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nanaslutt · 7 days

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HI NANA ILY spiral anon again i have a request ^.^ reread ur 'stealing ur panties' smau and i'm so obsessed with the nanami one do u think u would ever write perv nanami? like as a coworker or an apartment neighbour stealing ur panties from the laundromat... idk i'm kinda obsessed w the concept n i need it TY <33 -🌀

ʚ cont: fem reader, perv!Nanami, panty stealing, fantasizing, jerking off, masturbation (r!)

ʚ note: my reqests are closed, i just woke up wanting to write a little and found this gem in my inbox

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Perv!Nanami has been working so hard over the past year to get close to you, his pretty little neighbor. You have the same impression of him that everybody else shares about the handsome man; kind, gentle, and caring. And that's exactly what he wants you to think about him when he knocks on your door and asks you if you would like to eat with him because he "ordered too much takeout." Or when he so kindly comes to your house each week to take your laundry down to the shared washers and dryers the apartments provide because of, "convenience."

And of course, you say yes, how could you not? Nanami is such a good guy, and you know your clothes will be safe with him, that he'll treat them good and return them to you folded and smelling like poppies. And because NAnami is such a nice man, you never even think twice when he brings your laundry to you hours later and you're missing a pair or two of panties. You don't worry about it, they always show up sooner or later--and the pink pair sitting on top of the pile of freshly cleaned clothes? You could've sworn those have been missing for weeks but maybe they were just buried at the bottom of the pile and you missed them, yeah, that had to be it.

Nanami doesn't want you growing suspicious and he sure as hell doesn't want you spending your precious money on new panties if you think you're missing your old ones. He convinces you that you've been so busy lately and probably misplaced the undergarments after coming home and peeling your clothes off after a long day. You blush at the thought of Nanami seeing you in such a state, and the look on your face and the way you avert your eyes doesn't go unnoticed by the man in front of you, trying to convince you your panties will show up again.

And they always do. Right after Nanami finishes taking real good care of them, just like he'll do to you one day. After Nanami so generously offers to take your clothes down, he sets the basket on top of the already rattling dryer and closes the door so no one walks in and sees what he's about to do. God, he doesn't know what he would do if you walked in on him like this. At first, Nanami was good about taking your panties and hauling them up to his room to worship them, but the urge to have you only grew every day, leading him to now pull his pants down and wrap your panties around his cock almost the moment he steps inside the laundry room.

Nanami hastily digs through your basket, searching for the prettiest pair of panties as his sore cock throbs against his hard zipper, begging for release. He prays you didn't notice the way his cock strained against his pants when he was convincing you you lost your panties after a long day's work, hoping the basket he held over his crotch covered most of his problem. After acquiring his target, Nanami leans back against the door with his full weight and fishes his cock from his pants, hard and dripping between his legs, a little wetness falling and making contact with the floor.

Nanami wastes no time before holding your panties up to his nose and inhaling, his hand already working furiously over his cock, wet noises, and muffled grunts getting drowned out by the rattling dryer in front of him. The 'nice' man paints generous pictures in his head of his pretty little neighbor exhausted after work, barely closing her door before stripping off her clothes in the hall, leading to her room.

He's unable to stop the groan that surfaces as he drops his head against the door and lets his eyes fall shut, wrapping the part of your panties that touches your cunt against his tip, rubbing his own wetness against yours while jerking himself off with his other hand now, legs spreading the longer he goes. He feels himself already so close to the end as he pictures your dripping body in the shower, scrubbing the day off of you. He would spend so much time helping you get clean if he had the chance. He would also make sure to spend plenty of time washing your tits, wondering how long he could get away with groping you there before you figured out he had ulterior motives for cleaning you.

Nanami pulled his lip between his teeth as he imagined your now soaked body walking out of the shower, leaving a trail of water behind you from your poor job of drying off before you plopped down onto your bed, bedroom already dim as you reached a hand between your thighs, finding that ache, that need between them that would finally relax your sore body after such a hard day.

His thrusts speed up as he vividly watches you in his mind as you push a finger between your folds, gasping in relief before you start up a quick pace, your other hand alternating between playing with your clit and rubbing your chest. It usually doesn't take Nanami long once he gets to this point, his body lurching as his bach arches with spasms, his cock kicking against your panties as he dirties the fabric even more, drenching the poor thong in his thick cum that he would much rather give you, inside you.

The guilt of his acts never ceases to go away after he finishes defiling your panties, but he ignores it the best he can, putting the now ruined panties back in the hamper before he fishes out two more to keep for himself this week. Wonder if he would feel better about his deeds if he learned that his jerk-off fantasy wasn't all that wrong and that the person you use in your own fantasies to get off is your kind, gentle, and caring neighbor.

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copperbadge · 1 year

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Hey Sam! Since it's currently AO3 donation time, I'm wondering what your thoughts are on it? I'm asking because you've written RPF and it's one of many "anti-AO3/anti-AO3 donations" people's favourite things to bring up when they're complaining about AO3 getting so many donations that it continuously obtains an excess of its donation goal whenever donation time rolls around? (Wow, how many times can I say "donation" in an ask?) Sorry if this question bothers you! I don't mean to offend or annoy.

Hey anon! Sorry it took a while to get to this, I don't even know if the drive is still going on, but the question came in while I was traveling and I didn't really have the time for stuff that wasn't travel-related. In any case, let's dig in! (I am not offended, no worries.)

So really there are two issues here and as much as some people who are critical of AO3 want to conflate them, they are different. While some criticism of AO3 may be valid, rhetoric against AO3 tends to misinterpret both in separate ways.

First there's the issue of what AO3 hosts -- RPF, yes, but more broadly, varied content that some people find distasteful or think should be illegal, which is a misunderstanding of the purpose of the archive and more broadly a dangerous attitude towards the concept of freedom of expression.

Second, there's the issue of AO3 generally outpacing its fundraising goals while not allowing monetization, which is a misunderstanding of the legal status of AO3 and to an extent a misunderstanding of philanthropy as a whole.

The longer I watch debates about content go on, the more I come to the conclusion that I was fortunate to have a teacher who really wanted to instill in us an understanding of free speech not as a policy but as an ongoing dialogue. It's not only that freedom of expression "protects you from the government, not the Justin" as the meme goes, but also that freedom of expression is not a static thing. It's an ongoing process of identifying what we find harmful in society and what we want to do about it.

Should the freedom to shout "Fire!" in a crowded theater be restricted? Should the freedom to yell slurs at drag performers? Should the freedom to teach prepubescent kids about gender, sexuality, and/or safe sex? Should the freedom to wear a leather puppy hood at Pride? Who gets to say, and why?

I was nine when my teacher did a unit on freedom of speech and the intersection of "harm prevention" and "censorship", which is (and should be) a discussion, not a set of ironclad rules. This ambiguity has thus been with me for over thirty years, and I'm comfortable with the ambiguity, with the process; I'm not sure a lot of people critical of AO3's content truly are. Perhaps some can't be, especially those affected by hate speech, but RPF is not hate speech. It's just fiction. Or is fiction "just fiction"? This is a question society as a whole is grappling with, although fandom seems to be a little out ahead of society in terms of how explicitly we discuss it.

The idea that prose can incite violence or cause harm is both valid to examine (witness the rise of fascism on the radio in the 20s, on Facebook and Twitter in the past ten years; they're very similar processes) and a very slippery slope. Because again: who decides what harm is, and what causes it, and what we do about it? Our values align us with certain beliefs, but those are only our values, not universal truths. So AO3 is part of the ongoing question of harm and benefit both to society and individuals.

AO3 itself, however, has a fairly defined policy that it is not meant to police content; it is an archive, not a bookstore or a school board. AO3 refines its TOS and policies as necessary, but the goal is always open access and as much freedom of expression as possible, and if that's uncomfortable for some people then that's a discussion we have to have; ignoring it won't make it go away. But it has to be a discussion, it can't be a unilateral change to the archive's TOS or a series of snaps and clapbacks, and I don't see a lot of people ready to move beyond flinging insults. Perhaps because they were taught a much more binary view of freedom of expression than I was.

So, self-evidently, I support AO3 and I don't have a problem with RPF. Whether other people do is something we're going to have to get to grips with, and that's likely to be a process that is still going on when most of us are dust. I'd rather have a century of ambiguity than a wrong answer tomorrow, anyway.

But whether AO3 hosts RPF is truly a separate issue from its donation drives, because it's a criticism some people level at the site which exists whether it's fundraising or not. So people can criticize AO3's open policy and they can give it as a reason not to support the site, but it's just one aspect of the archive and the fundraising as a whole should be examined separately.

I think AO3's fundraisers are deeply misunderstood (sometimes on purpose) because even people who are anticapitalist get a little crazy when money gets involved, and this is, to fandom, a lot of money -- a few hundred thousand, reliably, every fundraiser. To me, a fundraiser that pulls in three hundred grand is almost quaint; my current nonprofit pulls in better than ten million a year and my previous employer had an endowment of several billion dollars. At my old job I didn't even bother researching people who couldn't give us a hundred grand.

On the other hand, AO3 is an extreme and astounding outlier in the nonprofit world, because basically it's the only one of its kind to work the way it does. It is entirely volunteer-run on the operational side (ie: tag wranglers, coders, lawyers, etc) and has no fundraising staff (gift officers, researchers, outreach officers) as far as I'm aware. To pull in three hundred grand from individual one-time donations, without any paid staff and without even a volunteer fundraising officer? That's insane. That doesn't happen. Except at AO3.

What people misunderstand, however, is the basic status of a nonprofit, which is a legal status, not simply a social one. (I'm adding in some corrections here since it gets complicated and the terminology can be important!) The Organization for Transformative Works, the parent of AO3, is a nonprofit, which indicates how it was incorporated as an organization; additionally it is registered federally as tax-exempt, which carries certain perks, like not paying sales tax, and certain duties, like making their financials transparent to a certain extent. (Religious nonprofits are exempt from the transparency requirement.) If you're interested in more about nonprofits and tax-exempt status a reader dropped a great article here.

Nonprofits, unlike for-profit companies, cannot pay a share of their income to stakeholders. Nonprofits don't have financial stakeholders, only donors. They can have employees and pay them a salary -- that's me, for example -- but if a nonprofit pulls in $10M in donations, my salary is paid from that, I don't get a percentage and nobody else does either. That's what it means to be a nonprofit -- the money above operational costs goes back into the organization. The donations we (and AO3) receive must be plowed under and used for outreach, server maintenance, further fundraising, services expansion, et cetera. You can see this in the 990 forms on Guidestar or ProPublica, or in their more accessible breakdowns on Charity Navigator. Nonprofits that do not put the majority of their income towards service provision tend to get audited and lose their nonprofit status. So nobody's getting paid from all that money, and the overage that isn't spent goes into what is basically a savings account in the name of the nonprofit. (I'm vastly simplifying but that's the gist.) Using that money for personal purposes is illegal. It's called "private inurement" and there's a good article here about it. The money belongs to the OTW as a concept, not to anyone in or of the OTW.

So the biggest misunderstanding that I see in people who are mad at AO3 fundraisers is that "they" are getting all this money (who "they" are is never clearly stated but I'm pretty sure people think @astolat has a special wifi router that runs on burning hundred dollar bills) while "we" can't monetize our fanfic. But "they" get nothing -- nobody even earns a salary from AO3 -- and you can easily prove that by looking at the 990 forms they file with the government, which are required to be made public. You can see the most recently available 990, from 2020, here at Guidestar. Page seven will show you the "highest compensated" employees, all of whom are earning zero dollars or nonmonetary perks (that's the three columns on the right).

Either AO3 is entirely volunteer-run or someone's Doing A Real Fraud. The money the OTW spends is documented (that's page 10 and 11 primarily) and while they may pay for, say, the travel and lodging expenses of a lawyer going to DC to defend a freedom-of-expression case, they don't pay the lawyer for their time, or give them a cut of the income.

Despite what you've read, the reason "we" can't monetize our fanfics on AO3 has nothing to do with the site being the product of volunteer handiwork or AO3 having it in their terms of service or it being considered gauche by some to do so; it's because

IT'S ILLEGAL.

I cannot say this loudly enough: It is against the law for a nonprofit to be used by its staff, volunteers, or beneficiaries to earn direct profit from the services provided by the nonprofit.

You can be paid to work at one, but you cannot side-hustle by selling your handmade friendship bracelets for personal gain on the nonprofit's website. If the nonprofit knowingly allows monetization of its services, it can lose nonprofit status, be fined, be hit with back taxes, and a lot of other unpleasant bullshit can go down, including prosecution of those involved for fraud. If you put a ko-fi link on your fanfic, you are breaking the law, and if AO3 allows it, they are too.

Okay, that was a sidebar, but in some ways not, because it gets to the heart of the real complaints about AO3 fundraising, which is that people in fandom are sick or unhoused or in some form of need and other people in fandom are giving to AO3, a fan site that is financially stable, instead of giving to peoples' gofundmes or dropping money in their Ko-Fi or Paypal. And while it is a legitimate grievance that there are people who are in such desperate need while we live in an era of unprecedented abundance, that's not AO3's fault. AO3 doesn't solicit actively, there's no unasked-for mailings or calls from a gift officer. They just put a banner up on their website, and people give. (Again, this is incredibly outlier behavior in the nonprofit world, I'd do a case study on it but the conclusion would just be "shit's real, yo.") You might as well be mad that people give to their local food bank instead of someone's ko-fi.

You cannot lay at AO3's feet the fact that people want to give to AO3 instead of to your fundraiser. That's a choice individuals have made, and while you can engage with them in terms of why they made the philanthropic choices they did, to blame an organization they supported rather than the person who made the choice to give is not only incorrect but futile, and unlikely to win anyone over to supporting you. We know from research that guilt is not a tremendous motivator of philanthropy.

It is also not necessarily a binary choice; just because AO3 gets a hundred grand in $5 donations doesn't mean most of the people giving don't also give $5 elsewhere. I support the OTW on occasion, and I also fundraise for UNICEF and the Chicago Parks Foundation and BAGLY and others, in addition to giving monthly to several nonprofits that I have longterm relationships with -- my alma mater, the animal rescue where I got the Cryptids, my shul. And I give, occasionally and anonymously, to fundraisers that pass through Radio Free Monday, which are mainly individuals in need, because I was once in need and now I pay it forward. These are the choices I have made. Nobody twisted my arm. I respond poorly to someone making the attempt to do so by attacking places I've given.

I think the upshot is, after all of this that I've written, that we cannot begin to come to grips with questions of institutional inequality in philanthropy, or freedom of expression and censorship, until people actually understand what's going on, and too few do. So all I can do is try and explain, and hopefully create a forum for people to learn and grow when it comes to charitable giving.

Archive Of Our Own and the Organization for Transformative Works are products of our community and as that community changes, we will necessarily continue to re-evaluate what aspects of it mean and how AO3/OTW express the community sentiment. I hope that the ongoing discussion of support for AO3 also leads to people learning more about their philanthropic options. But criticizing AO3 for fundraising by attacking it for fulfilling one of its stated purposes is silly, and attempting to guilt people into giving in the ways one thinks they should give rather than how they do give is just going to make one extremely unlikable.

As members of this community, we have to be a part of the push and pull, but it's difficult to do that competently in ignorance. So, I do my best to be knowledgeable and to educate my readers, and I hope others will do the same.

#ao3 #otw #nonprofit #fundraisers #ao3 nonprofit #that's my new tag for posts like this #if anyone has any of the earlier posts I've done drop a comment in them so I see the post and can tag it #archive

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noxtivagus · 2 years

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aaaa it's 1 am ><

#i'm bad w words so i'll probably take a while to get to that ask but #to that anon if u ever see this i js wna say thank you. like genuinely thank u aaa i don't know what else to say #but that thank you comes from the heart #n. you too alright? all those words you shared applies to you too.#aaa ngl rambling abt my thoughts n emotions make me feel bad at times bcs i'd hate to seem attention-seeking bcs i'm not but #yh i feel bad (not anyone's fault tho) when i'm given words n continue being sad TvT #that said though i do appreciate every word. i keep them in my heart n remember them. the thought n care put in them #i'm a bit tired to directly reply but yeah to all the asks in my inbox across time i js want to say thank u #yh from the heart. thank u always 🥹#ngl tumblr's like my safe space so i just feel confortable rambling as much as i want here #i'm probably gna make a spam/moot only acc soon tho bcs my irls know this @ n i dont want em to worry ;;;;#hmmm i say it like 'dont want them to worry' but it's more like #if it'll bring you down n hurt you then pls dont get caught up in it. prioritize yourself #but if you're in a good enough mental state then. yh the 'i care for you so ofc i worry' kinda thought in a healthy way then #sometimes i have anxiety so i'm bad w words n not really direct but i really do appreciate it all #there's just doubts tho that like. if certain time has passed or wtvr then what if those feelings have changed?#do you still care? remember? i understand bcs it's not exactly like i'm v obvious abt it but #personally for me i want everyone in my life to know that despite my words n actions i will always care n remember all those moments #for as much as i'm probe to despair when im tired i know for sure that love/hope/gratitude r still stronger in me #helpp prone* not probe 😭 hmm yh tho. i guess i wanted to put that out there #maybe next time when i call any of my friends. since it's actually been nearly a whole month #i want to say it through words. tell you all how much i care. yeah #it's just a bit scary thinking of how perception varies per person. you cld care abt someone but maybe they feel drained by interactions #orr stuff like when u look at old convos u rlly appreciate __ person or smth but w distance you're not sure anymore #i am terrible at keeping in contact w the ppl i love but trust me when i say that i still care abt everyone i know v deeply :')#huh maybe one reason why i've been distant lately is bcs. sleep-deprivation makes me sleepy in the day #but yk at night is where i'm most comfy ;;; but w school n all it's not like it's ideal to talk when we shld all be sleeping??#when i feel lost in the present i oft look to the past n remember. those moments were real. that happiness was real. n that gives me comfort #like omg i'm still constantly stressed yea but amidst all that anxiety the company of the ppl i love gives me a moment of peace #from kind strangers on the internet to moots to old friends n the ppl i talk w in the present. for as little n long as we've known n talked

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celtic-crossbow · 2 months

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Since you said you were looking at requests could you please do something with Dom Daryl with overstimulation, breeding, and cockwarming? Maybe after the savior war trying to get pregnant or any later seasons Daryl? It’s almost 6:30 in the morning so those are just the prompts that came to me first, anything you write with them will be wonderful, thank you 🩷

If I get a Little Prettier, Can I be Your Baby?

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria (post Savior's War)

Warnings: Poorly written smut; p in v; cockwarming; forced orgasms; overstimulation; a hint of breeding, I guess? A/N: This request has been sitting in my inbox for weeks. Gods, I am so sorry for making you wait! I'm even more sorry that I was all over the place with this so I hope it's just good at all. I tried, Anon! I promise!

“S’the matter? Thought ya wanted this?”

Daryl was sitting against the headboard, just as bare as you. You straddled his hips, stretched around his cock and had been for—well, you weren’t sure. He had kept you there, softening slightly every once in a while only to press a thumb against your swollen clit to quickly bring you to orgasm. Your convulsing walls brought him to fully hard within seconds. You’d lost count of how many times he’d done it, sometimes not even needing the stimulation. He would be throbbing with just as much need inside of you and still worked at you until you came, shuddering and whimpering his name like a mantra.

“Please, Daryl, I need—”

“Ya need to sit there ‘til I say diff’rent.” His voice was low, gravelly. Stern, even. You felt your cunt clench and his hips jerk. You were so sensitive, yet still craving him. He could work miracles with those fingers but being so full and stretched without feeling him drag along your inner walls was torture. He wasn’t cruel, never. There was a safe word in place, always, no matter who held the reins. Whether out of sheer stubbornness or overwhelming desire, neither of you had ever used it.

“Yes, sir.” You breathed. Your fingers were splayed over his stomach, his muscles twitching with each miniscule movement you made, though you tried to sit stone still.

The battle with the Saviors had been won. Negan was imprisoned. Alexandria was being rebuilt. Everyone was working together and there was, for at least the time being, a feeling of relative peace and safety. While you had never officially married, you had become Mrs. Dixon in every way except on paper, and that didn’t seem to matter much in those days. You and Daryl had talked about a family before, but always seemed to find some reason to deny yourselves. His worries of becoming his father, Wolves, Saviors, and of course, the dead. There was always something.

It wasn’t until Daryl had been locked in Negan’s cell that he came to realize that waiting was futile. The world would never be safe. If you wanted to have children with him, he loved you enough to travel that road with you. He’d love his children because they were a part of both of you.

