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ceilidho · 2 months

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prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 2; ghoap x reader) part 1

The hard part is admitting to himself that he doesn’t know how to function on leave without Ghost’s voice in his ear.

Johnny’s two days into his annual leave when that stray thought crosses his brain. Out with chums even, packed into the booth of an old pub in his hometown, the leather well-worn and a match on the telly that he half watches while one of his mates goes up to the bar to order another round for them. In between his third and fourth pint of lukewarm mild, he thinks something like, wonder what Simon’s up to.

The thought comes and then keeps coming. Keeps cropping up when he least expects. At the pub (wonder what Simon’s up to), in line at the grocery store (wonder how Ghost takes his steak), drowsily puttering around the kitchen while making breakfast (no way he wears the mask at home), listening to some guy in front of him hack up a lung at the dry cleaner (Lt’d do his fuckin’ head in if he was here), and even in the shower with his head tipped back, rinsing out the suds (wonder if he’s got a girl tucked away at home).

Is it so unusual? Johnny can’t remember a time in his life when someone lived in his head night and day, but Ghost’s presence feels like an extension of his own these days. He’s cycled through girlfriends without a care in the world, without contemplating their existence for half as long, but they never cradled his life like a small bird in the palm of their hands and returned it safe and sound, did they?

Still, he feels it like a knot in his chest. Dreams about Ghost even; wakes up hot and hard, and scrubs his hand down the side of his face when he sits up in bed. Phantom memories of a body heavier than his weighing him down (just the duvet) and a thick hand curling around his dick (his own hand wrapped around his shaft, rubbing one out in his sleep).

He shakes it off, but it follows him out into the real world. Looking at the door of a coffee shop and thinking absentmindedly, Ghost would have to duck under that.

Johnny puts it out of his mind. As much as he’s able to, that is. Chalks it up to some kind of hero worship. He’s worked with superior officers before—plenty of times, hundreds of times—but there are few men of Ghost’s calibre, both in skillset and mystique. Not to mention the sheer size of the guy. And what is Johnny if not a moth to a flame?

Better not to ruminate. He casts the memory of seeing Ghost’s dick in the showers after their last mission (monstrous thing, uncut, pubes darker than the hair on his head, more than a mouthful—it’d give him lockjaw) out of his head. Doesn’t think about it. Laughs at a mate’s joke at the pub when he didn’t catch a word of it to mask the way he perked up at the sight of a wide-shoulder man until he turned around, giving Johnny a proper look at his face.

He’s not ready to think about it. Might never be able to really look at why he eats it up, why he struts around with his chin cocked just a bit higher than usual because he knows everyone else is watching him with equal parts envy and curiosity for being Ghost’s favourite.

Then, one day, he meets a girl.

Johnny’s not winning an award any time soon for world’s best son, but he knows a thing or two. The first thing being chocolates and the second being flowers. His sisters handle the rest; they fuss about the party, get a gift certificate to the spa, send out the invites—all that fun stuff. He’s sent off for the bare essentials. Practically kicked out of the house by his oldest sister—nearly brains himself on the asphalt and tugs his windbreaker on when it’s thrown out the door after him a second later, grumbling about being the errand boy.

He picks up a box of chocolates from the corner shop (not fancy enough, his sisters will probably bitch, but that’s a problem for later) before heading down the road to the florist. There’s a bench out front stacked with tin flower vases, the only spot of colour on a dreary spring morning. He spends a couple minutes chatting with the cashier and flirting a bit halfheartedly (he thinks maybe it’ll be worth it if it gets him a discount, even five percent off) until the florist comes out from the back.

“Jesus, who gave ye the right?” Johnny breathes, horse blinders on, vision narrowing on the object of desire coming out of the back in a linen apron and simple t-shirt underneath, scissors poking out of the front pocket.

“The right?” she repeats back, blinking.

“To leave the house lookin’ so fuckin’ gorgeous. Glad I wasn’t driving when I passed you by—woulda been in a twenty car pile up.”

She’s not impressed in the slightest. It’s thrilling. By that point, the cashier is long forgotten. Probably not the best impression he’s ever made, but he’s made worse ones. It’s not every day he comes across an angel. Hard to be polite in front of a real life miracle.

He wears her down over the week though, showing up each day for a new bouquet. His mam’s never liked him more, so at least there’s that. His sisters side-eye him whenever he ducks out of the house to head down the road to the florist’s, but even they know better than to bring it up and risk pissing off their mam. He interrogates her about flowers and her job, makes his presence unavoidable, a week long siege that ends with Johnny taking her out to dinner and then letting her take him to bed.

He wakes up nestled in her cozy apartment above the flower shop, stretching out and making himself right at home. When she trades in her linen apron for a terry cloth robe and stands expectantly by the door, Johnny just grins. Shows all of his teeth.

“Are ye just gonna use me and kick me out?” he pouts. Folds his hands behind his head and digs a foot into the sheets, trying to sink into the mattress. Little king in his castle.

“You know, you don’t have to pussyfoot around with me. Weren’t you just trying to get laid?” she asks, brow arched. The disbelief thick in her voice makes it clear what she thinks of him.

“No’ just some playboy, hen,” he scoffs. “I have feelings too.”

Her other eyebrow lifts. He’s tickled pink.

He plays the part well, he supposes. Lounges in bed and eats grapes all morning while she stares at him from the kitchen like he might dissipate at any moment. He’s used to leaving a false impression, like a lake that someone builds their house next to until years go by and someone says I think this was once a meteor.

When she comes back to bed around mid morning, Johnny wastes no time pulling her up onto the bed until she plants her cunt over his mouth and sinks down onto his waiting tongue.

Candy sweet pussy, he thinks blissfully, then says it out loud because he can never keep his mouth shut. It must tickle because she yelps and nearly pulls away from his face altogether, but he wrenches her back down, fingers digging into her ass cheeks a bit too forcefully. He’ll pay for that later.

In the aftermath, when she collapses beside him in bed and rests her head on his chest while he plays with her hair, he itches in his skin to message Ghost. It perplexes him. They never text, he and Ghost; they don’t call, they don’t write, they don’t email. For all intents and purposes, their relationship ends at the perimeter around base, dissolves to nothing. It’s not Ghost’s fault he trickles into Johnny’s dreams sometimes.

A week goes by. Calm the mind. He thinks of Ghost and his fingers tremble and the phone stays silent and he lets the thought go. Steady. Breathe in and out. His caryatid girl slips in and out of his sheets, hesitant always like he might leave. Johnny doesn’t know if she wants him to, wants to feel vindicated in her assumption, but of all her wants, that ranks the lowest in his mind.

He spirals deeper into it, infatuated. She’s sweet but snippy, candy sweet with a sour kick—everything he’s ever wanted in a girl. Ever unimpressed, watching him with a small, hidden smile, amused despite herself.

Johnny wonders if this is the universe waving its hand in front of his face. Yoohoo, missing something?

He looks pointedly away.

It’s new, but maybe he’s like every other military man in the world, unable to go with the flow, dissatisfied with seeing where things go. He needs instant gratification, everything now-now-now, the certainty of commitment—he spills blood with everyone he knows, so why would his girl be any different?

Returning back to base is harder this time around. The last day of his leave is an exercise in restraint, tempered only by her smile when he sees her off at the door to her apartment, reluctant to leave.

“C’mon, promise me you’ll call, hen,” Johnny mumbles into her mouth, catching her answer with a languid swipe of his tongue. His arms press her tight to his chest, digging his hands into her back pockets and giving a good squeeze, relishing in the way she squeaks. “How’m I gonna survive without ye, huh? They’re gonna have to jumpstart my heart after it gives out from missing ye so bad.”

“So dramatic. You have my number,” she says when he finally pulls back enough to let her speak.

“No, please, baby, please—promise me—”

“Oh my god, alright, fine—I’ll call. Now get going already.”

The drive back to base leaves him feeling bedraggled, lost. When he gets in, it’s straight to the barracks, an hour long nap before reporting to Price, dragging his feet the whole way over. Moping, for lack of a better word, until he rounds a corner and nearly collides with someone that stops him with a single hand on his shoulder.

When he looks up to eyes rimmed in black paint, the world lightens. His shoulders lift.

“Wipe that smirk off your face, Johnny.”

It takes Johnny awhile to bring her up with Ghost. Something keeps holding him back, choking him when he tries to say it outloud. He blames it on uncertainty (had to be sure she was the one, Lt, ye ken?) but he feels the truth at the core of him. When he does finally muster up the nerve to pass his phone to Ghost where her photo is front and centre, no mistaking his intentions, he waits on tenterhooks for a reaction.

Only breathes out when Ghost asks to meet her. He can do that.

“Aye, Lt. Just for you.”

#99% chance im gonna edit this to fuck before i post it on ao3 because im trying to properly balance the pov switch #also its not done yet #ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghoap x reader #ghost/soap/reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #ghost/reader #soap/reader

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mysteriesmuse · 10 months

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You’re hiding in your Hiding Place — Bakugou Katsuki’s bicep 💪

In your later years at UA, Bakugou Katsuki ends up with an —unusual reputation within class A. He’s got a notoriously famous mean streak, but in 1-A he’s also got a reputation for having a strangely nutty tough-love aura about him — which makes him a decently good person to come run to when things go wrong. Naturally, not anyone’s top pick or anything, but a good one for when you need cry your heart out, or something. And, Bakugou usually knows, which is why he’s not all too surprised when you plow into his midsection in the middle of the hall. He’s headed upstairs from a later dinner because of his internship when he sees you. You’re coming straight from the dormitory showers, a chrous of familiar caterwauling floating out from the boys side. That’s why he took his showers in the morning, if he could help it, because at least Iida didn’t attempt to sing. You look soft and malleable stepping out from the bathroom. An old tye-dye shirt boasting participation of some kind of annual charity run and a pair of sweatpants on. The cuff at you ankles revealing your — now, slightly pink house slippers due to a washing mishap that happened last week in the dorms with a certain Shitty-Hair’ed guy and his red-themed hero costume. Your arms and face are dewy with what he presumes is that moisturizer that all you girls like to lather up in daily — and your hair is still on the verge of wet and stringy, but also frizzy and fuck, you look so very tired and soft right now. Katsuki pauses, red eyes squinting at your face; your nose is pink and your face is dewy, but those aren’t fingerprints left in the wake of moisturizer — it’s old tears that’s streaked over it. He huffs from his nose, nostrils flaring before he takes his hands out of his pockets and flexes his fingers at you where they hang by the side of his hips. And it’s then that he sees your shoulders slacken slightly before you’re suddenly pressed up against his front. All causal and warm — pressed as far into his abdomen as you can get, and he can feel your boobs smush against his chest because you’re very clearly not wearing a bra — and also because he’s earned a reputation for being a decent fucking human and for being nonchalant about that stuff. Bakugou is one of three guys in the dorm you guys deem trustworthy and reasonable enough to do that with. (The other two being Shouji and Todoroki.) And thus, he’s been grappled into many squishy-boob hugs by all you shitty girls. And your cheek is pressed against the hard plain of muscle that is his chest and your arms are wrapped around him — just under his shoulder blades in an action that lifts him and pulls Bakugou in towards you just a little bit. Your fingertips pressing into the muscle on his back and he hopes you don’t feel the way his heart is lub-dubbing inside his chest at the action. And suddenly Bakugou pulls you closer to him. A bicep circling protectively beside your chin, as a big palm comes to rest atop your damp hair. His other arm squeezing around your mid-section like a python and it’s a good thing too because as soon as he puts his arms around you Bakugou can feel that strength seeping from you and it feels like he’s holding you together. And that’s when the sniffles start.

“I’m so pathetic,” you whine. “As soon as you put your arms around me I felt my knees buckle.” And you’re pressed so close Bakugou can feel the way your lips move to form the words right against his chest. And instead of Bakugou saying anything mildly helpful in this situation his says, “I have that effect.” With a slight shrug that brings the top of your head pressing against his jaw, which might just be him engulfing and cradling you completely, but who knows? And Bakugou has no fucking idea why he said that. Or how he managed to say something so flirtatiously cringy with such calm, but all you do is attempt to shake your head against his hold and mumble, “yeah, that makes sense. I’ve seen the other girls around school.” Which you punctuate with a snort, an arm moving from his back to swipe at your face. Bakugou has no idea where this is going — except for you to start “hilariously deflecting” from whatever problem is at hand. “There’s this one girl,” you start with a breath, “she’s always hanging around the hallway between classes. She’s definitely trying to catch you at your locker, but she always just ends up next to mine and Momo’s — saying something random before running off. She’s definitely into you.” You look up at him, still completely weak in his hold and Bakugou scrunches his nose at you. An action that you find looks unnatural and awkward on the sharp features of his face. You frown, hoarsely laughing, “Stop that.” About his facial expression. Bakugou can’t imagine any girls wanting to be with him. Surely he’s a terrible catch at a boyfriend.

