#okay i finally clean out my folders

[genshingif]

Wanderer | A Parade of Providence

#wanderer #genshinet #genshinedit #genshin impact #geshin #mygifs #okay i finally clean out my folders #gonna try to see if i have time to gif the event #wanderergif

[yuwuta]

PEOPLE TOLD ME ABOUT THE FLAMES, I COULDN’T SEE THROUGH THE SMOKE — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

cw some kind of college au/boarding school au? this used to be for rodeo station and now just... exists on its own, friends to lovers, megumi has toji and satoru as father figures so are we surprised that he’s a bully and doesn’t really grow out of that phase… anyway, apologies to muta and miwa, 1.3k words

Nobara makes a poor effort to stifle her laughter as Kokichi stomps up to stand in front of you, hair and clothes drenched in chocolate milk, shoes sloshing with each step, and the bandage on the side of his cheek peeling from the wetness.

When you look up at him, you’re unimpressed, and unsurprised, so you resume annotating your lecture notes as if you weren’t interrupted. If Kokichi wanted to stand in a puddle of dripping milk, then so be it—you should have finished your notes yesterday, and you couldn’t get through your other tasks without catching up first.

“Look, I already said I was sorry. I shouldn’t have kept bothering you for your number when you’d already said no,” Kokichi starts, wiping dripping milk from his chin, “Now, will you please call off your guard dog.”

You don’t reply immediately, focused on finishing the last paragraph of the page, much to Kokichi’s dismay, and Nobara’s amusement. He huffs at your silence, frustrated and humiliated, but there’s nothing for him to say or do until you respond. Maybe that’s something he should have considered when he kept trying to talk to you in class. Still, even now, you’re not ignoring Kokichi to embarrass him or string him along; you just want to finish your godforsaken anthropology homework.

“You seem to be under the impression that I can make Megumi start or stop doing anything,” you sigh, put your highlighter down, and tiredly look up at Kokichi, “But I regret to inform you that you’re wrong.”

Kokichi’s nose scrunches in disbelief, an angered hand coming to wave in front of his face, but his dripping clothes result in splashes to his face—and further laughter from Nobara. He sighs out of frustration, trying to put away his pride, but Nobara’s giggling and your nonchalant attitude are really making it difficult for him to take this in stride.

“Okay, you’re fucking with me—and I deserve it, alright? But, Todo already gave me a fucking lecture, Mai won’t look at me, and Megumi is going to rip and stain every single shirt I own at this point.” 

“That sounds like your problem,” Nobara snickers, rolling her eyes when Kokichi gives her a glare. 

“I'd love to help, Muta, but this is out of my control,” you loll, capping your marker, “Maybe try apologizing to Megumi instead of dripping chocolate milk over notes and shoes.”

“Eh? The hell am I apologizing to him for?” 

“You’re the one who pissed him off—how should I know?” you sigh, sliding your pens and markers into your bag, and closing your folder. 

Nobara pipes in to taunt, “You’d better figure it out soon, though. I hear they’re serving spaghetti tomorrow, and that definitely stains.” 

You swear you hear Kokichi growl, but it only makes Nobara laugh harder. The two of them together is a bad combination—Kokichi is easily aggravated, and Nobara easily aggravates. You’re certain that if Megumi weren’t already on his ass, Nobara would have stepped in to bully him just for the fun of it.

Still, you’d rather not have to testify on either of their behalf, so you bid Kokichi a goodbye, offering him your best advice about cleaning milk stains out of white shirts, and drag Nobara by the arm before she can make another quick quip to finally make him snap. 

She’s still laughing at Kokichi’s expense all the way back to your dorm, “As much as I like seeing Megumi pummel Muta, he’s definitely gonna get written up, at the very least, if he keeps it up. Just tell him you’re not mad about it anymore, and he’ll piss off.” 

You stuff your hands into your pockets, “I don’t control megumi. I didn’t tell him to egg Muta’s car, and pour milk all over him. ” 

“Like hell you don’t,” Nobara scoffs, “Kokichi was right about one thing—Megumi’s a doberman on a leash and you’re his owner.” 

“I didn’t even tell him that Kokichi kept asking for my number. I’m pretty sure Todo told Yuuji, and Yuuji told Megumi.”

“Yeah, that’s almost worse,” Nobara huffs, “He’s just moved to protect you out of undying loyalty—it must be nice to have a knight in shining armor. Does he call you ‘my liege,’ when you’re alone? He might as well bow down and kiss your shoes with the way he worships the ground you walk on.”

You know Nobara is teasing. The rhetoric that you have influence on Megumi isn’t new to you, but it’s always confusing for you to hear. You’ve known Megumi since grade school, and one thing you’re certain of is that he does things of his own conviction, and when he’s decided something, there’s little anybody can do to convince him otherwise. He’s the true definition of steadfast, and sometimes you wonder if his beliefs have inadvertently made him gain masochistic tendencies, because you’ve seen Megumi suffer in pain just to prove a point. 

“Megumi’s his own person, and he’s not easily influenced,” you chuckle, “If anything, he’s more of an attack dog—he bites whenever he sees something he doesn’t like.”

“In any case, he’s your dog,” Nobara shrugs. She pauses for a moment, skipping to catch up to you with a scrunch to her face, “I change my mind though, he’s definitely not scary enough to be a doberman. What are the puffy ones—the really small ones that yap a bunch?” 

“Pomeranians?”

She lights up—“Yeah, that’s way more fitting! Plus, he’s got spiky hair like those little mutts, a really bratty, spoiled one too. Gojo probably kept him in his Birkin as a kid.” 

You giggle as Nobara searches for an image to compare to one of Megumi. She goes as far as to make a collage and send it in your group chat for approval, instantly getting a rave reaction from Yuuji, and predictably, no response from Megumi.

Nobara walks you back halfway to your dorm, leaving you on your own to head to the gym to meet up with Yuuji. When you get back to your room, you’re not surprised to already see Megumi inside, sitting snugly on your worn-in couch with a book in hand. It’s Wednesday, so he only had morning classes, and prefers to spend his afternoon studying in solace, usually taking advantage of your larger, empty room to get his work done. He gives you a small wave, enraptured in his reading, and you know better than to try and disturb him, so you take your place on the opposite side of the couch with the remainder of your notes in hand, finally having the peace and quiet to finish your annotations. 

Megumi finishes his chapter before you’re done, but he waits for you, quietly scrolling on his phone so as not to interrupt you. You don’t face him when you speak, keeping your eyes on your notes, and simply stating, “Kokichi apologized.”

You hear him hum. you know he’s looking at you, but you don’t meet his gaze, and do your best to bite back a smile before he asks, “You forgive him?”

You finish your annotations with a final asterisk at the bottom of your page, so you cap the marker, and finally turn to face Megumi. He doesn’t ask a second time, even as you silently observe him, even if your smile is confusing to him.

“I wasn’t ever really upset,” you explain, “It was annoying, but he wasn’t harassing me or anything.” 

He hums again, but it’s not agreeing. “Tsumiki is gonna get mad if you get suspended.” 

Megumi calls your bluff with his hum this time, and you sigh. Tsumiki won’t get mad, because Megumi would never get suspended, not as long as Gojo is around as headmaster.

Megumi turns his body inward, raising an arm to rest his elbow against the cushion of the couch. He lolls his head to rest against his palm, cheek squished, and almost mischievous glimmer in his eye. In this light, you see Nobara’s argument—with sleep-tousled hair and expectant eyes, Megumi looks an awful lot like a puppy waiting for a command. 

It’s cute, until you realize that Megumi is awaiting your command. Is he?—why would he, he’s never been known to listen, and yet, you’re tempted to see if you truly do have him on some proverbial leash, like everyone else seems to believe.

“Megumi,” you call, softly, “He’s learned his lesson, and I’m fine, alright? Leave him alone.”  

Megumi blinks slowly. His features soften, only for a moment, before he’s turned away from you to pick up his book again. He doesn’t respond verbally, doesn’t touch on the topic for the rest of the evening that you both spend studying in your room, but the following day, you walk past Kokichi and Miwa heading into their chemistry lab, and notice a distinct lack of milk or food residue on his clothing or in his hair, so there isn’t anything more to be said.

Megumi is waiting outside of your lecture hall after your last class of the day, offering you a carton of strawberry milk—unopened, and un-thrown. You accept it, reaching up to ruffle his hair as a thank you, and you’re surprised when you feel him move into your touch. He dips his head down a bit further, gently knocking it against yours before straightening up with a sly smile. He nods his head, wordlessly, and turns towards your dorm, ready to walk you back. 

You follow, dazed, as you stab the straw into your milk. You’re a half-step behind Megumi, head clouded with confusing new daydreams about the boy in front of you, and now you can’t help but to wonder if you’re the one left to follow Megumi’s whim, or if he’s just pulling you by his own leash. 

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen smut #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader #megumi smut #megumi fluff #jjk imagines #jjk scenarios #gojo x reader #toji x reader #toji smut #jjk fake texts #jjk smau

[90sbee]

Dying is not an option (when you're by my side)

Leon S. Kennedy x Gn!reader

1k words. Also on a03

Soft fingers caress his lips, keep his body warm, his belly full and his back massaged.

“I’ll always have a home,” Leon finally manages to get out, a complete sentence, voice without hesitation.

He closes his eyes, kisses the skin of your shoulder.

Hell, he is trying.

When his mind seems to get too clouded by the visions of monsters, you pull him out of the depths of his trauma. He does his best to love you. He tries.

Or the fic in which you make Leon repeat comforting phrases so it finally gets in his head that he is loved.

Just a very soft idea that wouldn't leave my head and that's been too long in the wip folder. The warnings make it seem worse than it is, but happy ending I promise!!! Had re4r in mind for this one but can be read with other older versions of him. (Though the older the Leon, the angstier it gets lmao)

Content: No use of y/n, very very soft love, hurt/comfort, some angst, established relationship, living together, sitting on his lap, a tiny bit of possessive Leon (yay!)

Warnings: +18 ONLY. No smut but some suggestive lines. Mentions of blood, suicide, guns and overall (some brief) gore. Leon's mental struggles (depression, anxiety). I'm not a native English speaker but I (lazily) proofread and edited this one.

You lean forward, just a little closer to his body. Leon groans, his face unreadable still.

“Don’t want to,” he muses, kind of annoyed at your proposal.

“Just trust me.”

He reluctantly nods, as you get comfortable on his lap. His firm thighs under you, the warmest and comfiest seat you could ever ask for.

You worry about him, worry so much.

You know now: know what he does, what he works as. At first it was hard to believe it, the stories about human turned monsters, about creatures that linger between heaven and hell. But you had to believe him, you were forced to the first time Leon crumbled down in your arms, sobbing the entirety of the night, the immensity of his body reduced to shivering and tears.

“I love you,” you had told him that time. “I’m not letting you go. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

You whisper the same things again now, your voice reverberating close to his ear. Leon eases the grip on your hips, replaces it with a soft touch. He tries to calm down, closes his eyes for a moment too long.

“You love me,” he seems to ask, as if trying to convince himself of it, as if trying to find himself worthy of such a feeling from someone like you.

“I do,” you confirm, cupping his cheeks.

He nods, though his heart is thumping in his chest still. Your hands move to his shoulders, then to his arms, caressing the skin with soft strokes.

“I love you… Look at me.”

He obliges, eyes like the ocean, marked by the heavy and dark eyebags.

It breaks your heart to see him like this. Your lip trembles as you lean closer, shortening the distance.

It is entirely possible —as you’re so much aware of— that one day you’ll come home to an unlocked gun and his body in the bathtub. Or maybe it would be the rifle, the carpet stained with blood and pieces of what used to be his jaw.

A jaw that you love so much, that you kiss now.

Leon sighs, seems content with such affection, his hands getting lost down your thighs.

“Listen to me. You’re gonna repeat as I say, okay?” an attempt to get him out of his head, to remind him of who he is.

“ …‘Kay,” he mumbles, seemingly distracted.

“I’m… good.”

He scrunches his nose, pinkish lips downturned. Naturally, he doesn’t dare to say those words. He doesn’t want to trick his brain.

“C’mon,” you egg him, patting his shoulder gently.

The action seems to at least make his lips curve slightly.

“I’m good,” he whispers, his voice insecure.

He tries. You can see how hard he does it: coming home as much possible, the dirty laundry now clean and with a soft cinnamon scent. A sunflower in the kitchen vase next to the window, the coffee mug always clean even when you leave it in the sink, ready to be washed in the morning.

“I’m a good partner,” you resume, reminiscing.

That does stops him in his tracks, a gentle blush rooting on his cheeks, the smile more pronounced now. Leon presses his face against your neck.

“… Do I really have to say it?”

“Yep.”

He breathes on your neck, as if trying to take in a bit of your kindness, a bit of your peace. He closes his eyes, tries to control his breathing. But his hands grip your hips harder.

He fucking loves you.

Leon is not sure he deserves this yet, the warm body on the bed, the pretty smile that kisses him goodbye, lets him go away even in the middle of the night.

“I love you,” he backtracks, pressing a kiss on your neck.

You chuckle, and allow him that admission.

“Very cute but that’s not what you had to repeat.”

Leon raises his eyebrows, feigning annoyance. He keeps his fingers on your hips, dancing on your skin, drawing patterns as he keeps you close. He wishes he could sign his name there, mark you forever so you’d never get too far away from him… So he’d always have a right to come back to you.

“But I love you…” he pouts.

You grab his face with utmost care, force his cheeks to look upwards at your face.

“I love you too. Lots.”

You kiss his forehead. His body melts under that touch.

“ ‘m a good partner” he mumbles, quickly.

“My baby loves me.”

Now Leon chuckles.

“My baby loves me,” he hides again on your neck, his smile etched constantly on his face now. You hug him closer, kiss his forehead once more, as if sheltering a lost angel in your arms.

“I’ll always have a home.”

Oh, that one seems to break him a little. Leon immediately whines, his hands gripping your body with ferocity against his. He can’t say… He shouldn’t. He… he can’t and…

His heart starts beating faster and he gulps.

“You can do it…” you encourage him and he wants to try. He knows, deep inside, that is true and that he is now safe. It takes him several minutes until his anxiety dissipates and he can look up at you, your eyes encapsulating warmth that he had never experienced with anyone else.

Soft fingers caress his lips, keep his body warm, his belly full and his back massaged.

“I’ll always have a home,” Leon finally manages to get out, a complete sentence, voice without hesitation.

He closes his eyes, kisses the skin of your shoulder.

Hell, he is trying. It is seen not only in how much he makes time for you, but also in the way he follows along with your little silly ideas, suggestions to try to build himself up again.

And though he wouldn’t directly admit it, since you two are together he has promised himself to fight his hardest in every mission. He spits his own blood, wipes off the exhaustion from his face and keeps pushing forward. Because, he’ll be damned, he wants to see you once more. And once more. And again and again… And when he comes home, to you, Leon immediately checks —for the tenth time— the safety on each gun and leaves them in locked boxes, his fingers slowly forgetting what it’s like to toy with weapons in the sanctuary that you’ve built for the two of you. The cold of the metal is now replaced by the warmth between your thighs, the flesh on your hips, the softness of your hands.

Hell, he is definitely trying.

And it’s fucking working.

God to be on his lap honestly!!! A dream. And if you've made it to the end, thank you!! Mwah, sweet soul 💙

#x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s. kennedy x reader #leon s. kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy hurt/comfort #writer bee #mine #gn!reader #mdni divider by #@/cafekitsune #divider and support banner by #@/saradika

[psychedelic-ink]

𝑨𝑸𝑼𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑪 𝑹𝑬𝑯𝑨𝑩𝑰𝑳𝑰𝑻𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni, no outbreak au, strangers to lovers

word count: 7.2k

summary: Joel has been experiencing knee pain for the past two months. When he finally sees an orthopedist, he learns that he has some minor damage to his meniscus. The doctor prescribes him anti-inflammatory medication and physical therapy, recommending swimming. At the pool, he meets you.

warnings: conversation about past failed relationships + sexual relationships, sarah's off at college, reader being briefly self conscious about her body, touch starved joel, oral (giving), both reader and joel not being intimate with anyone for a while, piv sex, riding for the first time, ass play, messy, joel showing small signs of relationship anxiety, sexual tension, size kink, dirty talk, joel is mentioned to be older than reader but how old isn't specified, praise kink, joel being...well-endowed

a/n: this ended up being more emotional and longer than I intended lmaodfbvfg whoops?

Joel worries his bottom lip between his teeth. His right knee bobs nervously, his jeans making a sound every time. The early morning sun filters through the small window. A soft yellow light bounces off the picture frames on the orthopedist's desk. She’s not here yet. The kind nurse had let him in early, saying she would be there shortly. It smells like medicine. It’s too clean and he doesn’t like it. 

His stomach turns. Some part of him actually hopes the doctor doesn’t come in. Joel’s not hopeful about the results. His knees have been bugging him for the past two months. Locking painfully whenever he sat too long and got up. Or when he was sitting in the truck for too long. It just started to ache out of nowhere. It had gotten worse. He’d give in, finally, after Sarah practically begged him on the phone to see a doctor. After all this time he still couldn’t say no to his sweet girl. 

The door opens with a click. Joel becomes stiff, eyes nervously following the woman. She takes a seat. Placing the folder neatly on the shiny table, she opens it and smooths it out with the flat of her palms. 

“Good morning, Mister Miller.” she says, not bothering to look at him. “I've taken a look at your knee x-rays and it seems that you have a bit of damage in your meniscus.”

His molars catch the smooth inside of his cheek and sink into it. She just said a whole lot that he doesn’t understand. He shakes his head. She’s finally looking at him, sharp eyes peering between thinned lashes. 

“Is it serious? What does that mean?” he asks, hands finding the curve of his knees. 

“Well, the good news is that it's not a major injury. There’s just a bit of damage in the tissues and can be treated with some medication and physical therapy. You won’t need surgery unless it escalates. Which, hopefully, it won’t.”

“Okay, that's good to hear. What kind of medication and therapy do I need?”

“I'm going to prescribe you some anti-inflammatory medication to help reduce the swelling and pain in your knee. And as for physical therapy, I'd recommend you try swimming. It's a low-impact exercise that can help strengthen the muscles around your knee and promote healing. I also have some stretches I want to show you. I want you to do them daily.” 

She closes the folder, picks up a deck of Post-it notes, and starts scribbling something. 

“You were a contractor, right? I’m going to need you to refrain from heavy lifting for a while. No jumping, no running, no extreme movements that can affect your knee. Some walking is fine, but not a lot.” 

“Well,” he smacks his lips. Now relaxed, he leans back into the chair and crosses his arms. “There goes my weekend plans.” 

“Do you work out a lot? Because this is quite common in athletes.” 

“Uh…It was a joke.” 

“Oh.” 

Suddenly he’s fidgety again. Not wanting to look dumb, he explains. “Because you said jumpin’ and runnin’ and no one spends their weekend jumpin’ do they?” 

A nervous laughter bubbles in his throat, and he manages to swallow it down. She nods and peels the paper away. Handing it to Joel, she looks at him with a small smile. 

“Sorry about that, it’s still early. And you’re right. They don’t. 