This? This was the first session in what would be many “practice runs.” Or maybe one time would be all it would take.

“You’re bein’ such a good girl. Wanna cum for me again?” He smirked, tucking your hair behind your ear and letting that finger carve a trail down over your collarbone, circling your left breast before he pinched and rolled your nipple. You gasped and arched your chest toward him, making him hiss when your hips shifted.

“S—sorry, sir.” You gasped, breathing heavily from just that slight stimulation. If he fucked you now, you feared you’d cum so quickly that it’d be embarrassing. From the twinkle in his eye, it didn’t seem like you were going to have a choice. You let out a squeak as he flipped you to your back, never separating from you but punching a moan from you both with the slight friction.

“Think I’ve had enough’a toyin’ around. How ‘bout we get to work on puttin’ a baby in that belly?” Pressing his mouth to yours in a sloppy kiss, a dance of tongues and teeth, he hooked the back of your right knee over the crook of his elbow and rolled his hips. You pulled back from him, lest you bite his lip, which he’d honestly probably rather enjoy. Another deep thrust saw your hips rising to meet his. He didn’t stop you or reprimand you, so it was safe to say this was all about the endgame.

“Fuck, you feel good.” You whined with your nails scratching over his shoulders, red marks all the way to where you settled your hands on his ribs.

“Yeah?” He knew the answer, even if he did make the next snap of his hips a little rougher. Raising your head, you nuzzled your cheek against his and placed your mouth against his ear.

“Don’t hold back.” You whispered, licking the lobe and then the spot where his pulse raced. Daryl growled, letting your leg drop. When he reached up to grab the top of the headboard with one hand and then the other, you knew you were about to get absolutely ruined.

And couldn’t have been more turned on by the thought.

With a smirk of your own, you chose to let your legs fall open as wide as they could, almost to the point of painful. You were soon digging your nails right into his buttocks. It started with a cadence of rough snaps, his pelvic bone and the coarse hair above his cock slapping against your oversensitive clit. He chuckled above you, knowing exactly why you were making those sinful little noises. Your humiliatingly slick cunt squelched with each push and pull of his cock, only adding to the debauchery that could potentially be heard by the others in the house.

You only dug your fingers in harder, drawing up your knees but keeping your legs wide open. “Come on, Dixon.” You panted, biting back a cry when the next thrust made you see stars. “I thought you wanted to fuck a baby into me. Put in a little effort.”

It was that moment, you knew you had fucked up.

Daryl went motionless, looking down at you through that curtain of sweaty, dark hair. He had one brow arched. He never let go of the headboard but leaned down between his arms until he was nose to nose with you, the most deliciously wicked smirk lifting one corner of his mouth.

“Ya better hold on tight, Sunshine.”

The first thrust shunted you straight up to the headboard, one hand releasing its hold on his ass to slap palm down against the wood and protect the top of your head. And then he was absolutely ruthless. Fucking feral. He used his hold on the headboard as leverage and fucked you at a pace you’d never experienced. Soon, you had let go of him altogether, both palms planted firmly against the smooth surface above you. You couldn’t stop shouting long enough to even let him know you were cumming. Once, twice. A third sparking to life low in your belly. His grunts and groans above you were just fucking delectable and you distantly wished you could focus on the sounds your pussy was coaxing out of him but the feeling of him just absolutely splitting you in two took precedence.

“‘Nough effort for ya?” He panted, slowing only slightly, just enough for you to see him scanning you for any signs that you wanted to stop, that you needed to use the safeword. You scoffed at him. However, you couldn’t seem to speak, so close to yet another orgasm. You saw his grip loosen, knew he was getting concerned, so you communicated your consent by flattening your feet on the mattress and rolling your hips up to take him deeper, both of you groaning. He worked his way back to the same brutal pace, his cock swelling and twitching inside of you. He was close.

You were closer.

Drawing in enough breath, somehow assembling enough presence of mind, you moaned out “I’m—I’m close—Please—”

Daryl grunted, dropping down from the headboard with a hand on either side of your head. “Let go, Sunshine.” He commanded through gritted teeth. “Fuck, m’gonna cum.” You had just felt the first tendrils of pleasure rip from your core when he thrust twice more, stilling against you and holding himself deep with a guttural moan, his muscles spasming and body trembling. “Fuck!” You were too lost on whatever cloud he’d sent you to, your eyes rolled back and mouth agape. Your chest was arched into him until you felt the burn in your muscles suddenly dissipate and you collapsed to the mattress, his name falling from your lips like a mantra.

Daryl was still thrusting into you lazily, dragging out both of your orgasms until you just couldn’t take anymore and twisted your hips to the side with a whine. He let you lie down flat again before gently, slowly pulling out of you, barely moving himself over before he collapsed into a trembling heap. You could feel his cum leaking out of you, burning as it slid across the flesh of your abused cunt.

It never failed that no matter how fucked out he was himself, your well-being came first. Rolling his head toward you, he gave you a once over. “Y’alright? Did I hurtcha? Ya didn’t say—”

“I’m so good that I don’t think I’m ever coming back down to earth, thanks.” You blinked lazily at the ceiling before turning your head, letting it lull toward him to meet his eyes with a lopsided smile. “My god, Daryl Dixon, you just rocked my world.”

God, you loved it when he blushed. He could be an absolute beast in bed—as he had just proven—and then go red as a tomato—as he currently was. Licking his lips slowly, he turned to admire the ceiling at the same time you did.

“I’ll get up in a minute an’ get us cleaned up.” He was finally starting to sound like he had found his lungs and put them back in their rightful place. You lazily waved a hand. “Are ya really alright?”

You nodded, smiling stupidly once again. “I may not walk right for a few days.” You moved with a wince. “In fact, when you get up to get that towel, can you grab me a wheelchair? I think you dislocated my vagina.”

Daryl, of course, looked mortified. “Oh, come on. I’m fine. Just a little sore.” Propping up on your elbows, you grinned at him. “Besides, payback’s a bitch and next time, it’s my turn.” He mumbled christ under his breath and rolled off the bed, staggering toward the bathroom while you stared intently at the perfect round of his ass. “I’ll find the blindfold and handcuffs tomorrow!”

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon request #anon request #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon x female reader

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norris55s · 2 months

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the summer i turned pretty - charles leclerc & arthur leclerc

a reader x charles leclerc/arthur leclerc love triangle

warnings: intoxicated (but consensual) kissing

a/n: trying out a written piece/smau/texts weird hybrid but it was all i could come up with to get this idea across! i hope you all like it <3 (there will be a part 2)

also this was requested!! i'm so sorry anon i lost the ask but i hope u see it and like it anyways

Day 1

France is a place that isn’t easy to forget, but having lived there your whole life made it seem ordinary. The country that saw me grow up, and that I was glad to call home, failed to impress me every day because I was used to it. The beautiful architecture, history, and tourist attractions weren’t as beautiful to me anymore; it was my day-to-day life.

That wasn’t true for the beach house in Nice. It wasn’t mine, or my family’s, but that place never failed to impress me, even if it was my day-to-day life every summer. The Leclerc summer home was my favorite place on Earth. From its blue and white facade, the soft beige interiors, the pool and beach view, the big dining room, and the incredible company, there’s no place I’d rather be in right now.

“Y/N L/N, you have arrived!” Charles Leclerc, the ultimate reason for this place’s beauty, yelled out to me.

“Charles Leclerc, I have arrived!” I replied blushing, and opening my arms into an embrace. As every time I hugged him, my body relaxed and tensed somehow at the same time, safe and nervous, loved and not loved back. But aren’t all childhood crushes like that?

“I’ve also arrived, pote. If you even care,” my wonderfully annoying older brother, Alexandre, interjected. Charles let me go to greet my brother, and I turned to find the youngest Leclerc, Arthur, on his way to hug me hello.

“Hi, chérie,” he said with a smile on his face, ruffling my hair affectionately.

“Hi, Arthur. Up to no good once again?”

“I’m always up to all good!”

Pascale Leclerc, the boys’ mother, greeted me with cheeks kisses and pinches. Everyone then swarmed my mom, Alice. Sometimes I think my friends love her more than they love me, but that was deserved.

As every year before, everyone finally felt at home. And as every year before, the inaugural pool party started.

“Y/N L/N, will you do me the honor of joining me at the pool?” Charles exaggeratedly held out his hand, as if we were Royals in a ball. Antics that I was happy to oblige with. Too happy for my dignity to recover.

As we made our way inside, and swam a couple laps playing around on who is faster, we wound up floating peacefully on a corner with the sun beginning to set.

“I missed you,” Charles said out of nowhere, making my heart do a somersault.

“I miss you too,” I managed to reply, feeling the blush on my cheeks.

“I want to hear from you more often. I know I’m busy with racing, but I always can make time for you Y/N.”

The thing about unrequited love is any show of affection feels like a marriage proposal. But of course I could not deny his request. He was, above all else, one of my best friends and one that I needed to be there for.

Hervé Leclerc passed away the year before, a couple months after the summer vacation. We didn’t know it would be the last time we spent with him, and I was worried about what this year’s vacation would be like with the boys’ father missing.

“I’m always here for you,” I vowed and he gave me a quick, chaste kiss on my forehead. To make sure I wouldn’t forget my promise.

As I looked at Charles’ glistening face against the darkening sun, I realized we would be okay.

y/ninstagram added to her stories

charles_leclerc added to his stories

Day 2

“Chérie,” was the first voice I heard as I woke up, with Arthur knocking on my door for show and letting himself in.

“Too early,” I whined back and hid under the covers, to have them ripped from me by the guy in my room.

“It’s time for the sunrise beach walk,” he replied and I knew he was right, so I let myself be dragged outside the house. I couldn’t say no, since the sunrise walk at least once during the vacation is also a tradition between Arthur and I.

It was also worth it; we silently agreed for that to be time to catch up, be honest, and be vulnerable ever since we began taking the walks. This one would be particularly hard too.

“I really, really miss my dad,” he said, putting his arm around my shoulders to walk side by side.

I didn’t know how to handle Hervé’s death with the boys.

Enzo was older than me, even beyond his years, and there was nothing I could say that would be wiser, or better than what he had to say.

Arthur was quiet and reasonable, way more accepting of inevitables than me, more useful to himself than me.

Charles was passionate but closed, a master at compartmentalization, never letting me in even if I’d like to.

But Arthur, ever my closest friend, still needed my support.

“I know you do,” I replied softly and squeezed his hand. “It’s only normal, and I’m sorry you’ve been dealt these cards.”

Grief is a strange thing, but on the beach I hoped I let Arthur know that I would always be by his side, and that the sun will always rise again for him. With his steady breathing while leaning on me as we sat on the sand, I knew he understood.

arthur_leclerc added to his stories

y/ninstagram added to her stories

Day 3

y/ninstagram added to her stories

ameliedeveraux20 added to her stories

This was the third year Arthur and I were invited to parties that Alexandre and Charles went to. The promotion from little siblings to cool siblings opened up a new world in Nice. Especially one where I could ignore my schoolgirl crush on Charles through alcohol.

So I happily got ready, into a pink summer dress and into the car that would drive us all to an even bigger house filled with a bunch of privileged European kids ready to drink the night away.

The first drink came from Antoine, who sadly had a beautiful girl around his arms that indicated he wouldn’t be a good distraction. The second one came from Amelie, my Nice girlfriend, who was happy as ever to see me and catch up with me before she also found an arm candy and promptly left. The third one was on me, as I was forced to stare at Charles making out with a girl I learned was named Charlotte.

After that, I stopped counting and kept drinking, joining the dance floor to enjoy the numb feeling in my face, the new found careless attitude, and the music blasting in my ears.

Before I could process it, Arthur was in front of me, the blush on his face indicating he was also intoxicated. What started as a normal jumping around like one does at a party, progressed to a point where his hands were on my waist and my hands were on his neck.

I couldn’t even recognize the song anymore, too entranced on the way his eyes were on mine. There were no words, as was usual between him and I. We just knew.

I wouldn’t take the first step, but he would. Arthur’s lips met mine in a strong, messy kiss. I didn’t pull away. I did want it. And it wasn’t scary.

When we stopped to take a breath, I realized I wanted to kiss him again. As I was leaning in, taking the initiative myself now, another force pulled me away.

I walked by inertia, trying not to fall down in following who was leading me away from the crowd. When I looked up, I recognized it to be Charles.

I couldn’t breathe from the adrenaline of the kiss I just shared, but also from the touch of Charles’ hand on mine, even if it was to take me out of the party.

My reaction was all too slow, finally starting to protest.

“What are you doing? Let me go,” I defensively said, snatching my hand away from his. The butterflies didn’t leave anyways.

“You’re drunk, let’s go home,” Charles coldly replied and held my hand again on his way to the car.

“Why would I want to go home? I’m having fun,” I continued to protest and he continued to pay me no mind.

As he put me inside the vehicle, despite my clumsy attempts to fight it, and slammed the door, I continued to think about what this could possibly be about. Where was Charlotte? Where was Arthur? What was happening?

My head spun and he got in the driver’s seat, turning the ignition on.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“You’re drunk. You don’t kiss people when you’re drunk.”

“That makes no sense.”

“You don’t kiss people you haven’t kissed sober.”

“Its Arthur!”

“Exactly!”

The back and forth continued all the way to the house, my thoughts sobering up with every passing moment.

“If you don’t want me to be with your brother because you don’t think I’m good enough, that’s really not your choice,” I told him decisively, crossing my arms and pouting like a child throwing a tantrum.

That was the only explanation for what Charles just did. He didn’t think a Leclerc should be with someone like me, and was doing everything he could to prevent it.

When he started laughing, I wasn’t so convinced anymore.

“What’s so funny?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. I just made the biggest scene out of jealousy, and you’re saying I don’t think you’re good enough.”

Time froze and my mouth went dry. The confession made its way through my entire bloodstream, replacing the alcohol effects with pure shock. My head was spinning for entirely different reasons, and my brain couldn’t bring the words out. What would I even say?

I opened my mouth but nothing came out, and Charles put his face on his hands in frustration, before leaving the car. I still could only think what is happening?

#f1 #f1 au #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 fake texts #charles leclerc texts #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc au #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc fanfic #arthur leclerc au #arthur leclerc smau

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nogenderbee · 3 months

Text

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ 𝕊𝕒𝕗𝕖 ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ anon request: May I request the demon brothers with a reader who likes being with them because they feel safe around them?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Hi! Absolutely! Headcanond seemed a bit too boring so... I did oneshot. I guess reader could be seen as shy in some? So sorry if this isn't what you wanted but hopefully, it won't interrupt much and hope you like it anyway!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fluff

You were just walking next to Lucifer with coffee in your right hand and his hand in your left. It was late night and you were walking back home after a date, you honestly didn't even care about the fact you were just about to pass some clearly drunk rebels, unlike Lucifer.

You were walking on his right side two you were basically out of reach for them. You just continued your little chat while your boyfriend was the one being caucious about this whole situation.

When you finally walked out of their reach, you could hear him sigh and turn his attention back to you. Just from the posture, you could tell... it's not gonna be the happiest conversation.

"Y/N... you know I appreciate you having conversation with me but I think it'd be better if you could keep it down when we walk by more problematic demons."

"Why tho? I don't think we should have worse time because of them."

"Yes... but haven't you considered the fact they might not be the nicest? Not speaking about the fact they were intoxicated and may've hurted you."

"I don't think so. I really just feel safe around you and that's why."

You certainly made all of his arguments escape his head. You could see small sparkle of pride in his eyes as his expression turned from scolding to gentle smug.

Seriously tho, what made you think it was good idea to boost his ego even more?

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Mammon got you out of the house, mainly by claiming he's not gonna make you pay again this week because he won in casino last night so he's treating you today! Sure, money isn't everything but those little demon owns you thousands of Grimm by now... it's nice to see him pay sometimes too to know there are feelings on your relationship after all.

You were walking through city with one restaurant in mind when he suddenly stopped and pointed at the jewellery shop.

"Hey, wait for me here, alright? I'll just go grab something from that shop!"

"Can't I just come with you?"

"Well uh- you could but... it's gonna be quick, yeah? It's not like someone will steal ya!"

"And what if they would?"

You said it kind of jokingly but also with slight worry... you felt the safest around him, it was only natural you wanted to go with him rather than wait here.

He also changed his expression and he actually thought of it. It didn't even took him long before he grabbed your hand and walked with you on his side into jewelery shop.

"Alright human, THE Mammon has you covered! Just don't peek when I tell ya not to!"

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You tugged on Levi's shirt, trying to get him off his console for 3 hours now... you respected his dedication and fact he wanted to beat up the impossible boss but he's loosing his sanity and you're getting hungry. And since all brothers except you two are away, you wanted to go eat in the city.

"C'mon Levi!! Let's just go order a pizza, have a little walk and we can come back home!"

"You realize you coule just go without me? I'm not gonna run away from this room anytime soon..."

"Well yeah but I don't want to go alone! It's safer with you!"

"You could always ask Lucifer to go with you? Or Diavolo? Or-"

"No, none of them make me feel safe like you do."

You looked up at him, seeing flushed face, open mouth and widened eyes. It was clear you caught him off guard and you couldn't help but grin knowing it's gonna be so much easier to convince him now.

"So? Can we go now?"

"S-Sure... let me pause..."

He wanted to tell you to wait for him to calm down but he simply couldn't bring himself to it, so he just paused his game and followed you to the city.

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You were actually walking alongisde Satan from your little cat cafe date quite comfortably. That's untill you noticed some shady demons on your way. Your boyfriend seemed to simply not care so you just got on the side closer to wall and catched his hand.

You simply felt safer behind him and even tho he wasn't looking your way, it didn't go unnoticed to him. You maybe not realized it at first but after he sent you small smug right as you passed the other demons, you knew he had you all figured out...

"Feeling this paranoid?"

"What's wrong with going behind person I trust?"

"Nothing. I just thought it's cute act. Are all humans this cowardly?"

"It was more of a survival instinct than cowardness..."

"Call it however you prefer."

You could just look at him upset as he chuckled at your reaction. Seems like he knows what he'll rub into others faces for the next few days... but it's still the fact that's the most important to him. People are usually scared of him and you feel safe around him, avatar of wrath? You're definitely something...

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@miya-akane - come get your cat lover!

You were casually walking through streets and carrying Asmo's bags as Asmo was thinking of shop you haven't visited yet today. And we know, you HAVE TO visit all the shops around here!

But when you were walking past shadier alley, you felt slight shivers down your spine... not only it was looking like out of a horror movie, you also heard from news, just today that there were kidnappings and murders happening recently.

Pink haired devil seemed to notice your concern and immidietly grabbed your hand in attempt to reassure you a bit and calm you down.

"Hey now. No need to get so scared when you're around me! Let's just have fun!"

Maybe he knew about your opinion on him, maybe he said that just to tease you? Who knows? What's important is that his actions worker flawlessly!

"Right... thanks a lot."

But your answer left him with small gasp as if not believing you admitted it just like that. So he was just teasing after all!

"Oh my, really?! Awh~ Alright then, sweetheart, I'll fulfill my job as tour prince~"

That definitely made his day and it'd definitely be hard to restrain him from posting anything related to this situation on Devilgram. He even hummer an upbeat song for the rest of the day and took you with him absolutely everywhere even after coming back home.

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@vodka-glrl - come get your pretty princess~

Beel actually knew that his body shape and sin itself could scare others easily and that most of his brothers felt safe around him. Also, he'd always offer to tag along when you were a bit too scared to to somewhere. Even then he didn't expect to ever hear it directly from someone else than Belphie...

"Thanks again, Beel... I shouldn't have watched that horror movie at 1am I guess..."

"It's fine. You already thanked me with food. And as much as I don't mind... you really should go to sleep earlier. Don't human need like 8 hours of sleep?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know... But still. I'm happy it's you who went with me because I had no worries for the entire way! Out of all brothers, you're the one that makes me feel safest."

Beel stopped munching there for a second and looked down at you with slight surprise, but later on it turned into a grateful smile.

"No problem. I'm happy to put my reputation to protect ones I care about!"

What a cutie, he was smiling for the rest of the day too. All brothers thought it was just some delicious food but you, Beel and Belphie knew very well it wasn't the only thing that was causing it. It was honestly sweet to see him follow you with his legs or eyes like a little loyal puppy.

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Walking through city with Belphie looked like either him being carried on your or someone's back, or him looking like he's gonna drop and sleep on road any second. Even then, you took out no one else than avatar of sloth alone to accompany you.

Despite his lack it energy, you knew he could be dangerous. Heck, you alone probably know it better than anyone! So despite him being lazy as always, you actually felt safer than around anyone else! Well... maybe you could use Beel's company to feel even more safe but your boyfriend was still definitely enough. It was just trying to convince him to keep going that was hard...