He face curls into a snarling scoff, “Nope. Can’t see it. You must be imaging things.” He declares forcefully pressing your head back into the cocoon of him. He settles his head back on top of yours and you’re now squirming like a damn worm. And you find some strength as you manage to peek your face out and blink at him with furrowed brows. And maybe it’s cause you’re in a vulnerable state with a good friend and maybe it’s because you’ve been harboring a little bit of a recent crush on the boy, but you blurt out, “You’re a catch. You know that, right?” And again his stupidly handsome face scrunches into that weird shape again before his red eyes are staring into yours. The hand on your back clutches at your shirt fabric before he says, “You really think that? You’re not just fucking with me?” You snort, wiping a few more stray tears from an entirely different problem than the internal one that the blonde is currently having. “Yeah I really think that, Bakugou.” And there’s a little quip on the side of his mouth that might count as a Bakugou smile, but it’s gone before you can tease him about it. The explosive murder god boy being unsure about his status as attractive is entirely too precious and far too laughable a situation — which is probably why your aggressively smooshed back into his chest and why he starts waddling side to side. For some damn reason the gently rocking from foot-to-foot placebo affects you into crying it all out. Some remnant of being a baby you suppose, but it’s still annoying how Bakugou’s managed to peg it on you so easily. And you’re damn right Bakugou’s doing it on purpose because you very clearly have a problem of your own or you wouldn’t be clutching onto him for dear life like you are right now. And despite this revelation that Kirishima may be right in the fact that’s he’s attractive he’s still whirling at the thought that you think he’s a catch. Because you’re the only girl he’d probably ever want thinking that — but Bakugou tucks that piece of knowledge into the back of his brain when Momo comes out of the showers next. A giant frilly nightgown on as she scampers over — talking and whispering to you gently from within your little hiddie-hole formed by his curled bicep and forearm. And he just huffs, and continues to cocoon you in his embrace rocking back and forth like a damn rocking-chair as you rattle off whatever’s been on your mind.

What’s on his mind is for another day . . .

#mysteriesmusing #katsuki bakugou #mha fanfiction #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou drabble #bakugou katsuki #bakugou headcanons

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josephquinnswhore · 2 months

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Red Wine & Reparation

Pairing: joel miller x female reader

Summary: you and Joel became young parents, married young and divorced young.. coparenting can be hard.. especially when you still love each other.

Word Count: 7k

Content Warnings: no outbreak, awkward divorced young couple, Joel Miller being a cat guy, flirting, awkwardness, slight implication of attempted SA. Unprotected sex, oral—female receiving, praise, pet names, tongue fucking, slight submissive Joel???? Creampie, mentions of pregnancy, and breastfeeding kink ??

Note: in this fic female reader & Joel are the same age, late 20’s in this fic!! This is my contribution for this week lol.

You were expecting a visit from Joel in a few hours; although you’d tried to be in contact with him, it seemed he was struggling to get back to you. Texts gone unanswered, calls sent straight to voicemail. It was unusual, and as clingy as you felt, it wasn't like Joel not to be in contact, especially when it came to your daughter, Sarah.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

He calls your name from the other side of the door. “Hey, you home?”

The door swings open and Joel stands on the other side of the door, you can't ignore the subsequent look of franticness in his brown eyes. “Hey.” His second greeting is a little more relaxed, if anything a little bashful. The tips of his ears are red under his dark brown curls.

“I just got a new phone, had a little malfunction at work with the other one, mind putting your number in?” You take the new phone, something that seemed way too fancy for Joel, an Iphone 13. As if your eyebrows raise of their own accord, it doesn't go unnoticed by him.

“I never took you for a man that cared about keeping up with the trends.” Your remark earns a scoff. “I just want to be able to keep up with everything Sarah’s into these days, all the facebooking and snapping or whatever she's got.”

His social unawareness pulls a laugh from her dry throat. “I'm surprised she wants you on her snapchat, teenage girls don’t normally want their parents seeing what they’re up to.”

He grunts. “How are you anyway—both of you.. I mean.”

“Things have been okay, I've taken a step back from work to try and relax a bit more, you know?” Although Joel nods, he can't relate, he’d just gone through the ringer of starting his own business with Tommy.

But Joel knows you need a break, he notices the physical telltale signs of stress. Lines beside your eyes that didn't seem visible a few months ago, the slight strain in yout voice and even your physical stance seems off. You seem to be trying to mask it, but he notices.

“Everything at work alright? They givin’ you trouble again?”

Again. How you'd forgotten about the last time you confided about how bad work had been getting. The unpaid overtime and extensive workload. Joel seemed furious at the thought of you wearing yourself thin and had even rung your workplace, that's an incident that got you a written warning.

In an attempt to dismiss his worries you wave your hand. “Ah it's not so bad, I’ve taken some time off with what little annual leave I have.”

“That’s good. You work too hard, you do.” His voice is softer than it had been a moment ago, his gaze settling on your own. He tries his hardest to suppress the memories as he stares into your eyes, he tries to forget how easy things were back then in comparison to now.

You break eye contact as you feel your kitten rubbing herself up against your legs. The little creature lets out a small mew.

Joel’s shock is evident on his face, the fluffy white bundle of fur rubs itself along your pant leg, its tiny mews echoing in his ears. “Oh my god, what in the world..” He stammers. “Is that…?”

Your entire face heats up. “I know.. I've never been a fan of cats but.. She's cute right?”

Joel can't help the instinctual reaction to kneel down onto the floor to get a closer look at the fluffy bundle of fur. He lets the small creature sniff his hand before petting her. With every stroke of his fingers along her pointed ears, she purrs louder. “What's her name?”

“Her names angel. Sarah named her.”

“Of course she would,” Joel murmurs, still petting the kitten as he looks up at you from the floor. “How'd you end up with a kitten anyhow?”

You huff at the memory. “Found her on the side of the road, I think someone dumped her.”

“God, that’s terrible. Why would anyone do something like that? Who just dumped a living animal in the middle of the road?” He shakes his head as he grumbles angrily. He strokes the kitten in a softer manner, expressing his sympathy for the little animal.

You're stewing in your own irritation at the thought. “Some jackass.”

The conversation seems to grow quiet, with the only noise being the kitten’s contented purrs. “She's a lucky kitty is what she is, havin’ two special girls lookin’ after her.” He murmurs, leaning in to tickle the small kitten under the chin with a chuckle.

“I never took you for a cat man, hell—you're looking like such a softie right now,” you tease.

“It's the one thing you never really knew then, right?” The kitten rolls on its back, purring as it scratches itself on the soft creamy carpet. “I bet you would’ve known all my soft spots had things been different back then.”

A sombre mood falls between the two. “Maybe so..”

Joel turns away with a regretful look in his eyes, it's a painful truth, and one the pair had both seemed to accept. Despite the way the two had seemed to adapt to the co-parenting situation.. They're both reminded every single day since their split of what could have been.

“Yeah.. maybe so.” He lets out a sigh, watching as the small kitten runs off, and he's left kneeling on the floor as he watches after it. He doesn't really know what to say.. And he's not sure you do either, it’s awkward to have these quiet moments between them.

“You know.. Sarah told me you went on a date last week.” You try to sound as encouraging as possible, but even as your heart cracks, it seems to break the silence brewing between you. And honestly, you’re nosey.

His face seems to redden at your playful accusation. “Damn.. she really has no filter, does she?” An awkward chuckle follows as he lets out a small groan and his knees crack as he stands up off the floor. As his gaze meets your own again, he wonders how you'll take the news. If he’s lucky, you’ll be jealous.

“She's a smart kid.. observant.” A small moment of silence briefs the conversation before you can stop yourself from asking.. “How was it? The date I mean.”

“That she is..” Joel murmurs before adding reluctantly. “The date was just.. Not a good fit. It didn't go well.” He shrugs, but you knew it would've been a massive blow to his self esteem. “I don't know why I tried… just thought.. maybe..” He rubs the back of his head and chuckles anxiously as he trails off.

It seems his self esteem did take quite the blow.

“Don't be so hard on yourself now, you're a catch, and any good woman will see that.”

Joel’s eyes narrow into a frown. “I'm hardly a catch.. Let's be real, I work too much.” He pauses. “Maybe I'm still caught up on..” He catches himself before he admits it..

Your ears perk at this. “Who doesn't love a hardworking man.” You tease lightly.

He manages a smile at your teasing. “I’m not a catch.. this..” He gestures to himself pitifully. “Is not a catch. Truth be told I’m.. I'm still pretty caught up on you and I'm not even ashamed to say it.”

“Hell—why?” Is all you manage to ask in a stutter.

“Because..” He lets out a frustrated noise and scratches his head anxiously. “Because I should have fought for you, I should have tried harder. You were everything I wanted. Still are.. Honestly.” His tone takes a solemn tone. “That doesn't just go away, all of those feelings.”

“You're right.. They don't just go away.” Your agreement to his statement has him wondering, his eyes searching your face for any sliver of teasing.

“So.. what does that mean? If I was to say.. If I was to ask something stupid.. Would you be angry?”

You're a little confused by his sudden bashfulness. “That depends on what you're asking.”

“Hypothetically..” He starts. “If I were to ask you out on a date, for old times sake..” He trails off and doesnt look back at you, there's a pregnant silence between you both..

“You want to take me on a date?” You ask in confusion.

He clears his throat and looks up to you, his eyes shifting around the room. “Is that a stupid question?”

“Well.. how about you ask me on a real date and maybe… I’ll say yes..”

His head spins in a daze, his heart doubles in size as he realises how much he wants this. “...are you serious?”

You simply nod, waiting for him to ask you on a date properly.

He's nervous, shifting from foot to foot, as if this was the hardest thing he's ever had to ask. “Okay then..” He mumbles to himself, clearing his throat, trying to steady his voice. “Would you care to.. Join me for a dinner date.. at my place?”

He actually asked..

“I would be happy to join you for dinner, Joel.”

It seems as if he's having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that you actually accepted. Even though it's what he wanted, needed.. He had somehow still expected you to decline. The look in your eye contractics his anxiety, though.

“You sure?” He asked, insecurity evident in his shallow voice. “I mean, you still remember how much I work, right? I have to finish this job for a client, he's on my ass about it, keeps asking me when I'm gonna be finished, but I told him I'm on track. Gonna put in some big hours to get this done.”

How could you forget, it was the reason you split all those years ago. His work was all consuming.

Your heart aches at his attempt to push you away–to take your pending rejection on the chin. “How about you let me know when you're free and you can cook for me, hm?”

The offer was flexible, giving him a chance to relieve himself of the pressure and try to find a day that works for you both.

Joel seemed to appreciate the offer, and his face visibly relaxed. “That sounds perfect, as soon as this project is done, and this client is off my ass, then we’ll figure out our date.”

“Sounds great, just send me a text and let me know, yeah?” You smile and tuck your phone into your jean pocket.

“Count on it.” He spoke with such promise it was hard not to get excited about what was to come.. Maybe they could rekindle what they once had. “I'll talk to you later then?” He takes a step towards the front door, his phone rings loudly, you assume it's a client of his.

“Yeah, we’ll talk later..”

As you close the door, it takes a moment to process what had just happened. A stupidly big smile resides on your lips, giddy with excitement, the disbelief that this is happening. Joel doesn’t text till late, but you’re ecstatic that he did get into contact about something other than who has custody of Sarah for the weekend.

Joel Miller 😉 10:45 pm

Hey, I'm sorry it's late, I just wanted to catch up. How's this weekend sound to you? For our date..

You. 10:47 pm

No sweat. What time were you thinking?

Joel Miller 😉 10:50 pm

Hoping to see you around 7. I'll cook dinner and we can just hang out. Unless you wanted to do something else?

You. 10:52 pm

No. it sounds perfect. 7 works for me.

Joel Miller 😉 10:53 pm

Great.. See you at 7 then.. Saturday..

You. 10:53 pm

Great! See you then handsome. 😉

Joel Miller 😉 10:58 pm

See you, beautiful. 😜😏😊

You can't help but laugh at the emojis Joel sent; he was such an old man that didn't understand a damn thing about technology, sure he was trying, but it seemed to get the better of him.