You step into the small shower cabin and allow the cold water to trace over your skin and wash away the outside. The elastic of your swimming cap digs into your forehead, the goggles applying pressure right above your head. Slightly irritated, you sneak two fingers under where the plastic starts, allowing your head to breathe one last time before taking a dip in the pool. You come here almost every day. It’s relaxing, soothing. 

Your fingers slip as you twist the knob, turning off the spray of water. You might be biased due to your childhood, but you love the pool. You love the chlorine that fills your lungs with every breath. It’s sharp and pungent, leaving a slight burn in your lungs. During summers your parents would send you off to summer camp, which you thoroughly enjoyed. Though, calling it a “camp” felt wrong. It wasn’t outdoors, and you would return after the day ended, just like regular school, but instead of math, there was swimming and basketball. 

You remember those days fondly, which is why you sigh blissfully at the scent whereas a lot of people would wrinkle their noses. 

Walking to the pool, you roll your shoulders. You wince upon hearing them crack. It’s been a long week. Your gaze lifts to the ceiling. The soft pitter patters of rain echoes. You love to swim when it rains. It also meant there would be fewer people, and no children. You don’t have anything against the tiny humans, but they had a habit of being loud. 

You spot an older couple, their bodies swaying in a lazy backstroke, their voices spilling out in laughter. You also notice one other person that’s aggressively swimming back and forth. In one lane, you notice a man. His cap and black goggles make it hard to catch a glimpse of his face. It’s hardly inappropriate, but you can’t resist stealing a few more glances at him. 

You take in his broad shoulders, thick neck, and shapely arms. You narrow your eyes. You catch a glimpse of his salt and pepper beard, the darker hue of his mustache hinting at the  color of his hair. Your eyes drop to his hands, hidden in the water up to the knuckles. He clenches them into fists before releasing them.

Your curiosity piques. You’ve never seen him before, he looks lost. He’s standing above the built-in stairs which are mainly used for people who are just learning to swim. He takes another step lower. The light blue water splashes over his soft stomach and he jerks away. You instinctively smile. You usually don’t reach out to people. If they smile at you, you smile back or talk about the weather. But the stranger’s nervous energy prompts you to take a couple of steps closer—close enough that he can hear you. You take a deep breath, pressing your nails into your palms, you push down the thoughts about your own appearance. No one really looks that good in a one piece. You feel exposed, which is why you usually dip into the water as fast as you can before anyone can get a good look. 

“Hi there,” you squeak, with an awkward lift of your hand. The man stiffens and turns. Your own image is reflected back at you thanks to the goggles he wears. “Sorry to bother you, I was just…wondering if you need help?” 

He stares at you in silence for a brief moment, his brows drawn together with confusion. But a moment later he relaxes, his shoulders drop and he playfully shakes his head. 

Finally, he removes the goggles, and you see his eyes— his gorgeous, big brown eyes. Your breath catches in your throat. You’re suddenly feeling very clammy and sweaty. 

“Is it that obvious?” he asks, a grin teasing at his lips. “My doctor said I need to start swimmin’ before my knees give out entirely.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” 

He waves his hand in dismissal, “Don’t be. It's nothin’ that serious, just small damage to my meniscus. I know how to swim, so it’s nothin’ like that but I guess my nerves are fried from worryin’ all weak about the results. My brain still ain’t convinced that everythin’ is fine.” 

God, he’s gorgeous. All you can do is focus on the movement of his lips. Him speaking is enough to fluster you. You need to get it together before he thinks you’re a creep. You part your lips, but the words die in your throat as you watch him. He starts climbing the steps one by one with an extended hand. The water cascades down his body, his trunks sticking to his thighs. In a fit of panic, you glue your eyes to his. 

“I’m Joel by the way.” he takes your hand and gives it two firm shakes. You introduce yourself but all you can hear is your own frantic heartbeat. 

“I’m glad it’s nothing serious,” you blurt out. You have no idea what to say or what you’re doing. “If you’re nervous we can do a couple of laps together if you want—if you’re comfortable with that, of course.” 

You swear your heart stops when his eyes flit across your face, assessing how serious you are. His smile never fades. You inhale sharply when his tongue darts out from between his lips, sweeping over his damp bottom lip.

“I bet you say that to all the older guys.” 

“Only the cute ones.” 

Clearly, the circuits between your brain and mouth are heavily damaged because there’s no way on god’s green earth did you just say that. You blink fast. Images of you choking out another you vivid in your mind. You’re insane—only the ones that are cute, who even says that? No more romantic comedies for you. 

Joel pushes his shoulders back. He exhales a deep breath, his chest heaving. 

“Well, ain’t that kind of you.” he takes a step back into the water, some part of you regrets not sneaking at least one more glance at his nethers. “I guess I should take you up on your offer. It’s only polite.” 

A nervous bubble of laughter escapes your throat. You don’t say anything and follow him into the pool. You’re glad to be finally submerging your body in water. Ever since you were little you would believe that water had magical healing properties. You would go into the water, thinking that someone it would speak to you. Despite being an adult, you still think that sometimes. It just makes life a little bit more fun. You know it’s stupid to think of chloric water having any kind of benefit to your body, however, it’s hard to break old thought patterns. 

Joel dips head first, and after watching his distorted silhouette underwater, you follow. You smile, bubbles coming from your nose. Your spine cracks as your body becomes more fluid. You turn around so you are facing upwards. Light bounces on top of the small waves. The ceiling is nothing but a blur of white and blue. Some part of you wishes this was an open pool so you could feel the vibrations of raindrops hitting the waterline. 

Turning again, you notice Joel moving up. His head pops above water. You take one last glance at his body before propelling yourself up, joining him. 

Your eyes follow the way waterdrops smooths a line down from his neck to his shoulder. Your mouth goes dry. 

“So,” you say. “Did your doctor give you any specific exercises?” 

He shakes his head, “She just told me to go swimmin’. And not to put pressure on my knees.” 

You think for a bit before answering, “Alright then. We’ll just take it slow, so a couple of laps first, take small breaks in between.” 

“You…really don’t have to, you know,” Joel looks almost guilty before his eyes move away from yours. Confused, you raise an eyebrow. 

“I don’t have to what?” 

“Swim with me.” 

You feel your heart shattering into tiny pieces of glass that stick to your lungs. His voice is barely above a whisper, cracking at the end of his sentence. Your body moves towards his by instinct. The most natural thing would be to place your hand on his cheek and pull him for a tender kiss. Your body singing at you to do it. And man, you’re tempted alright. You want to trace the seam of his lips with your tongue, taste the chlorine on his lips. 

You ball your hands into tight fists, thankful to be hidden underwater. You recognize the loneliness that maps across his handsome countenance. 

“I know I don’t have to,” you say instead. He looks back at you with surprise, eyes immediately dropping to your wet lips. “I want to.” 

He lets out a breath of relief, and nods, a smile gracing his lips. “A’right then. As long as I’m not keepin’ you from anythin’.” 

The swimming had gone well. Joel definitely had the body and stamina for it, and the more laps he did, the more confident he became with his strokes. You found yourself staring at him openly, stealing glances before you dipped below the water, hiding your embarrassment. 

However, he was still a beginner, and he’s knees began to ache after the tenth lap. He insisted that you continue without him as he sat at the side of the pool. You were hesitant at first but agreed, however, your cheeks burned from the mere prospect of that man watching you swim. 

When you’re done, you catch him staring at you with a fond smile lingering on his lips. You imagine that’s the same look he’d give you with the first rays of sunlight after a rather passionate night. 

Your pussy bottoms out, heat spreading between your legs. You inhale sharply, accidentally snorting a bit of water. It burns and your eyes water, but you manage to swallow down the frantic coughs that threaten to rip from your throat. 

“Sweet little mermaid.” he mutters as you approach, eyes following you with greed. Your breath hitches, and Joel loses his grounding for a moment. He clears his throat and looks away. “You swim well.” 

“Thanks,” you answer. “You’re not so bad yourself.” 

You ignore the heat that emanates from his thigh, your arms accidentally brushing against the hard muscle. You clumsily push yourself out of the pool and take a seat next to him. 

“How’re your knees feeling?” you ask. 

He lets out a hum, stretching his legs underwater. “They’re fine. Hopefully, this works.” 

“I’m sure it will.” 

"Even if it doesn't work out, at least I won't be going home empty-handed," he says with a smile. Your eyes flick to him and widen slightly. Very inappropriately, your nipples tighten. A blush starts from his neck and spreads across his broad chest, you notice the goosebumps bursting over his skin. He starts to fidget with his thumbs. “And by that, I mean that I got to meet you. I think I put that weirdly.” 

The world comes rushing back and you feel the soft waves of the pool on your skin again. You smile. Without thinking much, you playfully nudge his shoulder with your own. A soft chuckle parts his lips as he leans into you. Neither of you moves away from the other. 

“So,” you say, flinching at how high-pitched you sound. “Is there a Mrs. Joel?” 

He laughs. The sound reminds you of an open field with colorful flowers dancing side to side with the wind. Instinctively, you sigh, your lashes kissing your cheeks. 

“Nope,” he answers. “What about you?” 

You shake your head, “I’ve been single for two years.” 

“I find that hard to believe.” 

“Well,” you look ahead, the old couple you spotted before is getting out of the pool. “My heart got broken quite a few times. I think without noticing I closed myself off after my last relationship. I find it hard to open up now and—” you cut off, your gaze drifting back to him. You bark an uncomfortable-sounding laugh and drop your head to your chest. “Aaand, I have no idea why I’m telling you this. Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize, darlin’. For what it’s worth, I haven’t been with anyone for a long time either.” 

You grin and raise an eyebrow, “I find that hard to believe.” 

Joel smiles but it’s a soft one, like he’s remembering something—or in this case, someone. With unblinking eyes, you wait for him to elaborate. He notices your gaze, his smile stretches into a grin. 

“It’s not that interestin’ of a story,” he sighs. “I had my daughter when I was quite young. Mother left. And until Sarah went to college there was no one. After she left…I had a couple of flings but that’s pretty much it. Nothin’ long term.” 

“You have a daughter?” 

“Uh, yeah.” he answers, scratching the back of his head. You feel kind of bad now that you made him feel awkward. That wasn’t your intention at all. You’re surprised, but you find it to be sweet that he has a daughter. It must’ve been hard to raise her on his own. 

Before you can say anything, you sense him pulling back, both emotionally and physically. His shoulder isn’t pressed against yours anymore, the lack of contact makes you ache. He moves his legs languidly under the water, your gaze follows the movement. 

“I know it might be awkward. And not ideal. But I would love it if we could get to know each other more.” 

Your ears burning, you take his hand into yours, squeezing it tightly. If he’s surprised by your sudden gesture, he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t look at you and you squeeze again, drawing his gaze back to you. 

“That’s not why I asked. That was probably a bit insensitive of me, I was just surprised and it came out wrong.” you let out a breath of relief when his thumb begins to draw slow circles over your skin. A shiver settles at the base of your spine. “And I would very much like to get to know you.” 

Your heart skips a beat at the way his entire face lights up. Looking at him proving to be similar to looking into the sun, you lower your gaze and grin. You feel dizzy. 

“Does that mean I can ask for your number sunshine?” he asks and leans closer. His warm breath fanning your cheek. 

You nod, “Of course.” 

The pleasant buzz that thrums in your veins soon shift into one of simmering annoyance. Of course, someone took—no, stole—your umbrella. It’s just your luck. It’s raining cats and dogs and all you can do is watch the heavy drops collide with concrete as you wait outside. You look up to the sky, pleading that it stops. You love the rain, love listening to it, but only if you’re surrounded by your cozy home wrapped in a blanket. Or if you’re swimming. 

You could’ve handled a soft drizzle, sometimes you even enjoyed walking under the rain, but not this. You swear one of those drops alone can poke an eye out. It’s deafening. Thunder echoes, and you can’t help but flinch. Everything is so loud. Your body is refreshed, but at the same time, your muscles are drained from all the swimming. Exhausted from the workout and the excitement, all you want is a cozy nook with a steaming cup of tea and a good book.

You don’t have much else to do until the rain stops, therefore, you think of Joel. He’d been truly a splendid surprise. Sometimes life sucked but moments like those made it better. After exchanging numbers, he’d promised to call you as soon as he was back home. 

A smile tugs at your lips. You find it cute that he said he called instead of texting you. You’ll get to hear his voice which is a huge plus. 

You’re viciously ripped away from your thoughts when a loud honk echoes above the rain. With your hairs standing on edge, you see a truck with the window pulled down. You narrow your eyes. The rain and headlights create a thick fog, making it difficult to see clearly. 

“Joel?” you call out, hoping that you’re seeing right. 

“Hey,” he answers, leaning over and popping the door open for you. “Hop in.” 

You take the first step, a bit uncertain with your movements in fear that it might be an illusion created by the stormy night, but it’s not. The leather seat under you is solid and so is the man sitting next to you. You wipe your face with your sleeve. 

“Thanks. You basically saved my ass right now. Some asshole stole my umbrella.” 

He grins, “It’s the least I could do.” 

The rain pounds relentlessly against the windshield, the sound a chaotic symphony that drowns out everything else. Thunder rumbles in the distance, and you flinch as a particularly loud crack splits through the air. You jump in your seat. Joel’s hand lands softly on your thigh, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You look at him, surprised, and he meets your gaze with a small smile.

“Is this alright?” he asks, his voice gentle as he squeezes.

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. His touch is warm and inviting. Like a soft caress that makes your skin tingle. You feel a sudden urge to lean into him, to climb on top of his lap, and allow his wide hands to roam all over your back. 

Joel starts the car and drives onto the road. The world outside is a blur of colors and lights. Neon signs flicker in the rain, casting a rainbow of colors on the wet pavement. The buildings are tall and imposing, like ancient giants looming over the city. The headlights of passing cars slice through the darkness, creating sharp streaks of light that dance across your vision.

You watch the world pass by in a daze, lost in thought. The rain is a soothing sound, like a lullaby that whispers you to sleep. Joel’s hand on your thigh is a comforting presence, grounding you in reality. 

The rain grows louder, the drops striking the windshield almost violently. Much to your disappointment, he pulls his hand away, leaving you feeling a sudden emptiness. You open your eyes, watching as he shifts gears and maneuvers the car through the busy streets.

You lean your head against the window, watching the world outside blur by in a dizzying whirl. You don’t have much to say and that’s okay. His presence isn’t forcing you to make awkward small talk. You’re completely content just being here with him, a moment you’re positive that you’ll never forget, no matter which direction your relationship with him goes. 

When you finally pull up to your house, dread washes over you. You want to invite him inside for something warm, as a thank you for rescuing you from the rain. But you’re not entirely sure that you should. 

You push back your worries.

“This is me,” you break the silence. "Would you like to come inside for a bit? I have tea and coffee— or perhaps you would prefer wine to warm you up?" 

The last addition was meant as a joke, a little bit of humor to break the tension. Joel’s lips are tightly pressed together, his knuckles almost white from how hard he’s squeezing the steering wheel. After grueling moments of silence, he swallows and turns off the car. 

“Wine sounds great.” 

The sound of your front door closing behind you feels momentous. Ironically enough, you don’t get to open the bottle of wine. You kiss him first, and he follows, pushing you up against the wall with possessive hands. You barely manage to push the door closed. He’s all consuming. Inhaling your chlorine scented skin and drinking lust from your lips. He kneads your breasts in his large palms and you gasp into his mouth, he swallows the sound. Parting away, he licks the seam of your lips before leveling you with a steady gaze. 

“I promised myself to take this slow,” he rasps, panting heavily. When the first hints of laughter tickle the back of your throat, he takes hold of your hips and presses them firmly together. You feel the hardness of his length through the fabric of his jeans. Your eyes roll back. “That feels good don’t it—fuck—I just don’t want to fuck this up, you’re really nice and—” 

“Joel,” you say, cupping his cheeks and forcing him to meet your gaze. “Calm down. You’re not going to fuck this up. We’re in this together. I really want this, you do too. But if you want to go slow, have that wine, we’ll go slow. But I don’t want you to be stressed out of your mind no matter what you choose, okay?” 

He exhales a breath, deep and steady. “Okay,” he says, hands squeezing your hips. “Okay. Sorry ‘bout that. I hope I didn’t scare you off.” 

“You could never,” you say, brushing your lips together. “So, what do you wanna do?” 

“I think I want to show you to a good time, sweetheart.” 

“Meaning?” 

“I want to fuck you.” he swallows. “If you want it too.” 

“Oh, believe me. I do.” 

You catch the curve of a mischievous smile before he crashes into you, claiming your lips in a heady kiss. He pushes a leg between your thighs and your grind down, gasping at the friction. Warmth gathers under the tissue of your stomach, everlasting. It’s been so long since you felt like this. The heat of someone tearing you apart and pulling you back again. 

A pleasant tingle spreads from your legs up your spine. Joel licks into you, his tongue moving over yours. He nips at your bottom lip. You whine when he parts away, his lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down your neck. He feels your pulse with his lips. An involuntary giggle leaves you as his mustache chafes the skin. He teeths at the flesh and you grind your hips down once more, wetness growing between your legs. 

“Sweetheart,” he breathes shakily. “Show me to the bedroom.” 

The trip to the bedroom is a disorienting one; A blur of limbs and kisses being traded with one another. You feel like a teenager, not being able to keep away not even for a second. You don’t bother to close the bedroom door. Joel pulls your shirt off, your ears left ringing at the force of it while your hands fumble with his zipper. Joel chuckles and bats your hands away. The way you furrow your brows goes unnoticed. He dips his head, closing his lips around the tight nipple. 

Your legs start to shake. He flicks his tongue, the tight nub pebbling swiftly. Your head falls back, a deep moan coming from the back of your throat. He sucks and moves his jaw, applying pressure. While one hand rests over the curve of your waist, the other promptly toys with your unattended nipple, pinching and twisting until it’s hard and aching. 

“Shit—Joel—” you gasp, voice quivering. “It’s been a while, it feels so good. Fuck.” 

He parts away from your chest, the tip of his tongue swirling deftly around the areola. His warm breath makes you shiver. “That’s okay honey, I’ve got you.” 

“Take this off,” you mumble in a daze, pulling at the hem of his shirt. You bend your knees to cup his erection, it pulses under your palm. “And take these off too. I want you in my mouth.” 

“You’re killin’ me, sweetheart,” he breathes out. “You’d like that, huh? My cock in your mouth, cummin’ down your throat as you wrap them pretty lips around me—what a sight it would be.” 

“Fuck yes,” you choke out, gently pushing him towards the bed. 

You’re almost delusional in the way you speak and move. He’d painted you a picture you so desperately wanted to make into reality. You tug off his shirt as he kicks off his jeans along with his underwear. A sharp exhale parts your lips when you feel his dripping cock against your lower stomach. Heavy and hot, pressing against your skin. You wrap your fingers around the base and they barely close around him. The tips of your ears burn. 

“J-Joel, oh my god,” you say with awe. “I-I don’t know if I can take you all.” 

His fingers touch the back of your neck and he pulls you between his legs as the two of you tumble onto the bed. He gently squeezes, your body melting at the touch. His lips touch your ear. 

“Sure you can, sunshine. We’ll just take it nice and slow, a’right? I’ll fuck this pretty little cunt with just the tip if I have to, it feels good all the same.” his thumb traces your bottom lip, and slowly, he pushes the digit into your mouth. Your eyes fluttering, you suck his thumb. “Just get my dick nice and wet with this dirty tongue of yours. Been twitchin’ since you uttered the words.”  