"I'm so tired... you already have enough, let's just go home..."

"Just a while more Belphie. I still have one or two more shops to visit!"

"You said the same thing for last 6 stores... Couldn't you take Asmo with you instead?"

"Uhm... well technically but I prefered you. You're the one I feel safe around."

He suddenly stopped complaining and you could swear you just saw him getting slightly bit more energetic and motivated after hearing your voice. Also his pout changed into gentle smile as he finally wasn't walking like he'll collapse anymore.

"Oh... alright one more store. But I'm warning you, if we go through 2, I'll tell asleep on you..."

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@miya-akane - come get your sleepyhead~

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recklessmark · 10 months

Text

i can help

Pairings: Manipulative step dad Mark x Innocent afab reader

Summary: You're hurt by your breakup but determined to make your step father feel better after finding out that you’ve made him hurt almost every day for the past few months

Genre: smut

Warnings: unprotected sex (be safe!), infidelity, daddy kink, virginity sex, masturbation, coercion and heavy manipulation, degradation, dirty talk, breeding.

Word count: 4k

A/N: to the anon that sent the ask of step dad mark, this is not exactly what you imagined. i twisted the story a little bit... hope you like it :)

It had been a long fucking day. A long week to be honest.

But today was an interminable marathon of work that left Mark weary. The clock struck 4 a.m. and he yearned for the solace of your voice, a lifeline amidst the storm. Despite the ungodly hour, he dialed your number, his heart praying fervently that you would answer. And when you did, a familiar rhythm of "hi" and "how are you?" began, like a soothing melody as he took off everything but his underwear and slipped under the covers.

“When do you come back?” You asked, making him smile.

"Just a few more days, my princess. I promise," he assured, his voice a balm to your restless soul.

"Okay," you replied softly, vulnerability seeping into your tone. Then, in a hushed confession, you added, "I miss you."

His throat emitted a low, smoldering chuckle, envisioning the delicate blush that surely adorned your cheeks. “I miss you too, sweetheart. What have you been up to though?”

You rambled on about your day, telling him about how you made cookies earlier for Henry—your idiotic boyfriend, and that you were quickly growing bored in the mostly empty manor and your completely empty apartment. His wife—your mother—had been out of town for five days, and even if she was present, it still felt like she’s invisible. Sometimes, Mark felt sorry for you, but he was also thankful for that because it meant he was the one that took care of you.

He tried to pay attention, honestly he did. But he hasn’t touched his cock in almost a week because of how busy he’s been on the business trip and he missed the sound of your voice. So what else was he supposed to do when his cock fattened up in his briefs?

When you started talking about this argument you had with your boyfriend, he tuned out your words a little bit, just listening to the softness of your voice, imagining the pretty little whimpers you could make with it. Pushing the covers and his underwear down, he freed his cock and instantly took it in his hand, stroking slowly. His breathing started to change a little, growing heavier and faster, making you trail off in the middle of your sentence.

“Don’t stop talking, princess.” He rasped, hand speeding up.

“Are you okay?” You asked quietly.

“I’m perfect. Your voice is just so soothing, baby. Keep talking.”

“O-okay.” You continued hesitantly, telling him about how you were so sad after the argument, wishing he was there to give you advice, or just simply provide comfort for you. You also told him about how you’ve been having trouble sleeping since you can’t come to his room in the middle of the night after having a nightmare. God- he fucking misses that too. It’s one of his favorite things, being able to caress your body or grind against you while you sleep, never waking up because of how safe you feel in his arms. When he let out a quiet grunt, you stopped again.

“Are you sure you’re okay? What was that?”

“I’m so good, princess. Keep going.” He tried not to moan through the words.

“Okay…” He swiped a thumb over the tip and took in a sharp breath, making you stop again. “Why are you breathing weird, Daddy?”

“Baby, I'm not.” He sighed. “I promise I'm okay. If you don’t want to keep talking, we don’t have to.”

“No!” You said quickly, because of his tone. “I didn’t mean it like that, I was just worried.” Instead of letting him reply, you continued talking about random things that have happened while he’s been away. Every once in a while he’d let out a sound to let you know he was listening, a grunt disguised as a sound of acknowledgement, but you bought it.

He started tuning out your words again, just focusing on the soft lull of your sleepy voice. You being sleepy is probably his favorite thing, closely followed by you being scared or in pain. You’re so pliable, so easy to manipulate. He can caress your tit or your ass and pass it off as an accident, or even tell you that he can’t sleep in clothes, only underwear, and that it’s perfectly normal for your step father to sleep almost naked beside you whenever your busy mother is away. Sometimes, if he’s really lucky, he can convince you that you won’t be comfortable in those modest pajamas you wear and that you’ll be able to sleep much better in just his shirt. And you almost always agree.

He stroked his cock even faster, quickly nearing his orgasm after so long without one, and when he cursed under his breath, then let out a long, quiet groan, you trailed off again.

You did your best to keep speaking, stuttering through the sentences, but it fell on deaf ears as he came, thinking about how fucking hot it was that you didn’t even know. When his noises quieted and he was slightly panting, you decided to ask again.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m perfect, baby.” He sounded significantly more tired and relaxed, but he knew you’d be too stupid to put it together. “You’re so good for me- my good girl. Thank you, princess.”

“You’re welcome…?” You asked, confused, but he wasn’t going to bother explaining. “Are you tired now?”

“Just a little, but I can stay up for you.” He murmured, grabbing a tissue from the nightstand to wipe his come off his stomach, cock twitching as he imagined you licking it off him instead.

“You don’t have to. I’m tired too.” He knew you well enough to know that was a lie.

“How about we go to sleep, but don’t hang up. How does that sound?”

“Okay, yeah. Thank you, Daddy. I love you.” You said quietly, but he could practically hear the smile in your voice.

“I love you too, princess. Sweet dreams.”

He knew he would at least have some.

"Mark?" you whispered, your voice trembling through the narrow gap of the door. He stirred in bed, the sheets slipping down, revealing his bare chest. Sensing your distress, he sat up, his eyes filled with concern.

"Another bad dream?" he asked softly, his voice a gentle caress that soothed your frayed nerves. Nodding in confirmation, you stepped inside, drawn to the comfort of his embrace. With a tender gesture, he lifted the covers, inviting you to slide beneath them. Curling up against his chest, you sought solace in his presence as his arms enveloped your trembling form.

"Did I wake you?" you whispered, your voice laced with guilt, your vulnerability laid bare before him. Whenever your mother is away doing god-knows-what, you always find yourself slipping into her bedroom. You didn’t know if it’s the right thing to do to sleep next to your mother’s husband without her knowing it, but it’s easier to fall asleep with Mark, especially when you have one of those nightmares.

"Nah, couldn't sleep," he replied, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along your back, an attempt to chase away your anguish. "Just had a lot on my mind. But let's focus on you. Do you want to talk about your dream?"

Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over as you struggled to find your voice. It wasn't a nightmare that had shaken you to the core—it was something far more devastating. With a quivering breath, you finally managed to utter the words that weighed heavily on your heart.

"It's not... not a dream," you choked out, the truth hanging heavy in the air. "I... I broke up with Henry."

Mark's lips pressed together, a concealed smile tugging at the corners. Beneath the guise of sympathy, he masked his true sentiments, knowing all too well that Henry was a pitiful fool who never deserved someone as exquisite as you. But he had bided his time, refraining from openly expressing his disdain for the fucker while you remained entangled in a relationship. Now, as the truth spilled from your lips, he adopted a pretense of speechlessness, his feigned sympathy coating his words.

"Well, that's unexpected," he mumbled, his voice veiling his true satisfaction. "I'm sorry, baby."

The words lingered, a heavy silence stretching between you. And then, the floodgates opened, tears streaming down your cheeks as the weight of your decision crashed upon you. Mark held you tighter, his touch a lifeline amidst the wreckage of your shattered relationship.

"It's okay," he murmured, his voice a seductive lullaby, its dark undertones weaving a tapestry of comfort. With tender care, he wiped away your tears, his touch a balm for your wounded soul. "I'm here for you, always. Let it out, let it all out."

Sobs wracked your body as you clung to him, your tears staining the fabric of his embrace. “I really like him…” you cried out, your voice trembling with a mix of desperation and pain.

"I know," Mark grunted, his voice laced with a hidden jealousy that he fought to conceal. "But I don't think he's good for you."

Looking up from his chest, a slight frown etched upon your features, you questioned. “How do you know?”

He sighed, his thumb tenderly caressing the crease between your brows. “This is not the first time you cry because of him, is it?”

Your lips pursed, your gaze thoughtful as it rested upon him. Mark's words held an undeniable truth—your relationship with Henry had seldom been a source of genuine happiness. He craved excitement, always seeking something more, while you, plagued by fear, hesitated to embrace life's adventures. It had been a ticking time bomb, waiting to implode.

"Did I ever make you cry, baby?" Mark asked, as if seeking confirmation that your ex was a douchebag. A soft shake of your head earned a tender smile from him. "You see, he's not the right person if he fails to bring you happiness."

His words resonated in the air, mingling with the breathless silence surrounding you. Mark's lips brushed against the crown of your head, a gesture filled with an enigmatic tenderness. The nature of your bond remained a mystery, veiled in shadows, yet whenever you were near him, your stomach fluttered and your mind grew weightless. Whenever he touches you, it always feels good. Not a normal good though. It makes your core start to ache and you feel like you have to pee. The more you continued thinking about it, the more you started to feel it.

"Daddy?" you ventured timidly, your voice barely a whisper. He emitted a low hum, granting you permission to continue and you tried to let the vibrations of his chest calm you. “How come whenever you touch me, it... it makes me feel... weird?"

His hand froze on your back, and a sudden tension enveloped the room, causing you to stiffen, worried you said something wrong.

"Weird how?" Mark's voice echoed with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. Your cheeks flushed, warmth blossoming beneath your skin as you struggled to find the right words.

"Good weird," you managed to confess, your voice laced with uncertainty.

A silent pause hung in the air, before Mark's hand resumed its soothing motions on your back, as if trying to quell the charged atmosphere between you. With a voice heavy with anticipation, he asked, "Where does it feel good?"

Your breath hitched, your mind racing, as you summoned the courage to answer. "My tummy... and... and my..." This time, it was Mark who stiffened beneath you, his reaction palpable.

“Where, princess?” He urged you to continue, but you just whined softly and buried your face in the sanctuary of his chest. Sensing your hesitation, his free hand ventured boldly, brushing against your inner thigh with a teasing caress that sent shivers coursing through your veins. With a featherlight touch, he trailed his fingers upward, barely grazing the fabric that concealed the heat between your legs. You jumped at the sudden touch.

“Here?” He rasped. A nod escaped your lips, accompanied by a barely audible affirmation, "Mhm."

“Do you know what this is?” That made you frown— you’re not stupid.

“Of course I do.” Your tone made him chuckle under his breath.

"Have you ever touched here before?" His gruff words ignited a tremor within you, nearly eliciting a whimper as you confessed the truth.

"No... I'm not supposed to," you muttered, feeling your hips instinctively seek the pressure of his fingertips.

“Who told you that?” You knew if you looked at him, he’d be frowning.

“School…” You said quietly. You never like to talk about the fact that you went to a religious school– people always make fun of you for it. He hummed in acknowledgment, then removed his hand, making you let out a needy whine and buck your hips forward. Instead of responding, he just took your hand, and gently moved it down, under the covers. When he placed it on his bulge, you gasped and tried to remove it, but he held you there, making you feel him.

“You know what this is?” He asked and you bit your lip as you nodded. “Good. Do you know why I’m hard?” This time, you shook your head. “Because of you, princess.”

“Me?” You lifted your head to look at him.

“Mhm. Always you. Everytime you sit on my lap, cuddle with me, whimper when we spar and I go a little too rough– you always make me so hard, baby.” You stared at him with wide eyes, watching the his dark-browns almost completely disappear from the size of his pupils. “And everytime, I have to come in here or go to the bathroom and jerk myself off to make it better. And it’s all your fault.” That made your face tighten in a grimace.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” He brushed some of your hair behind your ear then cupped your cheek, placing his thumb on your bottom lip.

“It’s okay, baby. But if you want to make me feel better, you have to do something.” You wanted to help him, you wanted to make up for all the times you made him feel like this.

“What? I’d do anything.”

Instead of answering, he just helped you on top of him, so your front was completely pressed to his. You placed your hands on his chest and he grabbed your hips, then started dragging your core over his bulge.

“Anything?” He asked.

You nodded, holding down a whimper. “Just wanna make you feel better, Daddy.”

“Good girl. You’re so good, princess.” He cooed, giving you a soft smile that made your heart flutter. “Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

“Only once with Henry,” you said quietly, glancing away from him, embarrassed at your lack of experience.

“Good.” He all but growled. Mark removed a hand from your hips and placed it on the back of your neck, then pulled you down, only stopping once your lips brushed his. Your eyes fluttered shut in anticipation, you weren’t sure what to expect from this.

Finally, he pressed his lips to yours, slowly kissing you to get you used to it. After a moment, he deepened the kiss. The warm, wet sensation on your lips made you gasp and he slid his tongue in your now open mouth. It was weird. But it feels good.

By now, your hips were rutting against his as you grew more desperate. He was barely guiding your movements anymore while you chased the pleasure. When he pulled back, your eyes fluttered open, lips still parted and chest heaving. You never knew kissing could feel like that. Your step father must have some magic because it didn’t feel like that with your ex. That thought made you freeze.

“W-wait, we shouldn’t be doing this. You’re my step dad and– I was supposed to wait until marriage.” You said quietly.

“I thought you said you wanted to make Daddy feel better?” He frowned, making your stomach drop.

“I- I do, but,”

“There’s no “but.” Either you want to help me or you don’t.” He had a look of disappointment and anger that was intensified by a frown. “You’re the reason I feel like this. You seriously just want to leave me in pain?”

Pain? You didn’t know it was hurting.

“It hurts?” You squeaked, brows furrowing in concern.

“You’ve never heard of blue balls?” You shook your head, so he continued. “It’s incredibly painful, sweetheart. Only feels better once I can bury it in a tight, warm cunt. And you’ve made me feel like this for months.”

“I- I’m sorry, Daddy, I didn’t know…” You whimpered, chest aching at the thought of you being the cause of his pain.

“I don’t forgive you. Not yet anyway.” Tears welled in your eyes from his words.

“I want to help. Please,”

He shushed you and cupped your cheek again. “You sure?”

“Please. Wanna make you feel better.” You whimpered and the corners of his lips turned up at your words.

“Okay, princess. I’ll let you help me.”

“Thank you.” Before you could even finish, he was rolling you both over so he was on top. He settled between your legs and leaned up on his knees.

“First, this has to come off.” He said, grabbing the bottom of your shirt and pulling it off. “You’ll only really be able to make me feel better if you’re naked.” He explained, when he saw your confused expression. “These too.” He pulled your sleep shorts and panties down your legs, making you blush. Letting out a low groan, he swiped his thumb through your folds, then circled your clit lightly, making your hips buck into the friction.

“You’re helping already.” He smirked and you glanced at the tent in his underwear. It didn’t look like you were helping. You whined when he removed his hand, but he quickly moved down to your hole and inserted a finger, letting out a low groan at your tight heat.

As he fingered you, he debated what to do. While part of him wanted to prep you, make it as easy on you as possible, a larger part wanted to fuck your virgin cunt right now, before it could get any looser. He didn’t have to think about it for a second longer before he was removing his finger and shoving his pants down his thighs. When you saw his cock, your eyes widened as your lips parted in shock at his size. He took it in his hand and stroked it slowly.

“Just the tip, okay? I promise, baby. Just need to put the tip inside, then Daddy will feel better.” He said, to ease your anxiety. You whined, but agreed anyway. He leaned over you and you wrapped your arms over his shoulders as he lined his length up with your hole.

“Relax, princess. It’s okay.” He whispered against your ear. You couldn’t help but obey. It took a lot of pressure before his cock was able to breach your hole. Once he pushed in though, you tensed up again.

“Hurts, Daddy. It hurts…” You whimpered, eyes burning with unshed tears. Your pussy was trying to force him out, not used to the intrusion yet.

“I know, baby. Just relax.” His voice was strained with arousal and he reached a hand down to rub circles on your clit, making walls flutter around his cock. “Fuck, that’s good.” He groaned, resting his forehead in the crook of your neck.

“God- I know I said just the tip, but it feels so good. Can you take just a little bit more?”

“Daddy please, it hurts…” You whined.

“I know, princess. You gotta relax, it’ll feel good soon.” He slowly pushed in farther and you cried out, digging your nails into his back. “So fucking good. Your little cunt feels so good.” He said through a moan. He pulled back, then pushed in again, continuing the slow rhythm.

“This is just what I needed, baby. You’re doing such a good job for me.” You tried to focus on his words and the stimulation on your clit, rather than the constant pain from the stretch. “Good girl. Good fucking girl- take it.” He growled on a particularly sharp thrust that made you let out a choked sob.

“You fucking owe me for all the times you gave me blue balls. I’m gonna fuck you every night now to make up for it.” He hissed, voice getting progressively breathier as the speed of his thrusts increased. “Gonna bury my cock balls deep and fill you up with my come fucking breed you, every single night.” He growled. His pace turned bruising and you could barely release any sounds because of the way your breath was being punched out of you with every thrust.

“You deserve to be my little breeding bitch after all the months you made me fucking come on my hand instead of in this tight, little cunt.” He spat, placing a hand on your neck and squeezing. “What’ll your mommy say, huh? When you go to her asking for birth control. Or are you just gonna let me knock you up?” You let out a whimper, feeling your cheeks heat up at just the thought of the embarrassing conversation.

“Maybe you will just have to let me knock you up. After all, it’s not like you can tell her you let her husband fuck you.”

“Daddy,” You sobbed, too overwhelmed emotionally and physically.

“From now on, you’re going to come in here every night. And I’m going to use your little cunt until I fuck my load into you. Do you understand?” He growled, making you whimper. “This is your own fucking fault so stop bitching about it. You’re the one who decided to be a fucking tease around me.” You let out a choked sob, knowing that he’s right. You didn’t tease him on purpose, but you still made him hurt everyday for months.

His thrusts turned frenzied as he buried his face in the crook of your neck again. Only a few thrusts later and he was pushing all the way inside, the pressure on your cervix almost painful as he forced his cock in. He let out a low groan and you could feel him twitching against your walls as started to fill you. He stilled for a moment, breathing heavy, then leaned up to sit on his heels.

He slowly pulled out, eyes never leaving your cunt, and cursed under his breath when his come started dripping out. Ignoring the blood on his dick, he swiped his fingers through the mess and pushed it back in your hole. As he watched some of it leak down to your ass, he made a mental note to buy some lube so he can fuck that soon too.

“Did- did I help?” You whimpered, making his gaze move to you. He eyed your fucked out face, the way your cheeks were still wet with tears and your hair was tousled, and gave you a small smile.

“You did, princess. Thank you. But this isn’t a permanent fix, okay? I meant what I said about you coming here every night.” Despite the softness of his voice, it was still stern, letting you know that this wasn’t a request, it was an order. You let out a quiet whimper at the thought of having to do this again, but as long as you were making him feel better, any pain you felt would be worth it.

He grabbed your underwear to clean his cock, then pulled them back up your legs. You already made enough of a mess on his sheets, he didn’t need his come adding to it any more than it already did. When he laid back down and pulled you into him, you hissed in pain as you moved but eventually got comfortable enough to sleep.

“Love you so much, princess. You did such a good job for me.” He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head, making you smile.

“Love you too, Daddy.” You mumbled sleepily.

#mark lee smut #mark smut #nct smut #nct u smut #nct 127 smut #mark scenarios #nct dream smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #nct fanfic #nct mark lee #nct mark

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megalony · 3 months

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Let Me Help

I've finally got back round to write an Evan Buckley imagine, based on a lovely anon request. I hope you will all like it, feedback is always lovely and I'm trying to find a new Buck idea to write soon.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) is starting to feel uncomfortable now she's eight months pregnant. And Evan tries to find ways to make her feel better.

Enjoy.

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"Someone's hear to see you Buck."

Evan shut the back door of the ambulance with a bang and turned to the right to look over at Eddie when his voice caught him off guard. He narrowed his eyes before he looked over the other shoulder when Eddie smiled and nodded his head towards the front of the station.

His lips curved up into a grin and he felt his heart do a little leap in his chest when his eyes locked on (Y/n).

He didn't know she would be stopping by the station today, but she was a very welcomed surprise.