The week is slow and miserable, with your time off work and Sarah at school, you're not sure what to do with yourself for many hours of the days that slowly pass on by. You spend a lot of time reading your books that had sat and collected many layers of dust on the bookshelf in your living room, even taking your little kitten, angel, for walks on a small leash.

You find that as you become moderately okay with being alone, and in the company of naught but a small kitten, time seems to pass by much quicker than it did.

You'd been doting on what you'd wear all week–hell, you were still trying not to think too much about it. Choosing a simple lavender sundress, it was far too hot to wear anything that would stick to your skin. And whatever sin you’ve commited by wearing matching lavender lingerie is no one's business but your own.. Joel wouldn't know anyway.

It couldn't hurt to hope, right? It had been years since you been laid.

“God what the hell is wrong with me?” You murmur to yourself, one hand desperately clutching onto a bottle of red wine, as if you couldn't make it any more awkward. It's 6:50 pm. But you couldn't bare to sit across the damned street in your car a moment longer, your heart ager and anxiety running wild.

Knock, knock. Your hand raps on the hardwood door twice, hands shaking from being so anxious.

As the door opens, Joel grins. “Hey.. you're early.” Taking in his appearance, you can't help but swallow the saliva that had built up in the few seconds you’d spent greedily staring at him. Hell— it was only a brown cotton shirt and a pair of jeans, but he looked incredible.

“I know.. I hope that's okay.” His own eyes take a moment to appreciate your outfit, the perfectly fitting seam of lavender purple that fits snug around your breasts.

“Totally fine, I’m ready in here.. I made you something special.” The grin on his face is cheeky and he takes the bottle of wine from your trembling hands and opens the door wider for you to enter. “Come on in.”

He has absolutely outdone himself, it seemed Joel had managed to clean the entire house in the week coming up to this evening. The house is cleaner than it's ever been, his kitchen is full of colour of fruits and a wonderful aroma swirls around as you walk through the hallway. The counter is a little cluttered with spices and a half drunken can of beer.

“You've absolutely outdone yourself joel.” The compliment seemed to naturally expel from your lips, seeing how he had set the dining table up, in the middle was a simple summer salad and two wine glasses, as if he knew you'd be bringing the wine..

“I would be a terrible host if I didn't have something special in store for you..” As he trails off, the sound of a timer from the kitchen buzzes, and Joel rubs his hands together. “Here, why won't you take a seat?” He pulls the chair out, waiting for you to take the offer, of course you accept, taking a seat and he tucks your chair in.

“Be back in a moment with the food, make yourself comfortable.” The smell is absolutely incredible as Joel steps back out of the kitchen and sets a steaming pan of hot pasta right in front of you, sitting on the seat across from you.

“Jesus, how in the world? I remember all those years ago you couldn't even seem to grasp the concept of avocado toast.”

Joel laughs halfheartedly at your comment. “I wasn't much of a cook back then was I? Always relying on you to use your magic in the kitchen.” He grasps the wine and opens the bottle, pouring you a generous glass. “The fact that you remember that is pretty impressive though. That had to be what.. five or six years ago?”

You can't help but feel embarrassed to be caught out. “I guess I have a knack for remembering things, god.. Sarah would have been barely five back then..”

When you split..

Joel senses the tension in your voice, and serves himself some wine, taking a small sip. “Yeah, she was pretty young back then. It seems like only yesterday that she was a baby..” He takes a small pause as he reminisces. “I always liked when you carried her around in that sling you had for her. Never really understood why you didn't just use a pram..the sling seemed like much more work.”

You let out a small laugh. “I just liked having her close to me, and I hated those goddamn prams so much. I could never figure out how to use the stupid things.”

“Yeah, they were kinda bulky.. I never liked them much either, honestly. Still.. You'd spend like an hour just letting her nap on your chest, you would just carry her around the house.” He lifts the wine glass, his cheeks bare a resemblance to the dark red wine. “I always thought it was kinda adorable.”

The thought makes you stop and think, lifting the glass up to your lips to take a tentative sip. “Do you ever wish we could have a do over?”

He swallows the small amount of wine in his mouth, the smile that was on his face slowly fades. He never thought they would ever speak of this, of their past. He held a lot of guilt, that they fell apart because of him, he was the one who ruined a good thing. Now.. six years later, he had a chance to mend things, maybe even create something new between the two. “Every day.”

The silence hangs in the air between them for a few moments.. “Well.. either way. Sarah turned out wonderful, and that is something we both ought to be proud of.” Your hand meets his own for a brief moment.

Joel can't help but nod in agreement. Sarah was kind, intelligent, thoughtful and empathetic. He couldn't help but feel like Sarah was turning out more like you than him, and he was grateful for it. “But still, I can't help but want.. I don't want a do-over. What we had was good until I screwed it up, I just wish there was some way I could make up for that.”

“Hey—come on now.. You were working overtime back then..trying to keep our heads above water. I didn't.. I didn't understand the sacrifice you were making for our family back then.. You sacrificed a lot, joel..”

Joel looks up at you in surprise when you assure him of his goodwill. In a sense, he's grateful you're defending him, but you’ve always been too kind about the past, too forgiving, he doesn't know if he deserves it. “Yeah I was working a tonne of overtime.. I was trying to save up for a house, I wanted to take care of you both.. Guess it got out of hand.”

You can't help but feel a sense of nostalgia as you look around the house that you both raised Sarah in for the first five years of her life.. “You did it Joel, you got the house and.. Now you're starting up your own business. You've come a long way.”

“Sometimes I wonder if it was all worth it, I missed out on a lot of Sarah's younger years in the process… it's not time that I can get back.. and I know it was my own doing.”

“That was your sacrifice.. And it was so she could have a good childhood. That in itself makes you an incredible father. She knows what you did for us, for her, and she loves you.”

Joel knew that much was true, he concedes this as the truth. He couldn't deny that he had an incredible relationship with his daughter. There were many things joel regretted in his life and from the past, but he couldn't recall a single moment of regret when it came to how he chose to raise Sarah.

“I think we're well overdue for some more wine, wouldn't you say?” You grin, nodding toward the bottle, and with a small smirk, Joel complies, filling your glass half full and his own the same.

“That may be true,” he replies playfully. “But I'm still gonna need you to take it easy. I'm not prepared for what you'll be like once you're tipsy.”

“I'll be on my best behaviour.” You grin, almost too mischievously.

“I'm not believing that for a single second. I know you.. as soon as the wine hits, you’re gonna lose your inhibitions and start trying to charm me.”

Rolling your eyes is an appropriate response. “As if I need to try to charm you, Joel Miller.”

“See?” He chuckles, “even now, you're flirting with me.”

You are amused by his tone and can't help but be a smartass. “Hey—this is a date.. Isn't it?”

With genuine amusement in his tone, he laughs. “Well, I suppose it is. But you can't deny that if I keep pouring you this wine, you wont end up in my lap within the half hour?”

“Pour me another glass and find out.” You challenge, setting the now empty glass in front of him.

He raises an eyebrow, but pours you a third glass of wine, handing the glass back to you. “Here you go.” He wonders if he'll be right in his prediction.

You hold the glass up and take a sip, eyes closing momentarily as the warmth slides straight down to your stomach. Silently thanking him.

Joel leans back into his chair, after topping up his own glass that wasn't quite empty yet, watching you with a brightness in his eyes. “You know, even though we haven't been an actual couple in half a decade, it's still nice to be having one of these again.. as strange as that sounds.”

With a raised eyebrow and amusement in your tone. “I dont think its strange at all, I think it's wonderful.”

He hums in response, finally digging into the pasta that had been sitting there since he served it steaming hot off the stove, you follow in tow, deciding that your stomach has somehow made room for the deliciously smelling creamy pasta. You can't help but groan in delight as you chew the creamy pasta. “Fucking delicious.” You mutter.

As the two of you decide to eat, Joel notes that you’re out of wine… “I'll get another bottle.” You insist, seeing that he's digging into his dinner.

You know your way around the kitchen you'd spent years living in, reaching upward for the wine cupboard, it seems you can't quite reach, whispering to yourself.. “Goddamnit.” You don’t realise you’ve been staring at the cupboard for a few minutes until you hear him.

“Having some trouble?” You don't have the nerve to turn around at how husky his voice sounds. He decided to take advantage of the fact that he had disarmed you with his voice alone, and slips up behind you, his chest flush against your back. He doesn't bother to help you reach the wine, instead he wraps his arms around your waist.

You can't help but lean backwards into him, closing your eyes as you lean your head backward into his shoulder. Your heart skips at the sensation of him pulled taut against you, it had been too long since he held you like this.

His hand caresses the side of your neck, and he whispers softly into your ear. “How's the wine treating you baby? Seems like your skin is a little warm..” He teased boldly.

“Who said it's got anything to do with the wine? My handsome ex husband is holding me— I think that calls for some mandatory blushing, does it not?”

Joel chuckles and squeezes you tighter around your hips, his body pressing against yours firmly, your hips pressed against the bench. “Ex-husband… is that what I am to you now?” He asked, smirking.

You can't help but laugh breathlessly. “Legally, yes.”

“Legally, maybe,” he replies, his smirk broadening. “But in my eyes.. Who you truly belong to is not a matter of legality..” He leans in and whispers softly into your ear, his lips tickle the skin. “Just a matter of heart..”

You shudder as his warm breath warms your ears. “Joel Miller, the romantic.”

“What can I say, you bring out the best in me.” He replies softly, lips against your neck, his voice carries a seductive undertone. One hand slides up your arms and he grabs you to spin you around, his eyes boring into you as your back is pushed against the counter, you’re forced to meet his gaze as his hand grips the nape of your neck. “Do you want to know what I really think about you?”

His sudden manoeuvre has her shocked into near silence. “What do you think of me Joel?”

He hesitates, trying to find the right words. He can't mess this up, not with your large and vulnerable eyes watching him. “You're beautiful,” he praised softly. “You have the most kind-hearted soul I've ever known.. You're a wonderful mother… and you’ll be the only one I’ll ever truly want..”

Maybe the wine helped him be bold enough to be truthful in this moment, or oversharing. He felt like this might be the only chance he might have.

“Why did it take half a bottle of wine for you to tell me all this?” You mumble.

Joel goes quiet. He can't help but stare down at you, the smirk on his lips fades, you'd always been able to see through him. “I was scared,” a note of humility in his voice. “Scared that once you knew, you wouldn't want to look at me again. I always thought you were out of my league, ya know? I didn't deserve someone like you…still don't know if I do.”

His self depreciation was never something you would come to accept. “Don't talk like that, Jesus Joel. You really have no idea how much I love you, do you?”

“How can you still love me?” He asks, although he's almost afraid of the answer you'll give. “I hurt you, I let myself drift so far from what mattered..”

“Joel… you've done nothing that isn't worth forgiving,” you promise softly.

Joel can't help himself as he pulls you against him, chest to chest. He holds you tightly, as if it might be the last time…”But that's the problem,” he said softly. “Not that what I did isn’t forgivable…but that it didn't need to happen in the first place. It hurts me just thinking about how much I lost sight of things, but it can't have been worse than how much I must've hurt you…”

Your hands have a mind of their own as they cup his cheeks, making him look down at you. “Now you listen to me, okay? I love you. Things were not easy for us back then.. We were young parents and struggling to pay the bills, parenthood hit us fucking hard and we didnt make it..” You sigh, your eyes full of love and vulnerability. “Hell—I don't even remember half of it… but were here now, we have a chance to make things better than they were, we can start new.”

He nods as he rests his forehead against your own, a small smile on his lips. You easily wipe away any insecurity and self guilt he held for their split. You were right, of course. This wasn't the time to dwell on the past, on what could've been, not when the two of you were here… now, with a brand new start. “Let's try again, huh?” He asks in a low whisper.

Pulling your lip between your teeth, you nod against his own warm skin. “Let's try again…”

His hands are warm as they caress your cheeks, he pulls you into him for a kiss, lips meeting and you're flooded with emotion, all the doubt and uncertainty you both held washed away as soon as your lips connected. The bittersweet aftertaste of wine lingers on your warm lips. He struggled to pull away from you, but he looked down at your loved filled eyes, gazing softly up at him. “God, I've missed that.” He whispers softly.

He brushes a handful of strands of loose hair out of your face, looking down at you, you note his pupils are dilated. “You still take my breath away,” he laughs softly, caressing your cheek.

You flush at his praise. “Trying to get in my good books already?”

