. It was not the stall that brought me to the tavern."

Something in his face changes, a softening to that ever-steady mark between his brows. Those hands still clasped, as if stilling them, as he moves closer, “Are you not bound to another, ad’ika?”

“Do you mean a soulmate?” The question makes you blink - a little frown forming.

There were no marks on your skin. No ties to another, painted where their body had first touched yours.

You could find out. You want to joke, but it stays trapped on your tongue. A moment, before you shake your head.

“No.” A small breath, as you steel yourself, “I don’t believe in them.”

His expression flickers now - you’ve caught him off guard.

“You don’t believe? The Mand’alor has often walked the town streets with his. Do you doubt their connection?”

Curiosity tinges his words, and your head shakes again, “They were lucky, I think. And I think fate works for some. Just… not me.”

It’s as honest as you’ve ever been. Maybe he’ll laugh at you… but just maybe - he’ll understand.

Perhaps it had been luck that morning, when he found you. But fate hadn’t made him kind.

That had been all him.

And perhaps luck had also turned Lady Shand before you left - but it was you who had gone to the Tavern, goblet in hand. You who had leaned into his visits, tucking away each one.

“I’d like to think that I make my own decisions. That my own choices determine my path.”

“And is that what you’ve done?” He rasps, his eyes dark, “Made your choice?”

Your breath hitches at his tone, smooth and low. Managing a short, little nod in answer - not trusting ability to keep your voice level.

“Not all bonding is mates, little one.” He’s closer now. Enough that you can see the fine weave of his robes - the chips in his armor where a sword had peeled away the paint, “You know that, right?”

Your heart pounds in your ears - ignoring his question, as you manage to ask your own, “What do you want?”

His head cocks, the candlelight catching his eyes. That burgundy shimmer darkening. You find yourself holding your breath as you wait for his answer. Watching the way his lips pull in a smile, revealing the sharp points of his teeth.

“Oh, what do I want?” He repeats, slowly, softly. “I want you to show me what you did to make your blood so sweet.”

His voice drops then, as he moves closer, “And then I want to taste you for myself.”

Your breath comes in a ragged gasp. He knew?

The whispered rumor about making your blood near irresistible had been trusted, but you never thought he’s be able to tell.

His laugh is soft, “Are you getting shy on me now, sarad?”

Heat licks at you, embarrassment and desire swirling together into a heady combo. Your thoughts slipping between your teeth on their own, “How did you…”

Boba clucks his tongue, “It’s been a while, little one. But not that long.”

That snags in your mind, your attention shifting. You frown, fingers twisting around the silk ties of your robe, “What do you mean?”

His eyebrow lifts.

There were rumors that Lord Fett and the now Lady Shand were not romantically linked. But it had never been confirmed, and part of you had worried you were going to end up in a precarious position.

Not that you minded sharing.

“You’re stalling.” He chides again, “If I misunderstood, then-”

“You didn’t.” You’re quick to correct, the band of silk pinching around your fingers, “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

His lips quirk at your answer, your boldness. An arm braces on the foot post of the canopy bed, close enough that your thigh brushes his hip.

“It has been a decade since I’ve drank from the throat of a creature as lovely as you.” His hand lifts, the back of his knuckle brushing against your neck.

No mark blooms under his touch, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You don’t need one to want him, or to love him. All you need is your heart - beating so fiercely, as that knuckle drags down to the hollow of your throat.

His fingers unfurling until the tips drag against your sternum, as your heart drops to beat between your thighs.

In a moment of bravery, your fingers tug on the tie. The knot loosing, and then pooling around your hips as the edges of your robe part, falling open.

His eyes follow, tracing your curves as they come into view. The rich fabric like a caress against your bare skin as you shift further back on the bed. Legs uncrossing as he steps between them - forcing them to nudge wider.

Heat pools in your belly, with his proximity. The knowledge that he truly intends to watch - close enough that his fingers could brush your skin, with how he bends - pressing his palms against the mattress.

Framing your thighs, as you lower yourself to your elbows. Nearly on display, the fabric still bunching at your waist, keeping you hidden.

If you hadn’t thought about him so often, perhaps you’d be a little more shy. But there was something so intoxicating about this. So honest and earnest in his tone - making you believe that because he said it so, he truly wanted to see you.

And you wouldn’t deny your Lord of anything.

Your eyes flip up to his, watching how he waits. Those hands still pressed flush, as his eyes rake over your form - an attempt to keep his hands from wandering.

But yours are not to tied down. Yours drift - trailing along the soft green hem. Down, towards the valley between your breasts.

It has you wondering if he can hear the way your heart kicks up a notch. At your touch, your intentions.

You think he must, with the way he shifts between your thighs, waiting.

The silky fabric pebbles at the tight peaks of your breasts. Soft as your fingertips run across them - a creak of his leather gloves with your soft sigh, as his fingers curl into the bedspread.

His eyes darker still, as you let your robe part further. Knuckles pinching, dragging over bare skin before drifting towards your navel. An urge to press your thighs together, an ache at the thought of things to come. At his words, already given.

There’s a rough noise, something gritted out that you miss, when the robe parts fully. When Boba can see you fully, his eyes dropping to where you’re slick already. Swollen and soft and warm, a pink tongue peeking out between sharp teeth at the sight.

A half-formed thought to tease - fingers parting yourself open. Your strokes slow, to dip slowly into your heat.

But it feels impossible to do so, with him watching. The second you slip against your skin, you’re sighing - quick to press and circle, your hips jolting into your touch.

He knows it’s for him. You can’t even pretend you’re still wet from before - those hours and that long, warm bath passing between then and now.

No, it’s his words. His voice, those suggestions.

Him.

From this angle he can surely see how you shine already. Knees pressing into his hips as your muscles clench, toes curling.

Can he see how your pulse thuds? How your blood races down, to where you ache?

The press of your fingers makes you whine, eyes taking in the expanse of his chest. Flicking down to where his hand rotates, gloved fingers touching down on the bed - moving to press against the curve of your thigh.

He watches your fingers, the way they press. Memorizing what makes your muscles clench, the soft sounds of your sighs.

You want his hands on you - to feel the strength of them for yourself. Molding you into his image, to touch you however he wishes.

To take you, as he tastes you.

It has your leg pressing into his touch, teeth biting into your tongue to keep you from begging.

“You want something.” His voice is soft, his eyes unreadable, “I can feel it, radiating from you.”

The air hisses through your teeth, sparks of pleasure pulsing where your fingers press. Slowing and stuttering at his words.

“You,” The word is sighed out, your eyes meeting his dark ones, “I want you.”

He smiles then, and it’s almost cruel. Teasing.

His hands curving around your thighs, moving slowly against your skin. Up until his thumbs are brushing against your inner thighs, nudging them wider apart.

“You managed just fine, before.” There’s a lilt to his voice, the raise of an eyebrow, “Or did you have some help?”

Your fingers slow as your brows knit, distracted by his question. How his fingers bump against yours, so close to where you burn - but still not touching.

“No,” Your head shakes, “I didn’t.”

I just thought of you, you want to tell him. I thought about this.

“Good.” He husks, and his hands leave you. A little whine slipping past your lips as he brings a hand to his mouth - using his teeth to rip the gloves from his fingers, “I only want your blood singing for me.”

It makes you clench, lips parting just in him for him to arch over you - a bare hand flattening against the bed near your ear. The other dipping between your lips when they part for him, sliding past blunt teeth.

You groan around him, cool and solid as they slip across your tongue. His eyes growing darker as your lips close around to suck, his thumb stroking the underside of your chin.

It’s bliss. Your mouth so beautifully full and busy as your fingers work, aiding your steady ascent towards euphoria.

All too soon they slide from you, leaving your lips glossy. Trailing down your chin, before dropping to fit between your thighs.

He didn’t need to, you’re already so wet. The tip of index finger slipping beneath yours, teasing at your opening. Sliding into you easily as you arch into his touch, feeling the fullness of having him in you. Already a bit of a stretch, and you squirm at the thought of more.

“So warm and wet.” His tone is almost reverent, his eyes dropping to your mouth, “I’d almost forgotten.”

Watching how you pant as his finger plunges deep, the pull of your brow as he slips from you, only to fit two inside with his next thrust.

Angling his wrist so he can curl them inside you, stroking against slick walls - finding a place that had your breath coming in a ragged gasp.

You’re close already. It had been easy, with him so close. Looking at you so hungrily, as you brought yourself closer. The feel of his fingers, filling and stroking you, teasing against that spot, has your muscles winding tight.

Boba shifts, leaning back. The hand pressing against the bed moves to wrap around your wrist, halting the needy circle of your fingers.

Your mounting pleasure plateaus, a frustrated sound in your throat. His fingers still fucking you, but that sharp edge slips from your grasp.

“Slower.” He rasps, pinning your hand down. Only allowing the tips of your fingers to each, “Need to get you ready for me. Is that what you want?”

“Yes.” You moan - automatically, without thought.

The thought makes you tighten around his, squeezing his fingers. His smile pulls to show sharp teeth, the slick slap of his fingers loud where they press into your pussy.

“Gods, I can feel you. Do you want it that bad, ad’ika?”

Your mind swirls, the weight of your tongue making it impossible to answer. Even with the tiny flick of your fingers, you can feel the pleasure in your belly start to crackle and burn.

That pressure increasing, each breath no more than a high gasp. Your vision starting to grow blurry, eyes heavy with lust, all of your concentration focused on the sweet spot between your thighs.

His name is torn from your throat, as you come when three fingers fit inside you. Crooking and stroking against your walls as you bear down around them, as he can feel how you pulse.

It drowns out your pleasure from before - hurried movements in the privacy of your home. You’re alight now - basking in the low hum of his words. Blurring at the edges, slipping through your fingers.

Fuck, that’s it.

My sarad, bloom for me.

Can’t wait to taste you.

The hand lets go to press against your hip, pinning you down. Making you take the steady pump of his fingers, as he draws it out.

“You can. Can taste me-” You gasp, your own fingers now still. A twinge that tips towards too much, as you grasp at his wrist. His hand staying buried in you, as his other curls around the back of your neck.

You brace for the bite, as your head tilts to offer your throat. Know it was coming from the start - eager to offer yourself in every way you could.

Not expecting the way he leans over you again. The ghost of warm breath before the press of his mouth against your pulse. Inhaling your scent as your heart flutters in your throat, the haze of your orgasm settling over you.

A rough sound as you moan, as he moves higher. Teeth nipping at your jaw. Realization swirling as there’s the hungry press of his mouth against yours - your own hands scraping across armor, grasping at his robes.

Curling around his shoulder to hold him to you, as you melt further. His lips are soft - yours are already parted, welcoming the dip of his tongue. Your legs hitching around his waist as his weight presses into you.

It’s comforting. It’s enveloping - your sigh swallowed as his hand slips from you. Pulling back from your mouth, as your head rising to chase after him.

Meeting those fingers instead - slick with your release, pressing against your lower lip. His own tongue swirling against one, as you share the others.

Your teeth graze, bite down on his fingers. His groan low as mouths meet again - with your taste on his tongue, with his hips pressing down against yours. Grinding himself against your bare skin, where you can feel the hard curve of his arousal.

“See how good you taste?” He rasps, lips brushing your cheek. “Fuck, can’t get enough.”

His arm curls around your waist, slick fingers shoving between mattress and your back. Lifting you like you’re nothing, with his enhanced strength. A flip in your belly and a little yelp, before you’re set back down.

Boba’s back rests against the ornate headboard. Your thighs spread wide around his waist, straddling him. The soft robe you wear dips down across your back, the fabric nestled in the crook of your elbows.

Hands splay across his chest, cool skin and hard muscle beneath. His eyes on the expanse of your skin - the slope from your neck, to your bare breasts beneath. That hand anchoring the back of your neck again, thumb sweeping the soft spot beneath your ear.

His eyes burn. Glittering embers in their depth, the sharp points of his teeth showing between parted lips. Something inside you stirs - know deep down that he truly means to taste you now.

To drink from you, as your head tilts back to offer the soft skin of your throat.

“It will hurt, a little.” He warns, voice low. Rough, as if he’s holding himself back, “But I’ll make you feel good. I promise, mesh’la.”

Your fingers twist in his robes. Eyes fluttering shut, as you wait for it to come.

But he has one last request, an edge to his voice that that fixes your attention.

“Keep your eyes open for me.”

It’s your last warning, before he’s leaning forward. The soft brush of his lips against your jugular, before he’s biting down.

There’s twin pinches, as your skin gives beneath his teeth. A burning throb as you gasp - unable to help the way you flinch, stiffening in his arms.

He groans against your neck as you flood his tongue, and there’s the sensation of pulling, the soft suck of his mouth.

But the pain does not linger. It soon bleeds into something more, that sharp edge twisting and transforming. That thudding in your neck tipping downwards. Past your chest, past your belly.

Nestling between your thighs with a very different kind of ache. One that has you shifting against him, the roll of your hips as he keeps you pinned with his teeth.

The robes he wears are thin. Not ones that go beneath his armor during the day, or to travel. Soft and fine as your fingers curl into the fabric at his shoulders.

Not at all concealing his need for you, something that stretches deeper than the urge to drink. Boba is stiff beneath you, his hardness trapped beneath the layers of cloth and your bare cunt.

Each squirm presses him against you. Something flickering in your mind, a sort of mirror to your pleasure. It feels like it strings out, wrapping around your limbs, tethering you together.

His teeth unlatch, when you reach down. A desire from deep inside to touch him, fingers sliding against fabric. Dampened from you, from the slide of your hips, the way you feel like you will burst, if he’s not inside you.

“Taste so godsdamn sweet.” He groans, tongue tracing over the marks on your neck. Where the blood still beads out, sweetened by your orgasm, “Knew it was yours, the moment it touched my tongue.”

Pulling back, to bring his mouth to yours again. He tastes like iron, like you - as your hand curls around him. Achingly hard under your touch, as your fingers trace down the curve of him, finding the edge of his robes.

“Fuck. You can have it, ad’ika. It’s yours if you want it.” His eyes are brighter, those shadows under his eyes less defined.

Hips lifting so you can draw him out, so smooth and heavy in your hand. On another day you’d want to stroke it yourself, feel the weight of it on your tongue. But you’re too desperate now. Already rising up on your knees, the robe parting like curtains at your hips.

The kiss breaks and there’s a soft protest as you line yourself up. Not for you to stop, for you to slow - merely for to take your time.

Though there is no desire to. The time you’ve already taken feels far too long, in this moment.

His hands move - sliding down to your hips. Resting there as you take him, the sharp stretch has the thick head parts you, as you slip down onto his cock. Even with the stretch of his fingers, it still feels like too much. A ragged gasp as your nails sink into his skin, though the fabric of his robes.

It twines with the pulse in your throat. Your fluttering heartbeat, the way you make room for him to fit inside you. His thick fingers flexing against bare skin as he bottoms out, as your thighs finally rest against his.

“Gods, you feel so good-” You keen - as you go still, for a long moment.

Breath caught in your throat, eyes widened as he watches. He shifts beneath you, the flexing of his legs as they stretch out beneath you. It moves him - a shallow thrust deep in your belly. That pleasure sparking, blending with the buzzing of your blood in your veins. Another roll of your hips, and then another.

Hands unfurling, slipping up to brace on his shoulders. Using them to aid your movements - the slow lift and drop that speeds up, as you get used to the feeling of him inside you. The way each stroke sends him against your walls.

His eyes are hazy - blood-drunk off you. Muscles strung tight as he lets you set the pace. Bouncing on his cock until you tire yourself out, until you beg for him to help you. Holding himself back, as your blood lingers on his tongue.

Your thighs burn with the effort. Head dipping down to see where he watches, the lounge of his shoulders against the headboard. How pretty you look, stretch around him. Something so fitting about how bare you are, against his layers - the edge of his armor, that bites into your wrists.

His fingers drift down from your hip, around the curve of your thigh. The pad of his thumb pressing against your clit again.

Following the rise and fall of your hips, circling against you the way he had watched yours move.

You swear you feel him throb in you, when his eyes raise. Lingering on your chest, the sticky smear of crimson against your skin - an errant drop from his eager drinking.

It’s then, that the scales tip. His body moving against yours - a hand wrapping around your back. The shift of his hips as he lurches forward, until it’s you that is pinned beneath him, back pressed against the mattress.

He’s deeper like this. Hips snapping into yours, as you cry out. Head dipping down, his tongue dragging against your clavicle. Down, to lap the trail blood from your skin as he groans.

You back arching into his touch as he presses open-mouthed kisses against your breast, a soft cry as his fingers find the other, trapping the tight bud between his knuckles.

“Could feel how much you wanted this.” His voice is a low rasp. Your thighs wrapping around him as he ruts into you. A circle of his hips grinding against your clit, slick and swollen from your connection.

Feeding off him, in your own way. Something sweet and heavy slipping through your veins. Your skin feels too sensitive - all your nerves alight under his touch. Head tilting back against the blankets as his weight settles over you.

As that feeling builds up again, faster this time. Racing, with the stretch of his cock. The way his hips roll back. Leaving you to clench around the tip, before plowing back in.

You’d never considered your mortality before, but it flickers in your mind now. Just how delicate you feel. A true vampire lord, able to crush you if he wanted.

Instead, he touches you gently - as his hand finds your wrist, his fingers curling around. A swipe of his thumb against your skin as he reaches to pin it against the bed. The other tucking beneath you, cupping the back of your neck again.