He felt Eddie's hand clap down on his shoulder and give him a nudge in the right direction before Eddie turned around and headed further into the station. Wanting to give them a bit of privacy.

"Hey baby- did you find my phone?" Evan moved away from the ambulance and jogged over towards the station doors where (Y/n) was. He clapped his hands together and nodded happily when he watched his wife retrieve his phone from her bag and wave it out like a prize.

Going to work and leaving his pregnant wife at home didn't sit well with Evan, but he calmed down a little when Bobby said it was fine for him to have his phone on him during calls, just to be safe. That didn't stop Evan from worrying, and it hadn't stopped him from forgetting his phone this morning in his rush to get to work on time.

He searched his bag, his locker and the jeep before giving in to the fact that he must have left it somewhere at home. And he would have to go the day praying (Y/n) didn't need him for anything urgent.

"Thank you," He took the phone and slipped it into his back pocket before he reached his hands out to cup (Y/n)'s face.

He smoothed his thumbs across her cheekbones beneath her eyes and tilted her head back so she was looking up at him with that smile that always managed to make him melt. He grinned into the kiss and swiped his tongue across her lower lip when her hands reached up to hold his wrists as if she wanted to pin him in place and make sure he didn't let her go.

When they finally parted, Evan leaned his forehead down against hers and nudged their noses together while (Y/n) continued to grip his wrists. He let his fingertips graze along the top of her jaw and behind her ear, but he opened his eyes when he felt her move just a little.

He didn't miss the way her lips formed a wince, or how she pushed her shoulders out and leaned from left to right, clearly wanting to click her spine into place and make herself a little more comfortable.

"Are you okay?" His fingertips glided down the side of her jaw and pressed beneath her chin, keeping her head lifted up to face him so she couldn't try and look away. When she looked away or didn't meet his eyes, she was always trying to keep something from him so he wouldn't worry.

They both knew it was in Evan's nature to worry about everything.

He let his other hand glide down her arm and curve around her waist so he could reel her into his chest like a fish on a hook. His hand splayed out in the middle of her back and he pressed their chests together. Grinning to himself when (Y/n)'s bump pressed into his torso like a small bump in the road keeping an air of space between them.

The tender smile started to fade when (Y/n) clenched her left hand around his bicep. But her right hand reached behind her and held his hand that was on her back and she pushed until Evan took the hint and applied pressure to her lower back between her hips.

"No, your child's killing me." (Y/n) couldn't hide her whimper when her spine clicked against Evan's hand but she dug her nails into his wrist when he tried to pull his hand away. She needed the pressure to stay on her back or else the whole of her back just flared up in agony.

The pain stretched down the middle of her spine and spread out like wings across the back of her hips. Adding pressure and walking about seemed to be the only things that would dull the ache and stop (Y/n) from being reduced to tears.

"Oh, baby."

Evan felt the smile fading from his lips and he leaned down to press a chaste kiss against her cheek when he saw she was about to cry. He began rubbing his thumb up and down the middle of her back before he pushed the heel of his hand into her back and moved his hand in slow circles to see if it would help.

He wasn't sure what he could do to help her. It wasn't like Evan could just take the baby and hold them for her until she felt better. If he could, he would. They only had one month left until their due date and all Evan could do was hope that their baby would arrive a week early so they were still safe and healthy but (Y/n) didn't have to have that extra week in pain.

"Have you got any more of those painkillers?" (Y/n) moved both her hands to Evan's shoulders and looked up at him with pleading eyes that were starting to water.

She knew Evan got most of his painkillers from work, they had the strong kind here at the station to help the team power through a cold or a pulled muscle so they could keep working. He had some at home the other day and he let (Y/n) take them to ease the pain in her back and it worked.

She was hoping he would be able to find her some more so she didn't have to take the weak painkillers they sold in the shops.

"I should have some in my locker. Come sit with us for a bit and have a coffee."

"If I sit down, you'll have to get me back up." She murmured the words quietly against Evan's neck before she lowered her arms to wrap around his chest instead.

Her face buried forward in his cotton shirt, breathing in his scent as she closed her eyes and tried to pretend they were back home. It felt nice to have his hand continuously rubbing up and down her lower back and when his other arm wrapped tight around her shoulders, (Y/n) sighed into his chest.

She was happy to be pregnant. Their baby was such a welcomed surprise, but now (Y/n) was getting restless. Her back was aching, her stomach felt heavy, she couldn't eat anything without getting heartburn and sleep wasn't her friend anymore. She was ready to have this baby in her arms rather than in her womb.

"That bad, huh? I'm surprised you managed the drive down here."

Evan kissed the top of her head and nuzzled his nose into her hair, but his brows furrowed when (Y/n) stayed silent. He waited a few more seconds before a deep groan rumbled past his lips and he leaned back to look down at her.

His chest tickled when (Y/n) lifted her head enough to press her chin against his sternum and look up at him with those deep eyes that always made him cave.

"Baby please don't tell me you walked all the way here? At your speed that's a good half hour walk." His lips formed a frown before he flopped his head forward and pressed his lips and nose against her forehead. He began to sway them from side to side while (Y/n) dug her hands deeper into his back.

Evan didn't like the sound of (Y/n) walking that far when she was in this much pain. If she called Eddie or Bobby and got them to tell Evan, he would have stopped by and dropped some painkillers off to her and grabbed his phone on the way. She didn't have to come down here and she didn't look very well.

She was extremely uncomfortable and tired and in pain and it hurt Evan that he couldn't do anything to help but give her some pills.

"Moving helps… it hurts when I stop."

Her back still hurt when she walked, but the pain was much lesser when she was moving about. (Y/n) had tried to clean the kitchen- except the top cupboards which were Evan's since she couldn't reach. She had done the washing and mulled about the living room but when she found Evan's phone, she decided to come down to the station.

Walking was her best option. She feared getting in the car and not being able to drive properly with her eight-month bump in the way. Or having her back seize up and not be able to walk when she got out the car.

Getting here she had been fine, the pain was much more dulled down while she walked. But (Y/n) was starting to flag now. She was tired and her back was aching. She needed some painkillers to help her get back home or else she would be staying here until Evan finished his shift tonight.

"Well don't think I'm letting you walk home." He felt her grumble into his chest but she didn't argue with him. It wasn't worth arguing over. "Let's get a drink."

Evan pressed his lips to the top of (Y/n)'s head and kept his hand against her lower back when she stood at his side.

She let him guide her between the truck and the ambulance and move towards the stairs. Her lips curved into a grin when both Evan's hands found her hips and he stood behind her, letting her head up the stairs first because they both knew her pace was going to be slower than his.

(Y/n) made a beeline for the table but she sank her teeth down into her lower lip to try and block the wince and pain from her features when she sat down. She tried leaning back and keeping her back straight against the back of the wooden chair. Sitting straight and not slouching made her spine stay in place and lessened the tension.

And it felt good to be sat down after walking and moving around all morning without stopping. But (Y/n) knew if she stayed sat down for a while, it would be harder when she needed to get up.

She could feel her legs turning numb the moment she stopped walking and let herself rest and all the blood seemed to rush to her head and send stars flooding behind her eyes.

When Evan's hands came down on her shoulders, (Y/n) tilted her head back until she had her head pressed into his abdomen. And he leaned down to plant an open-mouthed kiss against her temple while a smile graced his lips.

***

With his fingers tangled in his hair, Evan closed his eyes and made his way downstairs, his feet bashing with each step and echoing around the apartment. He scratched at the back of his head and dragged his tired eyes around to try and find out where (Y/n) had got to.

She had been in bed with him watching tv when he fell asleep, but when he woke up from his power nap, Evan had been alone. He knew the reason he woke up was because (Y/n) wasn't beside him any longer. He didn't do well sleeping alone.

He turned to the left, about to head into the living room until a noise caught his attention and he heard the sound of cups clattering in the kitchen.

He'd found her.

He made his way into the kitchen, a smile dancing on his lips as he saw (Y/n). Her back was to him as she stood near the kettle, but Evan found his smile fading at the way she was stood.

Her lower back was arched out and she had her hands planted down on the counter with her head tilted forward. He could hear the way her nails tapped against the counter, impatiently waiting for the kettle to boil, but Evan guessed she had her eyes closed with the way her head was bowed.

He made a slow descent towards her and when he reached her, Evan carefully slid his hand over her hips. He didn't want to scare her when he figured she hadn't heard him approach.

"You okay, baby?" He leaned forward to mould his chest over her back and his head moved down to tuck into the crook of (Y/n)'s neck so he could attach his lips to her skin. He grazed his teeth along her skin and dug his fingers into her waist when (Y/n) sighed. She pushed her weight onto her hands and straightened up, keeping her back glued into Evan's chest while her head stayed tilted down.

She shifted her weight from foot to foot and pressed her palms against the edge of the counter to try and take her mind from her discomfort.

She didn't know what to do with herself. She wasn't tired enough to go to sleep yet as it was still early, but she couldn't focus on the tv any longer. The only thing (Y/n) could think to do was move about and make herself a drink before she gave in and tried to sleep. And she didn't want to disturb Evan when he had been long at work and was ready for rest.

"Is your back still hurting?" His voice was quiet against her skin while his palms moved up and down her hips. The action caused her shorts to bunch up over her thighs until they were as small as the underwear beneath them and it let her feel Evan's fingertips roam along her flesh.

"I'm just uncomfy,"

Reaching her hand out, (Y/n) found another cup from the draining board to make Evan a coffee while she made herself a hot chocolate.

"Babe, I need the milk." (Y/n) tilted her head to the left to look up at Evan, but he didn't unravel himself from around her or let her move towards the fridge. He stayed melted up against her back and his fingers wormed their way beneath her shorts.

She moved her hands back to the counter and sighed when Evan nudged his nose against her neck and pecked her shoulder.

"Will you let me move?" Her words came out quiet against his hair that tickled her nose and chin when she pressed her lips against the top of his head. As lovely as this was, (Y/n) wasn't sure she wanted to stand in the kitchen all night long.

"Nope," He whispered back, barely moving his lips from her skin causing shivers to race down (Y/n)'s neck and through her arm.

"Why not?" (Y/n) closed her eyes and nudged her nose against his head. Another shiver rattled down her neck when Evan grazed his teeth along her skin and started to tug until she knew there would be a bruise there in the morning.

"You said you're uncomfy… so let me help."

Her lips curved into a tender smile when Evan slowly worked his way up along her neck. A few soft kisses stuck to her jaw, then he leaned round to capture her lips and steal the breath she'd drawn in. His wet lips moved to smother her temple and when (Y/n) leaned her cheek against the top of his chest near his collar bone, she felt Evan perch his chin on top of her head.

She didn't have to look up at him to know he was smiling. His hands gave her inner thighs a squeeze before he took a step back and dragged (Y/n) with him so she wasn't leaning on the counter anymore.

(Y/n) closed her eyes and nuzzled her face into his chest while she waited to see where his hands were starting to wander to. She wasn't quite sure what he had in mind to try and help, but she would take anything right now.

His hands slipped out of her shorts that stayed bunched around her hips and he slid them up beneath her shirt instead. Which they both knew happened to be Evan's shirt because his clothes fit (Y/n) and were still baggy even with her stomach being in the way.

Tilting his head down, Evan moved his chin so his lips were smothered against the top of (Y/n)'s head while he pressed his elbows into her waist. And he spread his hands out on the underside of her stomach, smoothing his thumbs up and down her skin for a few seconds. When he felt (Y/n) kiss his collar bone, Evan let her lean further back into his chest before he lifted his arms a little.

He couldn't help the way his lips curved against her hair and turned into a wide grin when he felt the deep breath she sucked in.

He kept gliding his thumbs across the middle of her stomach and moved his arms another inch higher to see if it would work or not. He hadn't been sure when he saw the trend online if it would make a difference for (Y/n), but he thought it was worth a try. Evan was willing to try anything to see if it would lessen (Y/n)'s discomfort and make her feel even the tiniest bit better.

The idea was for Evan to try and lift (Y/n)'s stomach and see if he could hold her stomach and take the weight for her. It worked for some people and Evan hoped it would take the strain off her back and make her feel better, maybe just for a minute or two. Just enough so that she could stand and make a drink or just breathe and not have to feel like her back was being broken.

"What're you doing?" (Y/n) didn't open her eyes. She didn't move at all, except for her hand that reached down to grab Evan's wrist.

For a moment he thought she was going to tell him to stop or make him drop his arms and let go of her. But she just held his wrist in a vice grip, as if silently demanding that he didn't move or let go or dare drop her stomach.

"Saw something online, thought it might work." He kissed the top of her head and leaned his cheek against her head so he could look down at her.

She felt like she was turning to jelly in his arms and he was sure if he tilted his chest back just an inch or two, (Y/n) would crumble and all her weight would fall onto him. He pressed another kiss against her head and spread his legs a bit wider so (Y/n) could stand between them.

"Is it helping?"

Evan didn't have to ask. He could tell by the way (Y/n) was leaning into him and the way she sighed that it was doing her some good. But he thought he'd better ask anyway.

"Can you do this for the next month, please?" (Y/n) grumbled quietly against his collar bone.

Her fingers danced across his wrist and moved to glide up and down the back of his hand while he tightened his arms to pin his elbows into the curves of her waist. She could feel a laugh rumble deep within his chest and the base of his left hand pushed into the side of her stomach to feel the sudden kick against his palm.

It was usually when they were laid down that the baby started kicking, because Evan would lean close and start talking. He babbled about the team, how much he loved (Y/n), and anything about his day. Just because Evan knew his voice always got a reaction out of their baby.

"Anything for you, baby." He wasn't sure he could follow (Y/n) around everywhere like this, but he could give it his best shot.

He was happy and elated to know that it had actually worked, that the trend he saw while scrolling on his phone, was giving (Y/n) some relief. And it wasn't like this was anything hard to do. Evan would follow her around the apartment all day and night and hold up her stomach if it stopped the aching in her back and got rid of her discomfort.

"Do you want your drink? I can go grab the milk-" Evan dared to take one step back but as he expected, (Y/n) moved with him and went back to gripping his wrist to keep him exactly where he was.

His tongue poked out between his teeth and he laughed when she grumbled "Don't you dare." into his chest.

"I guess we're spending the night like this, then. Huh, baby?"

#evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley imagine #pregnancy #buck x reader #buck imagine #pregnant! reader #911 imagine #imagine

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fayes-fics · 1 year

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(Be)Longing

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Mutual rescue, mutual jealousy, longing and belonging.

Warnings: None, really. Angst, jealousy, fluff. Shyness and insecurities. Minor character injuries. Time jumps.

Word Count: 5.2k

Authors Note: This is an anon request fill here (request: Benedict x shy!insecure reader, with some angst, jealousy fluff, and all the good stuff. Happy ending, of course.). Sorry it took so long to get to this Nonny; I have no idea if this is what you wanted, and I'm really not sure about it, but I hope you enjoy <3

I: Saved

“Unhand her at once!”

The smooth, confident, older voice rings out across the village green, and suddenly the pack of nasty bullies who have your arms in a grip seem to melt away from around you.

You don’t even think to pause and thank the person who broke up the mob. No, your fight-or-flight response is in full-on flight mode. The minute your arms are released, and you see the break in the circle, you run. Run as fast as your legs will carry you. Bolting down the road and into the safety of the churchyard near your house. You do not want to run home upset and worry your mother, so you do the next best thing, the thing you are becoming increasingly good at, hiding. You climb a crabapple tree. And then you let the tears flow—just flooding down your cheeks.

You hate this new village your parents have moved you to. Your father, a doctor, had been offered the position as village physician, and now here you are, moved from Surrey to Kent, but it might as well be the other side of the world. You miss your friends. You miss your old village. You are not the most outgoing of people, and the upheaval in your life has been immense. You yearn to be back in your old, familiar, comfortable home.

You are sniffling, taking deep breaths, angrily wiping tears, and preparing to face your family when he appears.

“Are you alright?”

You startle. Beneath you, squinting up into the tree, is the owner of the voice who rescued you. Seeing him now, you feel an odd warmth in your ribs. He looks older, maybe fifteen, if you had to guess. He seems benign with a calm face, and his expression is one of sympathy and concern.

“Yes,” you squeak quietly.

“It is safe for you to come down,” he says gently, “should you wish.”

“Are they gone?” you query, wishing you could hide the tremble in your voice.

“They will not bother you again; I can assure you,” he states with absolute certainty.

Your eyes go wide, “What did you do? I don't want to make it worse for my brother,” you fret.

“I told them if they mess with you again, they will have the Bridgerton brothers to contend with,” he nods, with an air that suggests the name is of some local import.

“Is that you?” you ask timidly, not wanting to get down from the tree just yet.

He chuckles. “You must be new here?”

“Yes… we just moved here two weeks ago. Those boys have been tormenting my brother since his first day at school. They appear to have chosen me to pick on as he is not around,” you frown, dusting a twig from your skirt.

“Well, that ends now. Now, do you need help down?” he asks.

“No,” you sniffle, “I am capable.”

“I wouldn't doubt it,” he nods politely and steps aside to allow you space to jump down.

With a quick swing, you do so, landing neatly on your little brown boots. You unfurl to your full standing height, but even then, you have to crane your neck to look up at him.

“Very impressive,” he smiles warmly. “I am Benedict. Benedict Bridgerton. Welcome to Kent.” he thrusts out a hand to shake and, bemused at the formality, you take it and shake as if a businessman, not a ten-year-old girl.

“Thank you, Benedict. I am y/n y/l/n. My father is the new physician,” you gesture vaguely over the church wall towards your home next to the rectory.

“Ahhh,” he nods in understanding.

“And thank you,” you curtsy.

“Whatever for?” he frowns.

“For rescuing me,” you clarify.

“Oh please, that was nothing,” he waves dismissively. “I cannot abide bullies. Or any injustice really,” his eyes appear briefly unfixed, and he looks thoughtful, as if what he said just occurred to him as truth. Then he shakes his head and brings his attention back to you. “You are alright, though, correct? Able to get home?”

“Yes,” you confirm shyly.

“Then I shall be on my way” he tips an imaginary cap at you that makes you giggle, and he smiles goofily before turning away and walking out of the churchyard.

A little part of your heart yearns to follow him, the boy with the hazy, kind eyes and the pleasing smile, who just made your transition into life in the area much more bearable.

You and your brother are never bothered by that gang of boys again.

II: Envy

“Y/n, this is Miss Clarissa Worthing.”

Benedict introduces you to the willowy blonde whose hand is looped through the crook of his arm.

“Clarissa, this is Miss y/n y/l/n. She will beat half of my family at Pall Mall once you can coax her out of her shell,” he teases delicately with a friendly glint in his eye that makes your heart flutter against your ribcage.

Clarissa nods in cool acknowledgement, then cranes her neck to whisper something, her lips brushing his earlobe, her regard for you already gone. You curtsy politely, smile weakly and scurry away, feeling clumsy and out of place, unsure of what else to say to this swan-like beauty.

It's the summer after your fifteenth birthday, and he is back from his second year of university. It doesn't take much to deduce that this is the lady he is currently courting, accompanying him as she is to a garden party at Aubrey Hall. Jealousy clings to your skin like an invisible oily substance and taints your every thought.

Ever since that fateful day when he chased away your bullies, you have carried a torch for Benedict. The year after that incident, you sadly have to attend his father's funeral. Your own father unable to save the Viscount’s life. The forlornness on Benedict’s face as he stood there in the chilly church made your chest ache. You didn’t fully understand why at the time, but your impulse was to go up and wordlessly hold his hand. He looked so utterly unmoored and sad. You didn't, of course; you would never be so bold, but the impulse was so strong, a tingle on your palm that needed to touch him. It was all you could think about for days.

Over the intervening years, your soft spot for him grew with every encounter, the childish admiration morphing into something stronger, a deep-rooted longing. He always seemed to be the one who cared the most—about his siblings, his mum, and even the problems of the wider world. And as your body started to change and you began to feel differently about boys, your feelings for him had another layer of confusing complexity. His was the first face that popped into your head when your friends giggled about boys and talked of marriage.

Even now, it seems ridiculous to entertain that he would ever pursue you… you are stuck in small village life, the daughter of a doctor, not from a noble family, and he is off in the world, experiencing things you have no notion of. And yet he is the only man you have ever met who intrigues you that way. The idea of marriage not being entirely abhorrent, provided it is to him.

And so you just watch—the perpetual wallflower. Watch as Benedict and Clarissa make the circuit of the party. Effortlessly chatting among various members of the Ton, looking like the picture-perfect young couple.

“Makes you sick, doesn't it?” Eloise’s dry tone pops over your shoulder.