He pops out his thumb and leaves wet streaks across your cheek. You move down his body, dragging your nails down the swell of his stomach as you get closer and closer to his length. Joel hisses when you wetly kiss the tip, a bead of precum forming. You wrap one hand around the base and rest the other over his stomach, fingers caressing the coarse hairs that form a sinful trail. 

“You’re so big,” you whisper, lips dancing over the length of his throbbing cock. He moans. “That swimsuit of yours doesn’t do you justice at all.” 

“If you continue to talk like that I’m going to bust,” he chokes, hands fisting the sheets. “Please just—” he swallows. “Just stop toyin’ with me.” 

Answering him with a throaty hum, you dip your tongue into the slit, groaning at the taste of him. His cock twitches against your lips, smearing precum over the tender swell of it. Parting your mouth wide, you take the bulbous head between your lips and flatten your tongue. You feel a vein that curls underneath his length. You groan and take him deeper. He’s been truly blessed, the width stretching you wide, forcing saliva to dribble from the corners of your mouth. Your cunt clenches around nothing. Slick glistening at the insides of your thighs. 

You’re still worried about not being able to take him all. You want to feel every inch of him buried deep inside, and even though Joel assured you that it would be okay, you still want this to go perfectly. It’s been a long time for you both, you want it to feel good for him too. 

“Deeper,” he croaks out and when you look up, you find those gorgeous, dazed out, brown eyes looking down at you. “Can you?” 

Your lids flutter heavily. Nodding, you force your head down, your chin straining as you take him halfway. Your vision blurs with tears. Spit oozes down his length, your throat convulsing at the pressure. 

“You’re takin’ it so well,” he praises through grit teeth, his southern drawl deeper and more noticeable than before. “So fuckin’ well. You feel so good—I ain’t gonna last sweetheart.” 

Encouraged by his sudden honesty, you mentally grin. And with more fervor than before, you bounce your head up and down while stroking the rest with your hand. Briefly you remove your lips, swipe your palm over the head and move it back down, coating the rest of him with slick. You take him again, his thighs tightening around your frame, shaking uncontrollably as he forces his hips to remain still. 

Moans echo from the back of Joel’s throat, filling the room with his deep cadence. He reaches out for your hand and locks your fingers together, holding you and guiding your hand further up his stomach. You’re a bit unbalanced now. His cock spears almost painfully down your throat. While trying to limit yourself with only the half of his length, his cock twitches, and throbs. You repeatedly swallow around him, your hand starting to shake. 

Large drops of precum coat your tongue and go down your throat, his grip on your hand painfully tight. You breathe heavily through your nose. He’s about to come. With a ferality you haven’t felt with anyone before, you push apart your legs and force yourself down against the sheets. The soft fabric doing little when it grazes your aching clit. You moan around him. 

Then you find yourself empty. A gasp rips from your throat at the way Joel pulls you off his cock, breathing in heavy pants. Your gaze drops to his cock. The head a beautiful shade of red, glistening with precome and spit. You lick your lips. 

“Sorry,” he grunts, pulling you so that you’re straddling his waist. He pushes himself up by the elbows, face only an inch away from yours. “I didn’t wanna come just yet. Need to feel you around me, sunshine.” 

He closes the distance and claims you with a devout kiss. He tastes himself on your tongue, hips jerking up in a weak attempt to seek you out. You breathe him in. The scent of chlorine and something so undeniable Joel fills your lungs. 

“Don’t keep me waiting then,” you grin against his lips. He mimics your expression grinning as he lays back down. He guides you to raise your hips, and briefly, worry crosses your face. 

A question quickly follows, “What’s wrong?” 

“I…fuck, it’s stupid. Don’t worry about it.” but of course, he doesn’t let go and fixes you a look that has you spilling your guts. “It’s just been a while and well. I’ve never actually done it like…this.” 

“You never rode someone before?” 

You shake your head and bite your bottom lip. Frowning, he touches the abused flesh with his thumb and tugs it away, smoothing it with the pad of his finger. 

“We can switch positions. It’s okay.” 

“But I want to try it.” your words coming out in a rush, it’s followed by a nervous laughter. “I always did, but my partners usually had other plans. And after a while, I just generally chickened out and stopped asking. I got embarrassed.” 

“Oh, honey.” 

Your eyes widen upon feeling his arms around you, pulling you into a bear hug. His hand cradles the back of your head and you bury your face into the crook of his neck. You kiss the skin. Warmth blossoming in your chest. Both of you suspended in the moment, breathing each other in and out. Soon, his fingers trace a path down your spine, and a chill spreads at the end of your back. 

“Believe me,” he mutters, you feel the movement of his jaw. “I would want nothin’ more than to have you on top of me, takin’ you deep. I’m sorry those assholes made you feel otherwise.” 

You choke out a sound, smiling and shaking your head. “It’s not that they were assholes—well, maybe some of them—but maybe I just wasn’t good at expressing myself. Or I just didn’t look…” you clear your throat, his arms tighten around you, forcing the air out of your lungs. “Anyway, it’s not important.” 

“You express yourself fine if you ask me.” his thumb skims over your clit and you gasp. The digit slides between your folds with ease, he hums in approval. “And it looks like your body is expressin’ itself quite well too.” 

An understanding without words forms between your two. He cups your ass and you lift yourself up by holding onto his broad shoulders. Joel jerks himself with one hand before he motions you to lower yourself. Despite how soaking wet you are, the stretch still makes you wince. You continue a bit further, having to stop when it proves to be more painful than pleasurable. Sliding his one hand back to your front, he leisurely circles around your clit. You clench and dig your nails into his shoulders. 

“That’s it, go slow sweetheart. We have all the time in the world. You’re doin’ so good for me. Spreading yourself around my cock like that.” 

Feeling yourself becoming loose, you sink further down, only having to stop again a few inches later. You groan in frustration and Joel puts his mouth on your breasts, sucking. 

You draw in a long breath, “Is that all of it?”

Joel looks up and allows himself to smile. 

“Well, nearly. Just a bit more.” 

His mouth moves down and captures your nipple between his lips. Your walls flutter around him, adjusting to his size. With a moan, you sink down completely, his hips flush against yours. Joel breaks away from your tender skin, both of you moaning loudly in unison. His head falls back against the bedpost, staring at you between heavy lids. He looks completely blissed out. 

Wanting more of the debouched expression, you ever so slightly move up your hips and sit back down again. His eyes squeeze shut, his throat trembling with a wrecked groan. You’re not doing any better, your eyes rolling back as your muscles start to spasm. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you’re wet. Shit. Can I move, sunshine? Please?” 

“God yes,” you breathe out, your head spinning. His hands cup your rear, helping you to lift halfway off his cock before lowering you again. Electricity runs up your spine. Your cry out his name, pulsing around him uncontrollably. “J-Joel, I don’t think I’m gonna last,” you say apologetically. 

“That’s okay,” he groans, voice hoarse. “I ain’t gonna last long either.” 

The two of you capture a soft rhythm that works for the both of you. Joel guides the sloppy roll of your hips, and you do your best to move up and down his cock. Your legs aching due to the swimming. You want to go faster, the burning between your legs growing with every grind of your hips. There’s an itch deep inside. An inch that you can’t seem to scratch with the way you’re moving. You whimper and fix Joel a pleading look. His cock twitches. 

“You want it harder?” he rasps, lashes fluttering. 

“Yes,” you exhale. “Give it to me, Joel. I want you to fuck me hard with this big cock of yours.” you make a show of rolling your tongue and pressing your hips flush against him, grinding yourself into his pelvis. 

“The mouth on you, Jesus.” he drawls but with a smile. Your heart skips a beat, a grin of your own touching your lips. 

You’re confused when Joel sucks two fingers into his mouth. Not that you’re complaining. You see the pink of his tongue, the glistening spit that coats his thick fingers. Pulling them out, Joel massages your asscheeks and spreads them, you moan as the open air hits your other hole. He brushes two wet fingers over the rim, making you quiver. 

“Feels good?” 

You nod and he slips one finger, your entire body jolts, your breath catching in your throat. However, you don’t have time to focus on the new sensation. Joel presses his feet into the mattress and with fervor, he starts fucking up into you. Railing you until you’re gasping for air and left feeling nothing else but the heavy stroke of his cock. You shout his name, your lungs burn. 

“That’s it make a mess of me, darlin’. Such a good fuckin’ girl. All you need is my help isn’t it? Look at you, doin’ so well for me.” the words he continues to mutter force out a visceral reaction from you. You claw at his chest. Dragging them down as his cock spears into you over and over. The slick sounds echoing throughout the room. You notice him watching where you two connect, he looks hypnotized. His lips parting as he watches his cock disappear into your wet cunt. 

He pushes his finger in deeper and you’re suddenly aware of how full you feel. Your arms that keep you upright buckle and you fall down, covering him like a blanket. An apology touches your lips, but before you can, Joel’s lips are already on your temple, kissing and whispering praise all the while continuing to fuck you senseless. He pulls out his finger and slightly lifts your hips for a better angle. You whine at the loss and hear him chuckle. 

“Another time, sunshine.” 

Your walls start to spasm and contract, his hips start to stutter. His strong steady strokes becoming sloppy and rushed, he pushes you down against him rolling his hips and grinding deeper into you. Fuck. Your head is spinning violently. Your cunt dripping and making a mess of his cock. He rubs into you again, the dark hairs that crown his length stimulating your throbbing clit. 

A silent scream shakes your chest. You see white before you squeeze him tight, the force of it making his breath hitch. You gush around him. Slick rolling down his cock and seeping into the sheets. You don’t even notice the wet tears smeared all over your face as you nuzzle him. Waves of pleasure wash over you again and again. Leaving you shaking and panting for air. Joel holds you still, his hands comforting against your heated skin. 

Your jaw goes slack when he gently thrusts up again, shushing you when you let out a whine. 

“Where do you want me?” 

It takes you a while to understand the question. Lifting your head, you give him a blank stare. His eyes glimmer with amusement, a lopsided smile forming on his lips. 

“Look at you,” he coos. “Pretty little thing completely fucked out. You look beautiful, sweetheart.” 

You’re pretty sure you actually purr at his words. You leisurely smile. You lift your hips and push them back down, both of you groaning in delight. He keeps uttering pretty from under his breath, his own composure breaking down. Another orgasm rolls over you, albeit much softer this time, like a fire warming your skin. You sigh happily, kissing him on the lips. 

“Where?” he asks, a bit more desperate this time. 

“My mouth.” 

“Oh, fuck.” 

Everything is sloppy and uncoordinated. You’re not even sure how you make your way down between his legs. You’re still throbbing when you suck on the tip, your eyes closing as you taste the mixture of you and himself. You take him as deep as you can, feeling him at the back of your throat. He holds your head but doesn’t force you to the more. 

“Sweetheart, move your tongue.” 

Your skin prickles at how hoarse he sounds. You happily obliged, stroking the underside of his cock with the flat of your tongue. He sucks in a sharp breath, his chest expanding, and on the exhale, he lets out the loudest moan of the night. It comes from the depths of his lungs. His hips jerk, finally spilling down your throat, you swallow him greedily, your walls pulsing with a need to be stretched again. 

He comes and comes and comes. There’s so much of it. It floods your mouth, trickling down your chin. You breathe heavily. His cock throbs on your tongue and god you love the feeling. 

“Fuuuuuuuuuck, that felt so good.” his hands fall limp to his side. With a grin, you release his cock and swallow once more, more audibly this time. His dark gaze drops to your lips. He shakily wipes the come that spilled from your lips, popping it back into your mouth. You lick at the digit eagerly. “I should thank whoever it was that stole your umbrella,” he mumbles. 

“We should get them a cake,” you tease, kissing the empty patch on his beard. “So…should we get cleaned up and then…talk?” 

He squeezes your hips and then follows the curve of your spine. “Sounds like a plan, sunshine.” 

You end up sharing that bottle of wine after all. 

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #tlou fanfic #hbo the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #joel miller au

[majestichyuk]

Sweet spot

Pairing :- Masseur!Jaemin x fem!reader

Summary :- After much convincing, maybe not at your own will, you finally agreed to get that much-needed massage, Thank you Seungkwan. 

Genre :- Smut (because I’m nice like that), fluff if you squint (you'll definitely see it), coworker Seungkwan, strangers to potential lovers. 

Wc :-  3.7K 

WARNING :- Reader has a nipple piercing (cause she, YOU are freaky like that.), teasing, dirty talk, Buff Jaemin, yes that is a warning, Jaemin loves the booty (you shouldn’t be surprised) so ass is being ATE just a lil lick is all, Jaemin is a pussy fiend. Female receiving, oral, cum eating, sexual tension. (I think that’s all ), sry for mistakes if there is any.

NOTES :- This here lady sluts and gentle whores is my first half smut that was in the making. I spent an hour and a half working on it, so I’ll check this off as the 4th story I’ve successfully completed 🎉 kudos to me. I hope you enjoy it and if you do comment and if you don't and think I could improve something still comment or message me anonymously, cause critique can lead to my improvement but being bitchy will get you nowhere, ANYWAYS, LIKE, REBLOG & FOLLOW. 

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“Why don’t you just come with me to the spa on Saturday, huh y/n?” Your best friend/coworker, begged you as he grabbed your arm, tugging you lightly.

“Do I look like I have time to go to a spa?” You licked the tip of your finger as you skimmed through the documents that your lazy boss rudely dropped on your desk, without uttering as much as a please.

“And plus, Saturdays are clean-up days, my cousin is a lazy fuck and I have to suffer from it,” You itch the crown of your head, slightly groaning realizing you might have to do an all-nighter once again on a Friday evening with the load of work in front of you. 

“Why don’t I take some of these with me,” Seungkwan lightly squeezed your hands as he took up about 60% of your work from your desk. 

“That way you can have a good night's sleep, while I plan our day out tomorrow,” Seungkwan squealed as he imagined finally getting to pamper you but you had to rain on his parade.

“No” You took the papers from him and placed them in your folder.

“No?” He looked at you in disbelief.

“I didn’t stutter, I won’t burden my work on you, it’s fine,” You reassured him.

“But you didn’t put your work on me, I volunteered,” He snatched your folder and took out the papers he had before, getting up from his seat and placing them in his briefcase.

“And I don’t want to hear any more nonsense about you doing all the work at the house when your cousin is a grown MAN,” Seungkwan picked up his suit jacket and swiftly put it on.

“Ah Kwannie, It’s really not a big deal– okay…” You stopped uttering a word when he hit you with that stare, a stare only a child of a strict and overprotective mother would understand, it was bone-chilling really.

“Good, I’ll text you the details so make sure you fix yourself up nice and be punctual,” Seungkwan placed his polyester scarf around his neck and ray-ban his glasses on (yes he wears ray-bans shut up). 

“Go home, finish off the work, do whatever you do at night, that ritual of yours whatever, and sleep well, sleep early,” Seungkwan pulled you up from your seat and pulled you into a hug.

“You sure you don’t like girls, I’m just saying if you’d allow me to slap on a strap I’d make a heck of a guy,” Seungkwan pushed you off and picked up his phone, giving you a side glance.

“Girl if you don’t go home, goodbye.” He laughed richly as he walked out, leaving the office. You followed the same routine minutes later and headed home. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------

Seungkwan ended up sending you the website for the Spa he had been rambling about for weeks on end as soon as you stepped into the door of your house. You decided to check it out after completing your office work and getting ready for bed.

After an hour and a half, you flopped into your bed, finally getting to relax. You checked the time, normally you’d finish work around late 11 but now it was around 8:35p.m, thanks to Seungkwan that was your earliest, EVER. You did a light prayer for him because he’s an angel.

You covered yourself with your sheet and opened your and Seungkwan's messages where he sent the link, you exchanged words with him before you clicked the link. 

He told you he already made the reservation on your behalf and because he was close friends with a guy named Wonwoo there, he was able to get a discount. He told you your first appointment would be a massage done by some woman named Na Jaemin, it should be an easy name to remember because before you started working in your current job you were a daycare teacher and there was the cute little girl whose name was IM Jaemin, oh was she a menace.

The website just showed all the available procedures, the cost, and the exaggerated descriptions of the long-lasting after-effects of the excellent experience. You turned your phone off, turned it over, and went to sleep.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

Loud, obnoxious snores were coming from your room, your cousin slowly opened your door, peeping inside to check to see if you were okay, living, and not choking to death.

He walked up to your bed and pinched your lips shut. “You need to change your settings on that noise that you’re making,” He looked at you in disgust, shaking his head, and watched as you stopped breathing and shot up from your sleep in a sitting position, knocking him on his ass on the floor. 

“CHENLE WHAT THE FUCK?!” If looks could kill you’d have a red dot aimed at your forehead right now. Chenle got up and dusted himself off.

“You do know I could hear you snoring all the way across the hall?” He used his thumb and pointed outside your door, You rolled your eyes and checked your phone.

“Oh fuck!” You jumped out of bed, shoving Chenle out of the way, he landed on your bed and flopped on the floor as you grabbed your towel and rushed into the bathroom. 

“YOU’RE WELCOME YOU MIX-BREED ASSHOLE!” Chenle shouted as he stormed behind you.

“CLEAN MY HOUSE YOU OBNOXIOUS PIECE OF SHIT!,” You replied as you slammed the bathroom door, minutes later you heard his bedroom slam as well, and you rolled your eyes.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

“Don’t look at me like that,” You sulk as you look away from Seughkwan. So you woke up late and got there late and when you arrived you were met with a disappointed Boo Seughkwan, arms crossed, legs over one another as he sat outside of the Spa company in the few seats placed outside, looking at you blankly.

“I have every right to jump you in this very moment–..but I’m not going to because I have a reputation to obtain here,” He got up and walked inside, with you following behind.

“Just know I would never go down without a fight, there’s only one of us who actually took boxing classes,” You raised your brow at him as he flicked your forehead and told you to keep quiet as he spoke to the receptionist.

You purse your lips as you look around the establishment, It has a cozy feel. The decor is so homely with some pictures of the employees that work here placed up on the wall, warm colors decorated the place as it was spotless you could almost see yourself on the tiled floors. 

The receptionist lady asked you about your information and told you to wait in the available room on the second floor. 

“Enjoy your massage babe,” Seungkwan says as he quickly places your hair in a bun (If you imagined your hair up, unimagine it, 💀 boo put it up for you). 

“I heard he’s amazing at his job AND he was highly recommended when I filled out the server on your behalf,” You froze after registering his words.

“He’s?Him?He?” You side glanced at him. “Why didn’t you feel the need to mention a dude is gonna be feeling me up Mr. Boo?” You forced a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“Get me a masseuse Seungkwan,” 

“Y/N-”

“Get me a masseuse Seungkw-,” Seungkwan used his index and thumb to pinch your lips together. (Justice for y/n’s lips in the chat)

“I love you Y/N, I do, but last time I checked I paid for this shit, and you are going to enjoy every last minute of it, Okay?” Seungkwan asked.

“Fine,” You say with a smile that transforms into a dirty look. “This better be the most mind-blowing and toe-curling experience I’ve ever had.”

“And it would be the only and first experience you ever had,” Seungkwan mumbled as he walked to the elevator after signing some papers. 

“What’d you say,” You questioned.