It sends another wave of heat between your thighs. The pound of his cock even louder than the press of his fingers, your slick arousal audible - layering with your cries.

There’s a warning on the tip of your tongue - the words coming out slurred instead. A soft, panting groan. Your heels digging into his lower back, eyes fluttering shut as he grinds himself against the spot he had found with his fingers.

“Twice wasn’t enough, ad’ika? Going to come again?” You can hear the grin in his words How it’s an inevitability, with the way he moves in you.

Unable to look away, with the way he holds you. Not that you’d want you, you think - even if you could. The fix of his gaze feels like a gift, bestowed upon you.

Captivating, with the way he soaks in every minute movement. The sweep of his eyes as he watches you start to fall apart beneath him.

You want to feel him again. That pounding surge inside your veins, that sensation of feeling even more connected than you already are.

So, you beg him for it. Eyes heavy-lidded where they find his. Your words punctuated with the hitching of your breath as you guide him down to your throat, with eager hands.

“Bite me. You can, I’m yours-”

Your pleas are impossible to resist, when his own pleasure thrumming in his belly.

He bites higher, this time. In a spot that even your tallest collar won’t hide, teeth pricking skin. Your cry turns into a groan as the rapture courses through you, seeping into your veins. Flooding his tongue, as he drinks again.

You shatter. Caught in his grip, unable to squirm with his teeth in your neck. His weight pinning you down as you pulse around his cock, your cry high and broken in the castle room.

He groans into your skin. The suck of blood over teeth, tasting how it turns sweet. Flushed with your ecstasy, an endless loop between his teeth and the tight clench of your cunt as you come.

For a moment, your eyes flutter closed. Images flicker behind your eyelids - shown as if you were outside yourself.

Red petals against green. Your perception darkened, as if behind a visor. Visions of you, leaning over your stall. Surrounded in a wreath of flowers, hand-picked from your garden.

A throb in your chest, one that blooms - skittering down your spine, settling low in your belly. Almost like butterflies, with how their wings feel like they flutter.

The sensation disappears too fast to make sense of - breaking, as he lets go.

Red smeared across his lips as the steady thrusts become short, messy. Fingers biting into your skin with the slap of his hips, the harsh grunt that turns into a ragged groan.

Hovering over you, as he notches himself deep, one last time. The column of his throat lengthening as his head tips back - it takes everything to resist the urge to make your own mark, as he spills messily inside you.

Throbbing, chasing the high with the grind of his hips.

His eyes losing that sharp edge, when his head tips down. Soft and warm, a sunrise welcoming a summers day.

Everything moves slowly, after. The lazy relaxing of muscles. The tilt of his lips when you whine, when he slips from you. His fingers slow, sweeping - as they dip down. Teasing where he drips from you, as your mouth finds his again.

Tender, as the robe is fully stripped from you. Boba’s words coaxing and patient, as he shows you the strap of his armor. How to take him apart, until you match - a perfect pair.

The aches that linger in your muscles are soon soaked away in the bath he draws. Your second today - a true luxury. The ceramic tub large enough for your back to cradle against his front.

You don’t think you ever want to leave.

Drowsy and content, his cool fingers welcome against your neck. A salve smeared carefully over the marks from his teeth. A promise that your skin will heal by morning, soft and smooth again - unmarried by his touch.

You think next time… you’ll ask if they can stay.

You’re warm against him.

Boba hasn’t been warm in years. Too used to his skin, carved from stone. Forever unchanging.

But you - you’re supple. Soft in his hands, molding yourself to fit the curve of his chest, where you cheek nestles. A thigh splaying over his waist, fingers splayed out against his stomach.

There’s much he should be doing. The sun has set some hours ago, and there’s a long list of things that need his attention.

But for now, for this moment, he will stay. Just a little longer, before he’ll slide out from beneath you, slipping away like a shadow.

You stretch against him, calf pressing into his thigh. Words heavy with sleep and exhaustion, so soft in the night air.

“‘m glad you picked me.”

There’s a stirring, in his chest. Where he thought he was long-dead, his palm pressing down where it rests against your back.

The briefest moment before he’s answering, an idle threat as a deflection.

Hushing you instead, his voice low, “Sleep, little one. You’re mistaken if you think I’ve had had my fill.”

You can’t help the smile, even as your teeth bite into your lip to stifle it. Squirming against him, the press of your center against the curve of his hip.

A low hum of amusement in his chest, as the arm that stretches beside you curls up - tucking around your ribs, nestling you a little closer.

He listens, as your breathing grows slower. Until you’re drifting off to a dreamless sleep.

Only then, does he let his mind wander. Back to the place where it had been earlier that evening. When he teeth were bared, that moment where his armor had been so thin.

“Don’t close your eyes.”

If you had, you would have seen.

Peeling back his memories, discovering just how often he had strayed down to the marketplace, after your first meeting. Not for gold or for payment. Only to catch a glimpse at the girl that had burrowed under his skin.

Somewhere along the way, changing from a casual observation - making sure Shard kept away - to something far more intimate.

Something akin to longing, if a man like Boba Fett could feel that way.

You would have felt - when the goblet raised to his lips for the second time…

Just how much he had hoped it was yours.

ad'ika - little one | sarad - flower | mesh’la - beautiful

If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! 🥺💕 I wanted to explore some of the same themes but in a new way for Boba (rejection of fate, the intentional in the way they seek each other out, instead of the pull of soulmates) - I just thought that would be so fun. I hope you liked this! 💖

tagging some pals!: @margofiore, @marieg, @wingofshadow, @reaperofmen, @bobaprint, @phoenixhalliwell, @csboz, @imarvelatthestars

#vampire!boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #boba fett x female reader #boba fett x f!reader #boba fett imagine #boba fett smut

[isa-ghost]

do u have pissa hcs

YES I have one set here (platonic/deathduo) and a second here (more Missa-centric, based on my fic)

qPhil headcanons masterlist

Because you requested Pissa, these will jump between /p and /r though,, I guess most people would prob assume as much from a qpr LOL. I will definitely be referring back to ones I made in that blue set.

Phil is a damn good kisser and it lives in Missa's head rent free

But Missa's lips are soft as hell and that lives in Phil's head rent free so actually they're both winning here

It's no secret Missa's down abysmal. He wants Phil the way Fitza has had each other. Phil knows he has a romantic crush, he does not know he is desired that carnally.

Missa has an innate talent for unintentionally reminding Phil how nice it is to be hugged and held and physically loved, especially when dealing with extensive amounts of stress

Dare I say they are the "babe hold my flower" "I've got your flower babe, go kick their ass" couple. And that works both ways, they will both hold the flower AND beat someone's ass

It took a long time for Phil to get fully comfortable with it, but he trusts Missa enough to help him preen his feathers and take care of his wings

Speaking of wing care, Missa is going to be so horrified and guilty at the sight of Phil's wings post-possession bc he wasn't there to help Phil :) It's not his fault, but he'll think so anyway, just like Phil does with things <3

Phil has yet to see Missa genuinely pissed off at something for an extended period of time but those who have known him longer like Roier have told him stories and he wants to see it SO BAD. Angry life partner hot.

Phil absolutely loves how easy it is to fluster Missa. And it's not only easy bc of the crush. Which makes Missa SO salty bc if Phil could understand Spanish well enough, oh my god the shade of red Missa could make him turn.

THEIR COMMUNICATION. AAAAAAA. DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO GET PHIL TO FUCKING SPILL HIS GUTS WHEN HE'S ENDURING THE HORRORS?? AND YET HE'LL VENT TO MISSA NO ISSUE AS LONG AS MISSA COAXES IT OUT OF HIM. RAAAAHHHHH.

These two love holding hands so much. Top tier sign of affection to them. (They will die a little if it's pointed out /pos)

Phil can and will pick Missa up like he weighs nothing. And carry him. Missa will screech every time he's picked up without fail bc he's never expecting it. And then he'll swoon about how his husband can carry him so effortlessly.

They both can get jealous sometimes, which is funny bc it's never problematic, the moment the other clocks they're getting jealous they're dramatically all over each other like OoOuUuUHUSBAND

They have an unspoken competition to one-up each other with gifts every time one wakes up and does something without the other (Phil's winning)

*Slams fist on table* STARGAZING DATES. MISSA SERENADING PHIL. PHIL INFODUMPING ABOUT SPACE. RAAAAHHHH

#qsmp #qsmp philza #philza #q!philza #missasinfonia #qsmp missa #q!missa #qsmp pissa #qsmp death duo #qphil headcanons

[ncteez]

Subtle (n.j)

❝ Your boyfriend does a lot of things right. He studies hard, wakes up on time, never forgets your birthday, and likes all the same snacks as you. On the outside, everyone notices how sweet he is as your other half but your parents would probably forbid you from seeing him if they knew what went on behind locked doors.❞

m.list | ao3 | minors dni! if you read it, reblog it.

requested by @zenlzen

wordcount ― 10.9k

pairing ―   jaemin x fem reader 

content ―  summer vacation au, established relationship, college setting, fluff, smut

note ―  first of all, lets give a round of applause to @rainyjeno​​ for stepping up to become my main beta, now i no longer have to release fics full of typos ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)  this ended up more dirty than i was anticipating so….ur welcome. 

smut tags under cut::

smut tags ―   softdomleaning!jaemin, he loses himself a lot,heavy emphasis on him loving your boobs, he has a lace kink and/or is really into the feeling of it against his cock, titty fucking, panty fucking, panty stuffing(orally in a quick jerk off session), grinding, nipple play, nipple abuse lmao, lots and lots of praise, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), deep throating, overstimulation, use of pet names like “my baby”, “pretty girl”, and “sweetheart”, some crying, eye contact, choking/suffocation (from cock), he feeds u cum for a second post-sex.

        The sun was hot against your skin and far more inviting than the five days of rainstorms prior to this. Jaemin had texted you a screenshot of the weather all five of those gloomy days, counting down the hours, minutes, and seconds it would be for you to join him at the lake with your shared friend group. The semester was finally over and the happiness you’d both felt about the new summer freedom and near-perfect grade point averages weren’t dampened by the rain. You were ready to let loose, Jaemin was ready to let loose, and the sun was on your side today. 

         After being with Jaemin for over a year and a half, you’d also figure that the sly eyes and mocking would stop. Sure, during the first few weeks of the relationship the group of friends would get a laugh at how disgusting the two of you were together—always holding hands, celebrating your anniversary by the month, and giving each other little gifts and love notes. On the outside, it looks like the two of you were shy, reserved even. 

         Jaemin never made a point to do intimate things where people could see outside of a small kiss here or there, maybe some hand-holding. He didn’t mind the mocking too much though. In a way, it’s kind of funny how even the closest of his friends have no idea how different he is when the room is veiled by moonlight. 

       Looking up to the sky, you take note of the way the clouds are far more capable than just appearing pretty and soft, lazing by and shading your group of friends for only a moment. The rain before this day proves as much. You think sometimes, Jaemin is similar to those clouds. Comfortable, soft, pretty, but the second they get the chance, they’re pouring down and soaking you thoroughly. 

“I’m gonna go swim–” You sigh out, looking at half of the group of friends already in the water, practically taking turns to throw each other.  

         Jaemin was there, sitting across from you with his knee resting on your leg. He smiles at you, nodding his head towards the water as if to tell you to go ahead. You assume he will follow when he’s ready, you can tell he’s soaking in the rays and enjoying himself on the posh grass. 

         With a small clap, you hop up to take off your t-shirt, or his rather large t-shirt. You were always thankful he bought lounge wear far too big for both himself and you, it makes clothes easily shared without the fear of stretching them out. Plus he enjoyed the way it would fall against your thighs and enjoyed it, even more, when he got to see you take the shirt off. 

         Standing there, you already feel Jaemin’s eyes on you, scanning the skin he had barely gotten to touch the way he truly wanted. Part of him thinks that you may be similar to his friends in assuming how he is in bed, despite experiencing it yourself. With both of you having packed schedules during the semester, you living with your parents to save money, and him living in a tiny college dorm with a very nosy roommate. He really can’t stand that he hasn’t been able to go all out. Neither of you can ever be loud. He constantly has to hold back to avoid getting walked in on, and while you can kind of see that he holds out nine times out of ten, you still think he’s given you the best and possibly wildest sex you’ve ever had. So it’s not like you’re complaining.

         You make a point to stand there for a little longer, looking pretty for your boyfriend before rushing off to the lake so you can join in on the fun. His eyes never leave your body, zoning in on your chest and the way your nipples perk up at the summer breeze. Jaemin watches until you’ve gotten to the shoreline of the lake, and only pulls his eyes away from you when he realizes that his roommate is literally doing the exact same thing. 

 “Eyes to yourself.” Jaemin narrows his eyes and pinches his friend on the arm.   

         Jeno jumps from the sudden pinch, staring at Jaemin with raised eyebrows. He hadn’t even noticed he was staring, but to be fair, he simply followed Jaemin’s line of sight to see what the fuck got him looking so flustered. It isn’t his fault he hasn’t gotten laid in like two months, and it isn’t his fault that Jaemin’s girlfriend has nice tits. 

“Jaem, this is the first time I’ve seen you stare at her like that.” Jeno shrugs, because Jaemin is aware that he’s thirsty for women and could probably never get a shot at you anyway. “You guys still haven’t fucked yet, or?” 

         Jeno thinks it’s kind of a waste. He knows the two of you have been dating for over a year now and never once has his friend shared the thrill of his sex life. Never once has he brought you back to their shared dorm to spend the night, outside of studying or grabbing something to borrow. Never once has he ever looked at you so openly in public like that. Jeno thinks that maybe his conservative friend is ready to take the next step with you. 

         Jaemin, however, is internally laughing. Not only have the two of you had sex, but you’ve had a lot of it. That considered, he knows there’s still a new side of him you haven’t seen in full, and there are still sides of you that he hasn’t experienced yet. Again, the lack of privacy kind of keeps the two of you fairly vanilla despite it being some of the best sex you’ve experienced, and believe him when he says he has tried to do more. He has tried to make time where the two of you could be alone, but it always gets fucked up. Someone is always there.

“You think we haven’t had sex?” Jaemin asks, leaning back and using his arms to hold his weight. He feels the sun against his face and squints over at Jeno. “Seriously?” He adds with a quirk of his brow. 

“Come on, you swear you guys have a sex life, but I literally just don’t see it.” Jeno laughs, copying Jaemin’s stance and feeling the sun against his own skin. 

         In Jeno’s defense, Jaemin holds such softness with you that he genuinely can barely imagine his own roommate having sex at this point. He didn’t even grope you before you ran off to have fun in the lake. He never gropes or touches. If anything, the two of you must be the most normal in bed. Boring as all hell. 

“That’s the point. We don’t exactly need you to be aware of what we do.” Jaemin rolls his eyes.

 He does grow tired from time to time of his friends poking and prodding his sex life, mostly because he hates that even though he tries to keep it under wraps, the lack of sex they assume he has always becomes a point of conversation. Still, at times it’s just funny to Jaemin. It makes him feel like he’s truly giving you something special. Like no one knows or gets to know unless it’s you. Honestly, he can’t help being a private person.

“Jaemin, I’m going to say this in the most respectful way possible–” Jeno starts, eyes trailing to you shoving Renjun’s head under water twenty feet away. “But like, if I had a girlfriend like that you would definitely know what goes on.”

“Too bad you don’t have a girlfriend like that, huh?” Jaemin immediately fires back, eyes also trailing to you. 

 ~

       Jaemin has a plan. One that didn’t involve the obnoxious group of friends, family, parents, strangers, or anyone besides the two of you. He started saving up after a few months of your relationship starting, simply because having no privacy was already unbearable by that point. It has taken him up until now to save enough, and he smiles brightly when he inserts his card information and receives his confirmation email. 

         A small and dainty little house that fit within his budget right on the beach. The house comes with beautiful views, tons of amenities, and most of all, some fucking privacy. 

         His mind is running a mile a minute by the time he prints off the confirmation to give to you as a gift. Thoughts of loving you without eyes and ears surrounding the room. Thoughts of being in a home that the two of you can call your own for four days, almost sending him into a daydream of marrying you and starting a tiny family there. 

         Just you, him, the beach, and whatever flat surface inside of those walls he can prop and hold you against. His excitement is huge and by the time he makes it to your house, he feels like his heart is going to jump from his chest. 

“Jaemin!” Your mom calls out, fond of your boyfriend and the way he has never done a single disrespectful or inappropriate thing in front of her. 

        A little frustrated that she always greets him first, you peek from behind your mother at the door. Jaemin’s eyes go from your mother’s to yours, his smile changing slightly in a way that shows you he has a specific smile reserved for certain people. You smile back, gently stepping in front of your mother to grab his hand.

         You thought it would just be another night with your boyfriend. One where you both share dinner with your parents. Jaemin being his normal self with his praise towards your mother involving her homemade dinners and man-talk with your father about some sports games that you know Jaemin could give less of a shit about. Yeah, another normal night where you’d both head off to bed because your parents trust him, and they trust you. A normal night where you’d both have to avoid the bed because suddenly, a month ago, the hinges began to creak and now you have to do it on the floor. 

         It wasn’t a normal night though, because, by the time you closed your bedroom door, Jaemin just stares at you with a shit-eating grin that slowly fell into a smirk as he held out a piece of paper to you. Curious, you take a step forward and grab the sheet of paper, flipping it over so that you can read it.