You smile at Benedict's little sister, just a couple of years younger than you and a kindred spirit at these events, mostly wanting nothing to do with them.

“She is very beautiful,” you offer politely, sipping your lemonade.

“She steals,” Eloise states plainly, making you splutter your drink all over your face and dress, the little immediate crowd of attention it draws to you mortifying. Luckily Benefict is far enough away and otherwise engaged that he does not see it. You are not sure you could live that down.

“That's a scandalous thing to say,” you hiss softly as you blush under the attention of a few strangers and furtively clean yourself with a serviette as best you can.

“Tell that to mother’s silk gloves,” Eloise volleys back, her disgust evident. Apparently oblivious to your embarrassing predicament or perhaps just uncaring of what others think. “She will be gone before the weekend is out, mark my words.”

You don't doubt it, knowing how spirited Eloise is. And how well she has her brother's ear. You know he will instinctively trust what she says as truth. As she marches up to grab his arm and pull him away, mostly, you wish you had more of her bravado, her fearlessness. While you agree with her outlook on many things, you are not built of the mettle she is—not one who draws attention. Still, you watch with a twisted, guilty, but victorious smile as Eloise pulls Benedict aside and has words with him.

You never hear of Miss Clarissa Worthing again.

III: Jealousy

“Lord Boswell would be a wonderful match, my dear,” your mother smiles encouragingly, handing you a slice of lemon drizzle cake.

You can't hide the curl of your lip at the mere thought.

It's the morning after the first ball of the season, just after your twentieth birthday, and you are in the London townhouse your parents have rented for the season, awaiting any suitors to call. Less than three days into your first season, you want the merry-go-round to stop. A dizzying whirl of social engagements you feel unequipped to deal with, wanting nothing more than to be back in Kent, stealing into the grounds of Aubrey Hall with a good book. Perhaps even spend time with Benedict.

Just the very thought of him causes a flare in your belly. Since his return from his studies in Cambridge, he has seemingly moved to Aubrey Hall full-time, spending his days painting the Kentish countryside with hopes of establishing himself as an artist. You have spent more time together in the last year or so than ever before, often finding yourself reading quietly in the shade with Eloise as he paints nearby, his company always somehow a balm as much as a thrill. And it feels as if there has been a subtle shift in how he regards you, giving you the unbearable lightness of hope. Perhaps he sees you in a different light now that you have come of age, no longer the child you were. There have been some moments where he has looked at you and felt it, like a weight on your skin; even as you doubt many other things about yourself, you don't doubt there is something there—a most wondrous and perplexing development.

Your butler bustles in and announces something that makes your heart leap into your throat.

“Mr Benedict Bridgerton has arrived.”

Your mother's eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, giving you a sideways glance. A Bridgerton, even if not the Viscount, would be more than sufficient in her eyes. Especially one known so well to your family.

“To call on Miss y/l/n?” your mother asks, excitement evident in the breathy question.

“Oh no, ma’am, apologies. To see your husband. His brother, the Viscount, has dispatched him here to talk about some business in Kent,” your butler explains, somewhat apologetic as he realises the misconstrued intent.

Your mother’s disappointed face is only a match for your roiling stomach.

Your father folds his newspaper and jumps up. “I shall meet with him in my study, Jenkins. Please show him there,” and with a nod to you both, he leaves.

It has been just two days since your presentation to the Queen. That had been a waking nightmare. Parading down a long hallway at the Palace to be presented to her majesty filled you with utter dread. All eyes upon you, your every move and inch of appearance judged, and you are certain you were found lacking. Your status is unknown in the Ton; your parents pushing you into the season, hoping for an advantageous match. But you feel they could tell from one look where you belonged—almost invisible, on the periphery, a wallflower. Quiet, reserved, bookish, watching more than participating.

“Lord Boswell is here,” your butler reenters the room moments later.

Your stomach clenches. Your mother can barely contain her glee. You are so confused; you barely spoke two words to the man as you danced the previous night. Your conversation skills were utterly lacking, and he seemingly could not find an engaging topic to broach. You were keen for the music to end so you could return to standing and observing. You cannot believe that awkward interaction would be enough to propel the man to call on you, having said so little to each other just a few hours earlier. And yet here he is, a bunch of flowers in hand and a slightly vacant smile. The fleeting thought of marrying such a dull person makes you mildly nauseated.

Your mother hurries to the other side of the parlour and leaves you to converse, wearing a happy, hopeful expression that you hate to dash. And so you stumble the best you can through small talk. He talks of the weather, his property, and his interests but never asks anything about you—as if he is a candidate for a job you are interviewing for. In some ways, that is perhaps accurate, but part of you yearns for him to show interest in you, not just talk incessantly of himself.

Just as you give up hope of escaping anytime soon, you startle as he lays a hand on yours on the sofa between you. You don't even hear what he is saying anymore, just staring at where his glove covers yours, not liking the sensation, wanting to claw yourself away and withdraw.

Motion in the doorway makes you look up; Benedict is with your father. And suddenly, your heart is racing. Benedict looks taken aback; something sour in his expression you have never seen before makes you want to run to him and ask what is wrong. But you don't. You do the polite, reserved thing and smile.

“Mrs y/l/n, Lord Boswell,” he greets politely. “Miss y/l/n,” he adds, and you could swear he uses a different, lower register. Something inside you turns pulpy and ripe, blossoming just for him.

Before you know it, he has taken a seat on the sofa facing yours, shooting you the tiniest of winks that could be an eye twitch, but you know him better than that—seeing the sparkle of mischief in his eye. Your parents seem to exchange nonplussed glances, uncertain why he has chosen to stay.

“Boswell,” Benedict begins, shooting the man his most impervious glance. “What of your qualities make you an ideal suitor for Miss y/l/n here?” he questions.

Boswell splutters and seems taken aback, clearly not expecting such an interrogation, especially from a man who isn't your father or brother. Benedict’s eyes are back on you as the man stumbles through an inadequate and entirely uninteresting response that you do not even listen to. Your whole focus is on Benedict, feeling unable to breathe.

“Hmmm,” Benedict hums as he ends, “and what have you to say about Miss y/l/n’s interests? Are they perhaps complimentary to yours?”

“I… I did not think to ask,” Boswell falters, his cheeks reddening at the faux pas.

Benedict looks almost disgusted.

“You claim to be interested in providing your suit but ask nothing of what makes her the wonderful person she is?” he scolds, and your mouth opens into a little O of surprise. “Have you not asked her about her excellent marksmanship? How she can shoot an archery target better than anyone else within ten miles of Aubrey Hall? Have you not asked after her artistic skills? You see that cushion you sit next to? That is the work of her fair hand.”

You barely register as Boswell twists to look at the item and then at you; you have eyes for no one but Benedict as he continues, his voice loud and clear even over the sound of your heart pounding hard in your ears.

“Have you asked her about her love for literature and poetry? How she will correct you that it was, in fact, Guildenstern, not Rosencrantz, who enters first in the first folio version of Hamlet?”

You duck your head and blush. That is precisely what you did to him last year, surprising even yourself with your boldness. And he remembers.

He continues. “Have you asked about her love of animals? Perhaps you need to hear the tale of Mr Whiskers and how she was able to nurse the beloved cat of my sister Hyacinth back to health. You have not asked her of any such things?!?” his tone incredulous.

Even from the corner of your eye, you can tell that your parents’ faces are as shocked as Boswell’s. And suddenly, you recognise this as a Benedict Bridgerton you have seen before. It’s the one that comes out when defending those he loves against injustice or an unworthy opponent—the staunch guardian.

“If you cannot find it in yourself to show such interest, I would hope she will entertain better suitors,” Benedict sniffs dismissively. “As a long-term friend, I cannot in all good conscience allow this young woman to be pursued by anyone unworthy of her,” he concludes cuttingly, his nostrils flare, and his lip curls just a fraction as his eyes flit to where Boswell’s hand still rests upon yours.

Even as you struggle through your jumble of thoughts about everything he has said, one question so singular strikes you. Is this is Benedict….. jealous?? Jealous of your suitor? Finding ways to cut into him with his precise knowledge about you? The thought seems so fanciful that you want to dismiss it, but the sliver of possibility it offers is exhilarating. Just the chance of it being true has you utterly undone.

You barely even listen as your father jumps up and, with some belated sense of defence, agrees with Mr Bridgerton and asks Boswell if perhaps he should take his leave and return another day when he has thought of more engaging things to ask of you. Every fibre of your being yearns to talk to Benedict somewhere private, but he gives excuses to leave as quickly as your chastised suitor is dispatched.

Boswell never darkens your door again.

IV: Rescue

“Penny, for your thoughts,” Eloise smirks as she catches you staring into space on the terrace. Your cheeks blush, and you do not admit to where your thoughts had wandered—to her older brother.

“Will you come with me for a walk?” you ask, feeling the need to get away before you cross paths with the man who has occupied your thoughts more often than not of late.

It’s the week of the midsummer Hearts & Flowers ball at Aubrey Hall, and you are glad to have escaped the hubbub of the London scene and to be back in Kent for a few days' respite.

“No, I would prefer the company of Mary Shelley this afternoon,” she states airily, waving a book she holds.

So you set off alone, walking the grounds you now know so well. You are half an hour into your stroll, admiring the wildflowers along the eastern fringes of the grounds, not far from the village, when you see him approaching in the distance.

Benedict is riding his trusty horse and looks so majestic your chest constricts. Clothed in just a billowing white shirt and beige britches, you have rarely seen him look so informal. Or so very, very attractive. Your palms feel sweaty, and something stirs deep inside your body as you slink slightly into the treeline, hoping to remain unseen. A chance to merely observe this beautiful man, even knowing it is wrong to do so. To spy on him as such. Just as he draws close enough that you can see the flex of his leg muscles under the material, which causes all sorts of sensations in your body, a startled deer darts across the path and spooks his horse.

Time seems to slow as you watch his horse rear up and make the most terrible whinny of fear.

And then your heart is in your throat as you watch horrified as Benedict loses his grip on the reins in surprise and is thrown violently backwards to the ground.

Bile rises in your throat as you see how his body hits the dirt path, unable to brace for impact. The air fills with a blood-curdling scream that you belatedly realise is your own, and before you know it, you are sprinting. Sprinting towards him. Your whole focus narrows to his body splayed on the ground, worryingly still, as his horse bolts away. Heart pumping wildly and adrenaline coursing through your veins, you pull up to him and skid to your knees.

He is still conscious but barely. Moaning slightly.

“Do not move!” You bark, and even in his woozy state, he appears taken aback by your ferocity. “I mean it, Benedict!” you bite out as he attempts to move his arm.

He seems to mumble a noise of ascent as you try your best to assess any injuries, having learned some things from observing your father over the years, but you realise he needs proper medical attention. Where you are on the grounds, it’s closer to your home than Aubrey Hall.

“I am going to get my father,” you explain as calmly as you can, “for the love of God, Benedict, do NOT attempt to move until he gets here.”

A wan smile spreads across his face even as he winces in pain. “Hmm, fine. I promise to stay still,” he sighs, “....prefer to do it for the love of you…,” he mutters slurringly before he appears to pass out.

Knowing he has likely struck his head, you try your darndest to put what he said out of your mind. A head injury would be the only way to explain such a comment, even as you are praying he doesn't have one.

Heart still beating out of control, and not knowing what possesses you, you lean over and press the quickest shyest of kisses onto his lips—pulling back a few inches before he can even acknowledge it happened.

“Don’t you dare go anywhere on me, Benedict Bridgerton,” you whisper fiercely, just in time to see his eyes pop open, hazy and clouded with something you have never seen before. It’s not the pain he is in, though. And it’s not confusion, amusement or even irritation. It’s something else, so blisteringly intense your legs want to turn to jelly.

“I won’t, I promise,” he attests, his tone rough, ragged.

There are a couple of seconds where all you do is stare wildly at each other, and then, with a reassuring squeeze of his hand, you take off running. You have never run so far and so fast in your life; fear makes your muscles work harder than they ever have before. It’s probably only a few minutes, but it feels like a lifetime.

Your parents almost burst out of their skins in shock as you barrel into the house, panting wildly, wordlessly grabbing your father's medicine bag, and he reflexively springs into action.

You run to the stables and hurriedly hook up the long cart he uses when he needs to transport patients, and the look he shoots you is filled with concern.

“Who is it?” he asks as you climb aboard and direct him.

“Benedict,” you tremble, and there is a world of understanding in your father's eyes as he cracks the whip, and the horse jolts faster.

Perhaps your adoration is less concealed than you like to believe, but at this moment, you only care about getting him the help he needs. You are grateful your father doesn’t ask questions as you speed along.

And it becomes a blur as you reach the site, grateful Benedict laid still as you requested. Your father examines him and fires questions that are answered lucidly, tending to some immediate wounds and bandaging in places. Before you know it, you are helping your father with a canvas stretcher and insisting on sitting with Benedict in the back of the cart as your father takes the patient back to Aubrey Hall.

Never addressing the fact that you grip each other's hands so tight that both of your knuckles go white.

V: Belonging

“You can come in.”

Benedict’s voice calls out, bemused as you vacillate in the doorway, not realising that he can see you in a mirror reflection.

So at his invitation, you blush and scuttle into his room. Awkward, unsure what to do after your bold, daring, downright impertinent behaviour when he sustained his injuries. Part of you is hopeful he does not remember it.

It’s been two days, and he has made excellent progress under your father's watchful eye. The minute your father had pulled up at the house, you dropped your hold on his hand. And as word spread, it was a frenzy of activity that you found yourself superfluous to. The last you had seen was Benedict being carried inside for a more thorough examination.

Luckily, it turns out he has no lasting damage; his head was uninjured beyond a mild concussion. He is bruised all over, likely has some cracked ribs and has a sprained wrist, but he will be fine after some rest.

“H.. how are you?” your ask quietly, stilted, fiddling with your dress nervously.

“Much better,” his tone soft, “only because of you.”

You look up and meet his gentle gaze. “I merely did what anyone would have done,” you demure.

“Nonsense,” he counters, “you ordered me to stay still and await the doctor. If you weren’t there, I likely would have done myself additional injury being stubborn,” he points out dryly.

You don’t know what to say in response, so you change tack. “Is your horse alright?”

“Yes. Colin found him wandering around the wildflower meadow, munching on all manner of grasses. Never happier, completely uninjured,” he assures.

You nod, glad to hear the news. Then you allow the room to lapse into silence, unsure how to commence your profuse apology.

“I am very sor….”

He stops you with a bandaged hand held up.

“If you even begin to apologise for saving me, well then I shall be most vexed,” he chides, but there is no heat there, a lopsided grin tugging at his handsome features. “Besides, the more pertinent point of discussion is the fearless woman you can be when needed. The person you are becoming, when you allow yourself to, is quite something,” you bow your head as your cheeks heat at his praise. “I would have injured myself months before now had I known I would meet the creature who sits behind that cloud of shyness. Just look at what you did, taking change so very effectively,” he flatters then there is a pause. “Hell, even being brave enough to kiss me.”

Your head shoots up, and your mouth falls open.

“Oh yes,” he chuckles, “don’t think I forgot that part,” His voice has lowered to a pitch that buzzes right through your being.

“I… I was worried I… I was going to lose you,” you stutter, “and I-I’m sorry that was terrible of me to take liberties like that. Please, please forgive me?” you beseech.

“It was not in any sense of the word terrible,” he disputes, “the exact opposite. There is nothing to forgive. But there is one way you can make it up to me…?” he hedges.

“Anything, please,” you beg, so hopeful of absolution.

He holds out his hands and gestures for you to perch on the bed beside him. Almost without thought, you do so, even as you feel your pulse speeding up. You have rarely been this close, and now you are transfixed by all the tiny flecks of colour in his iris and the hints of stubble around his jaw.

“Kiss me again,” he requests; a finger trails lightly over the back of your hand. “But properly this time. Give me a chance to kiss you back.”

You just gawp at him in utter shock, heart pounding again, just like it was that day. You don't move away. You can't. Rooted to the spot. Unable to stop staring at his plush bottom lip.

“You cannot mean it…” you stutter when you finally find your tongue, disbelieving.

“Does this seem like I do not mean it?” he argues ardently, and before you know it, he is sitting up and leaning in.

And then warm lips touch yours, and fireworks explode inside your chest.

You feel like you are drowning in the very best way as your lips move together gently. Everything about the moment is sweet and light, but promising more, something tart that makes you want to climb atop him and crush yourself against him. Just as you feel the instinct to open your mouth to him, he pulls back, looking lost and found all at once.

“I need you to know something,” he begins, grabbing both your hands and placing them between his. “It pains me to see you ever doubting yourself or if you belong. You belong. Everywhere you go. You have so much to give to the world,” he states passionately.

“I… “ you falter, wanting to believe him, the version of you he sees.

“You do. Hell, you give me a reason to get up every day. To try. To be better. I would not be the artist I am now were it not for your words of encouragement as I painted all those afternoons.”

You are dumbstruck. You honestly didn't believe he was taking on board what you said. Mostly just encouraging him to follow his instincts when he seemed to doubt them.

“And now it’s time someone did the same for you. Be the encouragement you need. You deserve everything, y/n. And it would be my greatest honour to try to give it to you?” he adds, a gently loving smile lighting up his face.

Your heart sings as you realise this is the declaration you have been waiting half of your life to hear. Before you can stop yourself, you launch yourself at him, this time being the one to demand a kiss that he happily obliges.

“I have a question,” you state as your lips part, your boldness growing with every moment. “Mr Bridgerton, were you jealous when I had a suitor?” you tease, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

He chuckles and nuzzles your cheek. “My god, you have no idea.” You cant help the victorious giggle, basking in the fizz in your veins.

“I suppose it was payback for Ms Worthing. She of the ironic name. She was never worthy of you,” you state passionately.

He laughs with a headshake. “Perhaps it is our ability to rescue each other that makes us so best suited,” he opines. “I do believe we may belong together,” he adds.

And you couldn't agree more.

In fact, you are never alone again from that day on.

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ferrstappen · 1 year

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surprise! we are a family l dad!Lando Norris x reader

a/n:thank you so so much to the anon who requested this because... I'm never leaving this idea.

pairing: Lando Norris x female!reader

genre: fluff <3

summary: this wasn't planned. you are basically children yourselves and why isn't getting pregnant at 24 not considered teen pregnancy? Now Lando is waiting to meet his baby and hoping he doesn't mess up.

Lando never thought he'd find himself holding your hand in the middle of the night, fighting the nerves and anxiety of your baby coming too son, three weeks earlier than expected.

He wondered if this was his first taste of fatherhood... His leg bouncing up and down while checking the small screen monitoring the baby's heartbeat; he didn't understand a single thing, but it looked stable and it sounded healthy for his ears. Still, his stomach felt like an endless pit of worries while thinking the baby wasn't supposed to arrive now, it was supposed to be delivered via c-section in three more weeks, just like both you and him had planned.

He also couldn't stop thinking about the long road to this moment.

After finishing university, Lando asked you to travel with him for the remaining of the season which hadn't even reached the 9th date, but you agreed and traveled with your boyfriend with no worries, no homework, no lectures, just you and him, trying to be his emotional support after every race, the pair of familiar eyes during every press conference, the warm embrace after every interview.

You were always so focused on him and his well being that it took Lando more than a good couple of seconds to realize you were throwing up in the bathroom of your shared hotel room, door closed but not locked, so he waited until he heard the water running and the sound of you brushing your teeth.

He asked you what happened, you answered your stomach had been feeling funny for the last couple of days, but today you just couldn't take it. Lando insisted the cause was the seafood you had eaten yesterday at the restaurant.

He didn't even let you kiss him until you brushed your teeth, not wanting to go anywhere near the taste.

The other scenario never crossed his mind; you were always careful, rarely not using a condom even if you were on a contraceptive. You never had a pregnancy scare or anything, always secure on the fact you and Lando were safe.

Anyway, some call it a miracle, others a mistake, whatever you choose, but when your mother suggested you take a pregnancy test just in case since your stomach wasn't the same, your head was everywhere and felt a bit weak during the day, you couldn't rule it out.

It was Interlagos, rainy and humid São Paulo, Lando had left very early for training and you managed to get to a pharmacy and get a test.

You wanted to think it was impossible, but you were too aware of the friend of a friend getting pregnant while on the pill, a friend of you cousin getting pregnant with the implant, a classmate still didn't know how it happened, but now the baby was two years old.

About an hour later, Lando walked into the hotel room, ready to take a shower and sleep, preparing for a busy Friday, but instead he found you sitting with your legs crossed on the bed, not noticing his entrance.

Lando didn't even say hello when he noticed the white stick and a white plastic.