“Nothing,” He laughed as he pinched your cheeks while calling you all sorts of baby names.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

You entered the designated room on the second floor, wiped your palm on your shirt, and nervously opened the door. You see a little walk-in closet on the right side of the room with a curtain placed to divide the areas.  You see there are a couple of hangers and a table with some towels placed beside it. You took off your shirt and placed it on one of the hangers, you quickly took off your bra and put on the towel provided. Thirdly it was your pants until you heard the door open. 

“Good evening, Miss L/N, I’ll be your masseur for this session,” You froze as you peeped through the curtains to put a face to that alluring voice and you almost wished you had convinced your best friend a little more about switching. 

“Um Hi, I’ll be out in a minute,” You quickly responded as you disappeared behind the curtains again. 

“You can leave on your underwear if that would make you more comfortable,” Jaemin assured you as he went to set up the room. He started lighting some candles to set a relaxing mood. The whole room was filled with the soft scent of lavender and a hint of sweet orange that was rich in limonene. 

You folded your pants and kept on your panty as suggested by the masseur. You walked out of the room and set your eyes upon the gorgeous man in question. He was muscular-looking, even in the scrubs he wore. He looked up at you from his place on the floor when he was searching for the oil that happened to be at the bottom back part of the drawer.

“Well you requested a full body massage and I’ll try my best to fulfill your desired needs,” Jaemin softly grinned at you and motioned for you to take a seat on the massage table, you’ll remember to put salt in Seungkwan’s coffee on Monday. 

“Thank you,” You found it hard to really say anything, his stare was quite intimidating even though his smile gave you butterflies that just made your heart swell.

He turned his back to you so you took the opportunity to discard your towel and lay on the table. You laid on your back and placed the towel on top of you. Jaemin turned around with his oil in hand, smiling down at you.

“Well all you have to do for me is relax,” Jaemin said, the tone of his voice, giving you goosebumps.

“Okay,” You replied softly as you relaxed your body and closed your eyes, taking the aroma of the atmosphere and bringing your body to ease. 

Jaemin adjusted your towel to your mid-thigh, the tip of his fingers lightly brushing your skin, he then moved upwards and brought the top of your towel to the midsection of your breast. 

He began his work on your shoulders. He delicately kneaded the area, softly caressing all the knots you have in your neck, gently tracing under your jaw with his thumbs. It felt divine, no man had ever touched you with such thoughtfulness and you’re hoping he’s not the last.

Jaemin moved his hands slowly down your arms, gingerly squeezing the tight muscles as he steadily brought them back up, repeating the process as you felt sleep creeping up on you, Jaemin came back up to your cleavage.

“Would you mind if I removed the top of the towel?” Jaemin asked as he was still above you, looking up at him and seeing him upside down was a little odd but he still for some odd reason looked good.

“Is it mandatory for the massage?” You asked and that made Jaemin smile at you.

“Well, of course, I only deliver the best, and I may even give you a special massage,” Jaemin smiled down at you again, but the smile was different, his eyes seemed to be telling a whole other story, his hands brush the top of your chest, you mutter a quiet okay and closed your eyes once again, letting the cozy environment take over. 

“Good, it’s okay, I’ll take good care of you,” He said in such a deep tone, way different from the customer service one he used when he first greeted you, you wondered if it was because he was just comfortable as it’s his natural forte. 

He reached over you and moved the towel under your breast, now at the navel of your stomach, he placed it quite low but you didn’t mind. Jaemin released a slightly strained exhale as he pursed his lips and poured some of the oil into his brawny hands. His eyes fell on your nipples, customized in a barbell designed with a crystal, rhinestone, clear zircon, and a beautiful set of pink gems. 

He firmly positioned his hands at the side of your breast, gently caressing the fat. He cupped it and massaged under the flesh as he slowly brought his hand up and faintly grazed your nipple. You let out a surprised gasp not expecting to be so sensitive. Jaemin looked down at you, examining your face, and noticed your mouth was slightly ajar due to the sound you let out earlier. From this angle he had the perfect chance to just shove his twitching dick down your throat, he bet it’s warm like the way your body is heating up right now but he brushed it off and continued his work on your chest.

He squeezed the flesh and watched as you hurried to bite your bottom lip, Jaemin thought it was time he went to another part of your body. He made his way to your lower body, he noticed you had on your underwear.

“Would it be okay if I asked you to remove the towel completely? since you have on your undergarments,” Jaemin asked you as he clasped his hands behind his back, staring you down deeply with a sweet smile. You nodded your head, and you gazed down at yourself, seeing your nipples stand up tall and proud, you genuinely felt way more relaxed than when you first came here. 

“Wonderful, I enjoy giving pleasure to others who look like they haven’t had a good rest day,” Jaemin discarded the towel away from your body and placed it on the table beside him.

You smiled, you couldn’t conceal it, he was a sweet talker. You begin to shut your eyes and Jaemin starts to rub on your feet, you let out a soft groan, you are on your feet the majority of the time at work so this feels like heaven. He inches up your leg and starts kneading different areas, after some time he asks if you could turn over.

Jaemin has always been a man with excellent self-control but he guesses there’s a first for everything. You turned over on your stomach and Jaemin took that as a sign to take a breather, he looked down at himself and noticed his problem. At this point, he doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to hold it. He gripped himself and let out a soft sigh as he looked down at you, he furrowed his brows as he approached the table once again, contemplating if he should start with the top or lower half first.

Jaemin made up his mind as he poured some oil on your smooth back, you had laid your head on your forearm. Jaemin tenderly massaged your back, working out all sorts of sounds from you, because he’s just that good with his hands. 

He finished off with your back and moved to your legs, caressing your soft thighs, eyes settling on the slight jiggle of your plump ass. He looked up at you and delicately spread your legs apart a little as he moved his way to your inner thighs. He observes the way your pussy lips struggle to stay concealed in your baby blue panties, Jaemin bites down on his tongue and took a deep exhale, swallowing down thick as he sees some wetness forming on your underwear, Jaemin continues his task as he boldly inches closer to your prized possession. 

You started to squirm, feeling slightly bothered, needy even. You innocently lifted your hips off the table, trying to get some friction and squeeze your thighs together but Jaemin kept them open. 

“I thought I told you to relax, If you behave I can easily give you what you want,” Somehow you can hear Jaemin like he was right by your ears and he was, he stood beside you, roughly rubbing the fat muscle of your ass, spreading your cheeks apart and watching them jiggle back in their place. 

“Will you look at that,” Jaemin whispers as he takes the bottle of oils and pours some of it over your ass. Jaemin went back to the foot of the table and climbed between your legs.

“What are you doing, Jaemin?” You softly questioned Jaemin as you felt the cushion on the massage table dip under you. 

“I’m just trying to get a better position so I can give you an amazing happy ending, love” That tone, he used again but this time it was more sultry and lust-filled, you could almost see the smirk on his face, you have a feeling you know where this is headed and you’re all on board with playing along, note to self buy Seungkwan dinner after you put salt in his coffee. 

“Okay, I hope this all was worth the hassle,” You replied knowing damn well it was.

Jaemin bit his lips as he kneaded your ass, he used his knees to spread your legs apart more. He laid on his stomach, inched closer, rubbed his nose on the line of your panty, bit the fat of your ass, and grazed his thumb over your asshole. He dipped his head and licked the outside of your underwear, softly biting your inner thigh.

Your moans began to increase the more he teased you, as if he could read minds he turned you over, wanting to see your face. 

“Would you like me to continue?” Jaemin lips started to rise on one side, giving you a teasing smile.

You blushed at his bluntness, “Eat me out Jaemin,”.

Jaemin leaned forward and pulled you by the back of your neck into a rough and sloppy kiss, honestly the best you’ve had. He gently sucked on your tongue and pulled at your hard nipple. 

“So fucking sexy,” Jaemin said as he gave you a once over before spreading your legs and giving them for you to hold, he run his hands on the back of your thigh as he examines every inch of you spread out in front of him. 

He hooked a finger under your panties and pulled them to the side. You let out a quiet moan as the cold air hit your wet pussy. He pushed your legs back even more so you hooked them behind your head.

“Look at this pretty pussy, so fucking wet,” Jaemin ran his finger around your lips and brought his finger to his mouth, humming about how sweet you tasted. He dipped his head and took a long swipe with his thick tongue.

“Oh fuck,” You let out a relief sign after finally getting some attention, you looked down at Jaemin sucking on your swollen clit that was painfully neglected in months. His head bobbed up and down as he took slow and sensual slurps, making your toes curl and breath hitch.

You started to rock your hip but Jaemin placed his heavy hands on your ass to hold you down, he dipped his head lower and poked his tongue on your asshole, fighting his way in. 

“Maybe I’ll have to prep you another time,” Jaemin smirks as makes his way to your gaping hole, sticking his long tongue, and forcing a strained moan out of you. He looked up at you, feeling himself grow even harder if that’s possible, absolutely falling in love with the way he has you a putty just from his tongue, the way you just look so sexy to him like this, pussy all red and angry, juices dripping from his chin, the way you bite your lips to conceal your sexy whimpers. 

He groped your breast and brought his attention back to your clit, switching between licking and sucking, completely abusing it. You reached your hand to his head to keep him in position.

“Oh don’t fuckin stop- oh my fucking– shit Jaemin..” You laid your head to the side, one eye clenching as your toe curled for dare life. Jaemin bore his face deeper into your soaking pussy, placing his tongue back inside as his nose rubbed your clit, sending you into cloud nine. He removed his face and quickly replaced it with his skilled hand, he placed his fingers on your clit and started swiping vigorously. 

You felt your stomach suck in as you started twitching, you felt like a bucket of water was thrown over you and you woke up from a dream you’d do anything to get back to. 

“Yes, look at that, wanna give me more,” Jaemin watched as you completely drenched his arm when you squirted, something you didn’t know you could do until today. He sucked up every last drop causing you overstimulation. 

You removed your legs and grabbed his face, bringing him into a passionate kiss. He placed his forehead on yours smiling embarrassingly.

“You definitely have to be my soulmate if you were able to make me come in my pants without touching me,” Jaemin said with a light chuckle. 

“I can do that, If you take me out on a date?, we can split the bill since I suggested,” You looked Jaemin deep into his eyes and he blushed slightly.

“I like that idea, but I’ll pay for the bill,” He kissed your lips before getting up from the table.

You both cleaned up and of course exchanged contacts, and it was history from there. 

Thank you Seungkwan.

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[writtenfangirl]

The Light

In which Benedict Bridgerton counts the ways he loves you.

I've had this idea for a while and this draft has been sitting in my draft folders for lord knows how long but I finally decided to publish it! After initially reading the Bridgerton books, I want the world to know that Benedict has always been my favorite Bridgerton brother because I relate to him the most.

Epilogue

I. In the quiet moments

Saturday morning was always quiet in Aubrey Hall, Benedict’s childhood home. With Aubrey Hall in the throes of summer, that meant the Y/L/N’s stayed with them. Her mother’s dearest friend had always been Y/M/N, having debut in society together. They had made it their tradition to visit one another during the summer and where Y/M/N, it usually meant Y/N followed. Y/N, who was Y/M/N’s only child with her husband, Y/F/N. She was two years younger than Benedict but they had always been close. 

He was always the first one up, and as the cook and the maids prepare breakfast, he would often sneak away towards Y/N’s room. He knew propriety dictates that such an action was uncouth but he was a child and Y/N was his best friend and so he snuck in anyway. 

He knocked first. That secret knock they devised just last summer so the person on the other side knew that it was them. 

Knock. Knock-knock. Knock.

The door swung open, as if already expecting him. Y/N was already awake and dressed, her hair tied up in a ribbon, her dress clean and pressed. Though Y/N only came to visit Aubrey Hall during the summers, the times that she did were some of Benedict’s favorites and they had their routine down to a tee. 

“What are we doing today, Benedict?” Y/N asked, as she did every morning. 

“We can go visit the lake and see how many animals we can see in the clouds in the sky!”

“Okay!” Y/N said with a childish giggle. 

Benedict gripped her hand, leading Y/N out of her room, past the gardens and towards the lake that bordered their estate. 

They spent the morning watching the sky, their backs pressed against the grass, giggles emanating from the duo as they argued about whether that cloud looked like a frog or a bunny. Their hands were still tightly held within each other’s grasp and they didn’t let go until they were called to breakfast and Benedict dared Y/N to race him back to the manor. 

He knew then that he loved her. She was his best friend and best friends loved each other no matter what.

II. In the loud moments

Benedict’s family was considerably large and though he loved his siblings dearly, he knew that there was never any quiet when it came with them. 

They were loud. And boisterous. Unless they had guests, dinners with the Bridgertons usually ended with dinner being flung across the table. Y/N’s mother had arrived sick with a head cold and had requested to have dinner in her room alone, leaving Y/N to have dinner with the Bridgertons all and on her own. And though Y/N was not a Bridgerton, Benedict knew how much the Bridgertons loved her, especially because she was privy to their chaos. 

Chaos, most especially seen in Aubrey Hall, where 10 year old Anthony had begun sending their father, Edmund, mischievous looks.

Violet, as if sensing the impending doom, had a warning tone already ready. “Anthony Bridgerton, don’t you dare.”

But Anthony paid his mother no heed. Instead, a mischievous smirk stretched across his face before he jumped on the table and loudly screamed, “FOOD FIGHT!” before proceeding to ham fist the mash potatoes, flinging it towards Colin’s open mouth.

Chaos irrupted from the table as everyone, including Benedict’s parents took their own food, flinging it across the other side. Benedict’s mother was laughing in glee despite her previous protestations and Edmund had declared himself Violet’s knight in shining armor, shielding her from the onslaught of lamb stew that Colin threw their way.

Almost instinctively, Benedict felt Y/N’s hand grip his own, pulling him down towards her before Daphne, who was but two and couldn’t possibly understand what was going on but could understand that fun was being had, could hit him with the mashed peas on her plate. 

Then and there, Benedict knew he loved Y/N. It would be difficult not to love her when she would willingly sacrifice her favorite dress to spare Benedict the green stains of mashed peas.

III. In the moments you do not share

He missed Y/N, terribly so. Being away to Eton meant he didn’t see Y/N nearly as much as he wanted to and though they wrote each other letters, it just did not suffice. 

She had been a constant in his life and her sudden absence felt like a rock wedged between his ribs where his heart should be. 

He enjoyed his time at Eton, he truly did. They were schoolboys and youth was their elixir of joy. It meant living life free of inhibitions, gambling and drinking and finding women to fill their beds. But none of his friends could ever hope to replace Y/N’s presence. With Y/N there was no bravado, no explanation. Just unhurried conversation and fun he could remember tomorrow. 

He couldn’t wait to see her and his much needed vacation in a week was enough to give Benedict a spring in his step. 

Today also happened to be mail day and though he knew he was going to see his best friend in a week, he still anticipated her weekly letter. 

With the letter slipped into his dorm at the end of the day, he quickly sliced through the wax that bore Y/N’s family crest, reading through its content. 

My dearest, Benedict,

I suspect that by the time you receive this letter, the time between us seeing each other will have considerably shortened. I miss you terribly. Summers in Aubrey Hall are simply not the same without you. Colin has turned whiny waiting for his two older brothers to come home and spend the summer with him. Daphne is growing taller by the day and Eloise has begun to learn how to read. She and Francesca are joined by the hip everyday. Your mother and father are as splendid as always and I suspect a Bridgerton whose name begins with G will soon join us.

I am quite alright though I am shamed to admit how terribly I’ve missed my greatest friend. My mother and father are also splendid as is the rest of my family. Do come home in one piece. I’m afraid I may go slowly mad with Colin pestering me everyday. 

The Light of Your Life, Y/N Y/L/N

Y/N’s words brought him all the comfort he needed. He loved his time in Eton but he could not deny it’s loneliness. His friends couldn’t understand how it is he could possibly miss his family but theirs was a strange existence. His parents valued love above all else and he had grown up alongside his siblings in a home full of love and laughter. 

And he knew then that he loved Y/N for her ability to assure him, to lull him into a calm that could keep his mood afloat for days.

IV. In the moments you do share

Oh how he missed her. He missed the way Y/N’s H/C hair whips through the wind, carrying with her heady scent. He missed her twinkling laughter, her teasing smile. He especially missed the feel of her hand grasped around his. 

They were growing up and though Benedict knew that their youth would still be with them, there was a certain kind of melancholy that came with the realization that things will not always be as they were. Y/N had informed him that with her debut to society next year, she would not be able to spend the summers with him. He couldn’t imagine Y/N married to anyone, let alone married to anyone unworthy of her and he had been insistent that he spent next year’s summer with her.

“Y/N, light of my life,” he said, his tone serious but his eyes lit with jest. He’d begun calling her that after he heard his father call his mother the light of his life and he knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Y/N was the light of his life. He pulled them to a stop, Aubrey Hall looming in front of them despite being a great distance away.

“Yes, Benedict, light of my life?” She said demurely. 

“Do you think you can make me a promise?”

“What promise is that?”

“You won’t marry someone unworthy of you.”

At that, she laughed. “If I have any say about it I shan’t marry at all. But I’ve held it off as long as I can. I’m twenty one now and mother is at her wits end.” But her eyes grew serious and somber, her laughter slipping from her lips. She looked at him as though she knew deeply, truly, what was inside Benedict’s heart. He reached for her, felt the silky lock of hair that fell from her chignon, her breath that feathered across his wrist as he tucked the strand of hair behind her ear. His eyes were fully trained on her face, at the way her lashes swept across her cheeks, the red flush that crept up her neck that Benedict knew would take him weeks to shade match. He wouldn’t deign call her cheeks rosy. She would hate him for comparing her to something so common.

If Benedict were to paint her at this moment, he’d call it Summer’s Embrace. It captured her beauty, the ephemerality of today.

He could feel the heat of her and it was as if that very heat burrowed itself within him, finding a home in his heart. When she spoke again, her words were but a whisper, the spoken promise of planets swearing fealty to their stars. “I swear to you, Benedict. I will not marry someone who is not worthy of me.”

And with her promise, it was as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He could feel the rush of air in his lungs mixed with her heady scent, the scent of childhood and misty early mornings. He felt her hand squeeze his own in earnest and Benedict knew that she would keep her promise forever if she could. He loved her then, for that promise. How could he not love the way she loved herself? Fiercely and with a protectiveness that Benedict knew was reserved for him and only him.

V. In the soft moments

There were no nights as special as rainy nights and none were as special as the ones he got to share with Y/N.

Knock. Knock-knock. Knock. 

The door flung open, revealing Y/N. Her E/C were shiny with excitement, her face positively glowing. 

She was wearing her simplest dress, covered only by a black frock that Benedict had leant her once that she refused to return. Her feet was clad in her finest riding boots and Benedict nearly had to clamp his own mouth shut to keep from rejoicing. 

“It’s raining,” Benedict noted with a grin. 

“I gathered as much,” Y/N said with a grin as equally mischievous as his. 

“It would be the responsible thing to stay indoors. You are to leave for London tomorrow and I imagine that such a long journey may end in you getting a head cold.“

“Benedict, light of my life, when have we ever been responsible?” She looked at up at him, grinning like the devil. 

And before the both of them lost their nerve, Benedict grabbed Y/N’s hand, sneaking them down the stairs and past the gardens, letting the rain wash over them. 