He was definitely trying. “You can't fault me for trying, I could really use some brownie points right now, ya know?”

Laughing at his sense of humour, you roll your eyes. “You're a crooked man Joel, and I love it.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult or a compliment?” An amused tone in his voice, his body pressing against your own. He leans down to kiss you again softly, his hands caressing your waist and letting his fingers trail up the side of your torso.

“Of course it's a compliment—other men have their heads on straight and they are just…weird. You're a little crooked, a little weird, and I like that..”

The way you accept his flaws leaves him more in awe of you, he can't complain at how endearing you find his oddities. “And so youre saying it's a good thing that I'm a little unhinged at times?” He chuckles, reaching up under your chin to trace small shapes on the soft skin.

You have a little mischief twinkling in your eyes.. “Oh you know—when you get all angry and protective. Definitely crooked, but so sexy.”

“You find it hot when I get territorial over you?” He couldn't help but laugh at her admission.

The wine flows through you, giving you a sense of boldness. You run a hand down his chest, manicured fingers tickling him through the brown cotton shirt. “Do you remember that time I was on a date with that jackass, I was drunk outta my mind—”

He scowls at the memory of that night, you, his ex-wife on a date with some chump named James. The man had tried to take you home, even though you were inebriated. “Yeah, I do,” he replied with a possessive tone to his voice. “You were wasted, couldn't even walk straight.. But I knew what that animal was thinking, I could see the way he looked at you.”

“All I could remember was how infuriated you were, the sexiest thing I'd ever seen..” Your eyes draw him in, batting your lashes at him.

Joel smirks, a light blush spreading from his neck up his cheeks, to his ears from your comment. “You thought it was sexy huh? I thought I'd lost my shit and went a little overboard..”

You can only shrug, unbothered by his reaction at that time. “Oh—maybe you did, I mean you did beat him to a pulp in that forsaken carpark, didn’t you baby? All for me.”

“That prick needed his ass kicked either way,” he growls. “There was no way I was letting him have you.. Drunk or not, that man crossed a line, and I’d do it all over again.”

Your heart doubles in size, and you can feel your knees weakening. “You'd do it all over again?”

He doesn't hesitate. “I'd do it a thousand times over.. At that moment.. in my mind, you were still my girl, being hit on by some creep. And I wasn't going to let him take you away from me.” He pauses, wondering if his explanation sounded too crazy. “You still meant alot to me.. Even after we split.. You always have.”

You run a finger down his cheek, the coarse hairs of his beard make a sound that sends a tingle down your spine. “What I wouldn't do to see that side of you again.”

Joel tilts his head slightly and takes a moment to ponder your comment. He was surprised to hear you admit how much you loved this dominant and possessive side of him. “That side of me.. You want to see it again, cause I can make it happen, baby girl. Just say the words.”

You couldn't help the way you trembled, sure that the only thing keeping you up right was Joel's hips pressing against your own, back digging into the bench. “Please,” you beg pathetically. His hand reaches up to your neck, holding you by the neck, forcing you to look up at him. He applies a small amount of pressure that has you whimpering.

The way you melt under his possessive gesture was enough for him to feel confident that this side of him was still within reach and you loved it. He leans closer to you and kisses you again, this time more forcefully. He lets his fingers dig into your soft flesh, squeezing firmly while knowing it's not causing you pain or discomfort.

Hearing your squeaking moans, and the way your body seems to relax into him as he takes control of you.. He takes this as motivation to move his lips against yours with a different kind of hunger. Feeding into the darker side of himself, trying to recapture that long-lost side of him that he's lost after letting you walk out of his life.

But he wouldn't let you go, no, not this time. He had his fingers digging into your flesh and his lips moving against yours with so much force, he shoves his tongue into your mouth..

His free hand wanders along your body, feeling the warmth of the wine and from the heat of his touch, your body reacting exactly how it used to, as if no time has passed at all. His hand gropes your breast roughly, squeezing and slipping past the two layers of fabric. He pulls away from your lips, eyes darkening. “Wearing a lace bra just for me, huh baby? Bet you've got a matching set on, don't you?” He growls.

“Y–Yes..” A feeble moan emits from your lips, smothered in his spit. The thought drives him wild, and slides down the straps to your dress and takes in the lavender lace bra you brought specially for tonight. “Fuck, you’re a naughty girl aren’t you?”

When you don't respond, he grabs at your breasts roughly, grasping the soft flesh between his calloused fingers, pinching your nipples harshly, making you cry out in pleasure, it was a sensitive spot for you, one that Joel remembered well.

He leans down, greedily sucking all the sweat off your warm skin, licking and nipping, his teeth biting down into the flesh of your neck, leaving an immediate mark, claiming his stake on you. You were his..

His lips messily kissed your breasts, tongue finally meeting the nipple where he suckled harshly, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “Do you remember when you were pregnant? Let me drink your milk straight from the source, didn’t you baby? Fuck.. what I wouldn’t give to do that again,” he whimpers against your skin.

Your heart races, running your fingers through his dark hair. He spends his time at your breasts, alternating pleasuring the two, making sure they’re both equally as tended to as the other. “Tits are so fucking perfect baby.” He praises.

His greedy hands trail down your body, the fabric of your dress bunching at his fingers, as he slides them down your legs, he’s on his knees.. face to face with the matching lavender lace panty that covers your pussy. An involuntary moan leaves his lips, he can’t tear his eyes away at the large sopping wet patch in the middle of your panties. “Fucking hell, I can smell your need, you know that?”

Your legs tremble at his sudden growl, he could smell her arousal? The thought embarrassed her. The thought didn’t stay long in her head, he presses his face into your cunt with the panties still on, moaning against you. His large nose bumping your swollen clit through the material, and you let out a whine and curl your fingers through his hair. “Please Joel.. I need more.”

He ignores your pleas for more, licking and sucking you through your panties, he can taste you through them, he’s like an animal being teased through a cage, and he’s painfully hard, teasing the both of you with his devilish antics.

“Fuck Joel! Please!” You beg a little louder, crying out as she tugs on his hair.

Without another moment passing, his thick fingers tear the lace in half, exposing your mound. You didn’t shave, your pubic hair was trimmed but still bush enough for Joel to dive into. His mouth watered, he had always had a preference for hair down there, he’d seen it in pornography magazines growing up, and he fucking desired it ever since.

Women these days are all about shaving, being bare and having brazilians.

Fuck that. This is what Joel needed.

“Fucking hell baby you’re gonna kill me.” He groaned into your cunt. Diving face first, his arms wrap around your ass and pull you tight, his face buried into your cunt as far as he could go.

You stumble and lift one leg over his shoulder, trying to support yourself a little more. It feels impossible though, the way Joel’s tongue dives into your cunt, lapping at the juices you’re giving him, pushing his tongue as far into your hole as he can reach. His hawkish nose presses into your clit and you feel your legs trembling, like you’re about to topple over.

“Joel..” you warn breathlessly. You’re close, so fucking close.

“Cum for me baby. Fuck.. please.” Suddenly he was the one begging, on his knees lapping at your cunt, whining against you. Feeling him beg against you was all it took for you to come undone.. your legs buckle and you tremble above him, clutching onto his shoulder, as you cry out, your clit tingles with pleasure as Joel slowly rolls his tongue against it, trying to string out your orgasm.

He laps you up, all of you, not letting a single drop go to waste, his eyes are black with desire and his face is glistening with you, smeared all over his face, finally, he rises to his feet. “Turn around baby girl.” He orders, his voice husky from your slick.

You can do nothing but comply, he shoves you against the counter, your hips against the cold wood. You can hear him, his breaths are quick, he’s frantically unbuckling his belt, tying the brown leather around your wrists..

You feel his hard cock against your ass, and your eyes widen, forgetting how big he was, did he get bigger?

With one hand he pushes you down onto the bench so you’re lying, face down. “That’s it angel. You’re so fucking sweet, aren’t you baby?” He praises senselessly, the swollen tip of his cock meets your hole and you squeak out, he stretches you, beyond what you ever remembered. “J-Joel.” You whine and inhale sharply, face still pressed against the cold countertop, arms bound behind your back and his throbbing thick cock pushing inside of you, you’re helpless, completely at his mercy and you fucking love it.

Your cunt can testify the fact, it’s dripping, all over Joel, he pushes himself into the hilt of you and groans loudly, a loud grunt leaving his lips. One hand holds you flat against the counter, the other holds your bound arms at his chest.

He slowly starts to thrust, legs quaking with desire, he knows he won’t last long, fuck, he’s never had a pussy so perfect, not after you, all he knows is the warmth of you, your perfectly tight hole, sucking him in deeper.

Your moans are loud, but muffled by your cheeks squished against the counter, you can almost feel him in your ribs, with every thrust it feels like you’re running out of oxygen. Strangled gasps leave your lips as your pussy clenches around him, threatening to spill over a second time..

Joel can feel it, the way you grip him, he knows he won’t last, he grunts as he presses himself flush against you, your arms behind your back hinder his need to be closer to you, but this way.. he wraps his hand around your neck, bringing you upright, flush to his chest.

“Fuck, that’s it baby.” He growls, his cock pummels into you mercilessly, and now you’re free to cry out as loud as you can.

“Joel.. Joel.. I’m.. I..” you stutter, in between moans, your cunt clenching around him. You tense up as you orgasm a second time, creaming all over his throbbing cock.

He brings you totally upright, his hand tightening around your throat. “Fuck baby.. I’m gonna cum.. fill this perfect pussy up.” He whimpered into your ear, biting down on your neck.

You can feel him tensing, seconds later.. heavy and warm ropes of his cum spurt so far into your womb you whimper, knowing that he’s sure to get you knocked up.. again. He lets out the most obnoxious grunting as he pants heavily into your ears.

“Joel.. fuck I’m.. not on birth control.” You whimper. He keeps his cock inside of you, until he softens and pulls out of you, untying the belt that restrained your hands, as your hands fall limply by your sides, he kisses your shoulders, knowing there’s ought to be an ache.

“Good. Maybe we can have a do over after all, hm?” He murmurs softly, kissing the back of your neck. His hands find their way down to your stomach, caressing it softly. “Wouldn’t hurt to have just one more.. would it?”

After all, Joel Miller was a possessive man, a greedy man. You would bare as many children as he wished, because you weren’t ever going anywhere again. You were his.

“Might as well marry me again while you’re at it.” You tease breathlessly.

He hums against your skin, his forehead resting on the back of your shoulder. “Already thinkin’ bout it baby.”

Because Joel Miller wouldn’t let you get away, not this time.

#young Joel miller #hbo Joel miller #Joel miller smut #Pedro pascal #Joel miller x female reader #joel miller fic #Joel miller x you #Joel miller #the last of us

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whywishesarehorses · 2 years

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Pensioner sets off on 600-mile pony trek with pet dog in saddlebag

Jane Dotchin, 80, has been making the unusual journey from Northumberland to the Highlands since 1972. (Story from STV News)

An 80-year-old woman who wears an eyepatch is on an annual trek with her pony from England to the Highlands – on a seven-week adventure which began in 1972.

Jane Dotchin packs her saddlebags onto her trusty pony’s back every year, and heads to the hills from her home near Hexham, Northumberland, on an epic 600-mile trek to Inverness, covering between 15 and 20 miles a day.

She set off on August 31 with her steed, Diamond, aged 13, and her disabled Jack Russell named Dinky for company, from the off-grid smallholding where she lives.

She carries everything she needs including her tent, food and just a few belongings – and despite wearing an eyepatch is determined to continue as long as she can.

Ms Dotchin said: “My mother would look after my other ponies but she wasn’t that keen on looking after my Halfinger stallion, so I rode him down to Somerset to see a friend, which is about 300 miles.

“It was a bit of a hard slog, but it was good.”

After that initial journey, she caught the taste for the open road and travelled to visit friends near Fort Augustus, near Loch Ness, every autumn since.

The journey takes around seven weeks depending on weather and Ms Dotchin tries to stop off to see people she has met over the years.

She said: “I refuse to go slogging on through pouring wet rain.

“There are a few different routes I can take depending on the weather.

“I don’t want to go over hilltops in foul weather, but I work it out on the way.

“I don’t bother with maps, I just keep to the routes I know.

“It is nice to go and see [people] again – I ring them up in the morning to say I’m going to be there in the evening.

“I don’t warn them too far in advance, because if the weather suddenly changes or I decide to stop early then they can be left wondering where I’ve got to.”

Disabled Jack Russell Dinky, who has deformed front legs, travels in a saddle bag.