"Please don't tell me you got Covid," That was the only thing on his mind, already too familiar with that test, but this time you stared up at him, trying to find the words.

I am pregnant. What the fuck are we going to do, Lando?

He asked if you were sure, if you were feeling okay, how was it possible, what were you supposed to do now, would your families kill you, would your dad ever speak to him again, should you have the baby or would it be irresponsible.

All those moments were behind as he stared at your scrunched face, teary eyes and messy hair as a contraction hit, but he wasn't able to find the words to help you, he just held your hand and kissed your forehead when you allowed him.

It went on during the entire night. Contractions getting stronger, pain getting sharper, his desperation more palpable whenever someone came in to check you and said there was no progress, you should keep waiting, first babies do this all the time and shit.

He doesn't know when it happened, but the doctor said they'd be taking you to the delivery room or something like that, the baby's heartbeat was decreasing and no signals of dilation or something else Lando didn't understand, but he was worried.

The fact the baby wasn't even born and he was already worrying, about you and the strong pains, the contortion on your face even as you were wheeled inside the sterile room and forced him to separate; worrying about his baby, the one neither you nor him wanted to know the sex and allowing your friends to bet hefty sums on it, maybe the baby didn't want to be out, maybe they were feeling everything going on... was that even possible?

The most extreme scenarios were playing on Lando's head right now.

He wasn't familiar and didn't enjoy this feeling, this helplessness, this preoccupation. Lando drove at high speeds for a living and understood the risks, but this was different, it wasn't his usual terrain and didn't like it.

The only thing he could do was text his mum, informing the things they were doing to you, what they said about the baby, and she reassured him, told him his dad had already spoken to the hospital director so every single person knew he wasn't just a racer, this baby was an heir, very beloved and very awaited.

His thoughts didn't make sense by the time a nurse checked if he had put on the sterile equipment correctly before letting him inside the operation room, where you already were laying with your arms spread, swollen belly visible and surrounded by people, a sterile screen impeding your sight.

this was the last time he was going to see the belly, the one he spent nights talking to, putting his ear to try and hear something, placing his hand to feel every move.

He caressed your hair the entire time, it felt like ages but it was maybe twenty or thirty or forty minutes? when he heard the loudest cry he had ever heard, followed by cheers of the medical personnel and someone asking him to cut the umbilical cord.

What?

But he did everything they asked after making sure you were okay, kissing your lips and clearing the tears from your cheeks, praising your strength, how he loved you even more than he did a couple of hours ago, how he was in awe of you.

"It" turned out to be a "she", not very much hair on her head as they handed her already dressed in the pastel yellow newborn onesie that was a bit big on her.

He couldn't stop staring at her, but still somewhat afraid to hold her for any reason besides handing her to you for feeding. She looked so comfy on the crib, so warm and so safe, he didn't want to break that.

But now you were finally catching some sleep after the surgery, and she looked like she wanted out of the plastic as her tiny fists moved around.

Lando didn't think twice, he instantly knew his daughter wanted to be held. Held by him, her dad.

"Come on, my sweet baby girl," Lando muttered as he accommodated her head on his arm, carefully walking towards the big rocking chair in the room, prepared for this situation.

He let his eyes see her, really contemplate his daughter, a creation by him and the love of his life.

Her tongue poked out, eyelashes carefully caressed her skin, her heart beating along with his.

He silently laughed in disbelief, this was his daughter. The smile on his face was too big, his cheeks were hurting as he carefully stretched his arm to take a picture of her, followed by a selfie of him holding her against his hoodie covered chest, wanting to let everyone know his baby girl arrived, healthy and beautiful.

F1 GRID 2023 OFFICIAL WHATSAPP GROUP

Lando Norris: Get your wallets ready...

Lando Norris: This is Amalia, second name to be discussed, Norris. and now I'm a fucking dad so you'll have to respect me.

He didn't expect many responses, knowing there were time differences and events, but instead he received an overwhelming amount of responses.

Pierre Gasly: fuck no Kika told me to bet on girl!!! Congratulations man, she is the most beautiful baby and cannot wait to meet her.

Fernando Alonso: mis felicitaciones a la familia!

Alex Albon: although I'm disappointed it's not a boy, I'm impressed by your work, never thought you'd be able to create such a gorgeous baby

Charles Leclerc: Congratulations to you and y/n, baby Amalia is gorgeous and already helped her uncle Charles bank account!

Lewis Hamilton: Blessings, my man

George Russell: I always knew it was a girl. Carmen and I are delighted, we are sending our best wishes to the new family!

Yuki Tsunoda: i was so sure it was a boy... congrats!

Estaban Ocon: Pay up, everyone!!! What a blessing she's healthy and has the coolest parents!! can't wait to see her in the paddock

Oscar Piastri: the most beautiful member of the McLaren family. big hug and congratulations to y/n and hope she has a good recovery! I guess you deserve a pat in the back too, congrats mate.

Max Verstappen: Looks like she sided with her favorite uncle, I always knew it was going to be Baby Amalia! She is so lucky to have you as parents and I can't wait to meet her.

Max Verstappen: come on sainz, show your face and pay up!!! I'm favorite uncle.

Carlos Sainz Jr: I don't know if I'm disappointed it's not a boy or crying because she looks like her mother and not like you!!

#lando norris one shot #lando norris au #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #dad!lando norris #lando norris drabble #lando norris blurb #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 x reader

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heizlut · 9 months

Text

Jealousy (part 1)

"Can you write about Aether, Gorou, Kazuha and Albedo getting jealous because the reader is not paying attention to them (like is busy that day and didn’t have time to be with them)?" (anon ask/answer)

a/n: so i kind of added a little twist to the prompt... i hope you don't mind, anon! (any extra character mentioned has a purely platonic relationship with reader with no hidden agenda, i promise!!)

cw: none! this drabble is sfw but is suggestive

tags: multiple chars x reader (separate), possessive!aether (he gets his own tag b/c he gets a lil mean with it), gn!reader, no specific pronouns used (just they/them), use of y/n (plz forgive me), not really proofread (r.i.p)

read part 2 here!

check out my masterlist here!

Aether~

You and Aether almost always took commissions together, but today was different. Kaeya had approached you personally with the hope that you would accompany him on his business trip Sumeru that he took on to help relieve Jean of some of her workload. What fully convinced you to accept was that Kaeya had told you to consider it more as a vacation with just a touch of business on the side. You happily accepted, excited to have a break and being able to spend it with someone you considered a close friend. Caught up in the excitement, you failed to let Katheryne know to tell Aether that you would be gone for awhile.

Imagine Aether's surprise when he ends up on a commission in Sumeru a day later and sees you with Kaeya at one of the taverns. Your laughter rings in his ears as though Kaeya had just said the funniest thing in the world. Aether finds himself becoming frustrated... no, jealous. Not only had you failed to let him know you would be travelling to Sumeru for who knows how long, you were also there with Kaeya. He made his way over to where you both sat, taking the seat right next to before even greeting either of you. Your eyes widen as you realize the mistake you had made when you had forgotten to inform him of where you were going and with who.

Before you can even apologize, Aether has a fake smile plastered on his face, but you're quick to notice how his jaw is tensed as he places a hand on your thigh under the table, giving it a harsh squeeze to let you know how he really felt, "Y/n and Kaeya, funny seeing you two here." The tone of his voice was saccharine and you shift a little nervously in your seat, only making Aether dig his fingers into the plushness of your thigh even more. Kaeya is quick to notice but chooses not to say anything about it, "Well hello, traveller. What brings you all the way here to Sumeru?" Aether holds that fake smile on his face as he tells Kaeya about the commission he was on and how it was oh so interesting that he couldn't find his lover who would normally accompany him. You look at Aether, a glint of possessiveness in his eyes as he steals a glance at you before looking back to Kaeya. "Apologies for whisking them away for a day. I simply wanted some familiar company around as I completed some business here", Kaeya offers a small smile. Aether hums in response, "Well then apologies for cutting this trip a bit short. I'm sure any remaining business you have here can be done without y/n" Kaeya nods in understanding, "You're quite right. Well then, I suppose I'll see you two when I return back to Mondstadt. Safe travels!" He stands up, excusing himself as he walks off toward the docks of Port Ormos. You seem to let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding as you turn to look at your jealous lover, "Aether... I'm so sorry." Aether simply tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, "Don't worry. You can always make it up to me."

Gorou~

Gorou was already not the biggest fan of Heizou, especially now that you were spending the day with him, having stated that you were helping him with a new case that had caught your own personal interest. It was already nearing sundown when you still had yet to return and Gorou excuses himself from the other soldiers chatting with him, now on a mission to find you and bring you back home, away from that sneaky detective. As soon as he makes his way towards the entrance of the camp, Gorou hears the sweet sound of your voice. He almost breathes out a sigh of relief only for it to get caught in his throat when he hears his own name fall from Heizou's lips in a comment that Gorou couldn't quite pick up from this distance. His ears press flat against his head as he makes his way towards both of you, moving as if he's about to enter into a battle. You smile sweetly when you finally spot your lover, beginning to raise your hand up in a wave. But your smile flaters slightly when you see a look of anger and.. was that jealousy in his eyes? Heizou pays no mind to the demeanor of the approaching general, offering his typical sly smile, "Why hello there, General Gorou~"

Gorou fights back the growl that's trying to claw its way from deep in his chest as finally stands in front of you both. He grabs your chin, turning your head at various angles as if he was inspecting you for anything amiss. When he sees that you're perfectly fine, he tilts your head up to look at him, a stern expression on his face, "I think your time spent with that detective is over." Heizou dramatically feins offense, "Oh, so now I'm just 'that detective'? I'm wounded." Gorou shoots him a glare but your sweet voice draws his attention back to you. You reach up to gently caress his cheek, looking at him so sweetly, "Gorou, I'm fine. There's no need to be so hostile. I'm sorry I was away all day. We just got caught up on so many new leads we both lost track of the time." Gorou's expression softens slightly at your words, realizing that he's gotten all worked up over something that really shouldn't bother him as much as it does. He lets go of your chin, letting out a heavy sigh as he wraps on arm around your waist, pulling you away from the detective, "S-sorry... Let's just head back to the tent now, yeah?" You let him pull you alongside him as Heizou watches you both walk away with a shit-eating grin on his face, having been quite entertained by Gorou's antics.

Kazuha~

Kazuha doesn't get jealous easily. He has always been such a laid back lover and felt secure with his relationship with you. However, you had spent almost your entire day with Thoma making sweaters for the cute little strays around Inazuma. He knows it's really such a silly thing to be jealous over, especially when you were simply helping Thoma care for the animals that most definitely deserved the love and care you both showed them. But what truly drove him to jealousy was that you seemed to have forgotten that you two had previously made plans to spend the next couple of days together before he had to board Beidou's ship that was heading for Liyue.

Kazuha did not want to interrupt you two, but the moment that Thoma had offered to knit you both matching sweaters, he felt the need to butt in. Neither you nor Thoma noticed Kazuha approaching, so of course you let out a small gasp when he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist while pressing a kiss to your cheek, "Hello, my dove. Have you been having fun today?" Kazuha was definitely making it well known that you were his and his alone. "Kazuha! I-", you stop yourself, your mouth falling open slightly when you realize that you had forgotten about your previously made plans with him. "Oh archons, Kaz, I am so so sorry. I completely forgot-", Kazuha cuts you off this time as he puts his fingers under your chin, tilting your head back just enough for him to press a deep kiss to your lips. Thoma stands there a bit dumbfounded as he watches the scene before him, a blush creeping onto his cheeks when he quickly clears his throat awkwardly, "I-i'll just get going now. I'll see you around, y/n." Kazuha hides his satisfied smirk by nuzzling into your neck.

Albedo~

Albedo hadn't seen you all day and after one of his most prized theories ended up falling apart, all he wanted to do was hold you and let his frustrations melt away. When he got back to his lab up in Dragonspine after being at the Knights of Favonius HQ all day, he expected you to be curled up reading a book with a thick blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you usually would. His soft smile faltered when he realizes that you are not there. He pauses for a moment when he sees a note left on one of his alchemy tables. Picking it up, he recognizes your handwriting instantly, 'Albedo, I am out helping Aether and Diluc over at Angel's Share. I am unsure of when I'll return, but I will do my best to be back before it gets to be too late in the evening♡'

Albedo has never quite understood human emotions, so when this strange feeling emerged and made his chest tighten, he wasn't exactly sure what it meant. Why did you have to spend the day with those two, especially the traveller? While he considered Aether to be a friend, Aether was still a traveller from another world with a mysterious aura about him, leading Albedo to wonder if he could be completely trusted. He found himself making his way back down Dragonspine and into Angel's Share. There he found you happily chatting away with the two men as you helped them organize the various crates of wine in the back. Diluc was the first to notice Albedo's presence, "Albedo, I never expected to see you here in Angel's Share. What brings you here this evening?" Albedo forces a slight polite smile onto his face, "Y/n, here left a note to tell me they were here with you and the traveller" His eyes meet yours, but there is a darker glint to them that you had never seen in your lover's eyes before especially when Aether's hand brushed against yours as he helped you set down a particularly heavy crate of wine.

Aether can't help the blush on his face as he mutters an apology to which you smile sweetly in return, letting him know it was okay. No, it most certainly wasn't okay, Albedo thinks to himself as the feeling in his chest begins to nag at him even more. He swiftly moves to your side, wrapping an arm around your waist and holding your hand in his free one, moving it up to his lips as he presses a kiss to the top of it, "Love, I think it is time for us both to head back. It is quite late after all." His tone sounded sincere but had a hint of bitterness to it. You simply nod your head, letting your lover lead you out, but you don't fail to notice the cheeky smile he flashes back at the other two men as he raises his hand in a wave, "Have a nice evening."

a/n: i went a little feral writing these… clearly

#genshin smut #aether smut #gorou smut #kazuha smut #albedo smut #aether x reader #gorou x reader #kazuha x reader #albedo x reader

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toxicanonymity · 1 year

Note

more raider joel PLEAAAASE 🙏

Failed Escape

4k, raider!Joel x f!reader / raider master / joel

Mood board by @milla-frenchy

SUMMARY: when Joel brings you to a familiar area for a raid, you run away but get stopped by FEDRA officers with bad intentions, worse than Joel. Joel saves you.

WARNINGS: NSFW I8+ dark, violence, assault, manhandling, captivity, restraints, exhibitionism, humiliation, unsafe dubcon vPIV, fingering, oral, filth, orgasm denial, cockwarming, police violence, allusions to very dark fedra activity.

A/N: This is 4th in the Raider series but can be read alone. credits / shoutouts - @romanarose escape ask, touch-erase anon, rope kink anon, many others with thots & thirst.

“I'm sorry," you sob, and you really are. It's the second raid you’ve been on this week. You thought you recognized the forest behind the house, making it your best chance to escape. You don’t have anything or anyone to go home to, but you’re hungry. You’re tired. You don't sleep. Sometimes you wake up with Joel’s arms too tight around you. If you move, they tighten more and you can hardly breathe.

Those things on their own might be tolerable, but the rest of Joel's men are the real problem. That first day, Joel told you he’d make sure nothing happened to you. He made it very clear to you and everyone else that you were his and no one else could touch you. At this point you don’t always mind his touch, but you worry about what could happen to you if something happened to Joel. The guys are disgusting, and not just the ones Joel originally saved you from, as you learned at the stash house.

There are a lot, and they’re brutal with their prey. They’re not just rough, they’re mean, degrading. They know they aren’t supposed to look at you, but they still steal a hungry glance when Joel’s not watching. From what you’ve overheard them doing to their victims, your greatest fear is that Joel will die or get overthrown and you’ll be at their mercy. The day Joel first claimed you, he warned you about those men and how much worse they'd be. At this point, you've seen and heard enough to know it's true.

But even that prospect doesn't sound bad right now compared to what you just went through. You never should have run.

- - - - -

You stumbled through the woods and when you were almost to the other side, you spotted three armed men in uniform - FEDRA. You called, “Help!” You were relieved. They could get you somewhere safe. But when they turned around, it was only a couple of seconds before they aimed their rifles at you. You fell to your knees begging for help.

They laughed and talked to each other like you weren’t there.

“I dunno, she looks infected to me,” the tallest one said.

“Sure are seein’ a lot of infected this week,” another said and elbowed the tall guy in the ribs.

The apparent leader of the pack ordered the men to take your clothes off. They stripped you of everything, even your underwear, and felt you up while they were at it. One of them stuck a finger in you. Then, the leader put a single bullet in a revolver, spun the cylinder, handed it to the tall one, and said “your turn.”

"Already? C'mon, I don't wanna fuck another dead girl."

“At least they can’t scratch you up kickin’ and screamin’,” the leader said.

“Yeah, so what’s the point?” the third one said. “That’s half the fun.”

"Better say a prayer then," the leader said. "Go on," he urged.

The man put the muzzle to your temple and your life flashed before your eyes. He pulled the trigger and the click made you wince. You kept your eyes pinched shut and when you slowly opened them, you could hardly believe you were alive.

Leaves crunched behind you in the woods. "ANIMALS, all of you," Joel boomed, and you turned around to see him with his rifle aimed at the men.

"Get down and cover your ears, baby." Joel didn’t even look at you.

Without so much as blinking, he shot the leader right in the forehead, then kept walking toward them. Shot another one like it was the easiest thing he had ever done. Not even a flinch.

Meanwhile, the tall one, the one with the revolver, charged straight at him but Joel still didn’t flinch. He calmly used the butt of his rifle to strike him square in the face. When the man fell to the ground, Joel straddled him and pummeled his face.

Still straddling the man, Joel asked you what they did to you. You told him about the revolver first. Joel took it from the man, spun the cylinder, then held it out for you, but you didn't take it. You were cowering naked on the ground. “Go ahead,” Joel said. The man pleaded for his life. You hesitated, and Joel said “Now,” firmly. You crawled closer, took the revolver, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The man screamed and winced, but the gun only clicked. Joel took it back, spun it again, and handed it back to you. “Again.” That time, you shot the man in the chest and the recoil sent you back on your ass. It wasn’t a kill shot. The man tried to speak but could only gurgle. Blood spilled out of his mouth. Your face went cold and you were shaking.

Joel made sure the man was disarmed, then came over and started putting your shirt back on you.

"Is that what you want? Shared and slaughtered by those pigs?” He motioned to the three men on the ground. You started crying, still sprawled on the dirt

- - - - -

Joel puts his rifle around his back, squats down, grabs you by both elbows, and violently forces you to your feet.

"Breakin' my goddamn heart, sweet pea." He seethes with disappointment.

"I'm sorry," you repeat through your tears, still begging his eyes to meet yours. Finally, he puts his rifle around his back and looks at you. You must look so pathetic. Crying, knees covered in dirt, still naked from the waist down. The dying man stops gurgling. You whimper yet again, "I'm sorry."

He looks you up and down and seems to soften a little as he responds, "I know, baby.” But notably, he doesn't say it's okay. He doesn't say he forgives you. You collapse into his chest and sob. He pulls you closer and you're startled when his arousal swells into you.

"How'd they touch you?" Joel asks, then clenches his jaw as though bracing himself for impact. At least he knows they didn't fuck you since they were all still dressed, to his great relief.

Joel has your pants in his hands waiting for your answer. You tell him.

He sighs and squats down. He wedges his hand between your thighs and you're wet with arousal from feeling his wood. "Was it like this?" He asks, sliding his fingers against your folds. You don't know what to say. It wasn’t like this because it didn’t feel good. He plunges two fingers into you and asks, "like this?" He digs the heel of his palm into his arousal.

“Kind of”

His face tenses into a snarl as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. What does 'kind of' mean?”

“It hurt.”

“Too many fingers?”

“No, just one, but too rough. And too dry.” Your cheeks burn.

His eyes light up in grim satisfaction. “Ok, baby.” He takes his fingers out and wraps his arms around you again. You start crying again.

“I’m sorry,” you say for the millionth time.

“I know you are, sweet pea." He brushes the tears off your cheeks. “Wanna be sorry here or in the house?” You can only assume what he means. You just hope it won’t be too brutal, given your betrayal.

His breath deepens, and he’s slowly stroking a larger bulge in his skin-tight pants now. You have to think about it for a moment. You’re anxious to get away from the dead FEDRA bodies, but the other raiders and victims are still in the house.

Joel adds, “Or in the van?”

“In the van."

He brushes the dirt off you and helps you step into your pants.

When you get back to the house they’ve been raiding, Joel doesn’t take you straight to the van. There are a few bodies strewn about. The hostages are all in one room. Joel takes you to a bathroom away from them.