Oh he adored the rain’s ability to wash away everything. And he knew how much Y/N loved the rain too. How she adored letting it fall on her skin as she jumped over puddles and danced on the wet grass.

Her long hair stuck to her forehead, giving her the appearance of a drowned cat but her wide smile more than made up for it. Even in the darkness that smile could light up a thousand lanterns and Benedict never found her more beautiful than she looked now. 

A sudden feeling seized him and before cowardice could choke it down, he was already pulling her to him. “Y/N, I must tell you something,” Benedict yelled over the din of the rain, catching her chin between his fingers. Drops of rain were caught between her lashes, her breath coming out in pants between her lips. 

Goddess Divine. That’s what he’d call this painting of her. 

“What is it, Benedict?”

He swallowed. An invisible force had consumed him, wrenching the words from his lips before he could stop them. “I love you.”

Her eyes widened, her mouth falling open in surprise. “W-what?”

“I love you,” he repeated, courage surging within him, his previous hesitancy evaporating like steam. His hand reached for hers almost instinctively. He felt her warmth, the way the heat of her hand seemed to jolt through his body like static. “Most ardently. In every way a man could love a woman, I love you. You are truly the light of my life and without you, I am pitched in darkness. You are the cracks in my heart but also balm soothes that it. I love you, Y/N. I have spent years of my life loving you in secret and I can bear it no more. I love you.”

He could see it in her eyes, the love she bore for him. It was the same love he felt for her, a garden in full bloom. But the words that followed her were not the words he thought he’d hear. “Benedict, I have been promised to someone else.”

VI. In the hard moments

“What?”

“I have no choice,” Y/N’s voice was cracking as hard as his heart. “My father has promised my hand to another. My debut, it is a farce, meant only to assuage his guilt for selling his only daughter. I am to be married to the Duke of Albany before the season ends and then he will ship me away to the colonies. He sold me to the Duke to pay off his debts. I have no dowry, no money. I thought to spend my last summer with the people who loved me, truly loved me. The Bridgertons have treated me as their own family. You have treated me as your own. Benedict, please I am so sorry.” She was rambling now, that much he could see. She always did that whenever she was close to crying, as if the fast words would somehow catch her tears before they fell.

He should say something, he knew he should but the words stuck to his throat like honey. It was all too much in too little time. Married? Shipped to the colonies? Benedict thought he had more time. More time to charm her parents and offer himself as a candidate for her hand in marriage. He’d already had every intention of marrying her but now his plans had turned to ash in front of his eyes. 

“This was a mistake,” Y/N muttered pulling her hand away his. “I never should’ve come. I should’ve left like my father had suggested. He was right. This is all too hard.“

Thunder clashed like rolling drums in the sky. What has once been a pleasant pitter-patter of rain had turned into a torrential downpour, soaking Benedict to the bone. Any warmth he had felt had dissipated, leaving him shivering. 

Before Benedict could stop her, Y/N was already racing towards Aubrey Hall, leaving Benedict with the bitter taste of heartbreak in his tongue.

VII. In the moments they shared with others

He was a fool. A right bloody fool who didn’t deserve her.

How could he have let her slipped free so easily? When Benedict had finally come to his senses, Y/N had already fled Aubrey Hall, taking her carriage and lady’s maid with her. Before Benedict could hope to give chase, Anthony had stopped him, citing that the heavy rain had made the roads treacherous. 

“All the more reason to chase after her!” Benedict bellowed, his insides twisted in worry. He was still dripping wet from the rain, the roaring fire doing nothing to dry him off. “If something were to happen to her, I could never forgive myself.”

“Dearest, you must calm yourself,” Violet said in a soothing voice. “Y/N is strong. She is more than capable of taking care of herself.”

“You don’t understand, Mama,” Benedict said clearly still agitated. “She is to marry!”

“It is her first season and she hasn’t even debuted yet,” Anthony said with a furrowed brow. 

“She is engaged to be married to the Duke of Albany. He means to live in the colonies and take her with him. He’s going to take away my Y/N. Mama, Anthony, please we must make haste and stop them.” He was begging now but he didn’t care. He’d beg on the very streets of London if it meant stopping Y/N’s wedding.

“The Duke of Albany’s 30 years her senior!” Anthony protested. “Her father couldn’t possible mean to marry her off to that odious man!”

“Hush, my darling,” Violet said as she pulled Benedict into hug despite their large height difference and how wet he was. “When the rain abates, I will join you myself in stopping their wedding.”

“Mama, I love her. I cannot. I—“

“I know,” Violet soothed. “It will be alright, Benedict. You shall see.”

But he couldn’t see. If Y/N reaches London, he knew in his heart of hearts that she would marry the Duke and sail off to the colonies without saying good bye. He knew it to be true because it is what Y/N would believe to be the best for them. If she left for the colonies, Benedict would never see her again and this would ease the heartbreak. At least, this is what she was likely telling herself to assuage her guilt. 

But Y/N didn’t know how much affection Benedict carried in his heart for her. He could never love another woman so long as she breathed and even if she were to pass before him, she would hold his heart in her bones forever. 

“I have to go get her.” Benedict declared, ripping himself away from his mother’s embrace. 

Ignoring his brother’s cries, Benedict ran from the sitting room, towards the stables. Grim determination had consumed him, his thoughts focused on Y/N and only Y/N.

He’d go on horseback. It will be faster and he was a decent rider, he could catch up to her. He had to. 

“My lord,” the stablehand stammered upon seeing him. The smell of horses permeated his nose though it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. 

“Help me, please. Our fastest horse.” Benedict panted, his breath winded from his short run. 

“But, my lord, it is pouring. I can prepare the carriage—“

“No, I’ll be faster on horseback. Please do as I ask.”

The stablehand simply nodded and ran through the notions of preparing their fastest horse.

He heard his brother first before he saw him. 

“Benedict, do not be rash.” Anthony was now as wet as he was from the rain.

“I am going and you cannot hope to stop me.” Benedict barely spared his brother a glance. “A little rain never hurt anyone.”

“Then I shall go with you,” Anthony motioned to the stablehand to prepare another horse. 

“Follow after me if you’d like but as soon as my horse is finished, I will ride.”

The stablehand moved quickly, cinching belts and hoops in record time and it wasn’t long before Benedict was on the saddle, the stable doors banging open as his horse leapt through them.

The horse felt fast beneath him despite the rain and moved with the same urgency its rider felt. He would not be deterred. If he had to stop the wedding at the altar, then he will do so. He cared not for dowries or money and properties and his family was wealthy enough for both of them. All he cared about was her. 

It wasn’t long before he saw carriage lamps up ahead and he knew that it was Y/N. The carriage was moving at a languid pace, no doubt the driver was worried about a potential accident caused by the torrential downpour. 

It only served to spur Benedict on. 

“Stop!” Benedict yelled at the carriage.

It was as if God Himself was on his side. By some miracle, the driver heard him over the loud din of the rainfall. Benedict kicked at his heels as the carriage slowed, letting his horse ride just a little bit further than the four horses that pulled the carriage.

“Master Bridgerton,” The driver said, his eyes wide in surprise but Benedict paid him no mind. He dismounted from his horse before circling towards the door of the carriage. And then he knocked that secret knock they shared as children.

Knock. Knock-knock. Knock.

“Go away, Benedict.” Her voice was muffled through the door. The window’s curtain was drawn but he could see her vague silhouette as well as the silhouette of her maid. 

“You do not have to say anything. You do not even have to answer me. But I implore you to listen.”

When Y/N didn’t say anything further, he continued.

“I wish to marry you,” Benedict said, his voice strong despite his pounding heart. For once in his life, he spoke to Y/N from his heart, let the words drip from his tongue like honey. He didn’t care that they had an audience, that Anthony was approaching from his own horse, that Y/N’s maid was in the carriage with her and that her driver was looking at him as though he’d grown two heads. Right now, all he saw was her. “Do you understand me, Y/N? I wish to marry you. I care not for your dowry or your money, I care only for you. If you wish to never look at me again, say so at once and I shall depart and I will never share in your presence until the day I pass from this world. I will endure the pain and the heartbreak because I love you and I wish only for your happiness. You need only tell me that you do not feel the same for me.

“But if you find that you cannot live without me the way I cannot live without you, tell me so. Let us end our own miseries and be happy. You, who deserve happiness more than anyone else in this earth.”

Despite the loud din of the rain, Benedict’s world grew silent, focused. His attention was on the carriage and the carriage alone. He knew that if Y/N told him to leave, he would do so without a moment’s hesitation. He will ride on his horse and turn his back away from her and he will never see her again. 

But then, the knob turned slowly then all at once. The carriage door opened so fast, Benedict barely had time to jump out of the way before the door could hit him. 

Y/N’s face was illuminated by the carriage’s lamps. She was still wet, wearing the same simple dress snd frock she had been wearing, having left Aubrey Hall in such a rush that a puddle had pooled at her feet, one that her lady’s maid desperately tried to wipe away. 

But neither of them cared about that right now. An asteroid could crash from the heavens and obliterate the earth but their dust would stay in an embrace for the rest of eternity if they could. 

She made her way out of the carriage, ignoring her maid’s protestations and making her way in front of Benedict. Whatever parts of her body that dried by her time in the carriage was immediately soaked by the rain once again.

She looked up at him, her eyes almost twinkling. 

Venus on Earth would be the name of the next painting. Of that, Benedict was certain.

“I love you too,” Y/N whispered before grabbing his lapel and pulling him down to a kiss.

In front of all these witnesses no less!

Y/N’s lady’s maid gasped in surprise while the carriage driver and Anthony averted their eyes but Benedict didn’t care. He leaned into the kiss, relishing the taste of her. She tasted like rain, like misty mornings and the sweetness of youth. And their kiss was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He’s kissed plenty of girls before but nothing and no one would ever compare to Y/N.

And when they pulled away, Y/N’s grin could only be described as incandescent.

“Now you two truly must marry,” Anthony said but there was no displeasure in his voice, only keen triumph, “lest Y/N’s father wants his daughter’s reputation in tatters. I will write to him tomorrow. Tonight I will write to the Archbishop of Canterbury for a special license and you two can wed before the week is out.”

“Thank you, brother,” Benedict said, finally feeling able to breathe.

He looked at Y/N, saw the triumph in her eyes. Y/N was one of the smartest people Benedict knew and though she knew kissing him would bring scandal nipping her heels, it would also force her father’s hand. The Duke of Albany wouldn’t want to marry Y/N if her reputation had been compromised.

It was no matter. To Benedict she was perfection and he wouldn’t have her any other way, tattered reputation or no.

“You are a bloody idiot, Benedict Bridgerton,” Y/N said but there was no malice in her voice. Just pure sprightly joy. “It took you this long to realize you loved me?”

He grinned, the kind of grin a man has when he knew his place in the world and his was beside her. “In truth, I fell in love with your fire long ago. Cowardice just seized me every time I felt the urge to tell you my feelings. But I do well and truly love you.”

“I love you, too.”

VIII. In their moments alone

Knock. Knock-knock. Knock.

Y/N’s door opened quickly, a strained smile on her face as she ushered Benedict in. Propriety dictated that their actions could only be deemed scandalous but Benedict didn’t care. He was marrying her tomorrow anyway. There was nothing and no one that could stop them.

It had been two days since the carriage incident and Y/N’s father had arrived on horseback to Aubrey Hall as soon as he’d received the missive.

“I have promised you to the Duke of Albany!” Her father had roared as soon as he managed to push his way through the butler, storming towards the sitting room where the Bridgerton family was having tea. Violet had the younger children ushered away from the confrontation, leaving only Y/N, Benedict, Anthony, and Colin.

“Who is older than even you, Father.” Y/N had said, the picture of serenity and calm. She was sitting on the chair closest to the window, the sun’s glow settling against her skin. She looked sublime. 

Ethereal Grace would be a befitting title for this painting.

“He is a Duke and 18th in line to inherit the British Crown! He is being sent to the colonies to govern. With his money, you will live a life even better than I could have ever provided for you as a baron!”

“I care not for his money, Father,” her voice had some heat to it now, “You sold me. Like some brood mare whose only purpose is to breed and pay off your debts!”

“I did not!” He sputtered. But shame coated him, his eyes nervously looking at the Bridgertons. While women in society were often betrothed without their consent, notions of selling were generally frowned upon. If word ever got out that Y/N’s father married her off for money, he would be ostracized by society. Even worse, if such word ever reached the King or Queen, he could be stripped of his peerage, becoming even more destitute than before. 

“I will be wed tomorrow to Benedict,” Y/N’s voice was hard now, all conviction and fire, “You cannot stop us. Anthony has acquired the special license and the Archbishop of Canterbury himself has agreed to marry us as a favor to Violet. You have come in vain.”

At that, Y/N’s father’s face turned thunderous. He took a menacing step towards her, one that had Benedict standing at attention, turning him into a protective shield. Her father eyed him distastefully and Benedict returned his venom. 

“You are making a terrible mistake. She has no dowry,” Her father hissed at him. “She has nothing.”

“She has me,” Benedict replied, his voice calm despite the rage simmering beneath his skin. If Y/N, despite all the pain and heartbreak wrought by this man, could continue to remain calm, then he shall do the same. “That is enough. She is enough.”

This time it was Anthony who spoke, his voice as hard as steel. “You will find, sir, that we care not for Y/N’s dowry, only of her happiness. Perhaps it is time you depart, before you do something you will regret. Colin, get the door.”

Y/N’s father’s fists turned white but just as Benedict thought he would swing, he turned and walked away. 

But before he could cross the threshold, Y/N called out to him, “Our wedding will be at noon tomorrow, Father. If you and mother would like to bear witness, it would bring me great joy.”

But Y/N’s father simply continued walking. 

It had broken Y/N’s heart, which is why Benedict came to her room that evening. 

He pulled her close, letting her sob for the first time since seeing her father. He knew that tomorrow will be the happiest day of their lives but for now, for tonight, Y/N was allowed to grieve. 

“I love you. I have never been prouder of you than when you stood up to your father,” Benedict said, tucking her head beneath his chin and pressing a chaste kiss on her head. “Everything will be alright, you’ll see.”

“Do you mind staying with me tonight?” Y/N asked with a sniffle, her voice hopeful.

Any other time, the word yes would have fallen from his lips like the water of a fountain. But if there was ever a time for Benedict to try and make her feel better, it was now. So rather than a simple yes, different words flew from his lips, teasing and accompanied with an affronted gasp b“Ms. Y/L/N, do you mean to compromise me? I am a gentleman! Unhand me, at once, you cur!”

Y/N gave him that look, the same look she always gave him when they were children and she knew Benedict was trying his best to cheer him up but, nevertheless, Y/N’s once somber expression lifted into her own mocking look of surprise as she wiped away her tears. “I will have you know, Mr. Bridgerton, that I am a lady! Your insinuations are greatly unfounded. Leave my room at once before you leave me with a sordid reputation.”

But Benedict did not leave. Instead, he took her hand and pulled her towards the bed, letting her body mould against his like he was a sculptor and she was wet clay. 

“My mother and father kept one bedroom, did you know that?” Benedict said as Y/N settled against him. He let his fingers roam, letting it comb through her hair before journeying down her neck, down her arms before resting on her hand.

“Oh?”

It was unusual for members of the aristocracy to like their spouses let alone love them as most marriages were arranged based on factors such as dowries and wealth. Spouses tended to keep separate bedrooms, choosing to spend an evening with the other only if there was a need to but Benedict’s parents were a true love match. They stayed in one bedroom until the day his father died and even then, his mother refused to leave. Better a love lost than a love never found were words Violet often used as an explanation. 

“Is that something you’d like for us?” Y/N asked, peering up at him through her lashes. “A single bedroom?”

“I intend to stay with you tonight and every night after we are married. It would be quite a challenge to do so in separate beds.”

“Alright then,” she said with a giggle, “a single bedroom it is.” 

“What about you? Any requests for our future home?”

“A sunroom would be quite nice. With many shelves filled with books that I can read. The light would be heavenly and you could paint while I read. It would be beautiful to have tea there rather than have a sitting room.“

“Your wish is my command, Y/N, light of my life.”

“Oh and, several bedrooms. I think I’d like to return the favor and host the Bridgertons every summer. And several more rooms for our future children, whenever we are ready to have them.”

“Of course,” Benedict said with a nod and smile. 

“And a garden. Large and beautiful. Full of flowers of all shapes and sizes.”

“We will fill it with all of your favorites.”

She paused and then she frowned. “What if my father was right and we are making a terrible mistake?”

He squeezed her tightly, letting his enveloping his fingers around Y/N’s hands. “Then we will make this mistake together and we shall have no regrets. I cannot see the future, my love, but I greatly remember our past. I know that whatever troubles may find us, we will face it together and so long as we are together, we can face anything.”

He watched her brow smoothened as another smile entered her sweet face. 

“Now, what else would you like for our future home, Mrs. Bridgerton?”

And as they planned their future home, their future lives, Benedict couldn’t help but think just how lucky he was in that moment they were alone. Perhaps he was being too idealistic. He had lived a life of splendor most people could only wish for, with no real adversaries besides the problem he’d encountered with his love life. Perhaps saying that they could face anything together only proved to tempt destiny into hurdling them towards trouble. But he did mean every word he said. He could face anything, be anything so long as Y/N was by his side. Y/N, who would always help him look past the darkness and see the light. Because that was what she was. The light of his life. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

#bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #king george #violet bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton oneshot #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton oneshot #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton one shot #bridgerton season 2 #bridgerton season 1 #bridgerton series #lady danbury #regency era fic #colin bridgerton #daphne bridgerton #hyacinth bridgerton #gregory bridgerton

[x-reader-theater]

Hi!! So glad to see you're back! This website has been a desert of good stories without you here. And thank the gods you are back because I have a bit of a sad request 🤭

How about a COD Ghost x male reader where reader has feelings for Ghost and ghost knows but doesnt reciprocate the feelings and reader dies while they are on a mission?

Only if you want to/feel comfortable with it!

Welcome back!!

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Male!Reader

word count: 750

warnings: Unreciprocated feelings, rejection, and main character death. Please read this as Ghost being an incredibly unreliable narrator. This is from his POV so any feelings he has are his own and not endorsed by the narrative.

a/n: i always get so excited seeing your notifications on my work. thank you for being such a stalwart supporter through it all. your support means the world to me. if anyone else wants to request something, you can find my request rules here to do so.

Ghost knows why you hang around him so much. He knows why you say the things you do and try to touch him at every opportunity. But you haven’t said anything, and he doesn’t want to yell at you and make himself look like the asshole.

But you’re trying to ingratiate yourself with Ghost like Johnny did. You’re not Johnny, so it’s wrong.

“Say, Ghost, you get called on this new mission too?” you ask him, sitting next to him in the cafeteria. Ghost has his mask pulled down. He pulled it back down when you sat next to him.

“No,” Ghost says dismissively, but you don't seem to get the hint.

You shrug with a smile. “Maybe next time.”

“Hopefully not…” Ghost mutters to himself. You freeze beside him, and Ghost realises you heard him.

You curl in on yourself and grab your tray, muttering, “Sorry, I’ll leave you alone.”

Feeling a pang of guilt he’s not used to feeling, Ghost reaches out and for the first time initiates contact.