Ms Dotchin said: “She manages fine, when there is a nice grassy track she gets out and has a run, but she doesn’t like stoney ground but she is a nice hot water bottle for me in the tent.”

She said: “I asked for something good and solid in my old age and he got me a cob from Ireland. I struggle to get on her half the time, but otherwise I manage fine.”

Her diet consists of porridge oats, oatcakes and cheese which is bought at local shops.

She prefers to make porridge with milk, but water will suffice.

Ms Dotchin added: “You can always boil it from a stream.”

Her bathroom habits are equally DIY, and she said: “I dig a hole.”

Ms Dotchin is devastated by the littering she has seen over the years and said Cumbernauld, North Lanarkshire, is somewhere she finds “shameful” due to the amount of rubbish.

She said: “It’s appalling, in particular single used barbecues which are left lying all over the place.

“Cumbernauld is the fly-tipping capital of Britain.

“There are some lovely people there who let me camp, but some of it is so disgusting and shameful.”

Campervans on single track roads have also become a more persistent problem.

She said: “Drivers just didn’t seem to know how wide they were, I was forever just about getting swept off the roads by them.”

The right to roam has helped with countryside access, but she said: “There are still some locked gates or little side gates that you can’t get a horse with packs on through.”

For emergencies she carries an old mobile phone as the battery lasts six weeks.

Ms Dotchin said: “I keep it switched off and just ring out to ring up landowners to get gates unlocked or to warn people when I’m coming but sometimes the trouble is getting a signal.”

During the foot and mouth crisis in 2001 she went on bicycle instead.

She said: “I covered many more miles with the dog in a pannier but it was not the same, I missed my horse.”

In recognition of her independent spirit, and many years of long distance trekking, she received The British Horse Society lifetime achievement award last year, which she said was “a bit of a surprise.”

During her travels she witnesses rutting deer and stags fighting in the autumn, and foxes.

She said: “There is always something interesting happening and there is never a dull moment.

“I will probably be stopped one of these days.”

#horse #news #irish cob #draught horse #trail riding #hacking #horseback riding #equestrian #horseblr #horse riding #draft horse #equine

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verinarin · 4 months

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Romcon Fluff | Ratio accidentally drinks your Love Serum ?!? | Tried to make this into a oneshot but I think it needs 2 more chapters, wdyt shall I continue?

Ruan Mei You accidentally made Veritas fell in love with you and he dislikes this festering feeling you have brought to him

support me on ko-fi ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

Ruan Mei is one of your closest friends, yet you rarely meet her since most of the time she’s off somewhere pursuing her lifelong pursuit of divinity, yet she never missed gifting you presents for your birthday.

You smile as you carefully untie the silk ribbon on your present, you can’t help but guess whatever is inside is a bottle of perfume because you could already inhale the sweet scent before even opening the intricate wooden box

Once you lift the lid it reveals a beautifully carved glass vial filled with a lavender-coloured liquid, you carefully examine the shimmering liquid in awe, it smells so sweet like a cherry blossom cake, you notice a light blue envelope inside the box

You carefully place the vial back to read open the envelope, there’s a beautifully written letter addressed to you, her sincerest friend

“Dearest friend of mine, Happy belated birthday. Now I have prepared this gift of mine long before your birthday but since I’m currently in the middle of nowhere I have deduced that It’ll reach your doorstep approximately 2 days late and for that, I apologise,” you smile as you read her letter, ah she’s still the same

Upon reading the 3-page long heartfelt letter Ruan Mei reveals that she has been making this rejuvenating serum for you since earlier this year, she said she used your DNA and modified it so for your birthday she gave you an enchantment serum of some sort

She said to pour it into a hot beverage and not too much since it’s a highly concentrated serum, so you decided to brew a cup of tea while you text her thank you. Okay so a little bit goes a long way, you slowly pour the serum into the tea when all of a sudden the bell into your apartment rings, it shakes you and accidentally makes you pour a lot more than you intended to

You quickly flip the vial and close its lid, you silently curse as you put the vial back and rush towards the door, you open the door with a pout on your face, now when you see the person behind it makes you more annoyed than before, Veritas Ratio in the flesh

“Why haven’t you been answering my texts and even my calls ?, your lack of response is going to cost us both substantial damage,” ah yes your assigned partner for the annual Intelligentsia Guild research showcase, where you and the narcissistic prick in front of you are assigned together by the committee

“Damage ?, I was just enjoying my birthday. Our research is not going to somehow dissipate into thin air if I enjoy some time for myself,” you groan, you want to slam your door into that handsome prick’s face, but you can’t because he’ll sue you

He scoffs while looking down on you, without any hesitation he slides into your apartment, at this point you want to just pounce over him, but thankfully you’re in a good mood because your tea is waiting for you-

That entitled motherfucker—

When you turn your body you see him blissfully sipping on your tea, like he’s entitled to it, “Hmm this tea is exquisite, the colour is stunning too where did you get this from ?” he asks as he swirls the cup, your cup

“Veritas Ratio that was my birthday present ?!!” you yell as you storm towards him, you try to pry his hands away from your tea but sadly he’s way taller than you, “Well then I need you to tell the person that gifted you this tea to tell me where they acquire such complex tea blend,”

You’re fuming, you swear that there’s smoke coming off your head like some sort of chimney, he notices this and weirdly he thinks you’re cute, he can’t believe that his heart just skipped a beat when you pout at him, what an unusual feeling

“Stop pouting, you’re making my heart palpitate faster than usual,” Veritas groans which surprised you, what the hell was he saying ?

“What the hell are you implying ?!” you scan his face, somehow this man who is well known to be rude and disrespectful is blushing profusely, what the hell happened here ?!

“You !, can you stop looking that beautiful basking underneath the sunlight it bothers me, I hate it,” he can’t believe he just said that out loud, what the hell is happening with him

“H-huh ?!?, what the fuck is wrong with you Veritas, I rather have you yell at me for fucking up some calculations than whatever this is,” you shriek feeling slightly disgusted and oddly flattered ?!?

“Well do you think I have the slightest idea what made my mind suddenly throw out my rationale out of the window and replace it with you instead ?!,” okay this is starting to freak you out because this feels too real, way too real is this a dream, please be a dream

You start to lightly slap your face to snap yourself out of this horrific nightmare, “This is no dream, I suggest you start to be responsible over this,” he leans forward and reaches out to your hand, he presses it towards his beating heart, he’s serious about how fast it was palpitating-

“W-what do you mean responsible ?!?, for what h-huh ?,” you try to pull your hand away but to no avail, it’s like he glued it down on his firm chest

“For these festering feelings that I don’t enjoy having nor experiencing, it must’ve been the tea I drank because before this I was quite normal when it comes to staring at that captivating face of yours. No, I mean that horrid face of yours that someone enchanted when illuminated by the sun,” Oh nous, it can’t be that tea can it ?

Oh !, Ruan Mei what the hell did you gift ?. Veritas could see your face reduce to a state of emotionless, “Don’t ignore me fool !,” he mutters as he now guides your hand to rest his head against your palm

“S-stop acting weird,” you stutter on your words, your confidence has been drained and now you’re left with red-tinted cheeks, how frustrating

“Can’t help it, I just want you to notice my presence,” he mumbles against your palm, slightly kissing it while talking, Oh my nous, Ruan Mei needs to fix whatever this is or at this rate, he can’t perform his task as your research partner

“Okay okay I need to somehow make an antidote for you,” you take a deep breath trying to think of something, but how can you when he’s there watching you with those puppy eyes

“Please do because, to be frank, I’m extremely uncomfortable with the way I just want to kiss that pink lips of—“ before he can continue you slap his mouth shut with your palm

“Shut up !!, don’t utter any more nonsense, just get out of here and don’t come back until I find a way to fix whatever this is,” you quickly push him towards the door, he’s adamant about staying by making things harder for you

“Can’t I just wait here and assist you? I might miss you if you kick me out, I mean no of course I wouldn’t miss your brilliant mind what am I saying of course I’ll miss you,” this man needs to be stopped, you can’t handle the contradictions that he’s spewing

“What do I need to do for you to get out !,” you huff as you wipe away your sweat, this man weighs like those sculptures he makes

“A kiss on the lips should suffice,” he smirks, why did he smirk?!?, never mind that you can’t deal with this nonsense anymore, you quickly drag him by the collar and press your lips together within a second you pull away from the kiss leaving him happily dumbfounded, you took this chance to hurriedly push him out the door and lock it

What the hell just happened ?!?

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #dr ratio #dr ratio x reader

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mediumgayitalian · 28 days

Text

Nico really fucking hates capture the flag.

Well, not always. Last week was fun. Last week was the annual Everyone Against The Stolls (to atone for their crimes), and Nico got to chase Connor around at top speeds, cackling, committing his shrieking and begs for mercy to memory. That was nice. That almost made him forgive the fucker for digging a trench under Nico’s unwelcome mat for him to fall into at seven thirty in the godsdamn morning.

But tonight’s game is boring.

He’s been standing, alone, at the base of the flag for the past forty bajillion hours. He’d raised a few dozens skeletons to spar with at first, since animating them to fight himself isn’t technically against the rules, but that got dull fast. (It isn’t much fun sparring with a partner who doesn’t have a brain. He already has to do that enough with Percy when he comes to visit camp.) He’d climbed the various trees around the clearing, or at least he tried until he got reamed by the dryads for climbing on a manner that was too annoying (?), and tried his hands at a few summoning spells. Nothing held his interest long.

And now he’s just standing, doing nothing, and he’s not allowed to leave. He has to stay in this stupid spot on the off chance that someone comes stumbling over to fight him for the flag.

“You’re our best swordsman, she said,” he says mockingly, beaming the nastiest vibes he can manage in Piper’s vague direction. “We need you on our defensive line, she said. Nyeh nyeh nyeh.”

His checks his watch. He groans. He looks critically over the grass, looking for a softer patch, and when he locates it he throws himself dramatically upon it, groaning louder.

“This sucks!” he yells, to no one.

“Will you shut up!” shouts back the dryad he pissed off earlier. “For the love of photosynthesis! Fuck!”

He bites his tongue hard to hold back laughter. (If he can avoid getting his entire cabin overgrown with prickle bushes again, that’d be great.) “Sorry,” he calls, trying with everything he has to sound contrite. Convincing his father to fight the Titan War was easier, actually. Acting is not his calling.

“Hmph!”

At least listening to see if she’ll come out and yell at him again provides something to ease his boredom. Yes, he’s going to regret bothering her, but in his defense, solo guarding is cruel and unusual punishment. He’d rather sit by an outlet with a fork and see if he can poke and let go fast enough to avoid dying. That at least would be interesting.

A rustling of leaves recaptures his attention, and he pauses.

“Holly?”

When no one answers, which is odd because she’s taken every opportunity in the last hour to either insult him or pelt him with stones, he lifts his head.

“You’re not going to scare me, dude. I had my fear glands surgically removed to become a better soldier.”

Not true. Obviously. But a fun bonus of being the camp weirdo is that no one doubts anything he says. He’s working on convincing everyone younger than him that he needs weekly tributes of chocolate delivered to his door every Friday or the dead are going to take over the world. So far, it’s working.

“Look, Holly, I’m sorry about the zombie, okay, I promise it didn’t mean to sneeze part of its brain on you —”

The rustling sounds again, only this time Nico can see that it’s not Holly’s tree, and in fact she is nowhere to be found. Alarmed, he jumps to his feet, shifting so he’s balanced on the balls of his feet, poised to attack. Is Piper’s plan failing? Has someone actually managed to make it all the way over here without getting (gently, probably, although they lost the last game and Piper gets cranky without dessert) maimed?

The rustling sounds for a third time. This time, an armoured someone stumbles out of the underbrush, tripping over their own foot and nearly landing flat on their face.

Nico has his sword at their throat in a millisecond.

“Wo-oah, Morbius. That’s probably my least favourite sword you could stab in me.”

Nico goes bright red. “I have never wanted to stab you more than right this second.”

Will, chest plate skewed to the right, quiver completely empty, and black paint smeared under his eyes, snickers. He puts a finger on the tip of Nico’s sword and pushes it away from his neck.

“The opportunity was right there, babe. I couldn’t not.”

“You really, really could. In fact at all times, you should remember these words of wisdom: shut up.”

“…Damn. Inspiring.”