He locks the door, hangs his rifle on the towel hook, then turns on the shower. He strips you and gets behind you, both of you facing the mirror. He asks, “They do anything else to you? Touch you anywhere else?” You tell him they touched your breasts. He inhales deeply and clenches his jaw, then cups both your breasts from behind, slowly massaging them. "Like this?" His hardness presses into you.

"Kind of, but it didn’t feel good."

Half his mouth smiles, and in the mirror you notice him scanning your body head to toe. Then he turns you around to face him.

His hands engulf your ass cheeks, pulling you into his pants. The feeling of his arousal against your front makes you weak.

A massive hand drifts to the center of your ass, and his middle finger lightly glides up and down your crack. “They touch you in here?”

“No.”

"Good. They're all gone now, okay baby?”

The water is ice cold as usual and your nipples are painfully hard as Joel lathers them. He washes your whole body, looking at you like a juicy leg of lamb. When he goes between your legs, you sense his intentions and warn him, “Um, you can’t put soap in there.”

He pauses, bemused. “Why’s that , sweet pea?”

“It’s bad for you, you can get an infection.”

He looks at the soap contemplatively and says “okay, baby.”

He rinses you off and tells you to sit on the toilet seat. Then he sits on the ground, his legs to each side of the toilet, knees up. He gets you to spread your legs, come to the edge of the seat, and lean back. The way he’s breathing as he eyes your pussy gives you butterflies.

He puts your knees over his shoulders. He drags two knuckles down your slippery folds, then extends and inserts his fingers and curls them, dragging his thick digits against your walls, trying to scrape off any trace of FEDRA. The smallest skin particle would be too much. It's extreme, but you don’t mind how it feels – physically, at least. It’s also not a bad view. His neck veins bulge, his eyes are dark.

He looks like he has a job to do, and he goes about it quite industriously. His beard scratches your inner thighs and outer lips. He licks a thick stripe from your taint to your clit, then drags his tongue through every crevice of your folds on each side, making you squirm with tension. He swirls his tongue around your clit and sucks your hood. Then he plunges his tongue onto you and your whole body feels hollow and light. His tongue is so thick it's like being fucked. You shudder and he glances up darkly. His lips move diligently with the effort and he sucks like he’s trying to cave your walls in on his tongue. Your thighs quiver and he glances up at you again. When you're right about to come, he pulls away.

"Good as new," he says as he wipes his beard.

You were so close to coming and you can hardly bear the tension.

As though reading your mind, he says, "This ain’t for fun, baby. Not today. Not after what you did."

He braces his hands on your thighs and stands up with a groan, sporting major wood. "Stay here," he says coldly. You squeeze your thighs together. He takes his rifle off the back of the door and puts it on. He leaves for a few minutes and takes all your clothes with him including your underwear.

As soon as he walks out of the bathroom, one hand goes between your legs and the other to your breast, working toward the quickest release possible, biting your lip. The vision of him between your legs is blinding your mind’s eye from thinking about anything else. You come just in time, covering your own mouth with your inner arm. You feel a wave of shame after you come - how depraved to get off in this situation. But the tension was too much to take.

Joel comes back with a duffle bag and a dress. He seems to notice your post-orgasm flush. He puts the dress on you and it's not a minidress but it's shorter than you're comfortable with, especially if you don't get to wear underwear. It’s thin, too. He strokes your inner thighs and gives you an accusatory look.

"You come when I say."

Your face burns and you nod.

"Told you I wasn't gonna let anything happen to you. . . then I did." He looks guilty, almost anguished. "You're gonna learn to do what I say, understand?"

You nod.

"For your own good, sweet pea."

"Yeah," you whisper.

You try to tug the dress down and hesitantly ask, "Can I have, um-"

"No," Joel says and slings the duffle bag over his shoulder. "Got you some but you're not gonna need it for a while."

You swallow thickly and remember you chose the van.

Joel manhandles you into the passenger seat, takes some paracord out of the duffle bag, and ties your wrists in a special knot. Then he ties them behind your head to the headrest.

He strings rope around the headrest and across your chest in each direction forming an X across your chest with your breasts on either side. He ties that to the wrist restraints. The rope digs into your neck uncomfortably.

“Try to get out and it’ll only get tighter. And I’m gonna know about it.”

“I won’t.” You’re earnest.

“Hope not,” he says. “‘Cause I’ve got a lot more of this.” He holds up a bunch of paracord, puts it back in the bag, then looks you up and down and wets his lips. “Looks good on ya, too.” He shoves the duffle bag behind your seat. “Real good.”

He slides his hand between your legs and shoves his middle finger right inside you. His head falls back and his eyelids are heavy. You’re still wet enough that it doesn’t hurt. He thumbs your clit while pushing two, then three fingers in and out of you. Then he stills his fingers inside you. He strokes the bulge in his pants with the heel of his palm. His mouth falls open and he studies your face. Then he flattens his fingers and rubs your whole pussy. It feels so good, so unbearably good. Your spine arches. He takes his time and brings you to the brink again, then cruelly removes his hand.

“Stay here.” He points at the rope. “Remember – try to get out, it’ll only get tighter.”

You nod, clenching your thighs together, barely paying attention.

“It’s for your own good.” The tension feels like torture.

A few minutes later, Joel comes back out to the van, and thank god. Your hands are getting numb and the rope is chafing your neck and cleavage. He opens the door and examines the paracord around your wrists. “Good girl,” he says. He looks you up and down as though deciding what to do with you. He exhales with a puff of his cheeks and rubs the protrusion in his tight pants. At this point, nothing would surprise you, and you wonder if you should have made a move in the bathroom to suck him off.

He swiftly unties the paracord then unbuckles his belt, gazing at you in a dark trance.

He aggressively shoves his strong arm under you, then you make space and he wedges himself between you and the seat. You’re in his lap again.

Initially, he pulls you back into him and your breath hitches when you feel his hard package beneath you. His hips lift and his arousal swells harder. He breathes heavily and his chest inflates against your back. Then he extends his legs to make a downward slope and scoots you forward on his thighs. You hear his zipper come down. When you chose the van, you didn’t know it would be this. You’re humiliated, but your body purrs in anticipation.

You’re startled by the van’s back doors opening.

“Come on,” Joel whispers flatly, nudging you to hover over him. When you rise a few inches, he lifts your dress and guides your naked ass backwards, hovering in his lap. He presses the curve of your spine and you tilt your hips. He guides you until you feel his firm tip at your dripping entrance. "You want this?" You nod almost imperceptibly, then he says, "Go ahead." You sink onto him with a soft gasp. “That's right, take it," he says. He puts his hand over your mouth and pulls you down, breathing, "yes." Then he sighs "Ahh," as his girth parts your insides. He has to use both arms and a thrust to bury himself entirely, then your body’s flush with his. His noises are quiet but visceral, softer than usual, but just as masculine.

You’re pitiful, like a rag doll in your thin dress, no panties, no bra, sitting on his cock. Bending to his will like he’s your puppeteer. And you might as well have an arm shoved all the way up you. He’s inhabiting every bit of space in your guts.

Men are loading things into the back of the van. Joel leans you forward to spread your dress over his lap. Then he pulls you back and lifts his hips, making his cock move deep inside you. The main door to the van slides open and men start piling in. Your seat is always in Joel’s lap, that’s nothing new, so hopefully no one notices you’re impaled on his massive cock.

But that’s going to be difficult considering he’s not sitting still. He rocks his hips, pushing his length up into you at a slow pace. This has the effect of lifting your whole body each time. Someone sitting behind you could surely see your head bobbing slowly, smoothly, but rhythmically. His hands cup your breasts through your dress. Tension is coiling in your core. With his next upward thrust, Joel softly grunts into your hair. Quieter than usual. He isn’t worried about being seen or heard – That’s not his style at all – It’s just that, in the van, it doesn’t take much to put on a show. In a way, if he can subject everyone to it in near-silence, that’s even more dominant.

Joel’s hips continue to lift into you and he slides his hand into the low-cut neckline to grope your naked breast. The driver glances over and does a double-take, then swallows sheepishly and quickly averts his gaze, but reaches for the bandana on the dashboard and hands it to Joel. They’re going to the stash house so Joel pauses to tie it over your eyes.

Joel grunts softly into your hair as his cock is hugged tight by your warmth. None of the men talk to him. They chatter at low volume amongst themselves, and he doesn’t have the best hearing. You hear his name in a whisper from the back of the van and get self conscious that they’re watching. But of course they are. If Joel hears them, he doesn’t seem to mind. With each tilt of his hips, his thick cock moves a short but impactful distance, nudging your g-spot. You’re already so full, but it fills you more each time. The tension tightens, radiating to your whole body. Begging for release. The motion is smooth and fluid beneath you. It’s like you’re riding an ocean wave. Your breathing gets heavier.

You squeeze your thighs together, tightening around his cock. Joel grunts into your neck, then whispers “I don’t think so, sweet pea” and stops moving. He’s really punishing you. For almost the rest of the ride, he holds you completely still on his cock. Your heart races and your face is hot. He’s leaning back against the seat and has you leaning back against him. You ride in silence, listening to the noise of the road under the tires, pitch black under the blindfold. Joel’s as thick and hard as ever and the swell of his shaft twitches. Every bump in the road provides welcome friction between his warm rod and your desperate walls.

You know you're getting close to the stash house when you reach the gravel road, at which point you’re continuously bounced on his cock. You can feel your arousal leaking out of you and onto him. Your combined musk fills the van and the driver cracks his window as the terrain effectively makes you ride Joel's cock despite his best efforts to deprive you. He holds you tight, trying to keep you completely still against him. You aren’t sure if you’ll be able to stop yourself from coming.

“You were bad today,” he whispers lowly into your neck, and you feel a wave of shame. “In the worst way," he adds coldly.

You turn your cheek as though trying to meet his eyes through the blindfold, but his hand strongly grips your jaw and forces your face straight ahead again.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper as you bounce there, filled to the brim with his girth.

“Gonna be a good girl from now on?”

“Yes.”

“Come when I do, then,” his low voice murmurs into your ear, sending a rush through your body. He better come really soon.

He inhales deeply through his nose and puts his arm flat on your back with his strong forearm resting along your spine and his hand firmly gripping the nape of your neck. He forces you down, and you fold forward with your head near your knees. Then he covers your mouth tight with his other hand. His arm presses down on your back as his hips lift up into you. He grunts as he erupts inside you. His thick cock powerfully pulses and sends you clenching and fluttering around him, softly moaning into his hand as you find your own waves of release. It feels like it lasts forever.

“Maniac,” someone says under their breath as Joel lets you sit back up.

"You did good," he whispers flatly into your hair. To your shame, your heart can't help but swell at his approval, even though the coldness in his tone stings. He's obviously preoccupied by what you did.

You can't discern most of the hushed murmurs until another voice ominously whispers from the back of the van, “He can’t watch her 24/7 forever.” Joel must not hear it or else you imagine the man wouldn’t be breathing for long.

The van parks at the stash house and Joel takes off your blindfold. He helps lift you off his lap and his length slides out, bringing with it a dripping mess of both of you. Your insides slowly pull themselves back together as your combined juices trickle down your thigh. You step down out of the van while he zips up his pants and you dab yourself as best you can with the dress, face burning along with your neck, shoulders, and hands. With Joel facing away from the men, you can feel them staring at you, but as soon as he steps out of the van, they look away and go about unloading.

Joel retrieves the duffle bag from behind the seat, but he doesn't bring it into the stash house with you. He takes out a blanket and wraps it around you, making you decent. You shouldn't feel like it's sweet, but there's a passing moment before you remind yourself the gesture is for him, not you. He doesn't want anyone else to see you. He said as much the first time you were there. Joel takes out some rope from the bag, and before he brings you into the house, he makes sure his switchblade is in his pocket. Then he firmly grabs you by the elbow and takes you inside.

"You're gonna have to be brave for me in a minute, baby."

we'll pick up from here next time & a couple more asks will become relevant.

Thank you so much for reading and interacting! We've been simping for this sicko for a month now and i really enjoy our banter and dialogue about him and the other toxic joels.

All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @ele-meno-p @internetobssessed1234-blog LMK if I left you off

RJ: @str84pedro

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #dark!joel miller #dark!joel #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fic #joel miller fic #toxicanonymity ☠️#possessive!joel #joel miller fanfiction #raider!joel #raider!joel miller #OG!raider☠️

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justporo · 8 months

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Hi sweetheart if your request is open I want to request a nsfw and or sfw alphabet for Astarion 🥰

Hello my sweet, Anon, and thank you! Oh exciting, I like these, so I'm happy someone asked me to do this. This will be SFW but maybe I'll do a NSFW version too - if people want it?

I used this wonderful template by @the-coldest-goodbye (thank you for making this!)

Also let's call this

Fluffy relationship headcanons about Astarion and Tav (in alphabetic order)

(Because I know the word headcanon is somewhat of a Pavlov'sch bell for some people here, hihi~)

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Very much so. Once Astarion really grabs onto the concept of having someone he deeply and truly loves, he tells them every moment of every day. He compliments them, showers them in gifts, his flirtatious behaviour never stops. But oh yeah, they also bicker like an old married couple - it's their love language.

Also he’s very keen to keep his hands on you, PDA: oh hells yeah, showing the whole world you belong to him, also you’re just that yummy.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Pure chaotic goblin energy. If you’re best friends with Astarion you’re most likely enabling each other to commit arson on a daily basis – and you love it.

You most likely stumbled over each other, each thought “what a dickhead, looks so dumb…”, figured you were equally sassy and were inseparable from there on out. Because the best friendships start with thinking “ugh, this dumb idiot…”

Also being in a relationship with Astarion means also being his best friend and having chaotic gremlin moments – like for example grouping up on Gale to shittalk him.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Cuddling is a kind of unusual concept for Astarion at first, like with any kind of non-sexual intimacy. But he very quickly figures out he loves cuddling. Just normal hugging, holding you standing behind you with his arms around your waist. But he also enjoys it so so much when he’s being held, just knowing your arms are his safe haven.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Honestly, after everything? Yes – at least for quite some time I guess Astarion wants to settle down, have some time to figure himself out but also enjoying some mundance peace and quiet with Tav – with the biggest worry being what he’ll wear this night.

He’s shit tho at all the domestic shit. He doesn’t know how to cook or anything else and frankly he has never needed to because even before being turned he lived the comfortable live of a noble. Tav’s going to have to teach him a thing or two on how not to be so messy…

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Despite that I am 1000% convinced that Tav and Astarion are endgame… Quickly, I believe, like ripping a bandaid off, but making sure to really get the point across on why.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

The idea of commitment might scare Astarion, the idea of having Tav forever does not. So I guess he would actually come around to the idea although you both assure each other it’s not to prove something. Also Astarion does joke about it – because he loves thinking about it, to have someone who’s loving him until the end of time.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

So gentle, almost chaste, especially at first. Yeah yeah, he knows every trick in the book when it comes to sex, but exploring what a committed relationship can feel like? Sharing small moments of intimacy, opening up his feelings that he never really allowed himself to have before.

That being said I believe the first time Tav and Astarion sleep with each other after he’s freed: it’s like it’s his first time, fully there, bravely letting himself fall into your open loving arms, experiencing for the first time what it means to be this kind of intimate with someone you love more than anything else in this world.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Something he also didn’t really quite get until he shared it with Tav – and then the other ones who became his friends. He relishes hugs as something that really make him feel at peace. And he does become a hugger, at least with Tav: small, quick hugs to full-blown embraces – although these are something he likes to enjoy only with you. Oh, and they’re wonderful hugs: not too strong, not too weak, although Astarion might be a bit of a clinger, especially in the beginning, when he can never get enough.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Tav says it first, but he’s pretty brave and pretty sure about his feelings (at least about how hard he’s fallen once he accepts the initial fact), so pretty quickly. And after that: AT. ANY. POSSIBLE. MOMENT.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Jealous, but reasonably so. Like he can obviously differentiate if you’re just friends with someone or if it might even just be flirty banter (because he’s also guilty as charges with that) but someone hits on you, you’re definitely not interested, the other person keeps pushing? He’ll be ready to rip their throat out. He gets protective. This being said, his jealousy is always focused on the other party pushing a toe out of line, not you.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Everything? Everywhere? All at once?

Of course his kisses are perfect, he likes to kiss every inch of your body and loves when you repay him for that in like. Although like with other intimate moments it’s still something new to him because there are a lot of feelings in it now.

Also Astarion and Tav love to annoy each other with giving each other big wet smooches when the other person is being annoying or just needs a lip-smacking reminder of affection.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

“You’re so gross, Astarion.”

“Why is cute, when Scratch does it, but not when I do it?”

“BECAUSE YOU’RE NOT A DOG, ASTARION!”

“I mean I could bark if you wanted me to.”

Children can be annoying them because “ugh, why are they so loud and smelly… and sticky” but Astarion loves the chaotic energy kids have. And if the other companion’s would ever bring kids over he would absolutely incite them to cause chaos all around, teach them naughty words, give them candy so they get a sugar rush when they should actually go to bed.

And Astarion is good at telling kids captivating stories, so he becomes the resident storyteller when friends with kids come visit.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?) (or in his case evenings, I figure)

Slow, full of cuddles and “five more minutes, my love, please” – basically he loves to just hang around with you in bed. He also takes his sweet time getting ready after waking up – A) because he can B) “when you look this good…”; once he figures out what Tav’s favourite hot beverage is in the morning, he’d learn how to brew it perfectly and bring it to them when he’s feeling generous.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?) (and here days, accordingly)

Even more cuddles, talking before bed, talking after going to bed, probably having lots of wine while doing so – or just lounging around reading with his head in your lap while you detangle his soft curls.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Slowly at first but then more and more. But there’s just as much for him to unpack as there is for you to learn and take in. But Astarion learns quickly that you’re a good person to open up to: he feels safe and seen with you. And even if it doesn’t fix all his trauma right away – telling you, it really helps.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Astarion has more than a bit of temper. He can get very easily annoyed especially by little, seemingly unimportant things. He can snap at you but he tries to take a quick breather then and work through it and apologises – even though this too is something he learns slowly.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

I think he memorizes a lot about everyone anyway, because it’s a survival instinct to gather all possible information that might become helpful. But besides that: once Astarion is all aboard the relationship train, he will absolutely remember everything – probably even better than you. That’s also why he gets you the best gifts, because he listens, when you tell him something that you would like.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

He holds the memory of this first special hug very close and dear in his heart. Because he remembers how incredibly frightened he was how scary that leap was. But there you were quite literally with open arms and an open heart.

But there’s lots more moments. When you bought the house in Baldur’s Gate and he could carry you inside the first time cheekily in bridal style? The first gift you ever gave him for your first anniversary? There’sso many and he collects them like precious little treasures.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Very, oh he’s so very protective. And he will cut someone if the need arises. He might actually even be a bit too eager about it. And he likes when you’re protective of him as well – and let’s be honest you’re just as eager to keep him safe.

Nobody touches you or him – or they get the sharp end of a knife.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Everyday stuff, oh eeeeh, it’s hard. Astarion is just so not used to it, but he tries. He really does. And gifts, dates and all? Firstly, he finds out that he’s very much a romantic. Secondly, this man does not do things like this lightly, because “if we were going to be basic about it, we don’t have to do it at all”.

And he regularly outdoes himself trying to spoil you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

As much as he tries to be open and learn. The habits of 200 years die hard. Sometimes when he feels backed into a corner he snaps and he can be very much hurtful. And as much as you want to pretend you rationally know it better, you do get angry sometimes, you do feel hurt. And you do have fights.

But at latest when tempers are cooled again, you always get back around to talking it through and learning something from it. The two of you never go to bed angry with each other – that’s an unspoken agreement.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Astarion deeply is a creature of vanity. He cares about his looks almost as much as he cares about Tav. And it can annoying, but then again: he deserves to treat himself and he deserves all the swooning and pining and compliment you can give him – and you happily supply.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Let me cite a fic of mine and although Tav says it, Astarion feels very much the same:

“I love you so much, I would give up everything for you, if only it meant I could still be with you. I would burn this whole world down if it meant, I could keep you safe. I would walk with you to the end of the universe if it was what you needed to be happy. And if I ever where to leave this earthly world behind, I believe my soul would find you again – and again and again – because I’m half and only ever whole with you.”

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

It’s hard to say that he has no regrets. And surely Astarion would never want to go through all his trauma again, but yet… in the end he met you, didn’t he?

In the end he found you and you became his light.