“Wait,” he says, and you stop, looking at him with his God damned hopeful expression on your face that he can’t help but succumb to. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said it like that. That was rude.” Besides what Ghost is referring to, that’s probably the longest sentence he’s ever said to you. “I know you're attracted to me.”

That hopeful smile drops instantly from your face and hurt, you ask, “Who told you?”

Not a denial. An admission without saying the words.

“No one. I can tell,” Ghost says, and at that admission you feel your hands drop the tray you were holding onto the ground.

“Oh,” is all you can seem to say, your lips staying in that little formed “o” shape.

“I just… I don’t feel the same way,” Ghost explains, his grip on your arm loosening, but you just stand there, arms at your sides.

“Okay,” you get out. It seems you and Ghost have switched, with Ghost doing most of the talking and you giving one word replies.

“Maybe… we can start over,” Ghost supplies in a rare moment of vulnerability that he likes to keep tightly locked in his chest.

“Yeah,” you say, looking down at your shoes, still sounding dejected. “Maybe.”

You and Ghost stand like that for a moment, before Ghost says, “Sorry ‘bout your lunch. I can buy you another.”

You shake your head, as if clearing your thoughts, like what Ghost said shook you from your daze, and you mutter, “‘m not hungry.”

“Oh,” is all Ghost says.

You stand for a good few minutes, probably looking kind of crazy in the middle of a busy cafeteria, but you don't pay it any mind, too preoccupied with what's happening. Ghost is singularly focused on you while you try not to be on him.

“Good luck with your mission today,” Ghost ends up saying finally.

“Thanks,” you murmur, before turning and walking away, leaving Ghost to clean up your spilled lunch.

———

“Johnny,” Ghost says with a relaxed smile as he enters the common room claimed by the 141. Soap is sitting on one of the couches, gripping a folder so tight in his hands the paper is ripping underneath his fingers. As Ghost gets closer, he sees the tightness in Soap’s shoulders and the strained look on his face like he’s about to cry but won’t show that in public. “Johnny, what’s wrong,” Ghost asks, his voice going from flirty and playful to serious in the span of a few moments.

Soap turns to look up at Ghost with wet eyes and says, “[Y/N] is dead.”

Ghost freezes, and his already pale face underneath his mask goes white. “What?”

“He was shot. Price said it was a stray bullet. Caught him in the neck. Said he was a bit distracted today, wasn’t paying as close attention to enemy movements and… well…” Soap trails off, setting down the destroyed mission report on the coffee table in front of him.

Ghost feels sick to his stomach as he leans against the back of the couch for support. Another person who cared about him, dead. And it’s all his fault. Soap would leave him if he ever found out. Johnny loved you. You were one of the best people to keep up with Soap’s ramblings, always there to listen and engage, more than Ghost did.

Johnny can’t know. No one can. And Ghost will take this information to his second grave.

#my work #my writing #reader insert #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost #cod ghost #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #ghost x male reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x male reader #cod x male reader #ghost fanfiction #simon riley x male reader

[blue-slxt]

Secret Lover

*Request: two words. jealous. neteyam. but maybe...a twist to it? IDKKK SOMETHING A BIT DIFFERENT. not sure what though...*

Okay so funny enough, I actually already had a jealous Neteyam drabble written in my folders, but I had clue what kind of twist to add to it so I wrote this whole new one. I really went back and forth on how I wanted the twist to go cuz I had like 3 different ideas. But I hope you like this one🤗 All characters are aged up.

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

Smut under the cut

“Fuck, I’m sorry ‘Teyam!” your words leave your lips in desperate sobs as Neteyam slowly pumps only half of his length into you. He’s teasing by just barely brushing against your sweet spot but denying you the satisfaction of reaching it completely. The feeling was more painful than the bark scraping against your back from where he has you pinned against the tree.

He shakes his head at you, “Sorry won’t cut it, princess. You think it’s okay to let someone else touch you?” his voice is a low growl in your ear.

Whines leave your lips unable to grasp words.

“Answer me.” You use every ounce of control in your body to push out the word ‘no’. It was pointless to try and fight him. You had screwed up and you knew it. Someone else’s hand grazing your back was not going to fly with Neteyam. He was fine with people looking, but touching? Absolutely not. The last transgression made him so upset that he fucked your throat raw and your voice was hoarse for 2 days. You had to convince everyone that you were just coming down with a cold.

“You know the rules, bad girls don’t get to cum.” He teases slowly pushing into you again only halfway. This had dragged on for roughly 15 minutes. With his years of practiced patience, he had no problem prolonging these things. Even denying himself his own satisfaction until he felt happy with your compliance. “You know what I want to hear.”

You look up at him with pleading eyes, “I’m yours Neteyam. I belong to you. Only you can touch me.” Your body is screaming out begging him to fill you.

Finally, he has mercy on your aching core and thrusts his full length up into you. Your eyes roll in pleasure finally filling that emptiness inside of you. His fingers bruise your hips from holding you in place while he ruts into you. The force of his body slamming into you knocks the wind out of you. The sound of wet skin slapping against skin fills the air around you while you do your best to keep your voice down while your orgasm quickly approaches. You had been teetering on the edge since he started teasing you and now you were tumbling over that edge. You hold onto him digging your nails into his shoulders while pleasure courses through your veins. Your walls spasm around his dick begging for him to cum inside of you and he almost lets you have it. At the last second, Neteyam pulls out of you and lets his seed spill onto your lower abdomen instead. He keeps holding you up against the tree while you both catch your breath and come down from your highs.

You pout at him for pulling out of you. “Don’t give me that face. You know why I did it.”

Your head falls back against the tree and you groan in frustration. You knew fully well why he didn’t cum inside of you, but it was still aggravating as all hell.

Neteyam gently lowers you down to your feet and you both get cleaned up and dressed before walking out of the dense part of the forest you had snuck off to.

On the walk back to your marui, Ao’nung spots you. He jogs over to you with a smile on his face. “There you are! How is my beautiful mate today?” he kisses your temple and you can hear Neteyam huff out an almost silent breath before continuing on his path to his own marui.

You smile up at him, “I am well Ma’Nung. I could go for a swim. Care to join me?”

“Of course, yawne.”

You turn your head to sneak one more look at your secret lover while you walk towards the beach. Neteyam catches your gaze and tilts his head knowingly at you. You blush and face forward knowing that you were going to be in for it later on.

#avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar fic #neteyam #awow #neteyam sully #avatar smut #neteyam x reader #neteyam smut #neteyam x na'vi!reader #awow smut

[ilovehugslikealotalot]

I NEED CHRISTMAS THEMED REBECCA WELTON X READER

maybe one where there’s angst where Y/n is really close with Rebecca and the team so she spends lots of time at the club and Rebecca is trying really hard to Show y/n that she loves her but y/n is completely oblivious, Rebecca spills to Keeley how much she loves y/n and Keeley tells y/n abt and surprises Rebecca or something.

you can alter things so it makes sense! ☺️

Make Your Wish Come True

Rebecca Welton x Fem!reader

(not my gif)

WARNING: MINORS DNI, cliffhanger ending?

❝ She’s showed me what love was supposed to be. I find my heart so full of her I can hardly call it my own❞

-Rebecca Welton

~~✿ஜீ۞ஜீ✿•.¸¸.•*•.•ஜீ☼۞☼ஜீ•.•*•.¸¸.•✿ஜீ۞ஜீ✿~~

“You know, I really don’t think she fancies me. I really just don’t seem her type, Keels” Y/n says, unconvinced of even the slightest possibility. “Oh come on! She totally fancies you!”

Keeley had known y/n since their middle school years. They’d always get into some chaos wherever they’d go, sometimes, (which means all the time) Keeley would be the one always in isolation for taking the pranks a bit too extravagant. One time, Keeley and Y/n egged their neighbors house. But, a certain someone took it a step too far and toilet papered his car and dyed his dog key lime green.

A year ago, Rebecca had met y/n whenever they had run into each other in the hallways of the FC. Of course, since Rebecca is Rebecca she was always quite professional, and with y/n being clumsy and always getting herself, sometimes others, injured with her recklessness.

Y/n was in a rush to get to Keeley on a particular Saturday, hearing heels clicking in the distance, y/n paid no mind, focusing entirely on her phone. “Y/n watch out!” A familiar voice shouted, but, before y/n could turn around her dance smashed into someone, someone tall, and blonde, and beautiful…

“Miss Y/l/n, I’d say to be careful, but we all know you’ll fall again,” Rebecca smiled, chuckling sweetly, making sure y/n didn’t trip and fall on the floor. Y/n freezes up slightly, but still manages to utter a coherent sentence. “Thank you, Becca,” The blonde woman nodded with the same charming smile and let go of y/n before walking off, a faint blush on her cheeks.

The two shorter women watched as Rebecca strutted away with her hips swaying perfectly as she went. “She wants you…”

“Not! I can only keep dreaming.” Y/n sighed dreamily staring at the mistletoe in the heavily decorated hallway. Ribbons and trees lined the tables, and festive lights seemed to burn your eyes.

“Maybe Santa can Make Your Wish Come True!” Keeley exclaimed, grabbing a Santa plushie off of her desk and squeaking it, causing the two to laugh.

——————————

Rebecca never thought she would find herself surrounded by the Ted’s little…friendship circle.

“So, uh, boss. What brings you here?” Ted smiles, his hands folder in his laugh. “Well..Uhm, I’m positive you all know y/n, correct?” Rebecca looks around, everyone nodding, listening intently. “I…I feel…strongly toward her,” she had worded it that way for a reason, she was quite unsure about this, the memories of her last relationship with Rupert still haunting her mind. “Strongly, how?” Nate asked, slightly squinting his eyes as if he knew what she was going to continue with, Rebecca sighed, “I like her, I really do” Higgins clapped his hands together, “I knew it!”

“Like or love?” Roy bluntly enjoined, the blonde stood there for a minute to finally admit to herself what she had register for long.

“Love.” She spoke barely above a whisper, Roy smirked, to tease Rebecca further he urged her to be louder, “Huh?”

“I said I love her! Okay?!”

That was they had needed. From that point forward, everybody in AFC Richmond knew about about Rebecca’s little plan. She gave y/n extravagant gifts, showered her in compliments, and flirted every chance she got. Yet, y/n and her infinite wisdom thought that Rebecca was being friendly. In all truth, the blonde was about to just come clean, so, to prepare herself, Rebecca goes on to tell Keeley about just how much she’s willing to go for y/n. Though, she might’ve already known.

At the little firm Keeley had been managing, Rebecca hastily made her way to her best-friend’s office. A state of panic washed over her, she really just didn’t know what to do, she’d never dated a woman so this was all knew to her. “Keeley?” The taller woman called, opening the door, “Becca! What’s this about, y/n? Did you finally snog her?”

Keeley was one to be quite blunt when it came to romantic questions. “No, sadly” Rebecca chuckled joylessly, tossing her bag on Keeley’s office couch. Keeley frowned, hating the look on Rebecca’s face, “Man, is she really that blind?” She joked, chuckling at Rebecca’s little smile, “why don’t you just tell her? She likes you, isn’t it obvious at this point?” Rebecca looked at up at her in disbelief, “you’re joking?” Keeley almost screamed, these two were a bunch of idiots. For a literal month, these two had been pining for each other, they’ve been flirting non-stop and yet they still don’t know if the other likes the other? Jesus Christ, they were going to be the death of her.

Rebecca jumped out of her seat and ran to her car, the snow falling gracefully as the cold hit her cheeks. Buttoning her jacket to keep warm, she dialed a certain someone’s phone number..

#rebecca welton #open requests #rebecca welton x reader #ted lasso #rebecca is mother #she’s so fucking beautiful #she’s my wife #omg this is so cute

[timetoletmyimaginationfly]

Invisible String

Nanami Kento x Reader

(Song Inspiration: Invisible String by Taylor Swift)

Nanami Kento went on with his day. It went from his office life and back home. He would stay a few hours later to earn extra money. Only for him to start his day all over for him.

He dreaded it. He hated his normal life. He hated living in this monotonous cycle of work and life. It was shitty.

“Excuse me?” Nanami looked up. You stood there right in front of him with your notebook, folders, and books in your arms. It seems as if papers were going to fall out but you held them tightly against your chest. Your backpack was falling off your shoulder. You looked like you were in a rush. “Is this seat taken?” He looked at the empty seat next to him. He shook his head and moved over for you to sit down. “Thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome,” he said softly. He watched your cheeks glow with a faint pink color. He couldn’t help but let out a small smile. He looked at the time. It has been a while since he left work on time. Definitely the highlight of today.

And within that week, he made sure to clock out at the same time. He fast walked to the bus stop, patiently waited, and hoped that you would be there too. To his luck, he was able to obtain the same seats at the back of the bus. He placed his briefcase on the empty seat. After two stops, he saw you outside. The same papers, folders, and books with your backpack falling off your shoulder.

When you entered the bus, you recognized the blonde man in the striped suit and red tie. You smiled. His generosity for the past week made your day everyday after being yelled at constantly by your superiors. You were happy that someone, who seemed as exhausted as you were, was so soft and kind.

“Is the seat taken?” you asked curiously like you had been throughout the week. Nanami shook his head with a small smile. He picked up his briefcase and scooted over by the window. You thanked him happily and sat down. He watched you organize your papers. “You don’t mind holding this?” Nanami shook his head and held the pile of papers you pulled out of your bag. He took a glance at the papers.

“Intern designer?” he asked. He watched you nod in response.

“It’s hell over there,” you said. “I just need to be patient because it’ll get better. At least I’d hope so. How about you? You look like you’re not enjoying life.” Nanami shrugged.

“It’s okay,” he answered.

“Fair enough.” You finally made your things neat. You took the papers from Nanami’s hand and thanked him again. “This is my stop. I’ll see you around.” And you left, before Nanami could ask what your name was. ‘Next time.’ He pulled out his phone, staring at the one contact he never thought of calling.

Gojo Satorou.

He hasn’t been able to run into you for about a month. Assistant managers would drive him to the location of his missions. He would take a different bus route from before. None of them leading to you. He wondered if you were doing well. If you were still disorganized whenever you entered the bus. If you still fix them up while waiting for your stop. If you still ran away on time; away from the hell you had mentioned.

It was past 6. He decided to walk around the city. He was feeling a little nostalgic thinking about the little moments with you.

“Oh! It’s you!” Nanami’s eyes widened. There you were. You wore a brown corduroy dress with a beige turtle neck underneath. You wore stockings to keep your legs warm and brown boots and a brown beanie to match the outfit. Instead of your large and gray backpack that likes to fall off your shoulders, you carried a large sand colored purse. “New uniform?” Nanami smiled a small smile as he removed his glasses. Never would he have thought he would bump into you.

“You have a more clean look,” he said with a small smirk. You blushed.

“Look I made big changes in life,” you said. “And it’s been working out great for me this month.” Nanami smiled.

“Are you free right now?” he asked.

“I’m about to have a lonesome date with myself for dinner,” you answered. “You’re welcome to join.” And he followed you, passing a few stores until you turned at a small ramen shop.

“I made big changes as well,” Nanami said. You were interested and leaned in closer to hear more. “I decided to go back to teaching.”

“That’s amazing! You do seem better….uhh…” you started laughing, realizing that you never got his name. You told him your name.

“Nanami Kento,” he said.

“Well Nanami-san, I’m glad you’re doing something that is making you happier.”

“It’s something that has more meaning in my life and I’m more useful in the profession. What about you?”

“I quit,” you said. “After our last meeting, I contemplated about my life. So I quit the next day and I’m designing and selling my own products.” Nanami chuckled.

“I did the same thing.” You lightly laughed with him. Even returning back as a sorcerer and training young ones felt like a monotonous lifestyle, but it brought him purpose. He thought that if maybe your relationship with him blossoms, he will tell you everything about his life. Because so far, you’ve been the one who has brighten it up; the reason that his life became purposeful. He needed to know you more. “Are you free tomorrow?”

“I’ll be free whenever you are,” you answered. Nanami smiled. He pulled out his cell phone and you mirrored him, and the two of you exchanged numbers.

“I’ll call you.”

You nodded happily, excited to have the opportunity to know more about him. Nanami hopes that you’ll stick around. You gave him purpose and meeting you again, he believed fate wanted him to keep his purposeful life.

#jjk kento #jjk nanami #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanamin #jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #nanami fluff #nanami fanfic #kento nanami #nanami x you #kento x y/n #jujutsu kento #kento x reader #kento x you #fluff

[samantha-rae-velcher]

Class Final Pt.2

Math!Teacher!Jschlatt x Fem reader

Requested by: @chlorineafton ❤️

Warnings: Smut, swearing, Gym!Teacher!Swagger, Counselor!Ted, blow job (m receiving), semi public sex.

A/n 18+ NSFW! If you don't like the warnings please don't read! PLEASE KEEP MY COMMENT SECTION AGGRESSION FREE!

Tag: @goldenstarofthunderclan ❤️

___

"Mmm, that's it princess." Schlatt groaned. "Take daddy all the way."

Y/n bobbed her head up and down, his hand tangled in her hair. Schlatt started slow thrusts into her mouth, the feeling of her wet tongue against his shaft making his knees weak.

His heart raced as a sheet of sweat formed over his body, Schlatt growled when he felt Y/n rubbing her clothed cunt against his shoe.

"Fuck, Daddy's gonna cum." Schlatt tightened his grip on her hair, his chest rising and falling as he panted. "Ahh- I'm cumming."

The rush of Schlatt's orgasm ripped him awake, he sat up in bed sweat dripped from his topless form. Moonlight dimly lit the room as he looked around, Schlatt stood up and made his way over to the window, looking outside at the cold rain coming down, knocking the red and orange leaves out of the trees.

"Fuck." He groaned, feeling his erection forming just from simply remembering his dream.

Schlatt walked into the bathroom, hopping into the shower to clean off before he went back to bed.

___

Monday (Math)

"Alright, since May we've been studying for the final exam, I don't wanna hear about how you aren't ready yet. You better fuckin be, you've had five months to prepare. That's more than enough time."

Y/n raised her hand, catching Schlatt's attention.

"Sir, what day is the test?" She asked.

"This Wednesday, I'll split you up like I did in July. Some of you in the computer lab, the cafeteria, the Gym, so on and so forth."

Y/n nodded, looking back down at her paper. Schlatt couldn't help the warm feeling he got when he had heard her voice, he didn't want her to stop talking. Schlatt rubbed the back of his neck and continued, occasionally glancing over at Y/n

When the bell rang and the rest of the students were out the door, Y/n closed it and made her way over to Schlatt's desk. He looked up, noticing the mischievous glint in her eye.

"What does my princess need? More extra credit?"

She shook her head, slowly moving around the desk and sliding onto his lap. Schlatt wrapped his arms around her and captured her lips in a kiss, it was warm and full of passion.

"You're so beautiful." He whispered.

"And you, Mr. Schlatt...are one of the handsomest men I have ever laid eyes on."

Schlatt chuckled, planting a peck against her lips.

"Why don't you come home with me tonight, sweetie pie?"

Y/n hesitated for a minute, glancing out the window. She wanted to so bad, spending a night with him would be everything she's ever wanted. There was something inside her, a need to be with him. It felt so right when she was with him, the sudle glances they gave each other during class, the quick kiss before she left for the night, and she came in really early in the morning just so they could be together for awhile before the other students arrived.