Confirmation # XXXXXXXX Congratulations, you’ve successfully booked “Summer Dreams Honeymoon Getaway” for May 31st to June 3rd!  

         You read the paper, look at him, then back at the paper. “Wait–” You say, lips upturning. 

         Jaemin is still smiling, looking to the ground for a moment a bit flustered because he knew you would be happy, and his favorite thing to do is make you happy. 

“Just the two of us?” You ask excitedly, pulling out your phone because suddenly you’ve forgotten what day it is, you realize that you leave with him two days from now. 

“Yeah,” Jaemin beams. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a while actually–” 

         He doesn’t have to say much more before you’re throwing yourself at him, peppering his face with sweet and gentle kisses. You’re so overwhelmed by the act of kindness that you’d almost forgotten how miserable it is to not have any means of privacy with your boyfriend. You’d grown so used to it that you figured it would always have to be like this, and you were willing to accept it if it meant keeping him by your side. 

         He’s shown his need for you, his need for privacy with you, his need to be free and spend time with you untainted by someone else’s energy, and truly, what a stupidly perfect boyfriend.

“Should we go shopping tomorrow?” Jaemin asks, pulling back from your assault of kisses on his face, hands holding you close by the waist. 

         All you do is nod, though you both have swimsuits and anything you could possibly need for this trip. A shopping trip wouldn’t hurt.

 ~

         He’s taking you all over town. Grabbing this, and that, and some other things just in case. By the time the two of you stop for lunch, he seems to have grown a bit bashful. 

“So–” He says timidly, watching you take a sip of your drink. “There’s another place I want to go but I don’t want it to make things weird.”

“Make things weird?” You ask immediately.

         Jaemin has held back a lot. Taking you to a store like this would be a first for him for any girlfriend. Being in a public place, openly purchasing such things makes him feel a little too seen, but he wants to do it. Plus, due to his holding back, he’s almost starting to feel like he doesn’t care. He’s already been seen openly checking you out, he’s struggled with the schedules preventing him from touching you. The fact that you have some sort of idea of what he’s really like in bed, and now the two of you finally get to experience it? Honestly, his cock is driving this specific decision. He’s not ashamed. 

“Yeah, um–” He looks down at his food and twists his fork around a bit before whispering something to you.

“Oh, that’s all?” You look at him, heat flowing across your cheeks.

         You’re into it. He’s told you before that he wanted to see you in such things and that he wanted to do more. Of course, you believed him, but it’s not like he’s gotten the chance to actually do it. Even this store he’s planning to take you to, it’s not anything to be shy about. You were thinking he was about to take you to a full-on sex shop, which you’d still be into going. 

         You always wanted more too though and you’ve silently asked for more. He gave you what he could without being caught in the act, and now you realize that this trip will ruin you by the time you return home. Whatever you do there, you won't be able to do at home and that pisses you off to no end. 

         Nodding to him, he smiles. 

“Knew you’d wanna go.” He glows when he says it, feeling like you’re truly the perfect match for him

 ~

          The dainty white lace sat against your skin comfortably as you stared at the set in the mirror. This was what he liked the most in the store, despite the hundreds of other colors, fabrics, and sets you had considered. Part of you doesn’t want to take it off and you’re feeling a little on top of the world looking the way you do right now. You wish Jaemin hadn’t gone home, but to be fair the two of you leave together tomorrow and he needed to pack as well. He was going to be back at your front door in less than 12 hours to start the trip over to the beach house, and you didn’t intend to take this lace lingerie set off until Jaemin did it himself. 

         His eyes made promises all throughout that shopping date and you picked up on it, you focused on his eyes and the way you could tell he was envisioning what you’d look like in each of the lingerie sets the two of you considered. You saw those same eyes light up at the most basic set, but you didn’t question it. You’re glad you didn’t because now that it’s against your skin you realize how perfect it truly is. 

         You have so many cute matching pairs of bras and panties, but nothing this soft and delicate, nothing this expensive. You’re not taking it off until Jaemin does it himself, you’re really not.

 ~

          Your boyfriend looked groggy as you opened the front door with your bags in your hands, and of course, your mother offered him something to eat before heading out. He obliged, causing you to lay your bags down and follow them into the kitchen. In all fairness, he probably agreed so she didn’t suspect that he’s definitely taking you away for several days to fuck the senses out of you. 

         You, on the other hand, were wide awake, lace sitting hidden under your clothes and skin feeling as if it is in a state of constant prickling. You want to leave now. You want to be alone with him now. Your mood gets to you quickly by the time your mother is wandering around the kitchen gathering things to make. Staring at Jaemin’s hands, looking at his sleepy face– you would let him throw you on the table right now if it weren’t for the fact that your mother would be incredibly disrespected by it. Time to flaunt, you guess, to at least wake him up a little. 

         Does he know you’re wearing the set? Is that why his groggy and sleepy eyes widened when you purposely dropped that hand towel and picked it back up, making sure he can see up your skirt while your mother was across the room looking for the perfect tea to serve for breakfast? 

         Surely he saw because now he’s wide awake and frantically looking between you and your mother, internally fighting himself to keep that energy of being the soft puppy dog boyfriend. His energy stays the same on the outside, but you see the flash in his eyes, looking you up and down and only just now processing that once breakfast is over with, he has you all to himself. He doesn’t have to hope you bend over for him again behind prying eyes, he could easily just slip a hand up your skirt and feel the pretty lace there as soon as he gets you out of the door.

         God, you’re getting to him. His composure continuously falters and makes him look like the virgin everyone assumes he must be. All he can think about is that in just a few hours the two of you won’t be locked in a space with parents or friends. You’ll be able to fill the silence of a room with whatever sounds you want– and he knows exactly what sounds he wants to hear from you.

         By the time your mother sets down a simple, last-minute breakfast in front of the two of you, Jaemin feels stupidly hard in his casual attire at the anticipation of this trip. He’s shifting his legs under the table, willing his thoughts to leave the expanse of skin under your skirt, he’s forcing himself to talk sweetly to your mother as if he doesn’t want to shove his entire length down your throat right here, right now. 

         His thoughts won't calm, nor does his cock, and the breakfast tastes incredibly bland because he’s eating it so quickly that he literally tastes nothing, all so he can hop up and run out the door with your bags without so much as a “see ya later!” to your mother. 

“Oh, I want to use my favorite cup, actually.” You say in a matter-of-fact tone, making the breakfast last as long as you can because you can see him struggle beside you. He looks at you with pleading eyes, tearing a piece of the toast with his teeth as he brings his attention back to your body, fully intending to suffer by watching you tease him anyway.

         That you do, walking across the kitchen and lifting up on your tip-toes, leaning forward just enough so that he can see the underside of your ass beneath the fabric. You smile to yourself when you hear his fork clatter to the plate.

“Jaemin, Are you okay?” Your mother asks, lifting herself up to grab a napkin to wipe the crumbs off of the table that had fallen from his fork.

“I’m fine, just need to use the bathroom–suddenly.” He tries to save himself, hands covering his obvious hard-on as he shuffles from his chair. Thankfully he’s never done anything suspicious before so your mother doesn’t think twice about it. She shrugs and then turns to you when he rushes out of the kitchen and to the bathroom.

“Your cup is in the dishwasher.” She says after realizing you’ve been over there for far too long looking for that cup. 

“Oh!” You cheerfully laugh back, knowing full well that your cup was in there all along. 

 ~

 “You did that on purpose.” Your boyfriend seethes out with tense lips, looking you up and down the moment the two of you get into the car and close the doors. “And–you’re already wearing it...” He then blanks out, losing composure yet again. Your mother is standing outside, attempting to wave the two of you off and he’s getting incredibly frustrated with the fact that he still doesn’t have you alone even behind locked doors. Windows, fuck windows. 

         He looks at you for a few more seconds and then turns in his seat to give a bright smile to your mother, waving at her before starting the car and trying to speed out of the driveway as respectfully as he can.

“You picked it out, of course, I’m wearing it–” You say with a light voice, the voice you use to tease him quietly in the darkness of your bedroom. “I thought you wanted me to flaunt it.”

“Of course I do!” He retorts, focusing on the road and wishing so much that this drive goes by quickly. “But right in front of your mother? You could have killed me in there.”

         You laugh again, running your fingers up your thighs and to the hem of the skirt that’s been the focus of his eyes all morning. “I think you liked it.”

         Jaemin looks at you for a split second and shakes his head in defeat. “Didn't think you were the type to get off on humiliating me.” He admits with a laugh, his cock still twitching uncomfortably in his pants. 

“To be fair, I think there’s gonna be a lot of things to discover for the next few days.” You finally calm yourself of the teasing, because it’s not like you intended to humiliate him– you just like seeing him go crazy over you. Is that so bad?

         Jaemin thinks for a moment, looking at the clock and already internally counting down the hours the two of you can walk into that little beach house and absolutely destroy it. “I guess you’re right.” He smiles over at you. “I can finally stop acting like I don’t want to rip your clothes off–”

         You interrupt him quickly. “I never said you couldn’t do that in the first place.” 

         Thinking to himself again, you’re not lying. In the beginning, you did try to get cozy with him in front of people, you did try to be loud, and you did tell him to do whatever he wants with you in the midst of blown-out pupils and messy sheets, but he can’t help that he doesn’t want the entire world to know what he likes, how he likes it, or how he does it. He doesn’t want your mother to dislike him and think he’s using you for sex. He doesn’t need Jeno to know what either of you sound like when you’re reaching climax. 

         It’s not even that you want people to know either. It just appears that Jaemin likes to keep his sex life under wraps, and that’s why privacy is an issue. Alone, in your room with him, you know the two of you could get away with a lot more, but he’s always anxious about being caught, about being seen as something that he hasn’t already shown them. You respect it, truly. But god, sometimes you just wish he would go all out because the man genuinely makes you feel like you could scream from a mountain top about how good his mouth feels on you.

“You know, it’s going to be hard to enjoy the beach–” Jaemin goes to change the subject, stopping at a red light and looking over at you. “Then again, I didn’t really intend for this trip to be about the beach anyway.”

         You knew what those words meant. It’s vacation enough just being alone with him if you’re being honest.

 ~

          As the time to arrive was drawing closer and closer, you could practically see Jaemin shift into the man you’d only seen snippets of in your bedroom. Only now it was fully him. He was still the same man, the same soft and gentle boyfriend you’d spent so many nights with, but this time he isn’t hiding or pretending. He isn’t brushing off any touch you throw his way either. He’s making dirty little comments towards you, telling you how good you look, reaching his hand over to tease the skin of your thighs, and even staring for a few seconds longer than usual at the expanse of your chest.

         By the time the two of you pull up to the place, neither of you feel the need to do the awkward walk through the house commenting on how nice it is. No. You’re crawling in your skin, legs burning from the warmth you’d felt from his hand for hours doing nothing more than soft rubs. Jaemin, on the other hand, appears to be just as occupied in his thoughts as you are.

         He doesn’t even pop the trunk to grab the packed bags because, at this moment, all he needs is you and that soft lingerie set that’s been hidden from him since that morning. The moment that door shuts, he’s looking at you and drinking in the silence. The realization hits him so fucking fast that finally– fucking finally–

“Do you hear that?” He asks, eyes finally scanning you fully as you stand there. He stops for a moment and stares at your chest, cursing the tank top that you have over it. If he looks hard enough, he can almost see the texture of the lace beneath it.

“Hear what?” You say, leaning against a counter and already feeling the need to rub your thighs together at his tone of voice. 

“Exactly.” He says, walking up to you and pinning you there in an instant. “We’re finally alone.” 

         You’re not even shocked by how fast he’s got his hands on you, feeling every inch of skin that is visible before trailing them to the hem of your skirt. “I’ve never gotten to touch you like this in a kitchen before–” He whispers, running his fingers up your legs and to the curve of your ass. 

         It sounds stupid, dirty talk involving the very mundane room you’re standing in, but he’s right. The freedom he must feel right now has to be as intense as it is for you. Thoughts of dishes clattering, glass all on the floor, and a hefty bill for damages after this trip is somehow incredibly hot to you. The pure hunger he has for you simply because no one is around seems pathetic, but it makes it that much more meaningful to you. He wants you so bad that he can’t even bring himself to find the bedroom in this place before getting his hands on you.

         You can feel him shiver against you at the mere shameless touching of your body in an open kitchen like this. The window blinds are open revealing a view of the sea, the sound of salt water rushing to the shore– still he only looks at you. The air in this house is cool and prickles against your skin, but still, all you feel is his fingers trailing all over your body.

         Only then, as he hovers in front of you, does he press himself against you. His hand is already reaching for your chest and kneading over the material of your tank top there. “I could have you right here, couldn’t I?” He drones on in a whisper against the skin of your ear, still in the thought of how he can do anything he wants wherever he wants with you right now. 

         You nod to him, head spinning from the mere ghostly touches of his fingers being blocked by your clothing. You can feel his breath against your neck now as his other arm snakes around your waist in a half embrace, his other hand still kneading the flesh of your breast. “I finally get to hear all of those pretty sounds that you had to swallow up at home–” 

         You shiver at the words, pressing your body towards him and turning your face so that you can try to catch his lips in a kiss. It can happen right here, right now. You genuinely do not give a fuck. 

         He obliges in your kiss, knowing that your silence at this moment is likely caused by all of the times he’s kept you quiet before. He can feel your need through the way you work your tongue into his mouth like you did so many times back home, and that’s how he knows he’s got the green light to continue. 

         And that he does, pulling away from you and watching you try to chase his lips. He watches and looks down your body once more. “As much as I want to fuck you against this counter–” He pauses with a sigh and looks around the openness of the house, ignoring his cock pressing against his pants and demanding to be let free. “I want you on top of me.”

         He steps back and drags you with him gently by the material of your tank top. “Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

         You’re a little in awe at how this is how he’s always wanted to act. He’s moved and positioned your body countless times in silence but never has he asked for what he wants out loud. You oblige, of course, you oblige.

         You follow him to a very soft and wide-seated couch, one that could probably act as a bed if he so wanted it to. Then he sits himself down, kicking his shoes off in a careless way before looking at you as you stand there. His eyes aren’t leaving your body, always zoning in directly on your chest and wondering if your nipples have perked up under all of that cloth. 

         He holds you in place by your waist for a moment and only pulls you into his lap when he leans himself back against the couch, instantly feeling you sit yourself down and against his bulge. He’s thankful you’re wearing that skirt, knowing full well that your lace-clad pussy is sitting right where it belongs, despite his own pants shielding his cock from feeling the intricate designs. 

“There we go–” He coos, pulling his hand up to run the back of his fingers against your cheek. “Now let’s get this off.” He tugs with his other hand at the hem of your tank top, smiling at you when you immediately lift it off. 

         He sits for a moment, bracing his hands on your now naked waist, staring in full view of how the bra perfectly cups your breasts. “I knew it would look good on you–but fuck.” Jaemin swallows hard and you can feel his cock twitch against you. A wave of warmth runs throughout your body at the way he gazes at you, it almost makes you want to hide your face at how different and new this feels with him. 

         Everything feels open, you feel more vulnerable despite having shared intimate moments like this with him before. It was always quiet, no words to be said. He never talked, and barely did he ever even sigh loud enough for you to hear his pleasure. Now he’s just—talking, talking, fucking talking, and you’re basking in it. 

“You like it?” You say, grabbing one of his hands and placing it against the lace bra. You watch intently at the way his fingers instantly make an attempt to drag against it, tracing the cups and only barely grazing the skin there. 

         That alone causes your nipples to perk harshly, prodding against the airy material and peeking only slightly at Jaemin, who is still staring with growing pupils. He doesn’t even respond to your question, because he feels as though his mouth could be doing much better things than having a conversation right now. 

         You yelp in surprise when he lunged forward, attaching his mouth to one of your nipples through the fabric. He wets it with his tongue and flicks against it with ease while his other hand gently prods its way beneath the cup of the other. You can feel the sensation in your gut when he does it, the warmth of his saliva soaking through and coating your nipple to the point all you can do is plant your fingers in his hair and throw your head back to bask in the feeling. 

         Feeling his hips gently rut up against you, you do your best to grind down a bit as he works his mouth over your chest, running his tongue between your breasts so that way he can assault the other nipple through the fabric. Neither of your breasts are left unattended because you shiver only for a moment at the cool air hitting the saliva-soaked nipple before his fingers are slipping their way in to continue rubbing against it, warming it right back up. 

         It almost feels like overstimulation of your nipples already, with the fabric becoming harsh as his tongue massages through it, but you don’t argue. He stops every few seconds to almost nuzzle his face against your bra before going back to work, back and forth, wetting the bra to the point that your nipples stay erect and needy for more of his touch. 

         After a few moments, he pulls back satisfied, running his hands down your sides and resting them on your thighs, just below the bottom of your skirt. 

“You look so shy right now.” He says in a low-toned voice. “You wore this for me, and teased me with it, only to act like this when I finally get to see it?” Jaemin adds with a bit of bite in his voice, pinching the outside of your thigh only slightly to get a little jump out of you. 

         You stare back at him, folding in on yourself in a weird kind of way. A way that you know you’re only doing it because he seems to be getting off on the act of shyness. He seems to like seeing you flustered, blinking at him under your lashes with a small smile. You are feeling a bit shy right now from the newness of it, but it doesn’t change the fact that you want him to absolutely make your knees buckle. 