Nico rolls his eyes, but the effect is somewhat lessened by the smile on his face and the obvious pleasure in his expression. He’s even feeling merciful enough to accept Will’s kiss, although his sword keeps a good amount of distance between them. (Will’s on the blue team, after all. It would be unprofessional to be fraternizing with the enemy.

…Well, too much, anyway.)

“What’re you doing here? You’re supposed to be with the other archers, sitting in trees and causing havoc.”

Will shrugs, grinning lazily. “I quit. This game is senselessly violent and I’m Against It On Principle. I’m a pacifist, you know.”

“Uh huh.” Nico raises an eyebrow. “I assume this doesn’t count you choking Cecil out in a headlock, this morning.”

Will opens his mouth. Nothing comes out. He closes it again.

“Cecil is my mortal enemy,” he grudges after a moment. “He doesn’t count.”

“‘Course not. Not like you cried for two hours when he went to visit his mom last weekend or anything.”

“Will you — stop saying I cried. I barely teared up, okay. Barely.”

Nico can’t quite force down the stupid grin that pulls across his face, matching Will’s, nor can he resist grabbing the leather straps of his boyfriend’s armour and hauling him close.

“You better not be here to distract me,” he mumbles, leaning close and pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw, the corner of his mouth. Will hums, settling his hands on Nico’s hips.

“Nope. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Drama queen.”

“Excuse — I am the least dramatic, I’ll have you know. I’m a pinnacle of solemnity. I am a shining beacon of stoicism. I am — mmfh,” He trails off. “Okay, doing this now, mhm.”

Nico smiles triumphantly into the kiss. Will, he has found, is very easy to shut up, despite his long-running nickname of Motormouth. It’s almost like he has an off button that can be accessed only by Nico sticking his tongue in his mouth. Nico is doing his civic duty, honestly. He should be compensated for his service.

(‘Course, doesn’t hurt that Will smells, like, really good, all the time, and his lips are soft as hell and he is actually quite the kisser, in fact. That is definitely a fun bonus.)

He smooths his hands over Will’s shoulders, travelling up the sides of his neck and settling in his hair. Will keens, slightly, when he wraps a finger around a frizzy golden curl and tugs, slightly, when he scratches his nails along his scalp. The rush of power at the feeling makes Nico dizzy, and his sword clatters to the ground as he busies himself with more interesting — and important — things.

Like pulling more of those sounds from his boyfriend’s throat. Or making his knees buckle, again, like he did the other night — gods, that was good, it made Will flush scarlet and Nico feel like he was fuckin’ floating, to have Will so needy and touchy and totally at his mercy —

“Free line to the flag! Go go go go!”

Nico startles, whirling towards the sudden cacophony of noises. To his horror, what looks like half the camp, helmets shining with plumes of blue, comes pouring into the clearing, weapons raised, voices mixing in one long, victorious shout. He lunges for his sword, but before he can grab it, two strong arms tighten around his torso, pinning his hands to his side.

Immediately, he knows he’s been set up.

“Oh, you — fucker!”

He feels the curve of Will’s grin against his neck. “First shower privileges for a whole month, baby.” He noses along his jaw, pressing an apologetic kiss to his cheek. “Couldn’t resist.”

Nico struggles, aghast, watching the once-red flag shimmer in Lou Ellen's hold to a bright, shining blue. “I am breaking up with you, you traitor, you Iago, you vixen — ”

Will snorts. He ducks down and pecks Nico on the lips, again, and again, and then shifts to his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his temples, his forehead, and all over his face, making louder and louder mwah sounds until Nico is laughing, punching his shoulder and shoving him away.

“Okay! Okay. Let me go, you villainous toad. We will discuss how much you’ll have to grovel for my forgiveness after Piper finishes yelling at me for getting distracted.”

Will presses one last kiss to his nose, smiling cheekily before stepping away, heading towards his boasting team. “Enjoy that lecture! Love you!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nico rolls his eyes, resting his aching cheek in his hand. “Love you too, asshole.”

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maybankswhore · 3 months

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𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍.

SUMMARY: jj sees you wearing a necklace he got you when the two of you were kids and it stirs up some feelings he thought he forgotten about. ( inspired by @anawritez-posts theodore’s nott fic called ‘the necklace. )

PAIRING: jj maybank x fem!reader.

WARNINGS: mentions of weed & alcohol. minimal cursing.

JJ’s eyes immediately found it as soon as you rushed into the Chateau all bright eyed and bushy tailed. Your cheeks were a bashful pink , your hair pulled back in a high ponytail that had fallen just a bit with a few loose strands of hair framing your face. The gold chain shimmered underneath the light that had hit it when the screen door opened , and the familiar seashell necklace captured his attention almost instantly.

“Sorry I’m late!” You rushed out. With nothing but jean shorts and a bikini for a day out on the boat before the annual boneyard party , you stood in front of the Pogue’s with a sheepish smile. “My alarm didn’t go off.”

“No worries , Kiara burnt breakfast.” John B brushed off her worries and glared at Kiara who sent him the same expression back.

“Not my fault that you and JJ were causing trouble while I was trying to scramble the eggs.” Kiara defended.

“Yeah well it’s gonna take all day for the smell to air out of here.” Pope added with a wrinle of his nose.

You only laughed at your friends before looking towards JJ with the tilt of your head. His eyes had been trained on you and his usual loud and obnoxious banter was unusually absent. “What?”

JJ’s eyes snapped towards yours before he shook his head. Clearing his throat before muttering, “nothing.”

“Okay well Pope’s right it does smell bad in here.” You chuckled. “You guys ready?”

A few mumbles of ‘yes’ buzzed throughout the group as they all dispersed to make sure everything was packed and ready to go. You grabbed your bag that held all your stuff and headed outside to wait for him.

“Y/N! Wait!”

JJ rushed behind you , opening the door as the two of you walked towards the boat together. “Yeah?”

JJ swallowed nervously. A weird bubbling feeling began washing up in his stomach. Something that made him feel oddly warm but nauseous at the same time. “I didn’t think you still had it.”

You looked up at him confused before realizing he was staring at your neck again , where the seashell rested on your collarbones. You grinned and nodded , remembering when you first received it. “I saw it hanging in my jewelry box and I haven’t worn it in awhile—” you shrugged. “I used to wear everyday! And it went well with todays outfit.”

The sentiment of the necklace seemed to sway JJ’s mind. He remembered saving up every penny to get it for your thirteenth birthday. He didn’t even think you still had it since that had been years ago. JJ remembered exactly what you looked like wearing it as a girl. Innocent big eyes and dirt covered cheeks. Seeing it on you now as a woman— the woman he had unknowingly grown to adore all of these years , it just seemed to plant something in JJ’s chest. His heart growing three sizes at the thought.

“I can’t believe you still have it.” JJ said softly. Reaching out to grab your wrist and stop you from walking.

You ignored how your skin burned at his fingertips. Pushing down the way your cheeks wanted the flush and your eyelashes wanted to bat. Instead you only smiled at him warmly. “Why wouldn’t I?”

JJ shrugged. Hesitantly reaching out to touch the metal. You couldn’t deny the way your heart beat faster at that. Your chest rising and falling at a pace that you weren’t used to. Watching his every move. “Didn’t think it meant that much.”

His words weighed heavily in the air. You had to swallow the lump in your throat to respond. “It meant everything to me.” You told him truthfully. JJ had been the only person who had gotten you a gift that year. Your parents had been broke , and couldn’t afford anything more than your mother making you a cake from a box. And your friends were all young without jobs. You hadn’t expected anything and you were okay with it then , but when JJ had pulled you aside and gave it to you— that memory had become your favorite.

It was always there between the two of you when you looked back on it. It was always there but unspoken. There was alot of fear not just from you , but from JJ as well. The two of you shared a special connection that not even the Pogue’s could begin to understand.

It was unspoken. But it was there. Hovering over the two of you wherever you went. Holding eachother there in a scared place that neither of you had been ready to visit.

But as JJ looked up and noticed how your eyes glistened. How you glowed so beautifully underneath the sunlight , and how delicate you seemed to be— he was beginning to walk into that place and welcome it for the first time.

And he only hoped that you wearing the necklace meant that you were , too.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank #outer banks imagines #outer banks #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank outer banks #jj maybank x you #jj obx #jj outer banks #jj x y/n #obx jj #jj x reader #jj headcanons #outer banks blurb #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks requests

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drdemonprince · 3 months

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Thousands of people did not just suddenly stop using headphones one day because they felt like it, or because they stopped caring about people with sensory sensitivities like me. No, people stopped using headphones because cell phone manufacturers stopped including headphone jacks in their products.

My sensory-processing issues are a physical element of my disability that would absolutely still exist in a world without capitalism. Like my poor fine motor control and reduced muscle tone, my sensory processing issues debilitate me: there are tasks I simply cannot perform because of how my body is wired, and this makes me different from most other people in ways that are non-negotiable. Still, my physical disabilities are worsened quite clearly by capitalism: Because large corporations have both a profit motive and a vested interest in reinvesting those profits into advertisements, and because the internet does not receive public financial support, my daily life is bombarded with bright, noisy, flashing, disruptive advertisements, which makes it far more difficult for me to process relevant information and can swiftly bring me to the verge of a meltdown. If the internet were funded as a public utility and was therefore not sandblasted in ads, I would be less disabled. If my local streets were less plastered in billboards and littered with junk mail advertising chain restaurants, I would be less disabled.

Because companies like Apple financially rely upon consumers replacing their phones on an annual basis (despite how unsustainable and murderously cruel continuing to mine cobalt in Sudan for the production of all these new phones is), I must replace my phone regularly. With an updated phone model I lose my headphone jack and have to adapt to a new operating system and layout, and so my sensory issues and executive functioning challenges are exacerbated. In a world where phones were produced in order to help human beings function rather than to make money, I would be less disabled. Thanks to capitalism, I cannot exist in public if I am not purchasing anything. I cannot simply be present in a store, coffee shop, or even public plaza, enjoying my surroundings and taking the sight of other people in. I must contribute to the economy in order to justify it. If the brickwork of a nearby building fascinates me and I crave to feel it against my palms, I have to pretend that I wish to buy it, and be prepared to tell anyone who asks that that’s what I intend to do. I can’t even stand on the corner and feel the sun on my face without worrying my neighbors might find it unusual and send the cops. As an Autistic person, I often can’t fake being a perpetual consumer well enough. My desire to simply elope around my environment and take in new, interesting sensations registers as suspicious or concerningly mentally ill. And so I am further disabled and excluded from public life.

The full essay is free to read or have narrated to you at drdevonprice.substack.com

#disability #autism #adhd #accessibility #neurodivergence #social model of disability

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pizzaapeteer · 26 days

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A little sappy - Enzo Berkshire

Week 4 of @thatdammchickennugget hogmarch challenge! Used the prompt "May I have this dance?" and slipped in the fireworks too tehe. A wee little blurb of Enzo making your dreams come true. Pretty divider from here

Warnings: female reader, fluffy mostly, implied smut, few mentions of divorce.

“There you are. Hope you’re not hiding from me now, dove.” Enzo’s large frame pops round the bend of the door, his brown eyes taking in your pretty appearance. Hunched over the dresser, knees pulled up to your chest, bunching your elegant dress. Not exactly appropriate for the type of party you were at, which was why he loved it.

You roll your eyes once spotting Enzo, placing the book down on the dresser, meeting his eyes. “Of course not, just needed a little space.”

Enzo steps into the room, allowing you to see the full reveal of his dapper outfit, dressed in a full three-piece suit, looking quite the gentleman. Such an optimal disguise at hiding his usual scoundrel appearance, making everyone in sight gush over him.

You had disappeared upstairs to your old room, hoping the memories of your childhood would calm yourself from spiraling. An overwhelming sensation had filled your head the moment you stepped back into the house, the tension stirring below becoming palpable to all of your parents' recent divorce.

His eyes glaze over your mopey dismay, before spotting the brightly covered novel enticing a groan. “What is that, a muggle romcom? Don’t tell me I'm just finding out now, you're into sappy shit.” His voice held a slight mocking disappointment as he reached, inspecting the cheesy title. Cocking a brow, he uttered, “You ditched me for this?”

Heat rises to your cheeks as you roll your eyes again, stifling a laugh. “I am. It’s not sappy, it's romantic.” Sighing, your eyes shift, moving to the mirror, you fix a strand of your hair falling from your unwanted perfect hairdo. “I’m giving you my full attention now, berk.”

“Romantic huh.” the sounds of the music float through the open space, the clear sign your father has turned on the gramophone downstairs. His head quips towards it, chuckling, “looks like your family is starting the annual dance.”