"Okay." She said, smiling and glancing down at his lips.

He noticed the look, a smirk spreading over his face.

"What?" He asked. "What is it? You wanna give daddy another kiss?"

Y/n nodded, leaning in and pressing her lips against his.

___

Monday (Counseling)

"How are you doing?" Counselor Nivison asked.

"Oh, I'm alright. Just a little nervous about the finals."

He nodded, looking down at his folder.

"Think your gonna pass it?"

"When do I ever fail?"

"Exactly." He chuckled. "That's the confidence I wanna see. Go in there and grab that test by the ass, show the world you can pass that final."

"That's what I plan to do."

"Do you wanna talk about anything that might be going on in school? Grades...a boyfriend...a crush?"

Y/n blushed red. Did he know? No, how could he...unless he lives in the fuckin walls...

___

Monday (Gym)

Y/n and Mr. Souls sat on the bleachers while the other students played basket ball.

"How's Schlatt been treating you?" he asked.

"Great, I'm happy."

"Not pushing too much is he?"

Y/n shook her head, silence falling between them.

"I think Counselor Nivison knows what happened."

"Ted? How could he? No one else was there."

"No...but there's still cameras in the classrooms."

Mr. Souls smacked his palm against his forehead, he thought for a second.

"You're 18 right?" He asked.

"Eric, I'm in college. I'm actually 19."

"Thank God."

Y/n giggled, "You guys couldn't lose your jobs for this could you?"

"If they found out we basically gang banged you over a desk...yeah. but in this collage, a teacher and student relationship isn't against the rules, unless your fucking on a desk."

Y/n nodded, "I hope he doesn't say anything to Principal Kif, I don't even know for sure if he knows. Either way, Schlatt and I are spending time together tonight."

Eric smiled, "Good for you two, I'll keep an eye on Nivison. If he tries to say anything...I'll make him fuckin regret it."

___

Ted watched as Y/n pulled her bookbag out of her locker, Schlatt walking up and discreetly kissing her temple.

"You ready to go, princess?" He asked.

Y/n nodded, taking his hand as they headed for the door. Ted went to fallow them, but Eric came out of nowhere and pulled him into the science room.

He closed the door, and slammed Ted into the wall. Yeah, Eric was shorter but he was still intimidating. The counselor swallowed the lump in his throat, fear setting in.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Eric growled.

"How was she?"

There was silence between them for a moment, before Eric broke it.

"What?" He asked, sounding stunned.

"I've dreamt of how she'd feel, how she'd sound begging for me."

Eric lowered his brows, "You wanna fuck Y/n?"

Ted nodded, "Do you have any idea what it's like? Sitting in my office with her, those beautiful eyes looking to me for guidance, putting her trust in me? Letting me know some over her most deepest secrets? Ive wanted to feel her for so long, and now...Schlatt has her in his grips."

Mr. Souls patted his shoulder, "I think we can work something out."

___

"Welcome to my home." Schlatt said, opening the door for Y/n.

She walked inside, dropping her bag next to the door. Her eyes wandered, surprised at how comfortable his house looked, it made her feel calm.

"You like it?" He asked.

"Yeah, it's so you."

Y/n turned to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a bruising kiss. He hoisted her up onto his hips, pressing her back into the wall. Y/n groaned when she felt his erection through his pants, she ran her hand between them and started palming at his cock, making his breath hitch.

"Fuck, I need you." He growled, pushing her dress up and smirked when felt she was wasn't wearing panties.

Schlatt rubbed slow circles against her clit, trailing hot wet kisses down her neck. He slipped his fingers into her, while still abusing her clit with his thumb.

"You're so fuckin wet, sweet pea." He whispered.

"N-need you."

"Yeah? You want Daddy to fuck you?"

"Mhm, p-please."

With a dark chuckle, Schlatt pulled his cock from his trousers and lined himself up with her. He gripped her hips, slowly sliding past her entrance.

They pressed their foreheads together, both letting out a strained moan as he bottomed out. Y/n pressed a feather light kiss against his lips, telling him she was ready.

Schlatt started with slowly thrusts, their breathing in sync as he went faster. Y/n buried her face in his shoulder as he rutted into her.

"Such a pretty girl." He whispered. "Gonna make you fuckin cry."

"P-please, don't stop."

Schlatt smiled, her words making him go harder. His hand returned to her clit, rubbing tight quick circles against it.

"You like that? Huh? You like it when I fuck you like that?"

"Mhm, I- ahh! Please! More, I need more!"

Schlatt pulled out, pushing her to her hands and knees, getting behind her and pressing her head to the floor.

Schlatt thrusted back into her, keeping up his relentless pace. His fingers worked magic against her clit, making tears stream down her face and soak into his carpet.

"You gonna cum, princess?"

"Oh God! Y-yes."

He smiled leaning over so his chest was pressed to her back, he thrusted as hard and as fast as he could go, eating up every moan and cry she made.

"I- I'm so close."

"Cum for me, let daddy feel you baby."

His words sent her over the edge, Schlatt soon after. He kissed the back of her neck and tucked himself away, rolling her onto her side and picking her up bridal style.

Schlatt brought her over to his couch and laid her down, pressing a gentle kiss to her head.

"Ill be right back."

He went over to the door, picking up both their bags and bringing them into the kitchen. Schlatt set hers on the table and rummaged through his, snatching out his phone.

The screen read: One new message from Eric

Schlatt shrugged, typing in his code and going into texts.

Eric: Hey, hope you and Y/n are having a good time. Ran into Nivison, this fucker has some secrets we didn't know about.

Schlatt: what do you mean?

Eric: it involves Y/n, I'll call you later. I got a basketball game to coach for. You two enjoy your night.

THE END ❤️

I hope you enjoyed

Reblogs are welcome 🤗

#fyp #foryou #fanfic #foryoupage #x reader #smut #jschlatt x y/n #jschlatt x you #jschlatt smut #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt #schlatt x y/n #schlatt smut #schlatt x reader #schlatt #swaggersouls x you #swaggersouls smut #swaggersouls x reader #swagger x reader #swaggersouls #ted nivison #ted nivision smut #ted nivison x reader #ted nivison x you #ted nivison x y/n

[snowangeldotmp3]

Robin can't find her jacket.

She felt naked without it. It was her armor. And one of the few pieces of clothing that didn’t yell “English Professor!” at the world. But most importantly, it was hers.

And she can’t find it.

She’s looked everywhere for it. Closet. Drawers. Eddie’s place. Steve’s place. Max’s room. Joyce’s diner. The Outback. It’s like it’s vanished in thin air.

The room is a mess, like a tornado came through and left all of her clothes in its wake. Robin knows she probably looks like a maniac searching for the thing, she can’t help it.

It’s at that exact moment when Nancy walks by, head craning to watch Robin’s manic state. “Robin? Is…everything okay?” Nancy asks, leaning against the doorframe.

Robin sits on her knees, running a hand through her hair. “Yeah, it’s just,” she pauses, the ridiculousness of it all now crashing down on her, “I can’t find my jacket,” she deflates.

Nancy’s face doesn’t change. She simply asks, “The blue one?”

Robin nods.

“Oh,” Nancy says, pushing off from the frame, “I have it.”

Relief washes like a wave over Robin. “You do?” She asks, before her brows knit together, “why?”

“Mhm, come with me.”

Robin gets up, letting Nancy lead her to what Robin can only assume is Nancy’s bedroom.

This is the first time she’s seeing it. She’s been living with Nancy and Max for the last month now, and it’s the first time she’s seeing Nancy’s room. Nancy’s seen her room dozens of times, (mostly because Robin’s door is always open) but Nancy’s more reserved than Robin is. This feels…more intimate somehow. A room is often a reflection of one’s mind, of their personality, so for Nancy to be showing her this…it feels like they might finally be friends.

(At least, Nancy might finally consider them friends. Robin has considered them friends since they got stuck in the Enchanted Forest, because who rips out a heart like that for someone you were supposed to hate? They shared stories around a campfire like they were fucking Girl Scouts desperate for a new merit badge. Nancy saved Robin in the Enchanted Forest. She considers that to be pretty high on the friendship ladder.)

Nancy walks through the door, Robin close behind, and straight to her closet. Robin takes a moment to observe the room. It’s so quintessentially Nancy that Robin has to flex her fingers, fighting the itch to reach out and touch things, committing them to memory and filing them away to the ‘Nancy’ folder in her brain.

Nancy pushes past her clothes, pulling the dry cleaning bag from her closet. Robin can see the familiar blue before Nancy’s got the bag fully out of the closet. Robin stares at her, dumbfounded. Nancy smiles sheepishly at her.

“After that last battle I noticed it got pretty banged up, so I had Max snatch it when you weren’t looking so I could get it cleaned properly. I know it means a lot to you and I didn’t mean to cause a panic like that it was just the least I could do…” She trails off, handing the jacket back to Robin.

Robin can’t wrap her head around it. One, Max is a traitor who snatches her jackets when she’s not looking. Two, does Nancy…care about her? Consider her a friend? This is a woman who, not even six months ago, was actively trying to make Robin’s life a living hell.

Robin pulls her in a tight hug, eliciting a small, “oof!” from the brunette. Nancy relaxes into the hug, and Robin tries not to think about how perfectly hug-sized Nancy is. “Thank you,” she whispers, squeezing one last time before letting go.

When Robin lets go, she ignores the way Nancy’s face glows a brighter shade of red, and stammers, “Oh—it’s…it’s nothing, you know. I just—“

It’s adorable.

Warmth blooms through her chest, waves of it washing over her. She smiles.

Nancy was a queen. An evil queen. And now she’s caring for Robin’s things and fumbling over her words and blushing and Robin wants nothing more than to just—

No. No, not here, not now. She will not ruin this, whatever it is they have going, because of her stupid feelings.

#ronance #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #ouat au ronance #ouat au #GUESS WHO BEAT THE WRITERS BLOCK 😎 #this was like pulling teeth to write but. i did it #i also may have wrote a bit of that 'going home' bit where they have to cross the town line heheh #also! working on the wandavision steddie au. that one is a bit harder than i thought it would be heh #but!!! i hope you all enjoy this #my writing

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Bad Day - A "Kissing You" Drabble

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Rating: No warnings that I know of, just a bunch of fluff with the briefest of mentions about other enjoyable activities with our boy

Word Count: 800

Prompt #5 : Intertwining fingers

a/n: Okay, so I've been working on something for a while, and this is not that something, but rather a small piece of a different something that I'm really trying to convince myself to share. But for now, here's a small piece of that thing that I want to share for @browneyes-issac. I'm so sorry you had a horrible day at work and my brain wouldn't stop until I wrote this in hopes that it might help, even just a little. This is also my first ever released Frankie fic, and also my first time writing f!reader, and also the first thing I've written and shared on Tumblr in literal YEARS, so go easy on me. And if you like it, tell me to post the other ones that may or may not be sitting in my folders.

Masterlist | Next Drabble

Your day has been nothing short of miserable. 

As if a broken water heater hadn’t been enough, the standstill traffic on your way to work and the blown tire just two blocks from the restaurant gave you pause. And then you’d been foolish enough to believe that maybe, at least, work would be tolerable for once. 

But it hadn’t been, and now you're alone in an empty restaurant with a room full of tables still yet to be cleaned. Your coworkers had been no help, piling onto your load with table after table, nevermind your lack of a break. And then they’d left, all citing important events that they needed to attend while you stood, glancing at your watch as it told you your shift should be ending in ten minutes. Keyword, should.

A flash of headlights from outside brightens the empty room, and with a sigh, you head toward the front door, unlocking the deadbolt as Frankie appears on the other side. He’d agreed to pick you up when you’d called him about your blown tire, and he was, of course, on time. 

You're willing yourself not to lose it entirely when you breathe in his familiar scent, but it only takes a second for his wide smile to fade into genuine concern. “What’s wrong?” 

Saying nothing, you turn and walk back into the dining room, gesturing to the tables still stacked high with dishes. “There’s more in the kitchen,” you sigh, eyes falling to the ground in front of you, trying to hide your frustrated tears. 

Slowly, he takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together and raises them to press a kiss to the back of your hand. “I’ll help.”

A laugh escapes you as you finally glance up at him, “You can’t.” 

Frankie’s eyebrows raise quickly, “and why not?” 

“For starters, you don’t work here. And you wouldn’t get paid. And it’s my job. You probably shouldn’t even be in here like this and you really can’t go in the kitchen and…” 

His grip on your hand tightens, causing you to stop your rambling. Without missing a beat, he counters your concerns with a plan. “How about you wash and I collect the dishes and bring them back to you? Then I can wipe down all the tables and rearrange everything out here while you finish up.” 

“Let me help you, Querida,” he continues when he notices you biting your lip, eyes flickering over the piles of work, and you feel him kiss your hand once more. You have to admit that his plan makes a lot of sense, and it would probably allow the two of you to be out of here long before you would if you did everything on your own. 

“Okay,” you agree after a long breath.

Frankie looks pleased, almost excited, and kisses your forehead quickly before rushing off in the direction of the nearest table. He picks up a stack of dishes and follows as you lead him toward the kitchen. Once you’ve shown him where to set things, you head toward the sink to begin the cleaning process. 

He appears every minute or so as he clears the dining room, stopping in between each trip to kiss you. Sometimes on your forehead, sometimes your shoulder or your nose. Whatever part of you he can reasonably reach, and with each passing moment you feel the weight of the day become a little lighter. A smile here and there, a laugh when he kisses you in the crook of your neck before rushing back into the dining room once more.

Methodically, you scrub away at the dirty plates, working as quickly as you can. Frankie is gone for a while, probably cleaning the tables, and soon the pile dwindles down to nothing.

Strong arms wind around your waist as you rinse off the plate in your hands, a warm chest at your back, and he presses a kiss to the side of your head. “Almost done?” 

You nod, pressing into him as you place the last dish on the rack. “Done.” You turn in his arms, and he doesn’t protest when your wet hands wind around his neck to bring him down for a proper kiss. It’s soft and warm, and you hum when you pull away to find Frankie smiling at you. “Thank you,” you whisper. 

“Anytime,” he returns, hugging you a bit tighter. “Now, are you ready to go home? Because I think I have the perfect remedy for your bad day.” 

His contagious smile finally transfers to your own face, “Is that so?”

Frankie nods eagerly, and you know the spark in his eyes well, so without another word you lace your fingers through his and tug him in the direction of the door. 

And later, when you’re laying in his arms, feeling sated and so very loved, your bad day is nothing more than a forgotten memory. 

Masterlist | Next Drabble

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #pure fluff #kissing you #lurking and writing

[towine]

[alhaitham/cyno] haven

assassin's creed AU / ~2k / oneshot / rated T

notes: i was looking through my writing folder and found this lil thing i started back in [checks date] oh my god may. i dusted it off, went "okay i still like this" and decided to finish it

it's an AU of the video game assassin's creed (particularly AC1), but all you really need to know is that alhaitham and cyno are both part of an order of assassins led by azar. i hope you enjoy it, even if i'm sure it interests like, -5 people. what can i say. i'm just playing with my dolls however i like

-

-

Cyno dives headfirst into the rooftop entrance of the bureau.

Instinct has him tuck into a roll as he hits the ground, but his shoulder still takes the brunt of the fall. He’s entered through the skylight dozens of times before without issue, but never with so much blood in his eyes or such a pounding headache.

He crashes near the water fountain, knocking over a water jug and spilling its contents across the tiles.

The sound of shouts and footsteps approach like an incoming stampede.

“Assassin! He went this way!”

Disorientation keeps Cyno from getting up even as his brain screams hide, hide now, they’re coming, they’re coming—

In his periphery, he sees someone vault over a table in a flash of dark robes. They hurry to the open skylight to grab a rope dangling from it, then yank the entrance closed. The sounds of shouting are muffled but still rapidly drawing closer. The roof is nothing more than criss-crossing slats of wood, letting the sunlight in.

The guards will see him. He has to move—

Two hands grab Cyno beneath the armpits and bodily drag him further into the room, away from the light. Cyno growls at the pain in his shoulder, head swimming, adrenaline still pumping through his veins.

“Quiet,” hisses a familiar voice. “Cyno, you have to be quiet.”

“Alhai—”

A hand claps over his mouth. Cyno breathes harshly against it, barely refraining from biting it.

Then, voices. On the roof.

“I swear he went this way.”

“He probably ran towards the gate.”

Footsteps hit the ceiling hard enough to make dust rain from it, down to where Cyno is tucked into a shadowed corner.

“Keep looking! Don’t let him escape.”

The footsteps and voices move on to other rooftops. Outside, the city bells ring in time with the pounding of Cyno’s pulse.

Finally, the footsteps and voices fade. Stillness remains for another few seconds, just to be cautious. Then the arms holding Cyno release him.

Cyno gasps and slumps to the ground, falling on his back. Lights dance across his vision.

Alhaitham leans over him, face twisted in a scowl. Cyno’s blood stains the front of his robes.

“Did you alert every single city guard to your presence?” he says. “You’re lucky I didn’t keep you locked out.”

Cyno tries to speak but the room won’t stop spinning.

“If we have to move the bureau again, I will be sure to report this to Azar.”

The edges of his vision go dark.

“Cyno? Cyno, look at me—”

The last thing Cyno registers before everything fades away is a hand on his cheek, turning his face to meet Alhaitham’s.

-

When Cyno wakes up, the first thing he thinks is, Ah. I’m not dead.

He’s lying on a bed in a small, humble room. No windows. A table, a chair, a basket of what he assumes are used clothes. The clothes at the top of the pile are bloodstained.

His clothes.

Cyno looks down at himself. Bandages, wrapped around his middle, right where he remembers a guard’s lance found a home in his side. He brings a hand up to his head and feels bandages there too. Another guard nailed him with the butt of their sword. Better that than the other end.

His assassin robes are nowhere to be found, and his bracer is on the nightstand. Cyno sits up, swallowing down the nausea that heaves up his throat when he does, and he takes the bracer, examining the hidden blade.

It flicks out without issue, gleaming and deadly. And clean of his mark’s blood.

Cyno puts it on his forearm, sighing when he does. He never feels quite right without it.

His pants and boots were left on. At least he got to keep a small measure of modesty. He rises to his feet, breath catching when he feels a sharp pain in his side. He pushes his way through the room’s only door.

Alhaitham is on the other side of it, standing at a table as he examines a map. He doesn’t look up when Cyno enters.

“You owe me a new jug,” he says conversationally, tracing over the map with a pencil.

Cyno rasps, “My robes—”

“Are hanging over there.” Alhaitham, still not looking at Cyno, points with his pencil to the other side of the room with the skylight and tiled floors and bubbling water fountain. A line has been strung up from one wall to the other, from which hangs Cyno’s white assassin robes. “That blood was a nightmare to wash out. I’ll never understand why the Order insists on white robes.”

Cyno stares at the robes, not sure what to say.

Alhaitham goes on, “Your other clothes weren’t worth keeping. I figured I’d give you some spares when you woke up.”

He’s looking at Cyno now. His is a difficult gaze to read. Cyno has never understood Alhaitham as well as he wished, but that isn’t unusual—Alhaitham is known by most to be severe and uncooperative, even to those within the Order.

He’s never been particularly warm to Cyno, but Cyno chalks it up to Alhaitham’s pragmatism more than anything else. After all, there must be a reason he’s made it to the rank he now holds: Rafiq of Sumeru City, tasked with providing missions to their assassins as well as managing this bureau, a safe haven for anyone of their Order.