         Smiling, you grind yourself a bit against him, still keeping yourself quiet so as to not taint the way his voice sounds echoing against the walls here. You see him react, his fingers digging slightly against your skin when you do it, feeling him hold you in place for a moment before flipping your skirt up and holding it there. 

“God.” He groans out as he stares down at the wet spot already formed against the white lace panties, so wet that there’s a visible spot on his own pants from you. The wetness matches what he did to your bra, and this is exactly why he picked this color for you. 

         Jaemin looks back up at you, and then back down before he loses his composure and starts to move your hips on his own accord, watching his bulge disappear from beneath you and reappear with a larger, darker, wet spot against his pants. He wants to feel the panties so badly against his cock already that he can barely force his eyes to look up at you. 

         You watch him lose control for a moment, smirking to yourself at how you’ve barely done a thing and he’s already acting like this. You love seeing your boyfriend like this, you love being able to spend this time alone with him. Seeing his focus on the lace, you wonder if you can do something you’ve never done before. Maybe you can make him moan, writhe, by doing it. 

         Slowly, you grind against him using his hands as a guide, watching the way his eye contact never leaves the heat of your pussy, and just as slowly you grind further and further back until your pussy is hovering between his legs and you’re slowly getting off of his lap and onto your knees in front of him.

         He watches, still staring at your pussy until it is no longer in his line of sight, eyes now shooting to your tits and the way they press against the saliva-soaked fabric. He looks to be mesmerized, and you’re loving it as you reach forward and unzip his pants.

         He jolts for a moment, grabbing your hand as if to tell you that it isn’t time to go down on him yet. He’s not done with what he wants to do yet, but you shake his fingers off of your wrist, quickly pushing his pants down his thighs and to his ankles. You sit for a moment, looking up at him with doe eyes. 

“I don’t know why I tried to stop you–” He says as he unbuttons his shirt to reveal his chest. He now realizes how truly good you look between his legs like this, on your knees and needy. “You look so fucking good right there.” 

         Jaemin stares down at you, ignoring the breeze against his cock, and waits in anticipation for whatever it is you’re planning to do. When you press your tits up and against his cock though, dragging the lace and sending harsh vibrations through his entire body, he nearly breaks. 

“Stick it between them–” He groans out, watching the way you move for him. 

         When you go to put your arms behind your back to undo the bra though, he sits up quickly to grab them. “No, leave it on.” He says, leaning back again and allowing you to slip his cock under the bra and between your tits. 

         He sighs heavily at the feeling of the band holding his cock in place between your mounds and he doesn’t hesitate to reach forward and press them together so he can see the head peeking out from the top. 

“God, I love you–” He groans out, slowly pressing his hips up to essentially fuck your tits.

        As he’s grabbing at you, he begins to knead your flesh in his hands, fingers running over the laced nipples to get a shiver out of you. Only then does he grab them harshly, pressing them so tightly together that when he fucks up, he feels a shiver run straight to his cock at the very image of him finally getting it between your tits.

        You can feel the bruising thrusts against your skin, but the look on his face is too good to ignore. You can to see more of him like this, you want to feel more of him like this, so, you place your hands against his and press them even harder against your tits to offer an impossible amount of friction against his frantic cock. 

        He moans out at that and it’s your first time every hearing his sounds of pleasure above a sigh or a whisper. It swallows your mind whole, hearing the echo against the walls and the pure ecstasy of it. You can feel your panties soak even more as you begin to rub your thighs together. 

        Jaemin is in his own little world, feeling the lace band hug the base of his cock so tightly that he feels like he’s being choked. The pressure is so fucking good when he’s being rubbed raw like this, he feels sensitive and absolutely overtaken by the way he fits so perfectly between your tits. 

        He continues to stare at the way the head of his cock disappears between the flesh of your tits and gets so turned on by it that only now does he realize how badly he wants to see how perky your nipples have become. From beneath your own hands, he doesn’t hesitate to grip the trim of your bra and let your breasts bounce free. 

        The friction he had was minimized only slightly, but his lust bubbles up the moment he sees your nipples. Immediately he pulls his hands back and put them over your own now. 

“Hold them together for me, pretty girl.” He soothes, moving his own fingers to flick and twist at your nipples as his thrusts become a bit more erratic. 

        You see him seethe out, chewing against his bottom lip as he focuses solely fucking and abusing your chest. You find yourself loving it though, pressing them together and allowing yourself to feel the sensations of his fingers sending constant spikes of pain and pleasure throughout your body. You’re so wet by this point you can barely stand it, feeling the wetness already on your thighs and allowing them to glide together easy when you start rubbing them together at a constant pace.

Only when Jaemin feels like he’s losing control does he pull his hands back and watch the way you’re face is contorted into that of discomfort. You look so pretty like this to him, you must be feeling neglected. 

        He swats your hands away from your tits to allow his cock to fall free of them aside from the band of your bra. His precum shines against the inner sides of your mounds and across your chest and that alone should be enough to tell him how good you’d look covered in it. God, there’s so much he wants to do. So much he wants to say. His face feels hot, his cock is twitching, and you are literally just too fucking perfect. 

“I love you too.” You whisper, lifting up a bit to let his cock spring free of your bra, but then you’re immediately back down, pressing your lips to his shaft and looking up at him. “Did you like that?” You giggle out.

        Your voice sends him into overdrive when he nods to you with a smile. There’s so much he wants to do but now his thoughts are riddled with the idea of finally hearing you gag around him. He had to be gentle at home, fucking into your mouth in a slow way so that when he feels your throat constrict, he can pull back...but now–

“Are you going to use your pretty little mouth to make me feel good?” He asks, already pressing the swollen head against your lips. “Can you take more of it now?” He asks again, pressing a bit harder.

         You don’t even answer, opening your mouth and tasting the pre-cum against your tongue as you make haste to swallow him up. 

         Jaemin shoots his hands to your hand, pressing your head down more and more because he wants to feel you gag this time. He wants to see how pretty your eyes would look in a glassy haze of tears. He wants to see the mess of saliva and precum bubbling from the corners of your mouth as you struggle to breathe around him. Only– you don’t stop him? You take it with ease up until his entire cock is bottomed out and your nose is pressing against his pelvis.

“Shit–” He mutters out, looking at you in awe. “Why didn’t you tell me you could do this?” he adds, pressing his hips up to see if he could manage to get his cock even further down your throat. He can see your eyes smile, though they’re already beginning to water up a bit. 

“You’re so pretty like this,” Jaemin says, skewing your head up and watching the way your mouth stretches around him. “So good to me.” 

         He sees your eyes light up at that before they fall closed, and he watches the way your nose flares out to try and take in a breath. The fact that you’re not pulling off is one thing, but the fact that you’re allowing him to constrict your airflow for his own pleasure is another, very amazing thing to him. He loves that you’re taking it so well, and loves even more how you grip his thighs when he doesnt even pull out, and instead grinds himself against your throat just to feel it constrict more around him.

         You’re humming against him with each gag, doing your best to stay put as it becomes harder and harder to breathe. Everything feels hot, the tears in your eyes, the saliva pooling in your mouth, Jaemin’s pre-cum continuously dripping into your throat. You really do your best, but breathing through your nose is becoming more difficult by this point, and when he holds your head in place by your hair, skewing his head to watch his cock slowly drag out of your mouth, you can finally moan out a breath. 

“Fuck,” His sigh is long and drawn out. “Fuck.” He says it again, pulling all the way out of your mouth and watching the way you suck in a breath despite the saliva dripping from your lips. You stay in place though, flicking your eyes up to him with a nod before he’s pressing back in to do it all over again.

         Never would he have believed you’d cockwarm him with your mouth, but here you are, and here he is. He can’t stop himself. He’s barely even fucking your face at this point, he’s more so just burying his cock into you in a way that will cause your throat to pulse around him as your body panics for a breath.

“Shh-” He soothes, pulling one hand from your hair and wiping a tear that begins to run down your cheek. “Look how good you’re making me feel.” He says back, gently rutting his hips into your throat, leaving no space at all for air. “You’re doing so fucking well.” He adds with a grunt, chewing at his bottom lip as he stares in awe at the way you just take it. 

         You try to nod, but it causes an intense gag to reach your throat and you can’t help but cough. You don’t pull off of him though and instead, you choke around him, determined to keep him in place so that he can continue his praise.

“Aw, baby girl,” Jaemin soothes again, pulling slightly out of your mouth so that you can suck in another breath and calm the choke. “You can’t breathe, can you?” 

         You shake your head and release your grip from his thigh, solely because your clit is on fire for pressure and all you can think to do is give Jaemin what he needs along with yourself. He watches this motion, eyes following your hand all the way down until it disappears behind the edge of the couch. Then he watches the way your arm flexes as you touch yourself. 

         Jaemin then shoves your head back down and bottoms his cock out in one go, lost in the thought of how good you must be making yourself feel while barely being able to breathe. He’s in awe and absolutely fucking in love with you in this moment to the point that he has no issue with guiding your mouth on him. A proper blowjob he could say, deepthroat and all.

        You choke around him at the quick pace he moves your head, but every half second your fingers are stimulating your clit in such a perfect way that it’s almost hard not to cum with all of the stimulation. You’re still wearing the incredibly soaked lace that for a moment you forgot you were wearing them at all, they’re clinging to your skin and allowing your fingers to glide smoothly across the sticky wet spilling out of you. 

        Your boyfriend continues his assault on your throat, eyes focusing between your tits pressing against the couch to the way your arm speeds up to do something he can’t see. It grows to be too much for him, so he pulls you off of him by your hair and looks down at you with blown-out pupils. He looks incredibly lost like this and also sexier than he’s ever been. 

“If we keep doing this, I won't last.” He admits as he swats your hand away and grabs your arm. “Come back and sit on it, I know you need more right now.” He tries to keep his composure when you stand up to reveal just how wet you’d gotten in the midst of suffocating on his cock. 

“Take that off first–” He says, looking away from you for a moment just to try to keep himself from cumming completely untouched during this short moment. 

         You obey, slipping your skirt off and already bracing yourself to get back onto his lap. He helps you, allowing you to balance yourself on him as you straddle and press your pussy against his cock. 

“You did so good,” He praises you with a kiss when you sit down on him, and he does moan into it when he feels the lace slide against him. “Was it too much?” He asks, pulling back so that he can search your face for any amount of discomfort.

“I could have taken more.” You admit, continuing to glide your hips against him. “You looked even better than I thought when you were doing that to me.” You say in a half-gasp, feeling your clit strive for the attention. 

“Yeah?” He says, quirking a brow and watching the way you must not even notice how you’re getting yourself off on top of him. 

“Yeah.” You say, trailing off as your thoughts focus on the stimulation between your legs. You roll your eyes back for a moment, realizing that any amount of pressure against you could probably have you screaming his name and clawing against his skin for more.

         Jaemin watches you do this for a while. His cock is still impossibly hard and sensitive as you ride against it with ease, the lace he had picked out doing its job perfectly in not getting in the way. He can tell you’re getting into it more and more when you brace your hands on his shoulders and really start to go at it. 

        His eyes watch the way your body moves on top of his, the writhing and pure want showing with each jerk of your hips towards his middle. He gently caresses your face, knowing that your body reacts this way only for him, and only for what he does to you. “My baby, so needy isn’t she?” He murmurs when he pulls you down so he can whisper against your ear. “Just ask, I’ll give you anything you want.”

         You always loved that he did this. Jaemin always has control, but he doesn’t take advantage of it. He does give you everything you could imagine. You love the way he touches every inch of your body, leaving no expanse of skin left without his lips or fingers against it. You don’t even have to ask at this point as your hips swivel and yearn for more, more, more. After having spent so many nights where the two of you had to be quiet, Jaemin knows exactly what you want. 

“Hm?” He hums with a smile in his voice, tilting his head to get a good look at your lust-filled eyes. “We are finally all alone, and you’re still being so quiet.” 

        You look at him, clenching his arm and snapping your hips against his cock harshly. He’s right. There’s no parent in the other room, no friends listening in. 

“I’ve always wanted to hear the way you’d sound for me–” He moves his hand down, skewing your panties to the side. “without holding back, talk to me baby.” He adds with a breath, slipping his cock against your pussy and allowing the sticky fabric to hold him there “Come on, don’t be shy.”

         This only causes you to moan out, gliding your bare pussy over his cock and feeling it in all of its fullness. You look down, watching the way his swollen tip hits against your clit before stretching out the lace fabric of the panties, and then you look at him. You want to ask him to fuck you now, but–

         He is also staring, clearly, he’s lost himself again as he watches the way his precum seeps through the already wet fabric each time you glide back. He’s amazed by the feeling of your folds hugging his cock, and then by the panties holding him in place and offering a soft and delicate type of pressure to his tip.

         He moans as he lunges forward, pulling you down against him in a tight embrace. You’d think it was a sweet gesture rather than a horny one if it weren't for the fact that you can feel his cock fuck against you and into the panties. 

         Your boyfriend is, quite literally, fucking your panties with you in them and you couldn’t be bothered to protest because it’s incredibly hot seeing him lose himself like this.

         You lay there in his arms, feeling his cock beat against your clit relentlessly just to feel the soft fabric of your panties stimulate him. You’d never imagine this happening and for some reason, you’re incredibly into it probably because you’ve been on the verge of an orgasm for a solid four minutes. 

         Helping him out, you lift yourself back up and smile at how his arms loosen and immediately go to your waist. His eyes open and they’re straight back to watching the way he’s stretching the panties out.

         He stares harder when sees you pull the panties from your heat and practically wrap the fabric around the head of his cock. All he can do is fuck upwards, feeling the base of his cock being held directly against your pussy from the panties holding him there. The friction is so little, but seeing the lace practically cut the circulation off of his cock is driving him mad. He thrusts upwards again, groaning at the pain of it but he still doesn’t stop. There was already so little space between you and your panties, given the perfect fit, but he can feel them stretching out more and more with each of his thrusts. He is fucking into nothing, and solely getting off to the feeling of the thin, thong-like fabric choking his cock out. 

         His hands begin to grip your waist so hard that it feels bruising, and sure, you know he was implying he would fuck you earlier but it was too good to see him get lost in this. You can see his frustration each time he thrusts up, but then his eyes go back to the image of his cock wrapped up against your pussy and he loses it again, thrusting even more frantically. 

         You can feel your panties stretch out, rubbing the creases of your thighs harshly with each snap of his hips, but you hold out and finally begin to move on your own accord to allow your clit the pressure that you had felt moments before. 

         Neither of you have any sort of rhythm because you’re fucking against him, and he’s just desperately trying to chase a high that’s barely there. His frustration grows and grows until he shoots a hand forward and unwraps his cock. The loosened fabric is no longer of use to him when he immediately holds himself in place and makes direct eye contact with you.

“Ask for it.” He says with eyes so blown out and his voice so raspy that you can barely recognize him. 

         You were thrown off by the sudden change of pace, but you want nothing more than to have him thrust that hard inside of you. You want nothing more than to finally feel his cock pounding so deeply inside of you that you’re babbling like an idiot and finally able to scream out for him. 

“Tell me you want it as bad as I do,” He says again, pressing the tip slightly against you. “I want to hear you talk this time, please baby girl– just talk for me…”

         He’s almost begging you to beg for him.

“Please, Jaem, fuck m-” Before you can even finish speaking, your breath is caught in your throat as he practically rams into you with one deep, harsh thrust. 

         You go to try and speak again but he’s got his hands on your waist and he’s already lifting up to get his nipple in your mouth. The stimulation all over your body is too much for you to pin-point a single thought to voice out for him. He’s totally lost in it anyway, feeling your pussy clench around him at the sudden intrusion. His hips won't stop, they just move faster and faster as his tongue chases your nipple and the way it bounces away from his lips with each thrust. 

         All you can do is yelp, each moan coming out when you bounce against his thighs. You grip onto his opened shirt, pulling and tugging to keep some sort of grasp on reality but he’s really just fucking gone and willing for you to join him. Jaemin is muttering words against your nipple as he bites and sucks, fingers harshly holding your waist and digging into the flesh there. 

“You’re so fucking hot–” He mutters at one point, moving his mouth to your other nipple. “You sound so pretty when you ask for me to fuck you–” He mutters again. “I knew you’d like it like this.” He continues to talk against your skin, bruising your nipples. “You feel so good clenched around me, so tight.” 

         You’re seeing a flurry of white as he talks effortlessly despite his merciless thrusts into you. You bask in his voice and the constant praise while you make an attempt to bounce yourself now, meeting his thrusts halfway. Jaemin stutters his praise and moans out instead, relaxing his hips so he can watch your pussy suck him in each time you bounce.

“Yeah, like that–” He groans, rolling his eyes back for a moment out of pure pleasure. “Fuck yourself on me.”

         You can tell he’s not done talking and you don’t mind it. It keeps you from having to think of something to say in a moment where your brain is quite literally falling apart. 

“Tell me you love it,” He asks for praise of his own now, stiffening his abdomen and feeling the way your pussy jerks him off. 

“You know I love it.” You express in a quick gasp, leaning down against his ear so that he can hear the full volume of your voice. “I’m so close,” You groan out, sitting yourself down and burying him inside of you one last time before swirling your hips and rubbing your clit against his pelvic bone. 

“You gonna cum on me like this?” He looks at you and then back down to see your swollen clit bumping against him. “Just like that?” There’s a smile in his voice when he starts to fuck up again, hitting your clit harshly in the process, “Want me to show you how crazy you make me?” 