However, you make no effort to move, having no interest in showing face any longer. The idea of contorting your face into a flawless appearance of perfection for your family’s reputation revolts you. It bothered you that it had led to this as you enjoyed the free feeling of dancing. The thrill of intimacy with a person for that mere moment of dance, no words spoken, bodies pressed close. It was the closest thing to a romantic gesture you could get.

“I’m not going back down.” You state your tone laced with melancholy.

An amused snicker falls from his lips, sensing your unpleasantness at his suggestion. “Want me to ask you to dance and all that proper shit, cuz I'll do it”. He extended his hand, bowing slightly, his head raised, meeting your eyes. “May I have this dance?” His lips curving into a dampened smile, truly wanting to see you mirror his affection.

A laugh escapes you, brows shooting up at Enzo’s sudden chivalrous manner, an unusual demeanor for him. But notherthanless, you appreciate his seemingly genuine offer and beam at him, standing to give him a playful curtsy matching his formalities.

Fingers meet as he holds your hand, his other sliding down to grip your waist. Faces inches apart, your gaze acclamatory, appreciating his way of cheering you up. You rest your other hand on his tall shoulder, feeling his defined muscles tightening under his blazer.

The two of you start to move, swaying in harmony, shuffles of feet on the wooden floorboards. A burst of warmth engulfs you as the two of you spin, circling in synchronisation, slow and embracing each other’s rhythm. It differed from how you usually felt when dancing, an extra sense of amour dipping into the action.

Enzo twirls you, his arm extending as you duck underneath it, pulling you back against his chest abruptly. A small oof is exhaled from you, Enzo’s brown orbs twinkling with amusement before seizing your chin and smashing his lips onto yours.

The warmth within you only spreads, heat rising like a flame inhaling gasoline as your lips press back against his. It was everything you dreamed of. While it had Enzo’s flare added into it, the moment was completely romantic to you. Your stomach whirled, the butterflies flapping rapidly within the pit. A scene straight out of one of your muggle books.

As he pulls back noticing your awestruck expression, he sniggers lowly his hand still resting on the nape of your neck. "Don’t tell me you felt like a donkey kick or whatever it is.”

You’re too happy to feel any offence by his reaction, a giggle rippling out of you. “You mean fireworks?” Hints of a red hue adorn your cheeks. “Will you still kiss me if I did?”

He cocks a brow, an arrogant smirk spread on his lips as he crows, “makes sense when you’re kissing someone as handsome as me.” Tousling his hair unsettling the gel out of place, his smirk stretches into a tantalizing grin, “only if you let me set off fireworks elsewhere.” His lips are back on yours once again, spurring another burst of passion exploding within you. As Enzo feels the growing burst of light within himself too, he can’t help but admit that maybe this sappy shit isn't too bad.

Masterlist

#Enzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire fluff #enzo berkshire blurb #enzo berkshire x female reader #slytherin boys #hogmarch challenge

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httpiastri · 6 months

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charles leclerc x sainz!reader, 18+ mentions

charles is waiting for you outside the club once your uber arrives. it's like he knew when you were going to arrive, like he had a tracker on you – or like he was just waiting for the first best person to get his hands on.

"if it isn't my favorite sainz sibling," he says when he opens the car door for you, his handsome grin flashing down at you as you step out. "had a good day in the paddock?"

"probably better than you," you joke, your hand landing on his shoulder to give him an apologetic rub. "my brother was upgraded to the podium, but you were disqualified, so..."

"shit happens." charles shrugs before snaking his arm around your waist, leading you into the club. "my day is about to get a lot better, though."

a chuckle leaves your mouth. his fingers move up and down your side as you make your way to the bar, and charles slows down every once in a while to greet some friends and other acquaintances.

you wonder what this looks like to those who don't know. you attached to his hip, his tight grip on your side, your body leaning against his. but to those who do know, the sight is nothing strange or unusual. despite how much you both try to deny it – not only to others but also to yourselves – you're drawn to each other like magnets.

"buy me a drink, will you?" you ask.

he's facing you now, and his hand still hasn't left your hip. "no, i don't think so." you raise your eyebrows, tilting your head to the side at his words. "i know what it would lead to. and we both made a promise not to go there, didn't we?"

"maybe so. but..." you pull your fingers through your hair, shaking out your locks. "what if i make it up to you?"

"and how would you do that?"

you pretend to think about it for a moment, pursing your lips. "i'll tell you the color of my panties."

charles pauses, his mouth dropping slightly open as his expression grows blank. you can practically see the gears turning in his head, and you have to let out a laugh.

"oh, you're actually considering it?" you ask teasingly, shooting him a wink as he just blinks at you.

his free hand drags across his face and he drags his hand down his face. his voice is low when he speaks. "shit, you can't just say that."

"why?"

he groans and his eyes wander across the room, hoping that looking away will save his cheeks from growing even hotter than they already are. "it makes me think things i shouldn't think about. not when i'm trying to stay away from you."

your hand on his cheek makes him look back down at you. you know what he's thinking, you can see it in his eyes. he wants you – and you want him too. "you hate it, don't you?" you smile up at him. "me being your teammate's sister?"

"so much."

your hand moves from his cheek to his neck, fingers playing with the short strands for a moment. you have to step closer to reach the back of his head, dragging your hand through his digits as his warm breath fans over your face. his adams apple bobs when he gulps, his eyes hazy and gaze weak.

it's so easy for you to get to charles. you always leave him feeling weak in his knees, like the breath has been sucked out of his lungs, like the annual butterfly convention is located in his stomach.

you know he won't be able to refrain. he'll have to give in.

"this would get so messy," he says, voice low as a whisper.

the dress you're wearing is so short that charles doesn't have to reach far down to find the edge of it. his fingers pinch the material, the corners of his lips turning up when it rides up even higher on your thigh. "you know it's worth it, though," you answer simply, trying your best not to lose your cool. you don't want him to see what effect his actions have on you – you are supposed to be the teasing one.

his thumb draws circles into the inside of your thigh, and you squeeze your legs together instinctively. the action reminds him of how he's seen you before, legs clenched around him with your hands in his hair just like now, and the thought causes his brain to short-circuit (and the tent in his pants grow). he shakes his head, unwillingly pulling his hand away from you to grab your hand. "okay. you win," he mutters, intertwining his fingers with yours. he pulls your hand up to his mouth to place a quick kiss on the back of it, as if to show you that he isn't actually as upset as the playful frown on his face tells you, before dragging you with him to the door again.

"i always do, don't i?"

"shut it."

"wait, i wanted you to buy me a drink-"

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gojhoes · 3 months

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A Ruthless Game

summary: It’s the eighth annual haunted house held by your boyfriend’s university theatre program. You decide to pay it a visit in support of Gojo, but what happens when you get lost and find yourself alone with him in the Blue Room?

- contents: NSFW, MDNI. fem!reader x gojo, all characters in their early 20s, college student au, gojo is a theatre major, established relationship, dom gojo, sub reader, sex in a public place, smut, dirty talk (sacrilege, tbh), gojo speaks in quotes, p-in-v (why not), praise kink, unprotected sex, masque of the red death theme - wc: ~4k

Having been in the same year in high school, you knew very well of Gojo's affinity for pulling pranks. You also knew, however, that sometimes he could take it just a little too far.

It wasn't unusual to come home after a grueling day of exams to get jump-scared by Gojo before getting into the shower. More than once, he'd claimed to have stood behind doors for up to 30 minutes just so he could leap out and scare you as you walked by. Not to mention the time he'd camped out in the backseat of your car after overhearing that you were about to leave to meet Shoko somewhere. You'd come pretty close to accidentally stabbing him over that, and you made him promise not to do it again. But still, every time you got in the car, you peeked over your shoulder just to make sure there were no surprises.

October, the second month of autumn in the Northern Hemisphere and arguably your favorite of them all, had come at last. The changing of the leaves, the merciful drop in temperature, and new scents in the air were all pleasant. But the main reason you loved it so was Halloween.

It wasn't until you were well into your new relationship with Satoru that you discovered your love for the holiday was something he reciprocated. His university's theatre program held a haunted house annually, which he'd participated in religiously since his freshman year. So, being the supportive girlfriend you were, of course, you agreed to pay him a visit with all your friends.

The morning before your ticket for the haunted house was valid, Gojo waltzed up behind you as you stood naked in front of the bathroom mirror. He slithered his arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder, leaving sweet kisses all over your bare skin. Being that it was opening night, his day was starting early with back-to-back dress rehearsals. This meant he wouldn't be joining in the shower, as was usual, and that you would be alone until it was time to meet with Nanami and Shoko later. He was already dressed in his costume- a burned, destroyed, fake-bloodied ensemble that represented nothing in particular. It didn't matter to you, though. He could've been wearing rags and he'd still be the prettiest man you'd ever had the pleasure of looking at.

"Wear something cute tonight," he'd murmured into your ear before giving you a teasingly chaste kiss and heading out the door. For Satoru, 'cute' meant slutty, or something with easy access like a skirt with no panties. The implication sent your heart aflutter and resultantly, you were left distracted the entire day.

In the car, you tried desperately to pull down the skirt as it relentlessly rode up and threatened to expose your bare ass. Shoko had been able to convince Nanami to drive you, much to your surprise. Getting him to do anything outside of school hours was about as pleasant as pulling teeth, but with Shoko's promise to buy him a couple of beers, he'd eventually agreed without much grumbling.

Gojo had warned you that it would be packed for opening night, so the best course of action was to come early. Turns out, this one was one of the rare times when his advice had been useful, as the ticket line damn near wrapped around the block as you approached the haunted house itself. There were no phones allowed in the house per university rules, so Nanami offered to take yours before you took off inside.

"Aren't you coming?" you asked, a last-ditch effort to try and convince him to join.

"Absolutely not," Nanami replied stubbornly. "I'm here as the designated driver only."

Your face fell in disappointment, but you knew better than to try to argue with Kento Nanami.

You, Shoko, and 50 of your closest friends filed into a room much too small to house such an amount. The walls were painted to look like blood-spattered wood, and you could just make out the motifs of several different doors. Any trace of sunlight seemed to be sucked away the moment you entered, truly adding to the effect. You were impressed with the design thus far, feeling inclined to agree with Satoru's claims of his theatre program being The Best.

"I'm bugging out," Shoko said to your left.

"You claustrophobic?"

She gave you a look as if to say, "are you stupid?", and you raised your hands defensively. More and more people kept spilling into the room, squeezing you impossibly closer to the wall. There had to be at least 100 or more patrons occupying the space now, but there was no sign that the outer doors were going to close anytime soon.

A random frat boy tripped and crashed into Shoko, which not only pissed you off but also happened to be her last straw. She ignored the boy's attempt at an apology, all the color draining from her face in an instant. Her brown eyes were wide with fear as she sputtered out,

"Fuck this. I'm getting the fuck out of here."

Before you could get the chance to call after her, she turned quickly and hurried toward the way you'd come in. The crowd was impossibly thick, and she moved so fast in her panic that you were unable to catch up. Just as you made it to the edge of the crowd, the loud sound of a gong rang throughout the room at an ear-splitting volume.

Right before your eyes, the large doors swung inward with a melodramatic creaking, bathing the overly crowded room in complete darkness. At least Shoko had made it out safely. For a moment, nothing happened aside from the illumination of several dim lamps overhead. You thought that maybe someone had missed their cue, but then a sound sweeter than singing angels filled the room: Satoru's voice.

“Quiet, brats!” he boomed. The room fell silent in an instant- even you had to admit that the command sent a slight chill down your spine. You concluded that his voice was being carried over a set of speakers, as your boyfriend's familiar tall frame was nowhere to be seen.

“Our university’s theatre department would like to welcome you to its eighth annual haunted house.”

There was an awkward pause, and you heard someone cough.

“APPLAUSE, brats!”

You joined the others in a series of claps and forced cheers, smiling to yourself. No wonder Satoru enjoyed this so much; he was perfect for it. In your mind’s eye, you could see his lit-up face as he bellowed into a microphone in some nearby room.

He knew your time slot already, but you'd shot him a quick text to let him know you'd arrived before leaving your phone with Nanami to go in. You wondered if he’d spotted you yet, thinking maybe you should wave or something. Surely there had to be cameras in the room.

"'One thing I do dislike, are cowards'," Satoru went on. “However, because of your precious laws, emergency exits are marked in every section. As you proceed through the house, follow the WHITE ARROWS. Does everybody get that? WHITE. ARROWS. Everyone, repeat it so we get your verbal acknowledgment.”