Still, laundry must lie outside of Alhaitham’s usual responsibilities.

“Thank you,” Cyno says finally.

Alhaitham says nothing. A plate of figs and bread sits on the corner of his table, and he nudges it towards Cyno.

Cyno approaches and examines one fig, takes a bite. He’s suddenly ravenous.

“So,” Alhaitham says while Cyno eats, “the deed is done?”

Cyno uses his hand that isn’t holding a fig to reach down into the side of his boot, digging for the feather he knows is there. A white feather, at least it used to be before Cyno dragged it through his mark’s blood. He places it on the table, carefully avoiding the map spread over it.

Alhaitham picks the feather up by the quill, holds it to the light. Then he nods in satisfaction and sweeps away to one of his bookshelves.

“I’ll send word to Azar,” he says, “though I’m sure the ruckus you caused has sent the news to him already.”

Cyno scowls. “I had to improvise.”

“And does improvising have to involve luring the guards to my rooftop?”

“It was not my intention to endanger the bureau,” Cyno snaps. “Call it instinct that I ran here. I nearly died escaping Alcazarzaray. Something wasn’t right. The intel was inaccurate.”

“Inaccurate?” Alhaitham frowns. “That’s impossible.”

“I assure you it’s not.” Cyno sighs and rests a hand over his bandaged side. Alhaitham’s eyes flicker down to it. “It’s like they knew I was coming. You said there would be fifteen guards total. There were thirty. You said the mark would be asleep in his bedroom on the second floor. He was awake and armed. Someone warned him.”

“That’s impossible,” Alhaitham says again. “The intel came from Azar’s personal informants, he—” Alhaitham stops.

After a few seconds of silence, Cyno says, “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Alhaitham,” Cyno says. The sound of it falls heavily between them. “What is it?”

Quiet. Alhaitham turns away to rummage through his shelves. “Nothing. I will just have to tell Azar to cut ties with those informants. They nearly got you killed.”

“I would not die so easily,” Cyno says.

Alhaitham returns to the table with a blank piece of parchment, and he looks at Cyno with a small, wry smile. “No, you would not,” he says.

Cyno swallows.

“Whether or not you’re easy to kill,” Alhaitham continues, and he begins writing on the parchment with a quill, “you’re not safe here.”

Cyno snorts. “Obviously.” The guards will be on high alert for at least the rest of the month.

“Obviously, he says,” Alhaitham mutters, and finishes writing with a flourish. “Are you listening? You’re not safe here. Not even in this bureau. Not even in the House of Daena.”

That makes Cyno frown. “What? Why?”

“The intel shouldn’t have been wrong.” Alhaitham rolls the parchment up and ties it off with twine. “This was an important mission. Why else would Azar assign it to the best of the Order?”

The best of the Order. Alhaitham’s praise is a precious thing, precisely because it is so non-existent. It’s a shame that Cyno feels far too confused at the moment to appreciate it.

“Alhaitham,” Cyno says slowly. “Tell me what is going on.”

Alhaitham sighs. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to leave this bureau and go straight for the city gate. Do not meet with Azar. I will tell him what you accomplished. You are going to take this—” Alhaitham holds out the rolled up parchment, “—and go to Aaru Village.”

“Aaru Village?” Cyno’s brow rises. “Why?”

“You’re going to give this to someone named Candace,” Alhaitham continues, as if Cyno hadn’t spoken, “and you’re going to wait for me to send word to you. Do not write to me.”

“You’re speaking nonsense,” Cyno says. He steps away from the table.

Alhaitham’s hand shoots out and grabs his wrist.

Cyno turns in his grip and slams Alhaitham’s arm down against the table.

The hidden blade flicks out and poises itself at Alhaitham’s throat.

Alhaitham, bent over the table with his mouth twisted in a grimace, looks up at Cyno.

“You said I’m in danger here,” Cyno says. “So why should I trust you?”

“Easy,” Alhaitham grits out. “Don’t be rash. I’m trying to help.”

“Why should I trust you?” Cyno demands. “I will not ask again.”

Alhaitham sucks in a breath, low and steady, wary of the blade. “If I wanted to kill you, why would I bother saving you first?”

The wound in Cyno’s side throbs beneath the tightly laced bandages. He glances at the figs on the table, half-eaten.

He retracts the blade and lets Alhaitham go.

Alhaitham exhales and slumps over the table. Cyno takes the parchment from where it rolled near the table’s edge.

“It’s just lying low for a while,” Alhaitham says, flexing his arm. Cyno slightly regrets slamming it so hard. Only slightly. “I’m sure you want to recuperate anyway, considering your injuries. I just recommend you do it far away from here.”

“And what about you?” Cyno asks, not looking at him. “You’re not in danger doing all this?”

Alhaitham straightens up, tugging his robes back into order. “I’ve been doing this dance for a long time. I know how to tread lightly.”

Cyno huffs. “You know, you say a lot without saying anything at all.”

“And that,” Alhaitham says, “is the way of the assassin.”

It doesn’t take long for Cyno to gather his things. His assassin’s robes are still damp, but it’d be idiotic to wear them out in the open anyway. He borrows a loose tunic from Alhaitham’s wardrobe, and a cloak to cover his head and the bracer on his wrist.

Alhaitham is waiting by the door when Cyno is finished.

He says, “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you this, but don’t let anyone see you leave.”

Cyno nearly scoffs. “I never do.”

“Right.” Alhaitham steps away.

There’s an awkward moment where Alhaitham stands there and Cyno doesn’t reach for the door handle. Part of Cyno can’t help but feel like he will step past this threshold and never see Alhaitham again. The thought worries him, for some reason. Cyno opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

It’s Alhaitham who breaks the silence.

He says, hardly more than a murmur, “Safety and peace, Cyno.”

The customary greeting and farewell of their Order. Cyno shivers at the cadence of his name falling from Alhaitham’s lips.

“Somehow, right here,” Cyno says quietly, “there is both.”

Alhaitham’s eyes widen.

Before Cyno can think twice of it, he opens the door and steps outside. The street is clear, but only for now. He has to move quickly. There’s no looking back.

As he races for the city gate, ducking into the shadows of buildings and skirting around the main roads, a sweetness lingers in his mouth from the figs. Alhaitham’s scent clings to the shirt Cyno is wearing, as distracting as perfume. Cyno can’t shake these things loose, no matter how fast he runs. But maybe that’s okay—maybe he’ll just have to carry them.

Outside the city, he looks west to the horizon, where the desert waits.

Yes. He’ll carry them.

#cytham #haino #cyhaino #genshin impact #alhaitham #cyno #caiwrites

[brighteyedbushybrowed]

𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 Bath time with Mary, ironically, gets a little messy. 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 Bathtime 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩(𝐬) Mary Goore x GN!Reader 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 Smut (18+ only, MINORS DNI or I will make you rue the day you clicked on my fic and crossed my boundaries), dirty talk, brief jerking off and hand jobs (is hand jobs the gender neutral term?), sex in a bathtub (can be read as PiV or anal), Mary being possessive (but not in the creepy stalker way). 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 1854 words. 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 Yo yo yo it's been a while, huh? University work has been killing me and pushing me to the brink of academic burn out but I've only got one essay left now so it's okay! This is gonna be the first in what I hope to be many Mushy May fics that I write this month and most will likely be Mary themed bc I just really need some Mary rn. Credit goes to @forlorn-crows for the Mushy May prompts! I've only proofread this to make sure I've not used gendered terms for reader's genitals or any gendered pronouns/words for reader so if I've missed any please let me know and I'll fix that ASAP! 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 𝐓𝐢𝐩 𝐉𝐚𝐫

You couldn’t help but smile at the slam of the door and the thumping of boots stomping through your apartment as you played with the robe belt that was tied around your waist. You bit your lip when the thudding steps stopped and transitioned into slightly quieter ones, your partner’s boots clearly having been discarded the closer to the bathroom they got. And then your smile turned into a grin as you glanced up through the now open door to find Mary staring at you hungrily.

“I’d tell you to take a picture, but you already have plenty of those tucked away in that little secret folder on your phone, don’t you?” you teased. Your eyes slowly raked up and down their body, your gaze lingering on their crotch before you glanced up at their face once more.

“What? You don’t like being my muse?” Mary finally stepped into the bathroom and shut the door behind him, locking it as he pulled his shirt over his head and dumped it unceremoniously onto the floor. Unbuckling his belt, he moved towards you with a smirk and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Did I say that?” You draped your arms around the back of his neck and pulled him in so that your noses were touching. “I happen to love being your muse. You have a great eye for lighting and negative space and all that.”

Mary quirked a brow at you, trapping you against him as his hands rested on your ass and pushed your bodies together. “And all that, huh? Really turning on the flattery tonight, aren’t you?”

You hummed as you sealed your lips over his in a kiss, his fingers digging into your behind as he squeezed. His mouth slid over yours languidly, tongue darting out to swipe over your bottom lip before he bit down on it and gave it a tug. The kiss ended just as soon as it had begun, much to your displeasure, and he chuckled as you pouted at him.

“Let’s get out of these shitty clothes. Wanna get down and squeaky clean with you,” they insisted, drawing giggles out of you as they briefly tickled your sides before stepping back to shuck the rest of their clothes.

You waited until they were just in their boxers before you undid the belt on your robe and let the fabric drop to the floor, dramatically revealing your body to them. The growl that rumbled in their chest sent a thrill through you as you leaned back against the counter, showing off your body to them. Tauntingly, you delicately trailed your fingers down your chest, over your stomach, and stopped just where short curls of hair began.

“Fuck,” Mary hissed, eyes fixed on your nether regions. “I’ve been thinking about you all night at the gig.”

You hummed, fingers inching down ever so slightly. “Oh yeah?”

“Fuck yeah.” They pulled their boxers down their thighs, uncovering their quickly hardening cock as the last layer of clothing dropped to the floor and they stepped out of it. “You have any idea how much I wanna just bury myself between those thighs and never resurface?”

Squeezing your thighs together at their words, you watched as they slowly started to stroke themselves. Their thumb brushed over their tip with each upstroke, leisurely pulling at themselves as they fully hardened in their grip.

“You see what you do to me? How badly I need you? All I have to do is think about you onstage, just for a moment, and I have to hide behind my guitar. Press it against myself to make that ache for you ease just enough that I don’t start touching myself in front of the crowd because you get me hard so damn fast.”

His free hand braced himself on the counter behind you when he stepped back into your personal space. His pupils were blown with desire, pea green irises growing thinner as he stared at your lips and continued to touch himself.

“If I had it my way, I’d have you in my lap 24/7 and you’d never leave. Just fucking yourself on my cock, taking whatever pleasure I give you and making you cum over…”

His lips ghosted over yours.

“And over…”

You felt his chest brush against yours.

“And over again.”

You swatted his hand away from his cock and took over, your fist flying over his cock as he groaned into your ear and bit down on your earlobe.

“Mm, that’s it. So good for me, aren’t you? You know exactly what I need, and you give it to me exactly how I want it.”

A gasp passed through your lips as his fingers pressed between your thighs to touch you where he knew you wanted him the most, digits featherlight and teasing as he rocked into your hand.

“The water will get cold if we carry on like this,” you huffed out, desire encouraging your body to become more slick down below the more he touched you. “We should get in while it’s still hot.”

Mary hummed and nipped at your ear. “Is that what you really want? You don’t want me to bend you over this counter and fuck you until your crying on my cock?”

Their words elicited a soft whine from your throat. “Rather be bouncing on your dick in the tub so I can watch your face while I cum, Mare.”

With a growl, they led you towards the tub and climbed in. The groan they released as they settled in the hot water, shoulders visibly untensing as they did so, encouraged you to step in after them. You straddled their hips the best you could in the cramped bathtub, some of the water sloshing over the edge when you almost slipped at one point and Mary caught you. The two of you laughed, noses bumping as you shuffled forwards to try and line yourself up.

“How’d I know you’d prepare yourself before I got here?” They hands rested on your hips, thumbs caressing your skin gently in contrast with the dirty talk you’d both engaged in just a moment again. “It’s like you always know what I want before I even tell you.”

You pressed a kiss to his chin and then to his throat. “Maybe I think about you a lot too when you’re performing with the band.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, you hovered over his cock before easing yourself down onto him. You winced at the stretch, his girth providing a slight but delicious sting. “Always thinking about my Scary Mary.”

“Oh? I’m your Scary Mary, am I?” His tone was playful but the look of genuine adoration on his face let you know he appreciated your claim on him.

“Of course.” He was fully sheathed inside you now, hands rubbing your thighs as you got used to the sensation of him being inside you once more. “There’s no-one else I’d rather call mine. You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.”

Water dripped from his hand as he cupped your cheek, rivulets trickling down his arm. “Good, because I think you and I would be having words if you were calling someone else yours.”

Once you were ready, you slowly lifted yourself up before rocking back down onto his dick again, water splashing and swishing around the two of you as you rode him. He moved his hand back down to your hips, his palms skimming over your skin to grasp at your ass as he guided you up and down his cock.

“What kind of words would we be having, Mare?”

They purred as they started to nip at your throat, nudging your chin with their nose so you would tilt your head back for them. “The possessive kind.”

A shiver tickled down your spine. “Oh?”

Their teeth grazed over your windpipe, biting down just enough for your breath to hitch before they chuckled and planted a kiss there. “The ‘nobody gets to have you like this but me’ kind of words.”

Nails dug into the squishy flesh of your ass cheeks, dragging up towards your spine as you continued to bounce. Water splashed over the rim of the tub again, but you couldn’t care less about the mess you were making.

“The ‘nobody can make you feel good the way I do’ kind of words.”

You mewled as he began to caress and rub your sex in synch with your downward thrusts, thumb applying the perfect amount of pressure.

“The kind of words that remind you of who you belong to. And you know who you belong to, don’t you?”

Heat started to pool in your abdomen as you nodded, the elastic band within stretching tighter and tighter.

“And who do you belong to, hm?”

“You,” you moaned, grinding down against him each time his cock plunged deep inside you. He slapped your ass and you fell forwards, head resting on his shoulder and mouth ajar at the new angle he was hitting within you.

“And what’s my name baby? You gonna say my name for me?” You could hear the smirk in his voice as he said it, his hand still working you as you both rolled your hips to get him as far inside your depth as you could.

“Mary.”

“Say it again.”

You began to move faster now, both of you approaching your peaks. Water splashed rhythmically with the slapping of your thighs against his, skin against skin.

“Say my name, baby, c’mon.”

The band of pleasure was stretching so tight now that you knew you were gonna snap at any moment. “Mary!”

A wave of bathwater crested over the bathtub as Mary adjusted their position so they could piston up into you. “Yeah, say my fucking name, fuck. Tell me who owns you.”

“Mary! MaryMaryMary!” You almost sobbed as the coil of pleasure finally snapped, your climax crashing down on you as Mary fucked you through it. The rapid rise and fall of their chest as they thrust into you hard and fast, their stomach muscles tensing, told you they were getting close too. You rocked against them, clenching around their cock and squeezing them as they took hold of your hips in a bruising grip.

“That’s right. Mary. Fucking. Goore!” They unleashed a loud groan as they emptied themselves inside you, painting your walls with their seed as they held you down against them, muscles twitching.

Eventually, Mary helped you to remove yourself from him and the two of you moaned as his cum dripped out of you and into what remained of the bathwater.

Oh shit. The bathwater.

You both glanced over at what was now the soaked bathroom floor. Your robe had gotten the worst of it, drenched from the evidence of your bath time shenanigans. Mary’s socks were also soaked through as well as the cuffs of his jeans. You stared at one another for a moment before bursting into a bout of giggles, your forehead pressed against his as you came down from your climaxes.

You both had a lot of cleaning up to do.

#spicy content #mushy may #mary goore #mary goore x reader #mary goore x gn!reader #repugnant #smut #fanfic #my fanfic #mine

[scribespirare]

That Miguel meets Miles’ parents fic was so good! But for some reason it made me think of Miles showing his mother a picture on his phone and then she scrolls and sees a pic or video she definitely shouldn’t see

oh my god okay so like. Not the same situation but you reminded me of this. Once when I was 18 I was sitting in the living room watching movies w/ my family (dad, mom, younger brother) when one of the dogs comes trotting out my bedroom. Didn't pay him any mind until he dropped something on the floor and left it there and my dad in a slightly strained voice went, "Um, deadname, is that yours? Because I know it's not your mother's."

It was my vibrator. My bright purple vibrator right there for the whole fuckin world to see. I have never leapt up faster than I did in that moment to snatch it up. My mother thought it was the funniest shit she'd ever seen.

Okay enough tanget fksjcjskdkd

Miles is careful.

Maybe not as careful as most sixteen year olds considering his day job, and maybe not as careful as the people in his life want him to be. But still. Careful.

So Miles doesn't take nudes and Miguel doesn't ask him for them and they keep their texts pretty clean.

That's why Miles never sends Miguel any nudes. Miles is underage and any pictures he takes of himself are technically considered CSEM. Since Miguel's phone is from another dimension, nothing he sends or takes can be traced back to him, but Miles? His phone is firmly of this universe and his pictures can be recovered if someone really wanted to dig up dirt on him.

Usually.

Mostly.

Okay so Miles is still a teenager and Miguel can't seem to keep his hands off so maybe sometimes they sext. And maybe sometimes Miguel sends Miles the hottest pictures Miles has ever seen. It's fine. Nobody can trace them back to Miguel so he can't get in trouble for being inappropriate with a minor. And Miles can't get in trouble for having them on hand.

And because Miles is so careful, he stores Miguel's pictures in a locked folder. Like any self respecting teenager does with their porn.

All of this is to say that when Miles opens his photos and sees Miguel's dick front and center? He freezes in panic. Because that is not supposed to be there. He's careful!

It's a good picture. Miguel is hard and leaking, holding his cock against his toned stomach. But the quality of the picture isn't the problem here.

The problem is that Miles is holding his phone for his mother to see. Because he'd wanted to show her some new art he'd done on this building a couple blocks over.

"Mijo." The sound of her voice finally breaks Miles out of his trance and he squeaks, fumbling his phone desperately like if he can get it out of her sight she might completely forgot about it. He manages to get it into his pocket and then just stands there, unsure how she's going to react.

"Mijo," she says again, and he glances down at her, wincing.

His mother looks up at him and he can tell immediately she's trying so hard not to laugh. Her lips are pressed tight together and her shoulders are trembling with effort.

"Mom, please," Miles whines, and she finally gives in and starts laughing. She pats his shoulder, shaking her head.

"Baby, tenemos los mismos gustos," she says, and then she's laughing all over again like it's the funniest thing she's ever heard. Miles wants to crawl into a hole and die.

Also, he doesn't want to know his mother's sexual tastes. Ever. He wonders if Miguel has some future tech than can erase this interaction from Miles' mind forever.

His mother pats his arm again. "Okay, okay, I'm done. Go hide in your room like I know you want to."

Miles isn't gonna look a gift horse in the mouth. He pretends not to hear when she calls a parting, "And learn how to make that stuff private!" after him.

The only good thing about this is that she didn't realize a full grown man had sent the picture to Miles. Small fucking miracles.

#asks #requests #flowerfang #nsft