         You’re already losing it, especially when you feel him wrap his arms around you and push you over to the side, he is smooth with it, keeping his cock buried deep inside of you when your back hits the cushions. Now that he’s on top of you, there’s absolutely no control to be had on your end. 

         He hooks one of your legs and wraps it around his waist and he begins to drive his cock in and out of you with a messy and wet sound. His fingers go straight to your clit, rubbing harsh shapes and circles against it.

         He watches the way your tits stay half restricted from the bra he completely forgot to take off of you, your bruised nipples peeking from the fabric. He thinks they look good like this anyway, and to be fair he liked the way the lingerie set laid ruined against your skin.

Jaemin continues rubbing and flicking your clit as he pounds into you at a different angle and he can practically see the lights go off behind your eyes. This only drives him to go harder, faster, until you’re finally moaning loud enough that he can never forget it.

“Still close?” He asks out of breath, trying to hold back his own orgasm. 

         You try to answer, you really do, but it hits you so fucking fast that all you can do is tense your leg around him and hold him in place. You’re clenching around his cock so tightly, cumming so incredibly hard that you do release a very loud moan. 

         His fingers are still rubbing your sensitive clit and he can feel your orgasm hit you around his cock. All it took was that moan, one that even he wasn’t expecting to be so loud.

It wasn’t even supposed to be of his name, but what you were trying to say is “Jaem, I’m gonna cum.”, instead, what you moaned out was his name. Over and over. You couldn’t help it, your brain wasn’t working and your body felt tight, but god did he love it.

         He basked in it, his own orgasm rushing through him in waves, spilling into you continuously. Your walls were still clenching around him, causing his cock to just keep fucking going. 

         A mess of breathy words and moans follow, most of which were Jaemin trying to explain how much he loves you, how good you are to him, how hot you sound, and of how much more he’s going to do to you later.

          Your words still only consisted of his name, all the way up until you opened your eyes to see him huffing and falling forward onto you. The sweat drips against your chest as he lays there, and your body twitches as it comes down from your high.

         Both of you suddenly feel uncomfortably wet and sticky, and only now does he lift his head to look at you. “You can be louder, you know.” He laughs, finally pulling himself out of you and staring down at his work. The panties are embarrassingly stretched and he can see the swollen marks they had left against your skin from the pushing and pulling. Still, his mind is in the gutter and all he can do is reach down to pull them off of your tired legs to keep for later.

“I’ll have to get some more of these.” He comments to himself, gently leaning to grab at your hands. “We should find the bathroom in this place.”

“And maybe we should nap?” You add in a tired and fucked out voice. 

 ~

 The nap never happened, infact, before the two of you even got into the shower he was on his knees, watching his cum seep out of you and scooping it up with his fingers. For some reason, you weren’t taken aback when he lifted them to your lips and let you gently clean his fingers of the filth. 

He was already hard and ready to go by the time you’d finished, and all he could think about was how wet those stretched-out panties must still be. He allowed you to slip into the shower though because he could see your sleepy eyes grow heavier. He opts to throw on his pants and run out to the car to grab the neglected packed bags in order to give you your toothbrush, considering he just fed you a mixture of his and your own cum.

By the time he gets back inside, he’s all pumped up and ready to join you in the shower, mostly to see how nice your skin would look with soap running down your body. Naturally, his brain is already replaced with his cock again, so he’s quick to snatch the panties up off of the couch and rush to the bathroom with your toothbrush. 

You jolt for some reason at the door opening. The water had already soothed the welts against your ass and thighs from the lace, but you become rigid at the image of your boyfriend standing there and shimmying his pants down his legs. His cock is hard again. All you can do is shake your head because you need at least an hour's nap before going for another round after that. 

         He doesn’t falter, thankful that you’ll at least let him stay in the bathroom with you to enjoy the show. Only after he sucks your panties into his mouth and abuses his own neglected cock to another orgasm does he pull himself up on weak legs and enter the shower with you.

        Jaemin thinks you may be his favorite person in the world in the way you manage to gag on your toothbrush, but never that embarrassingly around him. He definitely loves you. 

 ~

#nct-writers #neohub #jaemin smut #nct dream smut #na jaemin smut #jaemin fic #na jaemin fic #nct dream fic #nct smut #nct fic #nct jaemin #nct dream jaemin

[tsxkkis]

# sawamura daichi - four months

a/n = we love the walking green flag underrated man that is daichi ^^ also me and my bf had our four month anniversary so i guess that's where the idea came from. it's not one of my best works but i still hope you'll enjoy it ^

summary = daichi is the sweetest man. that's it.

warnings = using the petname 'love', nothing else

daichi let out a deep breath before looking around, his eyes searching for you in the group of people leaving the bus. he carefully scanned every face, every figure in sight, before he finally caught a glimpse of what seemed to be your silhouette. he smiled to himself, quickly making his way towards you, hands resting in the front pockets of his jeans.

you noticed the boy approaching you, a sweet smile finding its way onto your lips as you waved at him, trying to get your hair out of your face in the meantime. you weren't exactly the most excited when you heard of just how high the temperature was going to be today, but daichi changed that with just a simple text.

'guess who's taking you to a sushi place today ;)'

the two of you met at the beginning of the year and from that point on it was obvious to everyone around you that the two of you were perfect for each other. for daichi, it all felt like a fever dream; all of a sudden there was someone he felt like he could spend the rest of his life with, someone he cared about more deeply than anyone before.

he was the sweetest guy you ever had a chance of meeting. a walking green flag, if you will; he remembered small details about you and what you like and always found time to spend with you, no matter how busy he got with his volleyball practice. he treated every single small occasion as something special, showering you with gifts and surprises.

as the waitress came to your table to take your order, you couldn't help but start thinking of what you did to deserve this guy. he was like someone taken straight out of a fairytale, any girl would be lucky to have him. so why did it end up being you, out of all people around?

"love, are you listening?" his hand gently squeezed yours, snapping you out of your thoughts as you noticed your food finally arriving, eyes sparkly at the plate of sushi the two of you ordered.

"oh, i'm so sorry, i spaced out a little." a small laugh escaped your lips, head turning to face your boyfriend. daichi smiled at you brightly, his face close enough to yours that you could feel him breathing.

"don't worry." his words sounded warm, his fingers interlocked with yours under the table. "i just mentioned that you can take a picture of the food before we start. you always complain about how you forget to do it, and i know how much you love taking them."

if you weren't in public, you would kiss his entire face right then and there.

you quickly snapped a few pictures, a stupid smile on your face as you got reminded yet again of how perfect of a man you were dating. both of you began eating shortly after, small murmurs of how good the food is exchanged between you two.

"we should've come here sooner." daichi's mouth was stuffed with another roll of sushi not even a second after he said those words, a droplet of sauce staying in the corner of his lips. "you were right about this place, my love."

your cheeks flushed a bright shade of pink at his words. no matter how many times he used that nickname, it always had the same effect on you. for daichi, it was natural at this point; it rolled off his tongue without him even acknowledging it, just as if that was your name from the very beginning.

it wasn't the end of his plans for this day, though, taking you to a secluded area of a nearby park, a small blanket on the grass as he sat down, motioning for you to do the same. you knew exactly what he had planned; it was late, and the sun began to set. you were reminded of all the times you would compliment the sunset while with him, whether it was a picture you saw or the actual thing.

daichi remembered that, too.

his hand sneaked around your waist, your head instinctively going to rest on his shoulder. a small sigh escaped your lips, your eyes focused on the sunset.

"what did i do to deserve you?" a mumble escaped your mouth, catching daichi's attention. he laughed; a quiet, short laugh, ruffling your hair as he turned his head towards you.

"good people deserve great things in their life." he was smiling, his hand shifting from your waist to the small of your back as he scooted closer to you, planting a quick peck on your lips. "and you just happen to be the best person on this planet. most beautiful, most amazing and most importantly, mine." his spoke, making quick breaks to plant sweet kisses all over your face, the tips of your ears turning red at the situation as you tried to shove him off, laughing at his actions.

"you're the sweetest, sawamura." the smile on your face was brighter than the sun as you put your hand up to gently flick the boy in the forehead, resting it on his cheek right after. the sunset seemed to be long forgotten by now; the only important thing were you and daichi.

"only for you." his eyes couldn't leave yours, faces mere millimeters from eachother. "happy four months, my love."

taglist: @ox1-lovesick @moonswolfie @wyrcan

#tsxkkis #daichi sawamura #daichi x reader #daichi sawamura x reader #karasuno x reader #daichi fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff

[mushroomwoods]

Sunflower Fields

the rustling wind was all too characteristic now, dream or not, he just wished to remember your voice...

character — wars, romantic or platonic

cw — mild angst with happy ending.

this is a gift i made for the loveliest @wayfayrr and took way too long to post because tumblr is a bitch, but since i am here now... enjoy! ps: i made an art commission from the dearest @h4wari. check it out, it's amazing!

The calm summer breeze blew, comforting and slightly humid as it ruffled his hair along with the scarf.

Blue star coloured eyes focused on the horizon, the chatting and bantering happening beside him barely catching his attention.

He looked lost.

As if chasing after something oh so far away, yet he didn't know what it was.

“Dozing off again, Link?” Impa voice resounded, breaking him off his stupor, gladiolus eyes thinning at the blank stare the warrior offered her.

“Let it be, Impa.” Zelda cut through, graciously stirring the tea before she poured one cup for herself.

“Ah, I can do it, Your Highness-” As Impa tried to stand up, the princess simply waved her hand.

Link took a sip of his own tea, already cold, though the gentle rosemary scent still filled his nostrils, a vague memory of Zelda telling him it was one of her favorite ones coming to mind, yet as the flavor seeped into his mouth he could only grimace.

Bitter.

The princess lightly pushed the sugar pot nearer to him, yet the hero refused, setting the porcelain cup back to the saucer with a muted clack.

“Excuse me, but I have to go back to my duties.” A blatant lie, he had been given a week off just the previous day.

Nonetheless, the princess nodded in understanding, barely looking his way as he made his way out of the garden. The gerbera daisies surrounded him the whole way out, as if mocking him, the sunny yellow shade only serving to make his mood worse.

He couldn’t understand why it was happening, why sometimes there were lapses of memories within him, the figments of a voice and a soft touch that caressed his cheeks with so much tenderness that he wanted to cry. He knew that such a thing could never have happened in the past as he spent most of his time in the war and taking care of his job as a commander.

His fists clenched when he finally reached the outer walls of the castle, the soldiers guarding the area bowed to him in respect, before opening the gates.

Freedom at last.

Somehow, after everything that happened, he couldn’t feel at ease while in that place, when near those people, when he got reminded of every single nightmare he had to push through, he felt as if drowning amidst the suffocating essence of abatina flowers, her image resurfacing to his mind even when he tried so hard to wipe it out of the memory.

With a sigh, he started heading back to his quarter, a vague sensation of deja vu overcoming his body, the rustling of the crisp summer air brushing his hair as if it was a loving hand.

The path home was quiet, some people greeting him here and there, to which was answered by his collected smile.

A fake.

Somehow nothing made sense, nothing seemed real, no amount of working or enjoyment made him feel at ease.

As the door to his house was opened, the red columbine in his stand shriveled, petals droopy, as thirst for a little drop of water, even then he ignored it, too aware of his own cowardice, hanging his uniform as he made his way to the bed.

The tired body just crumbled onto the bed, not trying to hold onto consciousness as he fell into a deep slumber.

…

He felt weightless, the usual tiredness not heaving into his shoulder.

A patch of small sunflowers surrounded him, someone sitting amidst it, a laughter familiar to him.

They said something that he couldn't quite understand, but before he could ask anything, they walked towards him, taking his hands into theirs, comforting and warm just as he remembered.

They laughed before bursting into hundreds of birds of paradise, colourful and filled with emotions.

Link didn't have any time to process it, however, as his eyes opened, the rays of light shone down on him as yet another day started.

Repeating it all once again.

He wished to sigh, but staying still at the same place for so long wouldn't do him any good, and only make him pity himself even more.

Just as he opened the curtains of his bedroom, his eyes widened, the place that should have been a vast open hill, was now covered in a patch of sunflowers, much like the dream he just had.

Not even bothering to take his usual uniform, he headed out in a flurry, tripping over his own feet as he stumbled towards the door.

As he opened it, the sight that greeted him was a familiar, yet unknown figure, surrounded by the townsfolk, all carrying bouquets of sunflowers, and placing it around the now covered patch of land.

The mysterious person's eyes met his, and they didn't hesitate before approaching him, the white-pink valerians in their arms standing out among the bright yellow blooms everyone else held.

“I'm sure you didn't expect it, Link.” Their familiar voice rang inside his heart, and he unknowingly smiled at it.

“You… how..?” So many questions flooded his head, yet no coherent words came out.

Scalding hot tears brimmed around his eyes, and with a soft smile they brushed it out of his face.

“I'm sorry that it took me so long to get to you my dear.” They answered with a melancholic smile, offering him the valerian bouquet.

He hesitated for a second, yet the moment he saw the guilt in your eyes, he carefully took it, not wasting any more time before taking you into a warm embrace.

“I missed you so much…” Link said.

“Me too, Link.” You sobbed into his arms.

Blue Star — Strength, Resilience

Gladiolus — Victorious, Strength

Rosemary — Remembrance

Gerbera Daisies (Yellow) — Appreciation in relationships

Abatina — Fickleness

Red columbine — Anxious, Trembling

Dwarf Sunflower — Adoration

Bird of Paradise — Freedom

Valerian — Readiness

#warriors x reader #linked universe warriors #linked universe #linked universe x reader #lu warriors #warriors #fungi's delicacies

[youcancallmeelle]

We’ve got one thing in common, it’s this tongue of mine…

A prequel to She’s got a boyfriend anyway…

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI)

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Smoking of cigarettes, semi public sexual acts, oral sex (f&m receiving), blow job, mention of body hair & hair removal, cunnilingus (Joel is the king of eating pussy), nipple play (Joel likes boobs idk), mention of ovulation, sneaking around, mention of Ellie.

Summary: Joel seeks you out just like he’s always done and you’re thrilled, interrupted work break be damned. Or

Two clearly in love people fool around behind The Tipsy Bison.

AO3

Read below…

A Friday night is always particularly rowdy at The Tipsy Bison, with a larger crowd pouring in after working the stores on main street or serving dinner at the dining hall.

You’ve been on your feet for what feels like hours, making regular trips out into the seating area to collect empty glasses and bowls that house dried fruit and nuts, then washing and refilling those glasses and topping up the bar snacks.

Bar work is probably your least favourite on your work rotation, the only good thing is the socialising.

When Darius comes in to take over from Seth, the resident grump, he shoots you a sympathetic glance when he sees you standing against the wall, rubbing your lower back tiredly.

“Go for a break.” He orders, nodding towards the back doors.

“You sure you can manage for twenty minutes? It’s only gonna get busier.”

“Yes, I’ll be fine. Go on, Seth is an asshole for keeping you here while he probably took multiple breaks.” He shakes his head, it’s true, in the time you and Seth had both been on shift, he’d taken three smoke breaks. “Here, for your troubles.” Darius pulls the rolled cigarette he’d had resting behind his ear and holds it out for you.

“Thanks.” You beam, taking it. “See you soon.” You promise, hastily making your exit through the back and out the fire escape door.

The door swings open and shuts with a ear piercing wail, the hinges are desperate to be oiled and you expect you’ll end up doing it instead of Seth or Darius. It’s unsurprising that men are still useless even after the outbreak, if you want a job doing right then do it yourself.

You wander down the alley, kicking up gravel as you go before slinking around the back and reaching for the resident shared lighter on the top of the broken air conditioning unit on the outside of the building.

You spark up the lighter, encasing the point of the cigarette in your mouth and inhaling so it begins to burn evenly.

It’s heavenly, the way the tobacco settles within you and you take another deep drag, closing your eyes and listening to the evening chatter within the commune.

The sky is darkening to blended shades of vermillion and saffron, the last time you’d been outside today it was bright blue, a true testament to how long you’d been working your bar shift today.

As you stand there, enjoying your gifted cigarette and the peace and quiet, you hear something over the sound of Alice Cooper’s Poison playing from inside.

There’s the familiar set of footsteps that your ears pick up first, belonging to a man with a hard stature and heart of gold. Then a low whistle and the hairs on your arms stand on edge, your hand trembles just so, some ash falling to the dirt as arms encase you from behind and pull you back into a hard chest.

You sigh happily when you feel scruff drag along your cheek and a small peck at the corner of your lips, you tip your head back, peering up into a set of dark eyes laced with a depth of hunger and a border of infatuation.

“Hi there.” You murmur, twisting around in the biceps encasing you, conscious of the lit cigarette in your hand.

Joel looks down at you, massaging your hips with his big hands; the same hands that have held his daughters and cradled you close just the same.

Ruthless; that’s how people in Jackson described him when he arrived back the second time. A killing machine, a no good man, trouble. You’d scoffed and brushed everyone off, choosing to formulate your own opinion and boy, were those gossipers wrong. Of course, they only see what they want to see, that hard exterior and scar running across his nose.

“Hey.” He whispers back, leaning down for a soft kiss, one that speaks a thousand words he’d struggle to articulate any other way just yet. “Where’d you get that?” Joel asks, nodding to your cigarette.

“Darius.” You reply, taking a small drag then offering it to him to finish. He takes it, inhaling and emitting a neat line of smoke. You watch in fascination, rubbing your palms over the broad width of his chest, plucking the material of his t-shirt. It’s black, more faded to the scale of grey than being the darkest shade of ink. Still, he looks delectable.