Sometimes he thinks about that as you lay beside him dreaming. He softly moves a strand of hair out of your closed eyes and thanks whatever God has sent you his way

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Plainly, if they saw him in a way like probably everyone did for the past two centuries and if he felt used by them. But you’re you and would never do that.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He doesn’t know it but he tends to be a clinger when he’s in his dreamful trance. And maybe this is only a thing he developed since the two of you have been together, but he sometimes wakes you because in his sleep he pulls you to him so you’re left with nothing but snuggling up to him – becoming his life size teddy bear.

You’d never have it any other way!

(Also sorry for swinging between Tav/you - I'm just so used to 2nd person perspective while writing, oops)

#astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #fanfiction #baldur's gate iii #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #astarion x reader #astarion headcanon #astarion headcanons #sfw alphabet #thought this would be like a quick fun little thing #but I guess it's also almost 2k words and it took forever #was so much fun though!#poro headcanons

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joelscruff · 1 year

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(not a request, just wanted to share💗💗💗💗💗) I saw this on a prompt list “I wasn’t ready to say goodbye” and why is this so bfs dad joel and reader😢 my heart ughhhh

also yes to the glasses

words (boyfriend's dad!joel x f!reader) 18+

ik you said this wasn't a request, anon but this inspired me so much ;-; get ready for sadness. combining this with a request from @rrrrosie: Okay, boyfriends dad has been on my mind like crazy! Like I swear I’d just slip and tell him ‘I love you’. And he’d totally try and not say it back even if he wants to because he knows the situation they are in is so messed up. But omg he’s such a SAFE character. Idk Maybe this is a request?? Idk 😭

this fic is a direct sequel to "prove it". you can find the other fics in this series on my masterlist. and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip!

summary: you and joel are left reeling from your boyfriend's discovery. rating: 18+ explicit (minors, do not interact) warnings: daddy!kink, oral (m receiving), praise kink word count: 2.2k

it's been a week since you last saw your boyfriend, since that moment in his car where you'd suspected he knew what was going on between you and his dad. it's been one long week of anxiety, worry, sadness, and now - acceptance.

joel hasn't texted you since that night and you have no idea if something happened, if your boyfriend went home and confronted him. you figured it might take a few days for them to sort out their issues, but a week? a week with complete radio silence? it's so uncharacteristic for them to be so distant, especially your boyfriend who you thought would've come back to give you a piece of his mind.

you've now accepted that things have changed. what exactly that change is, you don't know, but you're desperate to find out. the distance from your boyfriend has been welcome, even a relief, but the distance from joel...your heart aches just thinking about it. you want him to hold you again and tell you everything will be okay.

so when you show up on their front porch on a sunday afternoon you're not sure what to expect. you ring the doorbell and wait, biting your lip and fidgeting while you wait to see who'll greet you.

you feel warmth flood your chest when joel opens it, a soft smile spreading on his face when he sees it's you; he looks tired, like he hasn't slept properly in a few days, "hi."

you don't say anything, just rush forward and wrap your arms around him tightly, feeling tears already stinging in your eyes. it's been a whole week without seeing him and the emotions you feel are almost too much, all the worry you'd felt bubbling to the surface again as you bury your face in his neck.

"shhh, it's okay," he whispers, rubbing your back soothingly, "i'm sorry."

"joel," you whimper into his jacket, shutting your eyes tight and letting a sob wrack through you, "daddy."

he seems to stiffen under your touch at the name, and when you pull back to look at him you're beyond confused to see that he seems uncomfortable, grimacing a bit as he pulls out of your embrace. you feel your mouth downturn into a frown, tears spilling down your face.

"you don't want me to call you that anymore," it's a statement, not a question. you can sense the truth of it in his body language, in the way he looks at you now like he's about to break some awful news to you, "this is over, isn't it?"

he exhales deeply at the question, "come inside," he says softly, tugging on your arm and urging you to follow him, "let's talk."

nothing good can come from this.

you walk down the hall slowly, joel leading you with your hand in his as you reach the staircase and begin to climb. you assess the house a bit, looking around for any sign of your boyfriend.

"he's not here," joel says quietly, "he doesn't live here anymore."

you're not sure what to make of that, eyes still scanning the house once you reach the upstairs hallway. you and joel head for his office, a path you've crossed many times before but never in such a state of dread. something bad is going to happen, you can feel it.

you enter his office and settle on the couch, crossing your arms and watching him shut the door behind you. he doesn't bother to lock it; if what he said is true, your boyfriend won't be interrupting you this time.

"why can't i call you daddy?" you ask immediately, voice firm and serious, trying not to let the tears still flowing down your face completely betray you.

he sighs, squeezes the bridge of his nose under his glasses and walks over to you. he nudges you, quietly asking you to make room for him to sit beside you.

"a lot has happened," he says softly, reaching out to take your hand and squeezing it gently, "i just...i need to talk to you like an adult."

it's only then that you realize he hasn't used a single one of your pet names when he's spoken to you. no baby, babygirl, angel, nothing. it's almost like he's being too formal, like this is some kind of business transaction and not a real conversation.

"what happened?" you breathe, tears still streaming down your face, "what did he do? does he know?"

he almost laughs at your questions but without any humor, shaking his head slowly and reaching into his back pocket to show you his phone, "he looked at our messages."

your blood runs cold; you and joel haven't texted that much but your messages are more than enough proof for your boyfriend to have realized what was going on.

"oh god," you murmur, "so he...he knows knows."

"he knows you call me daddy, yeah," he says quietly, voice slightly rough with anger, "he said i was a sick man."

"you're not," you say immediately, shaking your head and inching forward a bit more on the couch, "joel, you're not. i want it just as much as you do, you know that."

"i know," he closes his eyes then, takes a deep breath, "anyway, he said he couldn't look at me the same anymore. said it made him sick to his stomach. not just because it was with you, it was everything as a whole," his mouth twists and you can hear raw emotion in his voice, "he moved out, i don't know where he went. i just hope he's alright."

"i don't give a fuck about him," you reply coldly, "i could care less."

"you're not his father," joel replies, shaking his head, "he's hurting, i hurt him."

"by doing what? so i call you daddy, so fucking what?" you feel anger begin to burn in your stomach, "yeah i cheated on him but that's on me, not you. you didn't do anything."

he pulls back from you, releasing your hand and standing up to walk over to his desk. you watch as he settles in the chair across from you and tilts his head back to look at the ceiling.

"it's wrong," he says, voice breaking at the words, "i know it feels good but it's wrong and it has to stop."

you look at him with an expression of pure disbelief, brow furrowing in sadness and confusion. he looks over at you once, just once, and you see he's fighting back tears just saying the words.

"you don't mean that and we both know it," you whisper, shaking your head, "this is more than some silly game we play together, you know that."

he takes a breath, leans forward and puts his head in his hands, "don't say that," he murmurs, voice muffled.

"we care about each other," you continue, standing up and walking over to the chair where he sits, "joel, why the fuck do you think i call you daddy? really?"

he slowly pulls his face up from his hands to look at you, tears swimming in his eyes, "don't," he breathes, "please."

"you're the only person in my life who's ever truly taken care of me," you kneel down so you're at his level, reaching forward to take both his hands in yours, "yeah you fuck me, you use me when i ask you to, but you protect me. you hold me. you listen to me and you kiss me and you mean it." you drop his hands and slowly ease your palms over his thighs, squeezing gently, "i feel so safe when i'm with you, joel."

you hear the low rumble of a groan in his throat as he looks down at you on your knees, thumbing his thighs. "what are you doin'?"

"just let me take care of you," you whisper, tears drying on your face as you reach forward to pop the button on his jeans, "please, joel. just this once and then i'll leave."

you can see the protests burning behind his lips but he doesn't say any of them. he watches as you pull down his zipper and take his cock out, already half hard. he'd said last time that he was always turned on by just seeing you, hugging you; it hadn't been a lie.

"just feel it, don't think," you whisper, then carefully wrap your lips around the tip of his cock.

he hums immediately, jaw going slack as he watches you swallow him down, already growing harder in the wet heat of your mouth. you feel his hands in your hair, pulling you closer as you slowly bob up and down. it's different this time; he's not the man who protects you and always gives you what you want. he's just joel, your ex boyfriend's father who deserves a quiet moment of pleasure for himself.

he whispers your name; not a pet name, your actual name. it's rare for either of you to just be completely yourselves in a moment like this. there's always been the added sexy addition of the power dynamic, the words that separate you both from being on the same level. but that's not what this is.

"just like that," he whispers, "fuck, that feels good."

he's fully hard now, the head of his cock bumping against the back of your throat. you do your best not to gag, holding him there and swallowing around him as his hips buck gently. you reach up and thumb the v of his hips, still half hidden by his underwear. your eyes are hooded and hazy but you can see his soft belly and his happy trail, all the parts of him you love most.

you pull off to take a few breaths, drool spilling down your chin as you slowly stoke him, looking up at him with a soft smile as he peers down at you. you lean forward and press a kiss to the fat head, lap up his precome and revel in the way he moans.

"tell me when you're close," you breathe, then take his full length in your mouth again and start to bob up and down a bit faster, nails digging lightly into his skin.

he holds your hair firmly, helps you move back and forth on his dick as you give him what he needs, "i love your mouth so much," you hear him groan softly, shakily, "you're so fucking perfect."

tears sting your eyes but you're not sure if it's from your actions or his words. either way you feel your throat tighten around him and he groans again, low and deep.

"gonna come," he warns you softly.

you nod but don't remove yourself from him, just take him as deep as you can and hum around his length, urging him on. it only takes a few more bobs of your head before his hand is tightening in your hair and he's coming in your mouth.

"fuck," he groans out, trembling beneath you.

you wait until he's stopped coming to slowly pull yourself from his cock. he looks down at you, looking more tired and sleepy than he had when he'd first opened the door for you. without him asking you to, you open your mouth and show him the thick globs of his come pooling on your tongue.

"swallow." he whispers.

you do as you're told.

there's a few moments of silence as you carefully slip him back inside his pants and do him back up. his hand stays glued to the back of your head, thumb stroking you gently back and forth as he watches you. he looks exhausted, it makes your heart ache.

"i still want you," you breathe, squeezing his thighs through his jeans again soothingly, "i'll always want you, daddy."

"i know, babygirl," he breathes, barely a whisper, "but you need to give me some time. please."

your grip on his thighs loosen as you peer up at him. he's looking at you with an expression you've never seen before, truly pained and full of sadness. it hurts to look at.

you feel yourself nod slowly, "okay," you whisper, voice shaky, "if that's what you want."

he doesn't say anything else, just watches as you ease up from the floor and walk over to his office door, turning back to give him one last glance before you leave.

"i love you," you whisper, soft and sincere, "but you already know that."

you shut the door behind you and shuffle quietly down the stairs. part of you still expects to hear sound effects from some game coming from your boyfriend's room, but there's nothing. you take a quick peek inside on your way to the front door, eyes widening when you see that the whole room has been cleared out. his gaming set-up is gone, his clothes, even his bed.

the emptiness makes you understand why joel is hurting.

just as you reach the front door you suddenly hear footsteps coming from behind you. you turn, surprised to see joel appear on the stairs.

"joel?" you ask softly, confused.

he walks toward you and fully embraces you in a tight hug, holding you close to him in the way you love most. you hug him back immediately without any hesitation, squeezing his body and making sure he feels just as safe and protected as you do.

"i wasn't ready to say goodbye," he whispers, still holding you tight.

you let him hold you for as long as he needs.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #*#fic: bd!joel #cat's asks

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slutforleeminho · 4 months

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HI HI HI 😋

your work is so amazing, you're such a good writer! i have no idea if your taking requests, but if you could maybe find time... could you write part two of 'the other woman' please?

it was so well written, and i love some good angst with an even better plot 🫶🏽

also another 'no idea' but if you do anons... could i be 🍧 anon?

tyyy and ofc you can be 🍧 anon

The Other Woman • Hwang Hyunjin

ft. lee felix

THIS IS A PART TWO TO THIS - CANT BE READ AS A STAND ALONE

"Nice to meet you, Felix."

"Felix stop it!" Your chest was hurting from the force of your laughing. His fingers dug into your sides, causing your body to automatically jolt from the ticklish feeling. "Seriously lix I'm actually going to pee myself if you don't stop." you barely got the words out through your continuous giggling. only then did he cease his antics and let you breath.

"Eww don't do that. I don't want to have to wash the sheets again." he shifted his body until he was facing you, lying on his side with his arm supporting his head. "That would be the third time this week."

You could hear the smugness in his voice without even looking at him, but when you did, what did you see? a big toothy grin plasterd across his beautiful face. "Shut up." you playfully nudged his shoulder. But the drama queen in him came out as he gripped the place that you hit him with both of his hands in pain, as if you had just shot him.

"Ah, what the hell. are you trying to chop my arm off?"

"Oh, shut up you big baby." you wrapped your arms around his torso and pulled him closer until his nose was basically touching yours. His big brown eyes were staring deep into your soul, expectantly.

"Only if you kiss it better." He whispered against your lips, the warmth of his breath against your skin made you shiver. he had a way of making you feel so safe and protected from the world, like nothing could touch you as long as you had him. He leaned even closer in attempt to connect his lips with yours, but the harsh sound of your phone ringing startled you both out of the little bubble you created. You both huffed a breath of annoyance in unison. "It's him again, isn't it?" felix rolled over on his back. it was more of a statement than it was a question.

You grabbed your phone off of the nightstand just to see that there was no caller id so yes it indeed was him.

After Hyunjin walked out on you, you cried and cried and then cried some more, then after that you blocked his number, along with all his other social media accounts. You thought that would be the end.

You were wrong.

The phone calls from unknown numbers started a couple of days after you met Felix. Only once every few days, you never answered of course, you knew as soon as you heard his voice, you'd be right back in the place you're trying so hard to crawl out of. Then you started getting comments on all of your old Instagram posts:

"I miss you."

"Pick up the phone."

"Baby, please I love you."

"I can't stop thinking about you."

Seeing that made you both angry and hurt. How could he even say that? You gave that man everything you had while he was only giving you a few days a week. You made sure not to dwell on it for too long, deleting the comments and blocking those accounts.

Then the calls came more frequently, mostly late at night when he was probably alone and horny.

Once you and Felix made your relationship official, you came clean about everything. The affair, the phone calls, the comments, you wanted no secrets between you two, nothing to get in the middle of something that has the potential to grow and become something beautiful. He was shocked but he tried his best to understand and made sure to tell you how proud he was of you for being strong enough to be the one to end things.

"I'm going to kill that guy if I ever see him." Felix said before standing up from the bed.

"Where are you going?" You rushed to say, the worry in your voice was too thick to hide. The anxiety that he'd get sick of you constantly being interrupted by your ex haunted you, and he knew it.

He smiled and walked over to your side of the bed. "To make us some breakfast, I know how hungry you are in the mornings." he leaned down and pressed a kiss on the tip of your nose. "Don't worry, okay? Nothing can stop me from loving you."

The past six months have felt like a vivid dream, you started working for a very famous clothing designer - as an assistant but it was something - and you loved every second of it, you had basically ripped your apartment apart and replaced everything in it and made it your dream home. But the best part was the person who was by your side the entire time, Lee Felix. Of course, you started out as friends but you both knew it wouldn't stay that way for long.

You had a perfect schedule: date nights on Monday, sleepover at his place on Wednesdays, and movie night at your place on Saturdays, where he'd spend the night and leave Sunday morning after brunch. You both agreed not to spend every day together because you're still healing from your past relationships and Felix has never been in a serious relationship. But of course, if one or the other got a text saying they missed the other, it only took about ten minutes before there was a knock at their door.

But today is Saturday and you haven't seen him since Tuesday morning since he had to work late on Wednesday. To say you were excited was an understatement, you were practically pacing around the kitchen waiting for him to get here, until he finally appeared on the other side of the island. "That spare key you gave me comes in handy."

"Felix!" you squealed and quickly made your way around the bar and wrapped your arms around his neck. "You took way too long to get here."

"It's ten a.m., did you want me here before daylight?" he was teasing you, but his hands caressed down your back to pull you closer against him. He missed you too.

"I expected nothing less."

"Why did you pick a sad movie?" you sobbed behind your hands.

"Baby, it wasn't that sad." he tried to argue but you saw him wipe away that stray tear right before the movie ended. He thought he was sneaky.

"Tell that to the girl whose best friend just died." you gestured to the tv. Another cry coming from your lips.

"Aww baby stop before you make me cry." he grabbed your shoulders and pulled you down on his chest, and combing his fingers through your hair. "Hey," he tilted your head up until you were nose to nose with him, the tears immediately stopped. "it's okay, honey it's all fake."

ring. ring. ring.

"Ughh," you pushed yourself up and grabbed your phone. "It's like he fucking knows!" you put it on Do Not Disturb and shut it off completely. You were pissed now. "I don't know what to do Felix." You plopped back on the couch and he pulled you back to him once again.

"it's okay, love. We'll figure something out, I promise." there wasn't a trace of hurt or annoyance in his eyes, just genuine concern for you. This time when you leaned forward your lips met his and it felt like ages since you were this close to him. He pulled you closer to deepen the kiss, as one hand moved to cup the side of your face.

"Y/N?"

At first you thought you were hallucinating from all the stress, until Felix jerked away from you and stood, dragging you up with him and stepping in front of you to shield you from the intruder.

"Who the hell are you and how did you get in here?" Felix yelled.

Hyunjin looked between you and Felix, confusion all over his face. "Y/N, baby who is this?"

Oh, hell no. You grabbed Felixs hand and squeezed it reassuringly before stepping out from behind him. He was hesitant on letting you any closer to this random man until you said: "He's my boyfriend, Hyunjin." Oh.... Its Hyunjin. Your ex boyfriend.

"How did you get in here?"

He held up the spare key you had forgotten you'd given him while ya’ll were together. You snatched it from his hand before he could pull away. "Why the fuck are you in my apartment?"

"I-" his eyes started to water. "You're with someone else?"

You turned to look at Felix, his jaw was clenched as he watched Hyunjins very move. "Yes. Now leave."

"But I- I thought you loved me," his voice broke. "And I still love you. Y/N, I left her. I left her so we could be together." He said that with a smile as if that would change your mind. No, it made you want to vomit.

"Good, she deserves better. And so do I."

He nodded his head, processing what you just said. You could physically see his hurt turning into anger. "So," he looked straight into your eyes. "Did you tell your little boy toy over there what we did on that couch that you were kissing him on? Hmm? How much you loved it when I leaned you over it and I fucked you till you were begging for m-" He was cut off by you harshly slapping him across the face, the force making him stumble back a bit. In the corner of your eye you saw Felix launch forward just in case hyunjin decided to replicate your violent energy.

"How dare you come into my home and degrade me like this, let alone Infront of someone I care about! I did love you, Hyunjin, but not anymore. And you never loved me. You may know my favorite designer brand or what I like in bed but that's all you know. You don't know what my favorite color is or my dream job, so you definitely don't know who I want. So let me tell you. It's. Not. You. And it never will be. It'll always be me. I am who I want to be happy, and nobody else can make that happen." you stopped to take a deep breath to calm down and hyunjin took that as his que to speak.

"I should've never left her for you, all you are is a cheap slut." This time the smack you heard didn't come from you. It was Felix lunging forward and punching him in the face. A loud crack came from the impact, and you couldn't tell if it was Hyunjins nose or Felix's hand. But judging from the blood gushing from Hyunjins nose, it was definitely broken. Hyunjin stumbled to the floor while holding a hand over his bleeding nose.

"Felix stop!" you grabbed him by the arm and pulled him off of hyunjin. "You," you pointed at hyunjin and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and yanked him up and towards the door. "Out!" Opening it you pushed him out, slamming it in his face, but not before getting in the last word. "Nice going hyunjin, you just earned yourself a restraining order."

Once the door was closed the reality I what just happened came crashing down on you like a bag of bricks. you pressed your back against the door and slid down it and let all the emotions show themselves. “Felix, i’m so sorry.” you sobbed into you hand. you couldn’t even imagine how he felt right now, but still he came to you and took you in his arms as you cried.

“it’s okay, love, you did the right thing. Don’t worry, ok? i’m here, i’ve got you.”

I feel like every time i post I’m apologizing for not being active, but i had a good reason this time😭

@caitlyn98s @bangchansbae @fawnpeaks @yumiblogs @katsukiswife @seung-mine @sungprotector @soephiphanymain @minnieslover@kjr-army @gingerblade @ebbaskz @nqvgue @sl6gszn @erisuna @jenniferzipsblog @broken-glowsticks @superiorbrownskinn @skzstaykatsy @laexoticlunatic @vrslvts1

not all of y’all are on my taglist but were some of the people asking for a part two so i hope you don’t mind, just wanted to make sure you saw it☺️

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