In unison, the crowd obediently droned out ‘white arrows’, and you fought back a giggle at the absolute kick he must’ve been getting out of this.

“Wonderful!” Gojo cried, pretending to make his voice break emotionally. “Doing so well already, brats, makin’ me proud.”

He cleared his throat as murmurs of laughter floated through the room.

"NOW!" he shouted abruptly. "After I stop talking, the doors will open. There are seven of them, so choose carefully because God knows what might lie beyond the wrong one.

"And remember," he crooned. "'Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.'"

A dramatized rendition of his signature snicker warped into deep, evil laughter as several doors opened on the room’s other three walls. The house-goers around you burst into nervous laughter and excited chatter as groups decided which way they would go. You trailed behind a group of high school girls on the premise that they'd likely be safer to follow than the frat boys you'd seen earlier.

It was a tight fit, to say the least. You found yourself at the back of the line as the holding room emptied and patrons passed over the various thresholds. The door you'd chosen to enter led into a long, dark hallway with, as promised, an arrow slathered on the floor in white paint. The same dim lanterns hung from the ceiling in intervals, though they did little in terms of providing much brightness.

The group of girls you'd chosen to follow turned abruptly into the first room off the side of the hall. It was a room painted completely in the dimmest of blue light, casting an eerie glow over your skin. It was a grand chamber, with impossibly tall ceilings and a chandelier hanging in the middle. You were unsure if it was the hued lightbulbs and lack of other illumination, but every prop in the room seemed to match in shade. You traipsed around the edges of the room, peeking at every object from the cerulean breakaway chairs to royal books and faux food.

When you glanced up in search of a guiding arrow, you found that you were completely alone. The girls you'd been dead set on trailing had disappeared. How was that even possible? You'd stopped only for a minute to look. Just moments ago, you’d been surrounded by people, trapped in a suffocating cloud of body heat and bad breath. It was so cold now in comparison, so dark, and so quiet. There wasn’t a shred of decent light in the room and having left your phone with Nanami, you had nothing in the way of a flashlight. You started feeling your way toward the wall to guide yourself when a familiar voice spoke, and your blood ran cold.

"I was hoping you'd go with that one."

You gasped at the sudden tickle of Satoru's breath on the back of your neck. Where had he even come from? The disappearance of your fellow patrons suddenly made sense as you dawned on the thrilling realization that you two were completely alone.

"You told me to dress cute," you replied, fighting to keep your voice steady.

Satoru chuckled, low and breathy, and you felt the fine hairs on your neck stand up straight. "And that you did, didn't you? Always so good for me."

His praising words sent a wave of heat straight to the space between your legs. He wasn't yet touching you, though you could feel the warmth of his body from behind. You didn't dare move, having all but frozen under the weight of his proximity. Blood roared in your ears as your arousal burned low in your abdomen. Just his presence was enough to make you forget where you were in only the minute he'd gotten you alone.

"Always," you affirmed shakily.

You felt him move forward and close the space separating your bodies, his hips pressing against your ass. You willed your hands to remain at your sides and the air felt thick and hot, not unlike how the holding room had been just a few minutes ago. Something hard between his legs poked at your flesh and if you'd had any, your panties would've been soaked from that occurrence alone.

"'If you love me,'" Satoru murmured, his wet lips brushing against your neck. "'Then you will keep my commandments.'"

There were so many things about Satoru that were hot. His body, the charm, and his pretty face. But the way he’d sometimes speak in quotes and passages was by far his most attractive virtue. Perhaps some found it cringe-worthy, but the words slipped off Satoru’s tongue like honey and you hung off the end of each one.

“I love you,” you said, surer of that statement than of any other you’d uttered in your life.

His tongue and teeth took turns connecting with the soft skin of your neck. His pretty mouth latched on, sucking gently on your most sensitive spot as a hand landed on your side. You leaned into his touch, long fingers toying with the fabric of your skirt as they crept up your thigh. He trailed teasingly over every inch of skin you had to offer, and goosebumps erupted over the entirety of your leg. You heard him let out a sigh when his hand reached your bare hip under the skirt.

"Such a good girl," he said in a low voice. "Always doing exactly as I tell you to do."

"Satoru," you whined as his fingers flitted over your clit, which throbbed persistently in protest of the lack of stimulation.

"Shhh, keep it down," Gojo chastised in a whisper, circling his free arm around your waist. He pulled you into him roughly and you let out a small squeak. "Think of all those people who might hear. Don't want to scare them, do you?"

You opened your mouth to reply, only to slap your hand over it to stifle a moan when he slipped two fingers into you without warning. Your other hand grasped at the wall, searching for something, anything to grab to help cope with the sudden intensity of your pleasure.

"So wet," Satoru said softly, approval dripping from his tone. "All for me."

The hand crushing you against him slid down from your abdomen to your hip, creeping over agonizingly slow to rub circles on your achy clit. You relaxed into him instantly, the relief sending tingles through your whole being as he took his time fucking you on his fingers. His cock was painfully hard through the thin layers of clothing that separated him from you. You trusted him to hold you upright, retracting your steadying hand from the wall to reach down and palm at him behind you. As if rewarding you, the tips of his fingers curled against that sweet spot that made you dizzy, and you whimpered pathetically.

Your back still pressed to his chest, you fumbled over the waistband of his costume pants as you blindly slipped your hand inside. His cock strained against the fabric of his briefs so hard that you almost pitied him, already wishing to relieve him of the clothes and have him buried inside of you. You pulled his underwear down enough that you could feel the curve of him, running a single finger over what you could touch of the shaft. He laughed breathily into your ear, praising you for touching him even in such a difficult position.

That familiar twinge in your cunt drew a deep, unwarranted moan out of you. The sound rang throughout the room loudly enough that it distracted you from your pleasure. Were you really about to fuck in this very public haunted house? The door was wide open and while it was very dark, there was nothing stopping anyone from entering. You turned your head and pawed at Satoru's chest pathetically to get his attention.

"What if someone comes in?" you babbled in a fleeting moment of clarity, searching his face for any sign of fear.

Satoru rolled his icy blue eyes affectionately, though his tone was deliciously condescending when he replied,

"Then I guess someone will see me fucking you in the Blue Room. Isn't it ironic that we're doing such an act in the one that's supposed to represent birth?"

After one final curl of his fingers, he retracted them in an instant, leaving you understimulated and clenching around nothing. He nudged you in encouragement to face him, to look upon his lust-clouded eyes and flushed cheeks. You held his gaze, knowing that if you didn’t, you'd be punished, as Satoru guided your mouth open with the fingers he'd just fucked you with. He loved to see you taste yourself, half-devoted to getting you addicted to it. And you, always aiming to please him, licked them clean in earnest.

"Good," he praised, wiping the appendages dry on his pants leg. "Now lay down for me."

You whirled around and let him guide you downward so that your chest was flush against the tabletop and your ass faced the ceiling. You heard the telltale brushing of fabric as he freed himself from his pants and let them bunch around his ankles. He teased his hardened cock against your clit, knowing how much it drove you crazy when you were already so frustrated.

You whined impatiently. "Satoru, please-"

A gasp escaped your lips and interrupted your plea as large hands latched onto either of your hips and jerked you backward suddenly. His chest brushed your back as he leaned over you, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke.

"Quiet, baby," he cooed. "I'd hate for us to get interrupted."

Just the idea of having to stop right now was enough to send you to your wit’s end. You dedicated what was left of your focus to keeping your lips pressed tightly together to trap any sounds that might escape through them. With how wet you were, you could only imagine how unhinged Satoru had become. With the knowledge of what was to come, you gripped the edge of the table with both hands to steady yourself.

The risk of getting caught was imminent, and even if he acted like he didn't care, Gojo wasted no time in sliding into you. You took all of him at once, swallowing hard to keep an instinctive moan at bay. He was struggling too, it seemed, as you heard air expressed sharply through his nose the moment he bottomed out. His pleasure always amplified your own and you felt yourself clench at the sound. It was a sick satisfaction, knowing that he was feeling as good as you did because of you.

He fucked you slow at first, pulling out till only his cockhead remained, and sliding back in at a teasingly hesitant pace. You knew he would have to make it quick, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to have his fun with you. Impatient little whines replaced the noisy complaints you normally gave him when he teased you. Gojo loved to make you beg, but the thrill of taking you in such a public setting would fill the need for now.

Satoru settled into a pace that had you melting into the table, especially when two of his fingers found themselves rubbing your clit just as consistently. He knew exactly what to do to get you off, his tempo never stuttering even when his own pleasure clouded any rationality he might've held. You kept your back arched low, following his lead as he pounded into you roughly.

"You feel good, baby?" he asked, his voice a strained whisper.

You nodded quickly, distrusting of your ability to remain quiet. It was always good, even when you didn't get to take your time and work each other up to the breaking point. Despite his unrelenting nature, the way in which he held you was gentle, and he knew how to read your body even better than you did.

It was too much, the length of him, the speed of his fingers on your clit, not being able to express yourself vocally. You felt stunted like you were unable to get the stimulation you needed to achieve your release. Too much, yet not enough, but you told yourself to trust Satoru. He always promised he would take care of you.

"Look at me."

He didn't give you much of a choice. Gojo's hand cupped your chin and guided it backward so that your eyes were staring directly into his. The telltale pink flush on his cheeks was visible through the many layers of white stage makeup. The horribly painted-on clown eyes were smudged around his pale lashes, but the wild lust in his expression was all you cared to notice as you fluttered around him in a way that signaled you were close.

"I want to see your pretty face when I make you cum right next to all these people."

You shoved a hand in your mouth to muffle the involuntary moans as you came. The roiling waves of pleasure rushed over your body as your cunt clenched rhythmically around Satoru's cock. He grinned at you widely as he fucked you through your orgasm, reveling in the way your body went rigid under his own. His own washed over him without much difficulty; a few moments later his lower lip was caught between his teeth as he grunted with the effort it took not to moan himself. His pace picked up rapidly as he gasped.

"Ahh- 'm gonna cum," he said breathlessly.

You relished in the feeling as he emptied himself inside of you, hot and twitching as he painted your walls with his seed. The grip on your hips was near bruising as if the shape of your bones beneath his hands was the only thing tethering him to this earth. You remained in that position, both of you panting as you came down from your high. Even with him still sheathed inside of you, you could feel the astronomical amount of cum pooling there. Just how pent-up had he been?

He slid out of you slowly, the lack of his bodily warmth adding to the heartbreakingly empty feeling as he did so. Before you could even think of moving to get to your feet, Satoru aggressively slid two of his fingers back into you. He didn't like to waste a single drop of his cum, shoving what little had begun to trickle out back inside.

"There," he said retracting them once more, satisfied now that you were properly filled. "'ll help you up."

He smoothed your skirt down over the tops of your thighs and reached for your arms to guide you into a standing position. His hands found your waist as he pulled you into him, nuzzling your hair and breathing deeply. Your head grew fuzzy at the feeling of his cum beginning to seep out of your cunt once again. You let him hold you in a hug that encapsulated both your body and soul.

Satoru drew you away from him, smiling when he glimpsed your face.

"Aw, baby," he said softly. "You're such a mess."

You brought a hand to your face to feel something sticky beneath your eyes, likely mascara that you'd smudged. Your cheeks were already flushed from his incessant fucking, not to mention the sticky warmth trailing down your inner thighs. You could only imagine the state of your lipstick.

"Not my fault," you protested, attempting to smooth out your disheveled hair.

"It is your fault," Gojo corrected, tapping your nose with his index finger. "For wearing that skirt and letting me catch you."

Your face drew up in a pout, to which he grinned devilishly. He pulled you into him once more, peppering kisses all over your face and squeezing you tight. You tried to fight him off in lieu of your already tousled hair, but even your stubbornness was no match for his strength.

His breath tickled your ear as he whispered, "What are our friends going to think?"

Somehow, your face burned hotter at his words. When you finally forced yourself to break away from him, he let you out through one of the emergency exits to find Nanami and Shoko. They looked appalled at your appearance, and you silently cursed Satoru for using you so roughly. They demanded to know what happened, and you couldn't very well tell them the truth.

"I just got really scared," you lied. "They made me cry. Fucking jerks."

Even though he wasn't there, you could hear Gojo's laughter in your ears at such a stupid response.

#my aot obsession is still very much active #jjk #jjk smut #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader smut #inspired by another fic #modern au #college au #jjk modern au #jjk college au #gojo smut #gojo x reader smut

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