He has such a beautiful mouth, the first thing that had drawn you to him, then it was his voice - the smooth texan drawl that you absorbed like a plant during photosynthesis.

“You been out here long?” He wonders, you shake your head. “I thought maybe you weren’t working tonight, couldn’t remember what shifts you said you had this week but I came back here to check anyway.” Joel tells you, taking the last drag of the cigarette and crushing the butt against the brick wall behind him, encasing you back into his arms.

“That old man brain of yours.” You tease, standing on your tip toes to hunt for his mouth, he makes a noise at your soft insult but coincidentally melts into you as you kiss him like you hadn’t just seen him the previous afternoon. “How was your shift?” You inquire when you pull back, he chases your lips.

“Fine.” He supplies back in his texan drawl, fingers winding in your hair to tug you back into gravitation.

Joel had been on a wall shift since late morning, you’d remembered that much.

“Are you not cold?” You press, feeling his bare forearms and noticing the chill that he tends to feel in his older age. It’s spring now and you’re perfectly content working in denim shorts and a t-shirt, the bar gets stifling the more bodies that pack in over the course of the evening and into the night.

“Ellie has my jacket, she wanted to wear it to school today, she’s still a little anxious to be without me.”

Your chest warms at the confession; you’ve always loved observing them together. Anyone can see their bond but you can see how deep it runs, they’re almost always together, wether that be huddled close in the dining hall with her sometimes seeking refuge perched on his knee when it gets too busy for her to deal with and he’ll whisper things to her that make her smile timidly and lean into him, stealing bites of the dinner he offers even though it exactly the same as what she’s had and chosen to leave.

You’ve seen him give her his scarf in the street when she’s looked panicked and white in the face amongst the snow during last winter, you’d watched as she inhaled his smell and then fallen into his chest, hugging him tightly around the waist until she seemed grounded enough to walk home with him, tucked beneath his arm like a little bird. There’s a story there, you can decipher that much; one forged by fear and survival. Your chest had hurt at the fearful look in her eyes when a flurry of snow had began to fall, making contact with her rounded cheeks and causing her to flinch, almost sucking the last of her life out of her youthful complexion.

He’s her safety blanket - her protector - and when he’s not available to be that as himself, his jacket is the next best thing.

“Ah.” You murmur, lips curling at the sweet revelation. “Did you give her those parsnip chips I made?” It was a friendly offering, something you do regularly for her wether it be with food or things you find on patrol.

She’s none the wiser to the relationship you and Joel now have that’s strictly past paired patrol partners.

“Yep.” He replies, skating his palms over every inch of your skin, looping them around your elbows to pull you in.

“Did she like them?” You press further, evading him.

“Loved ‘em.”

“And did you like them, cowboy?” You lean out of reach and he snarls playfully, trying to tug you back.

“Well, from the one she let me have… yeah, they seemed good.” You snort at Ellie’s behaviour, unable to even be shocked at her unwillingness to share good snacks with Joel, it’s hilarious for some reason. “Mmm, laugh it up, I want my own batch next time and then I’m going to hide them on the highest shelf where she can’t reach.”

You continue giggling and his shoulders shake too, he takes advantage of you being distracted to continue kissing you, you sigh into his mouth, giggles ceasing.

You kiss him heartily, scrubbing your fingers through the grey patches in his beard and over the definition of his jaw. He moans into your mouth quietly, fingers fidgeting to grasp onto you.

He pulls back, nudging his nose against yours as you all but pant against his chin in hot puffs to compose yourself.

This is all still fairly new, barely a couple of weeks old but you don’t see yourself growing bored and neither does Joel. You feed off the thrill, seeking solace in one another to fill that void that has been empty for too long. It’s not that you don’t want people to know because you’re both embarrassed but it’s nice to have a little secret that you can greedily hold the reins to, something that’s yours.

It had all been sudden, everything had come to a head in the early hours of a Tuesday morning on overnight patrol. You’d stationed up together in a broken down and abandoned truck just a couple of meters in the forest, talking and drinking alcohol laced tea in the truck bed as you watched dawn break. One thing had led to another and you’d had sex, it was short but one of the most intimate experiences of your life.

“Can I come over tonight for a little bit? My gremlin child is sleeping over at Tommy’s, he’s taking her fishing tomorrow, it’s a reward for not skipping any classes this week.”

In the last few weeks, Joel has come over for a few hours once darkness has descended over Jackson. You haven’t slept together at your place or even in a bed at all, you instead steal moments on watchtower shift together where you ride him on the creaky deck chair with your back to his chest or on one occasion he’s sought you out during a greenhouse shift and bent you over the potting table in the shed.

When he comes over, which is most nights before Ellie comes home for curfew, you lie together on your couch with you pillowed on top of him. You make out like teenagers and talk and tease, sharing snippets of your life. He’s so easy to talk to, he’s an interesting specimen, full of wisdom and anecdotes. He’s told you stories of his first daughter, you imagine her green eyes and pretty curls in whatever story he’s content to retell, tracing the cracked face of his watch.

He’s always back before Ellie, sometimes way earlier than he needs to be just on the off chance she might have had a bad day and comes in early. It’s happened before, he’d got home after her and found her in hysterics on the couch just before dinner and had to lie about his whereabouts while trying to comfort her over a rough shift at the stables when a metal gate had clanged shut and suddenly she was back in a cage somewhere in Colorado. The accusatory where were you? she’d hiccuped in the middle of a panic attack had fucked him up real good and he vowed to be more careful.

“You can.” You hum, fiddling with the notch of his belt, his stomach tenses at your teasing. “But this - “ You grab the heft of his cock through his jeans, he growls immediately. “This has to stay in your pants.” You say firmly, peering up through your lashes with a devilish smirk.

“Why’s that?” His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass, the tips slipping beneath the frayed edge of your shorts.

“Because I’m ovulating.” You answer, you swear his eyes darken ever so slightly.

“Mm, is that why you smell so good?” He grumbles, burying his nose in your throat after forcing your head back by your hair, he inhales deeply like you’re the very best drug he’s ever had. He gulps you in, behind your ear, at your pulse point and the hinge of your clenching jaw.

“Jesus, Joel.” You huff when his tongue dips into the hollow of your throat and his perfect teeth clip the edge of your jaw. Your pussy clenches and your clit throbs, as if your hormones weren’t already crazy enough at this part in your cycle without him inhaling your pheromones like a mad man.

He nudges the neckline of your t-shirt down by the rip in the collar, nosing at your clavicle and sucking a small bruise there like he’s marking you as his own. It’s so possessive, your underwear grows even damper at the thought.

“You taste good.” He mumbles into your skin, licking over the bruise then his long fingers are going up your shirt, bunching it above your bra where he then begins to press wet kisses to the swell of each breast, cupping you roughly. A nipple peeks over the unlined cup and he takes it into his mouth, sucking and pulling off with a wet pop to bite it gently and pull it between his teeth. He’s really into your tits, that had been learnt very quickly.

“Oh my god…” You pant, eyes scrunched shut, head tilted towards the cloudy sky as you pray to whoever for the strength to not beg Joel to take you there and then, to fill you with his potent warmth and leave it dripping all day to dip a finger down and taste the combination of you both. “Ow!” You hiss when he bites your nipple harder than you’re used to, you pull a curl of his hair in retaliation.

“Oopsie.” He grins unapologetically.

Somehow you possess the strength to push him back against the wall roughly, he grunts when his back connects to the brick but then you’re on him hungrily, crowding him against the surface.

Your hormones fizzle over and before you can even comprehend where you are, you decide you need his dick in your mouth immediately or you’re gonna die.

Your fingers fight with his belt, undoing it with your nimble fingers and tugging it apart like you’re furious.

“What’re you doing, honey?” Joel voices, though he doesn’t stop you. He’s unsure if you’re suddenly throwing out all sense and wanting to take him inside you, there’s a part of him that’s hoping that’s the case but you’d both been fairly careful so far; he’d been pulling out at the last minute and covering your inner thighs or ass in his cum.

“Sucking your cock.” You retort without missing a beat, unsnapping his button and dragging his fly down.

“Ya don’t have to -“ He begins but you level him with a glare.

“I want to.” Your glare humbles him and he actually gulps. Well - he’s not going to argue with that.

You kiss his lips hard, biting his bottom one gently and tugging in a way that makes him expel all his oxygen out of his nose and then you’re shimmying down his body, lifting his t-shirt and pressing a series of kisses down his stomach, you let the your fingertips graze over the ragged scar next to his navel and then lick a horizontal line just above his pubic area as you tug his jeans and boxers down over his ass and bunch them at his thighs.

You glance to the side nervously, waiting to see if any noise is approaching but then tug his cock completely free.

He sees you lick your lips when his cock springs upwards, he’s hard as rock and blushed along the length, curved a little to the side, the head beading with pre cum that your tongue immediately darts out to lick from the slit.

“Fuck.” He chokes, leaning back against the wall and winding his fingers in your hair as you press a group of featherlight kisses up the length of him until your reach the crown and wiggle your tongue on the underside of it, skating around the rim of him.

Your mouth is heavenly, wet and inviting, your tongue soft on the underside of him where you trace a prominent vein.

You let your mouth gather saliva while you admire the patch or dark and coarse hair between his narrow hips, threaded with wiry strands of silver.

His mind turns to static when you take him deep, easily swallowing just over half his length.

“Just like that, baby doll.” He coaxes, you swallow around the length of him, pulling up to lavish his tip with attention with the point of your tongue. He groans, hips canting into you so you envelope him again in the wet heat of your mouth. “God, you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous.” You alternate with taking him deep into your throat and using your hand to jack off what doesn’t fit, twisting your wrist and moving lower to suck and kiss his balls when your jaw begins to ache deliciously, he’s tugging at your hair, moving his hips to nudge that tiny bit deeper until your eyes water.

Joel thinks you look as pretty as a picture, there’s nothing sexier than a woman that is actively enjoying giving head rather than doing it because she thinks she has to, not that he’s ever made a woman do anything they didn’t want to before. Tess wasn’t that enthusiastic about giving head, happier to receive than reciprocate which didn’t bother him.

“You taste so good, Joel. I could suck your dick all day, so fucking good.” You confess, lips braced against his crown, kissing and nipping ever so gently, you trace his circumcision scar.

“Baby.” He whines, pushing against your closed lips until you open up to let him back in. Your cheeks hollow, sucking back and forth, popping at the tip and repeating.

He’s nestled in the back of your throat, balls gently being stroked between your feminine hands and his stamina wavers. You hum around him and he’s a goner, quickly pulling back as you feel his hairy thighs tense, dragging himself along your tongue one last time.

Joel takes himself in hand, stroking roughly like he does when he’s alone with just his mind to recount your previous encounters.

You stroke his thighs, watching eagerly. The tendons in his neck strain, his throat bobs as he swallows back his pleasure.

“Stick your tongue out.” He demands gruffly, working the length of himself and cupping his balls. You stick your tongue out, eyes glassy and lashes dewy. He manages three seconds before his abdomen contracts. “Jesus - fuck. I’m cummin’, baby. Oh shit, fuck- “ He stammers, eyes wanting to cinch shut but he needs to see you take his load. His dick throbs and kicks, his balls draw tight and his spine burns.

He cums in thick spurts, some landing on your tongue and a little hitting the corner of your mouth. Joel groans his way through it, the erotic sight of you humming happily as his head pulses on your tongue, his grip encouraging one last thick drop of semen to spurt out.

“Mmm.” You hum, closing your mouth to swallow his load and using your thumb to catch what missed your tongue, you suck the tip of your thumb to get the last drop and smile up at him like the little fucking vixen you are.

“That was amazing, you’re amazing.” He babbles, dragging you to your feet and engaging you in a deep kiss. Joel can taste the saltiness of himself on your tongue, he licks into your mouth with ferocity.

He pulls away to yank his boxers and jeans up, buckling his belt as you stand there trying to quell the ache in your loins as your cunt drips into the gusset of your underwear.

You’re so fucking horny, desperate for an orgasm or two.

When Joel has finished righting himself, he yanks you to him so fast that you wobble on your feet.

“What’s wrong, baby doll? Did ya really think I’d take mine and just be done?” Joel asks, unsnapping the button of your shorts and pulling them down to your thighs.

“No.” You lie, though you’re laced with relief when he crouches down and settles on his creaky knees. You see him wince a little but he says nothing, adjusting to a comfortable stance.

His head dips beneath the loose and fraying hem of your t-shirt, you giggle when his beard scrapes a particularly ticklish area and you feel him smile against your abdomen, kissing there after and descending lower to the waist of your Miami cut panties. He’s following a similar trail to what you did on him, he’s teasing you and riling you up.

His dexterous fingers hook into the sides of your panties, pulling them down but as they hit the centre of your thighs with the bunched denim of your mom shorts, he urges you around to face away from him.

He slaps your ass and you sink forward, barely able to catch yourself first.

You feel his hands spread you and you bend forward just so, arching your hips backwards and you heard him take a sharp intake of breath.

“Well, what do we have here?” He purrs, greedily taking in the sight of your bare pussy, freshly waxed and smooth, your arousal and natural fertile release coating your lips in a shiny slick.

“Waxed it.” You pant, fingers anchoring to the brick, the grains of mortar shedding beneath your nails.

“I can see that.” He hums, using his thumbs to part you, to expose your fluttering hole to his gaze. “Why?” He wonders, though he’s not complaining, it’s just that he doesn’t really have much of a preference for intimate hair but this is a nice surprise.

“Wanted to, I li- I like the feel of it.” You admit with a gulp when you feel his lips at the back of your thigh, right below the curve of your ass cheek, tongue darting out to trace a silvery stretch mark.

Every month, Martha - the owner of the apothecary - makes up a batch of natural and homemade sugar wax. Many of the ladies (and some gents) come in for a pot to wax whatever they want, you’re one of the few that keep this up, liking the normalcy of something as simple as having smooth legs and underarms but this time had decided to put yourself through the eye watering pain of waxing your vagina too, just as a little experiment you like to do every now and then but usually you shave instead when you can be bothered.

It was touch and go, at one point you thought you’d lost part of your labia but with some tears and a mostly steady hand, you’d managed to complete your task. Were you in a hurry to do it again? Absolutely fucking not but you were enjoying the results for now.

“Look how wet she is, is this all for me?” He goads, swiping his thumb through the centre of you and letting it dip into your hole for a second. “Yeah, this is all for me. This perfect cunt loves me.” Joel confirms, that cocky nature really coming out to play.

You’re definitely ovulating, he can tell by just looking at you. Your outer lips are puffy and you’re dripping into your underwear, sticky and clear, the viscosity thicker than when you cum.

He spreads your cheeks, leaving you vulnerable for a brief moment until he literally begins to lick at your asshole. This is the thing with Joel, the vulnerability. There are days where you chest cavity has been cracked open, the cage of your ribs pulled apart and your heart beats in tandem with his own, he offers his own vulnerability and you nurture it in the palms of your hands.

It’s a new sensation for you, nobody has ever done this before and it feels phenomenal. It’s unsurprising that Joel Miller is a dirty old man, you think to yourself, pushing back against his tongue. You’d been left dissatisfied with previous partners, unable to orgasm through oral sex most of the time, leaving you to tend to tourself at a later date.

You complain when his slick mouth leaves your puckered rim but the disappointment vanishes just as quick as it came, he begins to feast on your pussy, suckling your labia and moving to your hole, dipping his tongue inside and teasing your urethra too.

It’s hard to reach back and grab at his hair when he spreads you further, stretching you beyond your limit. You whimper and whine, desperate for more, for whatever he can offer.

Fearing that maybe you were correct and this was going to be a disappointment, in a moment of weakness and pure gluttony, you reach down between your legs to give your clit some attention where Joel can’t reach it from the positioning. You barely make contact before he sees what you’re doing and gives your ass a hard slap, you jump and your hand drops. He pulls back to twist you around until he’s eye level with your pubic mound and he positively glowers up at you, it’s such a fucking turn on that you feel no ounce of remorse whatsoever.

Daringly, you reach down again and he tracks your hand, you don’t even get to touch yourself this time before he knocks it away.

“Hands off.” Joel scowls, brown eyes flecked with hazel and gold. “I want to see that pretty little clit and I can’t if your fuckin’ hand is in my way.” He sounds so irritated that it’s comical. He scowls for a minute longer then gets his thumb involved with stimulating your clit and pushing upwards so that it’s bared beneath the hood, kissing it tenderly before flicking at it with his tongue.

Christ almighty - this dirty old geezer and his ability to eat pussy like he’s starving.

“Ah, ah.” You gasp at a particularly ferocious flicker of his tongue, your nerve endings alight. “There. Right there, that’s so good.” You sputter, clutching at his hair, so soft beneath your claws.

“I know where, you greedy fuckin’ girl.” He mumbles against you, clearly holding a grudge for your earlier interruption.

“Oh? So get back to work, Miller.” You order defiantly, he narrows his eyes and returns back to work, licking at your clit and kissing it. You feel the rising storm of your orgasm building by the second, Joel flattens his tongue and running it between the seam of your, scooping up the fertile sugary syrup of your arousal.

“Look at you, sweetheart. So fuckin’ wrecked already.” He goads, kneading your hips. He reaches up to grasp at your tits, squeezing firmly, he fondles them both and you observe the chocolate brown eyes looking back at you, watching every single reaction to his ministrations.

He goes back to your clit, it’s so hard and aroused now, pretty and pink just like the rest of your pussy. You writhe against the wall when he sucks, his tongue darting out to lick the very tip of you and that’s game over.

“God, Joel.“ You moan, strands of greying hair clutched between tour fingers, pulling rougher than you intended. “I’m cumming.” You whine, head thrown back and pussy grinding into his lower face. Your clit pulses between his lips, he moans too when he feels you soak his facial hair, making a mess of him just like he’d wanted you too.

It’s filthy, the way your hips gyrate through your orgasm and the way his tongue scrubs your pulsing nerve. You wish you were full of him right now, soaking that thick cock of his. Your hormones are going haywire, screaming at you to let him fuck you with brute force and cum inside you, filling your womb and planting a seed within your empty uterus.

You’re being exceptionally loud, you know that. You have to bite the side of your hand, yet it’s not enough to muffle you. The volume in which you’ve reached the highest point of rapture sure to be heard from anyone passing by, you hope that the volume within The Tipsy Bison is enough to cover your tracks and pray that Darius won’t come looking for you.

It’s as though you can’t get enough oxygen into your lungs to compensate for what you lost keening, you suck in mouthful after mouthful of air and your body calms, the fire that had ignited slowly descends into burning embers until it’s nothing but petite plumes of smoke and tendrils of ashen air.

“Fuuuck.” You gasp, feeling gentle kisses being placed on the inside of your trembling thighs and you chance a look down after brushing the hair from your eyes. Joel looks back at you, pleased and aroused all over again, his dick a considerable lump in his jeans.

Refractory time who?

“I forgot how much I enjoyed doing that.” He confesses against your thigh breathlessly, lips and beard slick with you, with nectar like droplets clinging to his moustache.

“Mm.” You squeak, chest heaving and knees shakily supporting you.

“Was that okay for you?” He presses, rubbing your thighs, mouthing at them where his beard has left you scarlet and raw. You nod vigorously, just about able to find your voice.

“It was fucking incredible, Joel.” You reply, still a little breathless. He smiles and kisses your inner thigh once more before hoisting himself up stiffly with a pained groan. You drag up your underwear, jolting when your clit rubs against the material. Your shorts are also pulled back up and fastened, you breathe in deeply before reaching out for Joel’s face.

You capture his scruffy cheeks and pull him in for a kiss, practically licking yourself out of his moustache. He groans and squeezes your waist, you reluctantly pull back to peer at him, savouring a glance at his gorgeous face.

“I guess you gotta go back to work.” He remarks sullenly, you nod.

“You gonna come in and have a drink? We have beer tonight.” You tell him.

“Not tonight.” He shakes his head, your shoulders slump in disappointment. “Don’t think I’d be able to watch you all night and not be able to get my hands on you.” He brushes a strand of hair from your face, stroking your cheekbone.

“Okay.” You huff.

“Don’t be mad at me, angel. My old ticker can’t take it.” He remarks playfully.

“Not mad.” You deny. “Just like having you around.”

“Yeah, me too.” He sighs.

“But I’ll see you at mine later.” You whisper, rubbing your nose against his.

“That you will, sweetheart.”

“Promise?” You pout.

“On my life.” He promises, kissing you softly.

He watches you retreat down the alley with the essence of you still on his tongue and listens as the door closes with a screech, smiling to himself like a clown in love.

You return back to work with flushed cheeks and a thrumming heart, counting down the hours, eager to be back with him once again.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us #joel miller #the last of us fic

[tryingtodotheright-thing]

Hello, Sunset - 1

AN: So, the inspiration randomly came to me. I've never written with an unnamed character before and I haven't written fanfic since 2017. Bear with me and I appreciate all feedback. Not sure how long this is going to be but it will be multi-part.

Pairing: Seungcheol x fem!reader

Genre: exes to lovers, idol verse, angst

Word Count: 1733

Warnings: reader has anxiety and depression, swearing

NEXT

Summer was coming to an end. This week was the season’s last gift; it was unusually warm, endless blue skies that you saw in paintings and sunsets that seemed to last all evening. Y/N had chosen to make the most of it, knowing this was her last moment to enjoy a little break in nature before life got busy again. She was always regretful when it got to the end of summer, wishing she’d spent more time outdoors, made the most of the good weather and just lived life a bit more fervently as she once used to. She didn’t quite know how to relax anymore. Even now, as she walked along the streets of London, she couldn’t quite slow down to a leisurely pace to admire the eclectic collection of shops that graced this particular street, hidden behind the famous streets of St James’s. Y/N called it being a Londoner, that you walked with purpose, always in a race to get to your next destination. Who had time to admire their surroundings when you had places to be? You definitely didn’t want to look like a tourist. 

Y/N had arrived early, one for the books since there were train strikes this weekend and she’d had to get a taxi to Wimbledon so she could take the District Line. She now had 30 minutes to waste before she could head to the restaurant, knowing that her perpetually late best friend wouldn’t arrive till at least 15 minutes after the reservation time. The sun was burning this afternoon and she knew that continuing to walk around without finding a spot of shade would just make things worse. She was parched and she’d forgotten to grab the bottle of water she’d prepared in her rush to check her doors were locked as the taxi waited for her. There was no choice but to fork up a fiver for a very expensive bottle of water in order to survive the heat. Making a swift decision, she turned around to head back to the main road. Walking briskly to escape the glares of the blazing star at its peak, she swiftly walked into Itsu. The air-conditioning inside the store gave her instant relief and she basked in it as she selected a bottle of water. After paying at the self-checkout till, she immediately opened the bottle to take a big gulp of the cold drink. Her thirst satisfied, Y/N walked out of the store and back into the heat of the summer. 

As she walked back towards the restaurant, Y/N tried to slow her steps, observing those around her. It was the summer bank holiday weekend, so it was the last hooray for many of the working population in the UK. There was a mix of tourists and locals: parents with their little ones for a family day out, young couples walking with their fingers intertwined  and rowdy teenagers in denial of schools restarting the next week. Time passed so quickly. She could remember being a teenager like it was yesterday but here she was in her last year of 20s, so different from her younger self when she was at the cusp of adulthood. So much had happened, so much had changed and yet sometimes she still felt a little like the insecure young woman who didn’t quite know where she fit in the vast world. Whoever said that with age comes wisdom was telling the biggest lie on earth. 

Lost in her thoughts, Y/N had arrived at the Japanese restaurant she was set to have her lunch at. The hostess greeted her and took her down the stairs and to the private room reserved. She looked around as she took her handbag off her shoulder and settled into her seat. The room was big enough to seat six people but it would be just Y/N and her friend, Rachel. She’d been at the restaurant exactly two years ago. That time, she’d been seated in the general restaurant then when Rachel had taken her out to celebrate Y/N’s new job. Y/N was no longer working at that company. In fact, Y/N had left the corporate world 15 months ago after suddenly landing in the spotlight. Speaking of said spotlight, the hostess had returned with chilled still water. She poured some water for Y/N before placing the bottle on a coaster. She hesitated to leave after Y/N thanked, struggling to decide whether to verbalise her thoughts or not. Taking a deep breath, she brought forward a framed picture. 

“Sorry to ask but would you mind please signing this picture? We’d love to display this in the restaurant.”

Y/N smiled and reached for the pen and frame, quickly writing out a message and a signature that still seemed unfamiliar to her. Returning the items back to the hostess, Y/N reassured the hostess it was no problem and posed for a photo too. Picture taken, the hostess thanked her again profusely before closing the door behind her, leaving Y/N to silence. 

Y/N sat back down in her chair and took her phone to check whether she had any messages from Rachel. Sure enough, there were three unread messages from Rachel. Yan Ya, called by all but her parents and grandparents as Rachel, was running late to no one’s surprise. Rachel was beautiful and graceful as her parents had hoped when they named her but her trouble with punctuality was a running joke between everyone who knew and loved her. 

After texting Rachel back to reassure her that she’d only just arrived, Y/N scrolled through the other notifications on her phone, mostly notifications from her public Instagram account that she swiped to ignore. She came across a message from her manager that she had received about an hour ago, asking Y/N to call her. Y/N was immediately nervous about what Sian would have to say. The urgency and the cryptic instruction with no context also didn’t help. Biting the bullet, Y/N pressed the call button at the top of the screen. Sian picked up on the second ring and immediately said, “Are you alone?”

The nerves that filled her stomach had now tripled and she could almost hear the padams of her heart go faster. 

“Yes, I’m in a private room at Ginza. What’s wrong?”

“Have you seen Twitter today? You’re trending right now.” Y/N could trace the panic hidden in Sian’s voice. “Dispatch posted a picture of you with him.”

Suddenly, Y/N could barely hear Sian as she continued talking. Her breaths were louder and she felt her anxiety soar as her throat dried up. 

“I can’t tell when it was taken but it’s so obviously the two of you. HYBE has put out a statement already denying a relationship and saying it was just two friends meeting for a meal. But Dispatch has made another post saying they have more pictures to prove that you’re in a relationship.”

Y/N took the glass of water the hostess had kindly poured for her earlier and took a sip, her hand clutching the cold glass and trying to focus on the condensation that surrounded the glass and counting in her head as she took a deep breath.

“Y/N, we need to put out a statement before HYBE to steer the narrative and protect you. You need to cancel whatever plans you have and head to my office. I’m ordering a car to pick you up from Ginza. It should be there in 5 minutes.”

Receiving no reply, Sian called out, “Y/N, are you there? Y/N?”

“Hmmm?”

Hearing the rushed breath and the breaking voice, Sian immediately softened her voice. “Honey, we can get this under control. It won’t be bad like last time. Okay? Trust in me and the company to protect you.”

“I don’t want things to get worse!” 

“It won’t, I promise. I’ve got you, okay? Take a deep breath for me, hun. That’s it. It’ll all be fine. We just need a plan, okay?”

Y/N meekly responded, nodding to no one as she tried to hold the tears back. The door behind her opened without a warning. Y/N flipped to find Rachel behind her with a bouquet of pink peonies. Rachel’s smile and cheery greeting grew to a stop as she noticed the crushed expression on Y/N’s face and the frazzled greetings from Sian as she tried to catch her attention again. Rushing into the room, Rachel wrapped one arm around Y/N and took Y/N’s phone from her tight clasp. 

“Sian, it’s Rachel. I'm with Y/N. What’s going on?”

“Oh, thank God! Rachel, there isn’t much time to explain. There’s a car outside Ginza waiting; it’ll take you to my office. I’ll explain everything once you get here. Look after Y/N and make sure no one sees her or definitely no pictures in the state she’s in. I’ll call the restaurant right now to settle the bill.”

Rachel, understanding the urgency of the situation, ended the call with Sian and quickly gathered their belongings. Making sure she’d taken everything, she turned to Y/N, who was still in shock. 

Rachel brushed Y/N’s hair away from her face and grasped her face to look at Rachel. 

“Hey, whatever it is, we’ll get through it together. Where’s my strong, independent and resilient Y/N?” 

“I don’t feel like any of those words right now.”

“No no no! We don’t do low confidence in this friendship when I know how amazing my friend is.” Y/N let out a shaken breath that was a mixture of laughter and tears.

Rachel quickly dabbed away the tears that fell and said, “Keep calm and carry on, as Mr Parry would say right?” 

This time, Y/N smiled hearing the favourite saying of her old biology teacher. Feeling better, she rubbed her hands on her skirt and stood up. 

“Right. Okay, let’s go.”

“That’s my girl!” Rachel cheered and looped her arm through Y/N’s. Pausing before the door, she turned to her left to look at her shorter friend and said, “And fuck anybody that tried to mess with you, especially one S.Coups!” 

With that said, Rachel opened the door and led the way out of the restaurant. 

#caratsland #seventeen au #seventeen x reader #seventeen fic #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #svt fanfic #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol angst #s.coups x reader #seventeen #seventeen x you #svt #my writing #hello sunset

[ghostykapi]

lover’s rock

chou tzuyu & fem!reader // fluff

it's no secret that you like someone for a while. the paper cuts on your hands were always evident, your eyes straying to a certain direction during a very particular class, the flushed face you sport every time you're asked who this mystery person is.

"it's someone" you cheekily reply each time despite the red hue on your face "someone lovely"

only a few people know who it is, considering they see the flowers right outside their apartment each day. going through every flower you can think of that relates to her in different colors. frankly it's even a bit bold of you to do that, knowing it could be directed to any of them, but you don't fail to let those flowers come by with a note every time. each note having her initials on the upper right on each scented note

even on weekends where exams loom by, you add in small snacks with the flowers with extra notes that you leave your special stamps in. it's even more puzzling on how you aren't caught yet when you're one of the few people who take up that business course that has an avid obsessions with stamps and wax seals. they kill your wallet enough that you sometimes resort to cup noodles on some nights.

tonight is no different, your hands familiar with the folding of paper and your eyes focused in on your work. the pens and paper for the note set aside for later, and the flowery sent of your perfume lingering already on the papers.

it barely takes you 15 minutes and your done with all of it, only having to wait for the stamp of the butterfly to dry out on the paper. a classic violet donned in different shades, accompanied with a lavender colored note.

satisfied, you tuck it in neatly in your bag for tomorrow and get ready for bed. it's only halfway through your nightly routine that your dormmate barges in with the loudest voice she can, startling you out of your mind

"YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT SOMEONE JUST HANDED TO ME" your certified best friend of a roommate, shin ryuin, is someone who you trust with your life. maybe just not tonight

"i would if you can calm down" you look at her hands, eyes stilling at the box she's holding "what's that?"

"i don't know" ryu grins, like she's found the greatest answer to how to do that project that's been burning her braincells to dust "but it was just outside our room. in a box full of goodies. just for you"

"just for me?" you ask, confused to why it would be to you

"duh, i mean just look at it" she turns the box around, showing the neat handwriting of 'to my sweetheart, y/n'. "it literally says your name"

inside the box is a bunch of books you were eyeing for months and those snacks you've been craving for so long, leaving you shocked at how personal and well thought of these gifts were

"wait" you look up at her shit eating grin, baffled by the situation "you said someone just handed it over to you?"

"yeah nayeon unnie just gave it to me, whining about how she's become the delivery person" ryujin laughs as your brain tries to connect the dots "i mean, sure she's old but if she starts complaining about that more then i'm sure her back must be sad"

"if she hears you then you're dead" you sigh, a bit dejectedly but mostly out of fondness "well i have to sleep early tonight, got another essay to cram at the library"

"sure you do" ryujin knows your route every morning by now, and all the reasons behind it

before you sleep however, you stare at the box for a good while, along with the note accompanied with it. her neat handwriting starting to burn into your eyes as you reread every word that it has.

‘come early sometime. i'll make you that coffee you always like’

you think about it on the way to her apartment. you think about it as you hold the package on your hands. you think about it as you hold the flower, standing right in front of the apartment door

and yet, even if the note is burnt into your mind, you can’t help but not knock on the door. you just can’t go though with it. everyday you go though this same routine and yet

you can’t go through with it. you can’t break it off and confess to her

why?

is it the fear? the fear that plagues your mind when you see her reflect every person in campus? is it the fear that drinks your soul every night when you see her look somewhere else, maybe at someone you refuse to even see

is it the fear of not being chosen?

"wait!"

the door open before you can even walk away. standing there in all of her glory is chou tzuyu, still dressed in her cute pajamas, her doggies beside her.

"wait" she calls out to you and suddenly you're shy, you didn't think that it would be this soon that she catches you

let's face it though if she wanted to, she could have confronted you after a week of that.

"don't go" tzuyu whispers, holding onto your hands, even if you’re holding all the things she’s been looking for “i just got to you”

“well” you start, even if you don’t trust your own voice, because you don’t trust that you can talk to her after you leave “i was just about to knock”

“sure” she knows better, and you know she knows “and i know you’re just in time for coffee”

your eyes stare back at hers and maybe you wonder if you really do trust yourself not to be a fool

“i don’t know” you look down, shoes pointing to each other despite your straight posture “do you really want to have a morning with me?”

“of course i do” she says, shocked and a bit offended with the way “is what you think of yourself?”

“no!” you blurt out, ready to let the earth swallow you whole “i mean-like-i just think that-well i always think about this-that you deserve the best and i’m not the best but i want to give you the best-because then again i’m not the best-“

“you don’t have to be” she grabs you by the shoulders, cutting you off. you can see how she’s getting closer to you, and how you’re immobilized to your sport as her fur babies circle around you

“you always give me paper flowers every morning” tzuyu looks down at the flower you’re holding “paper flowers that never left my room, paper flowers that can mean something, paper flowers that you never fail to deliver since we became classmates since the start of this semester”

you’re breathless as she gently takes it away from you. the sparks dancing around you both finally meet at her fingers that brush against yours, making you feel electrified with butterflies

“you don’t ask for a lot too even if i’m running out of places to put your flowers” she continues “just always a ‘hello’ or ‘how are you’ and it’s never ever anything that makes me feel uncomfortable. you always smile and encourage me in class, never asking because i know it’s hard. i know it’s scary to ever even try to ask a simple question”

“tzuyu” you wonder how much you can take it anymore, but it seems you don’t even have to ever take the plunge that drives you crazy when someone you always love asks-

“so i’ll do it” tzuyu softly confesses to you, as the red string of your hearts pull together, as the timer on your wrists ticks down to zero, as the color seeps in back into the world around you, as the petals stop flowing out of your mouths, as the scribbles on your arms match forever and ever

“i’ve loved you since you gave me that first flower, so be my girlfriend?”

maybe it’s everything that finally clicks together but chou tzuyu can confidently say that she was over the whole galaxy when you give up and give her the kiss that truly wakes her up that morning.

#this took a while #have this one before i start finalizing the requests 😋 #chou tzuyu #twice imagine #twice imagines #twice x reader #chou tzuyu x reader #chou tzuyu scenarios #chou tzuyu imagines #twice fluff #twice scenarios

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Collab with the wonderful and crazy talented @elmonstro . It was so much fun working on this with you!!

Lambert absolutely hated markets. As a general rule they were noisy, crowded and more often than not at least one merchant would try to rip him off once they caught sight of either his medallion or his eyes. Aiden however, had no such hang ups and loved to people watch and talk to various merchants about their wares, the stall owners scents turning to just a general wariness which was easier to ignore as he complimented the quality of their wares or charmingly haggled over price in a way Lambert never could (whether it was due to his schools teachings in getting certain humans to lower their guard or if it was just Aiden, Lambert wasn't quite sure).

He found his gaze wandering as he stood listening to Aiden get into an animated discussion about a spice he'd never even heard of, nevermind tasted. Some of the merchants looked to be packing away for the day, a mother pulled a fussing child away as they made grabby hands at a stall selling various sweet treats and he was pretty sure that young woman just pickpocketed the old man she'd bumped into but Lambert decided he probably deserved it, if the name he called her in response to her apology for running into him was anything to go by.

The telltale flash of sunlight on metal coming from the end of the row caught his attention. They'd done this enough times now for Lambert to know he'd probably be back before Aiden even noticed he'd gone and if he wasn't, the Cat would have no problem finding him again.

The stall had a surprisingly wide array. Lambert spotted wicked looking punch knives with engraved blades alongside the usual vegetable and carving knives. A couple of ornate daggers which were definitely more for decoration than practical use if the fancy handles and sheaths were any indication took pride of place front and centre. No swords but judging from how old and stooped the smith looked, Lambert took an educated guess that the heavier stuff was back in his workshop. Lambert was about to turn around and make his way back to Aiden when he spotted them. Nestled towards the back was a pair of daggers. Small enough to be easily concealed but the blades looking wicked sharp nonetheless. One had a slight curve whilst the other was straight as a rod. The handles had the exact same simple ornamentation - a line of gold filigree winding around and up the steel like a vine whilst the accompanying sheaths were the exact same shade of royal blue. A matched set then.

He was suddenly struck by images of those blades being cradled in dark skinned, long fingered hands. The sheaths complimenting blue armour and green eyes.

"Can I see those?" He asked waiting for the smiths nod of permission before he reached over. The balance was good and there were no visible imperfections.

"My son does all the leatherwork for the sheaths." The smith piped up, a note of pride in his voice, "Treats it right and proper so it won't fade or crack." Lambert nodded as he smiled. They were perfect. At least, they were until he saw the price. There was no way he could justify spending that much, not when they didn't know how far they'd need to make their coin stretch; even with half of their earnings going into a shared purse (which he wasn't going anywhere near. That was for emergencies and besides - it wasn't much of a gift if Aiden ended up putting money towards it too).

Trying not to let his disappointment show too much, he placed the straight blade back on the stall, "How much for just the one?"

Aiden ended up meeting him halfway, smiling when he noted the direction Lambert was coming from, "Why am I not surprised you got drawn in by sharp, pointy things? Get anything?"

Lambert thought about the dagger he'd managed to tuck away into the top of his pack. The smith hadn't seemed too pleased about separating them either, but a sale was a sale. He shook his head, wrapping an arm around Aiden's shoulder, "Just looking. You done?"

Aiden stared at him briefly before nodding. If Lambert's emotions were showing on his face, he was gracious enough not to mention it.

Aiden wrinkled his nose at the slop that was passing for stew in the inn's main room and Lambert found himself sharing the sentiment. It was to be expected really; the room was barely the right side of habitable. They could put up with worn, dirty mattresses and sour ale for a night but they drew the line at meat which smelled like it was about to turn, even under all the spices and gravy the cook had tried to disguise it with.

"Ugh. I'm going to go see if I can catch that vendor we got those pies from earlier before he closes up. I'll be right back." Aiden said, draining the last of his drink and dropping a couple of coins, leaving Lambert at the sticky table before he could reply. Not that he'd been a great conversation partner since they'd left the market.

Neither of them were overly materialistic: both literally and figuratively, they couldn't afford to be and Aiden had always placed more value on the thought behind a gift rather than its worth anyway. Lambert knew logically that Aiden would love the curved blade that was currently burning a hole in his pack as he was both excited and slightly ashamed to hand it over. The incident with the smith incessantly poking at a certain sore spot. They risked their lives day in, day out and for what? The cheapest rooms they could find and having to constantly compromise on little indulgences. He knew there were plenty of others in the same situation and worse but still. It made him question sometimes if the scars and constant vitriol were worth it.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a familiar head peering around the doorway, making a 'follow me' gesture before disappearing back outside. He wordlessly allowed Aiden to lead him to the back of the building where he used an empty barrel as a boost to start scaling the outside wall. Lambert followed easily, the old stone providing plenty of hand and footholds where parts had been worn away or broken off completely over the years.

"Here." Aiden said handing over one of the still warm pies once they were settled on the sloping roof of the Inn, "I grabbed a couple for breakfast too."

They ate in an easy silence, Lambert enjoying the taste of the tender rabbit and vegetables as he people watched. Once he'd finished, he stripped down to his tunic and lay back on the sun warm tiles, watching as the sky gradually turned from various reds and oranges to a deep blue as the sun started to disappear behind the mountains which dominated the horizon on one side of the town.

He turned his head slightly to look at Aiden when he felt eyes on him, the Cat was giving him a fond look which never failed to make Lambert feel like an awkward teen with a crush.

"What?" He huffed, giving a small smile in return.

Aiden shrugged, "You look good like this is all. Relaxed suits you." He shifted his weight slightly and as he tucked a piece of hair behind his ear - something Lambert knew was a nervous habit, "I got something else while I was out. For you."

"Me?" Lambert sat himself up as he watched Aiden start rummaging through his pack before pulling out something wrapped in plain brown cloth.

"I saw it and immediately thought of you and I was going to wait for a better time. But you seemed like you needed cheering up and besides, I don't think you can get any more romantic than a rooftop at sunset."

As if on queue, a musician started playing somewhere, the sound of soft fiddle music drifting over to them through an open window. They locked eyes with each other briefly before bursting into laughter.

"I stand corrected.' Aiden said as his laughter died down, taking the strange tension that had fallen between them with it as he held the small package out to Lambert, "Go on. Open it."

Lambert couldn't place why the weight and shape felt vaguely familiar until he revealed a royal blue sheath. Oh, sweet Melitele this couldn't be happening.

"The guy said that it was part of a set," Aiden started, looking apologetic, "But he'd sold the other one earlier. I-" His expression turned to one of complete bafflement when Lambert started chuckling quietly. Those chuckles quickly morphing into full belly laughs.

"Uh, Lambert?" He asked, trying to tamp down the hurt that was rising up at his gift being laughed at.

"Shit. I'm sorry Aiden. I promise I'm not laughing at you it's just...I got something for you too."

He reached into his own back and held out a package of similar size and shape, wrapped in the same cloth. Aiden took it, eyes widening as he seemed to piece things together, "Is this-"

"Yep."

Aiden's smile rivaled the sun as he admired the blade Lambert had handed over.

"You know." Lambert said as he attached his own to his belt, "I'm pretty sure there's some places where this means we're married now. Or at least betrothed."

"Do you want it to?"

"Huh?"

Aiden looked uncharacteristically shy, not quite making eye contact, "What you just said... about the...do you want it to mean that?"

Lambert's heart started doing somersaults, "That we're married or we're betrothed?"

"Either. Both?"

It felt as if the whole continent was holding its breath waiting for his answer.

"Yes. Both. Yes."

He suddenly found himself with a lapful of Cat who seemed fully intent on kissing him stupid until the need for air became an issue.

"You?" Lambert asked, looking directly into Aiden's eyes from where their foreheads were pressed together.

"What do you think?" Aiden asked with his familiar smirk, raising Lambert's hand to his lips and kissing his knuckles, something that never failed to get Lambert flustered.

"Let me hear you say it?"

Aiden shifted so his mouth was grazing the shell of Lambert's ear, "Yes. To both."

Their mystery musician switched to something more lively, not that the two of them were paying attention. Wrapped up in each other as they watched the last sliver of sun disappear.

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fanart #aiden/lambert #aiden x lambert #lambden #lambert/aiden #lambert x aiden #witcher aiden #lambert #witcher lambert

[punkeropercyjackson]

The original trio + Their gender presentation

Percy:Pastel punk and femme trans woman.She was always punk but finds the pastel edition most fitting and comforting after depreving herself of being allowed to enjoy womanhood for so long out of trauma.Blue is still is her main color ofc but she also mixes in different shades and different colored pastels and learns to reclaim her sea heritage so she also adds on mermaid themed things like seashell hairclips.Uses she/her but no they/them and also a BIG hoard of neopronouns due to her autism-Those being blue/dude/cookie/meow/paw/lego/doll(Last one is reserved soley for loved ones because of how weird people can get about them)and makes catgirl jokes sometimes by comparing herself to Rosie from Animal Crossing,Mae Borowski,etc.Afrolatina so she wears her hair in black styles,usually just letting it be down in it's natural super poofy state

Annabeth:Stud(A term for butch lesbian but black exclusive).Your classic pick me tomboy turned transmasc lesbian deal and has an undercut and was on t and got both surgeries,complete with owl wing shaped top surgery scars.Mostly uses he but ocassionally likes they and almost entierly uses masc terms(Such as 'king' over 'queen',Percy calls her 'Wise Guy' instead of 'Wise Girl' and so forth).Dresses like a tomboy everyday and wears suits and cologne for special occasions and helped Percy with her transition by giving her the 'girly' things she'd been gifted but didn't want,such as the Claire's kids makeup kit her stepmom bought her inbetween TLT and Som.Still has her silver owl earrings because imo they give her black butch swag and allows her to match with Percy and Grover,which i'll get to in a sec

Grover:Transneutral but presents as a mix of masc and fem and also gay(Juniper is a she/her transmasc).Since i hc him as blasian because of his actors,he mixes in his indian heritage with his specific type of gncness such as doing both men and women's traditions!!Sadly he felt bad about his identity at first because of stereotypes against asian men not unlike his two best friends and now found sisters too with their own queerness but thankfully,a big part of his character development is learning to do things for himself without caring what others think!As per canon he wears rasta hats but in 'groovy' fun colors and outfits that match them and tbh i don't wanna give him an assigned birth gender not just cause it's weird but also because i think it's more fun if you can make whichever interpretation you like :].He couldn't care less about pronouns as long as you're using them respectfully but uses xe/leaf in addition to the standard ones.And for the earrings,Percy has a pair of pastel blue strawberries with light pink petals and Grover has a mismatched set that's a music note and a leaf♡

#the original trio #percy jackson #persephone jackson #annabeth chase #butchbeth #he/him lesbian annabeth supremacy #grover underwood #nonbinary grover so true #gay grover underwood #black percy #latino percy #leah is our annabeth #leah jeffries #blasian grover underwood #pastel punk percy jackson #team mom percy jackson #autistic percy jackson #juniper pjo #gruniper #t4t gruniper #pjo #hoo #tods #the anomalies #pjo disney+ #💌 #summerposting

[cantstoptheimagines]

Seafoam Hue (Prince Eric | The Little Mermaid)

Summary — Eric realizes he’s fallen in love with a local historian.

Warnings and Other Tags ➳ Fluff; literally just Eric admiring the Reader in every sense of the word; a reference or two to Tangled (not a crossover though).

Notes ➳ Word Count is 761. ➳ Reader is gender neutral (they/them).

FAQ | Masterlist | Fandoms | Requests | Coming Soon | Schedule 

Eric’s eyes stared across the marketplace. The flurry of colorful fabrics and the sound of music, both of which he would usually pause to admire, had no power against his pounding heart.

In his hands, he held a rolled up piece of parchment. He, along with his crew, had just returned home from yet another adventure on the open seas. With them, they had brought back a host of treasures and discoveries from other kingdoms.

His boots dug into the sand with every step he took towards a small beach house. His sun-kissed skin glowed in the warm summer air. Having not even gone to visit his mother since his return, much to Grimsby’s chagrin, he still smelled heavily of sea salt and driftwood.

He admired the fresh flowers that grew around the beach house. Bursts of pinks and oranges, along with other shades of a setting sun, brought a smile to his face.

Pushing open the door, he gazed around the main room of the house. It was empty of people, but still filled with life by objects from distant shoes. Fine silks and other fabrics, gemstones, paintings, and other wonders of the world decorated the house’s interior.

To anyone else, it may have appeared like the place needed a decent cleaning. To Eric, however, it was a treasure trove of items waiting to be studied and admired.

Instead of venturing further into the collection, Eric turned and quietly entered another door that led into a much cozier atmosphere. The new room was slightly smaller than the last.

His eyes first came upon an unmade bed, blankets thrown about haphazardly. There was also a desk that was littered in writing materials as well as a few gemstones.

On the other side was a small kitchen and dining area. In a pot, stew was being prepared. Steam was billowing out an open window, mingling and disappearing into the soft breeze of summer.

But what really caught Eric’s eye was you.

Another door within the room, which led outside into a beautiful garden of flowers, vines, and trees, was left open. You sat just outside the threshold, unaware you had a visitor.

A book rested in your palms. Eric could tell you were enthralled by whatever its contents were. Hopefully you would feel the same about the rolled parchment within his grasp.

You looked up, startled by a sudden call of your name. Once your eyes met those of Eric, however, your expression burst into a wide grin. The book was quickly placed aside and you rose to greet him.

“You’re back!”

“With a gift,” he smiled, holding out the parchment. “I had it created for you when we visited one of the coastal kingdoms.”

Eric watched with anticipation as you quickly unraveled the parchment. The quiet gasp that escaped you and the way your eyes brightened made his heart race.

His smile widened, “I assume you like it then?”

“Like it?” you asked, finally meeting his gaze. “Eric, I love it! Thank you!”

On the parchment was a painting, filled with hues of violet, pink, and blue to create a midnight sky. Specks of yellow and orange lit up the night in a stream of glowing lanterns over a shimmering ocean. In the background was a kingdom with a large castle at its center. The work was completed with both the artist’s signature and the kingdom’s name in the corner.

“We made some trades at another kingdom’s ports,” said Eric. “They were holding an annual lantern festival for their princess, who had recently returned home. I thought you might appreciate the beauty of their customs, even if you weren’t there to see the festival for yourself, so I had this commissioned for you before we left. I suspected you’d enjoy adding it to your archives.”

Eric’s eyes softened at the smile on your face. The way your eyes lit up as your fingertips gently traced over the painting’s edges sent butterflies fluttering through his stomach.

With nothing but the sounds of distant gulls calling and waves softly crashing onto the shore, Eric lost himself in his thoughts. Unable to contain himself, he placed a hand on your shoulder to bring your attention to him.

Eyes meeting, you could sense the new tension in the air. You allowed Eric to shift closer, his hands softly caressing the skin of your cheeks. You admired the seafoam hue of his eyes, which now emitted the flurry of emotions he had been feeling since the day he met you.

“I missed you so very much.”

#2023 #the little mermaid #the little mermaid imagine #the little mermaid imagines #the little mermaid x reader #prince eric imagine #prince eric imagines #prince eric x reader #seafoam hue

[wxnheart]

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧, 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

note: a list once again spontaneously inspired and I was encouraged to post it. in the meantime in between time, let's look at Gaz with his cute self. just look at the way his nostrils flare. d'aww. ❤️

Simon doesn't mean to do it. Really he doesn't. It just... happens. He can't help that you're so damn warm and cozy that he just sploots on you when he's tired.

Gaz loves old-school horror films. The Wicker Man is his favorite movie.

Price's mom favored care packages as gifts. As a result, he has a closet full of pajama sets, robes, and various pairs of house slippers (don't judge him okay, those bear claw slippers are comfortable as hell). He also keeps a drawer full of thermals and socks because as he puts it, he'll rather fall in the line of duty than catch his death of cold.

König sometimes (read: majority of the time) hates going grocery shopping for the simple fact that, more often than not, people will ask him to retrieve items from the top shelves.

There's also this stray cat near his place that he'll leave food out for. Really cute grey tabby with piercing green eyes. It doesn't have a name yet.

Rudy used to hate his name growing up because of Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

He also keeps a book of sudoku puzzles nearby in case he gets bored.

Alejandro's parents thought he was a girl in the womb. His name would've been Sofía (in honor of a maternal relative).

At one point, after Johnny earned the nickname Soap, his asshole friends would randomly gift him bars of... soap. Like he had a rack full of bars of soap. How fucking original, guys.

Graves can code-switch when it comes to his accent. He prefers to keep it 'on' because one, it sounds damn good (and it does) and two, it's helped lull others into a false sense of security.

Valeria likes to collect aviator shades as a hobby.

#captain john price #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #alejandro vargas #könig #valeria garza #rodolfo rudy parra #phillip graves #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #task force 141 #los vaqueros #just 141 things. #just kingly things. #ride 'em cowboy! #cutie 𝓠.