#every little corner of line a gem

[komelrebi-san]

gem ♡ boy band ver.

will be performing in a band in talent show and it gave me ideas

feat.: guitarist! childe, drummer! itto, bassist! diluc, keyboardist! kaveh, vocalist! venti synopsis: Hoyo Entertainment recently debuted a boy band! and you are their pretty little stage-styling manager. the catch? they can't seem to keep their hands off you...

a/n: i got carried away oops

tw: MDNI!!, characters slightly ooc, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap kiddos!!), semi-public sex, slight voyeurism, dacryphilia, p->v penetration, slight breeding, semi-clothed sex, edging/orgasm denial, hand fetish, praise kink, riding, marking (hickies), oral f!/m! receiving, slight manhandling, size kink, tummy bulge, tell me if there's more!

don't like, don't read.

guitarist! childe

always laughing on stage, bright cobalt eyes twinkling as he played

the kind to vibe with his members on stage, looking over at them now and then with a wide grin on his face

the cheeky smile he sends to the audience, the kind of smile where dimples appear at the corner of his lips, paired along with a charismatic wink, makes the audience go crazy

but who cares about the audience when he knows that you're backstage, watching?

always makes sure to throw his head back at back at the end of the song when he strums the last chord

he knows you can see his adam apple bob in his throat, he knows you can see how the light hits his jaw line, he knows you can see the sweat dripping down the side of his face, he knows you can see him pant and his hair stick to his forehead

he knows he's hot, and he knows you get antsy when you hear the fans scream

he's definitely the kind to stare at you intently when you're brushing highlighter onto his face, or using a blue eyeliner that matched his big eyes

'mhm? you're blushing~' he remarks, raising a hand to push away yours that's holding the eyeliner pen before cupping your cheek

insists that you kiss him before you go on stage, for good luck purposes only!

(not just that though, your lips are so soft, of course he'd wanna kiss them)

'ajax, you're gonna smudge your lip- mmh!' and he plants his lips firmly on yours, long slender fingers brushing against your waist

he laughs when he sees your red face, turning to walk on stage but not forgetting to plant another kiss on your cheek

oh, it's so cute, he thinks. he does it every time but you never fail to please him with your flushed cheeks

he knows you stare at his hands - dextrous fingers, prominent knuckles and veins, he knows you practically drool over them when he plays guitar

and you make the prettiest sounds when his fingers work their way into your panties

'wait- ajax- not here-' and he cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours, relishing the whimper that bubbled up your throat

'not here, mhm? that's not what your pretty little cunt says, princess. you're dripping wet, i can just slip my fingers right in.'

you're quite sure that you saw stars when his fingers reach a spot inside you that you'll never be able to reach with your own fingers

he chuckles when you break off the heated kiss, a loud moan tumbling out of your pretty lips when he curled his fingers inside you

'no no no, we can't have that, mhm? people are gonna hear.' childe leans in to whisper in your ear, raising his other hand to cover your mouth as you whined.

'unless...that's what you're into. you want them to hear, do you? you want them to hear how good i'm making you feel? naughty girl.'

he laughs breathily when you moan again, the sound muffled by his hand, lewd squelching resonating in the dressing room when he scissors his fingers in your cunt

'tell you what, if you are good and stay quiet, i'll let you cum. how's that?' and he grins when you nod feverishly, bucking your hips into his hand.

he knows you can't stay quiet, he knew, but maybe he'd play nice today, since you're so desperate for his touch, mhm?

he hears venti call for him, so he curls his fingers in a 'come here' motion, pushing his finger pads against that spot inside you that made your legs quiver

with a muffled cry, you gush around his fingers, juices dribbling down your thighs as your walls clamped tight around his fingers

'good girl.' he says, licking your juices clean from his fingers, grinning when you groan at the sight. 'wish me luck, mhm? maybe i'll treat you later.'

drummer! itto

the kinda guy that laughs while throwing his head back as he plays, especially when one of his band members pull off something sick

twirls his drumstick, it looks so cool fr fr

his arms!

there's this once when you told him being able to play drums is cool, so he tried to teach you

made you sit in the drum stool and sat in a chair behind you, wrapping his arms around your figure to take your hands in his own, guiding your hands holding the drumsticks to hit the different drums

back against his firm chest, veins gliding over knuckles when he squeezed your hands gently

oof his hands completely covered your own bc yours were so much smaller than his

you can see the muscles flexing in his arm when he plays, oof he's so strong

and he knows it, he wears tank tops all the time for a reason, bc tank tops meant that ppl can see his arms, good god

in between songs, he runs a hand through his hair and takes a drink of water from his bottle - but you're right there, backstage, watching their performance

so instead, he gulps the water because he knows you see his adams apple bobble up and down

he pours some of the water on his head (under the excuse of the heat) because he knows you can see the water wet his shirt (sticking to his muscles) and lifts his shirt to dry the sweat running down his face

he sees you staring, really - he sees you staring when he twirls his drumstick and pass it from finger to finger, knuckle to knuckle; he sees you staring when he stretches after a performance

'Sorry about my hair, it must give you a lot of trouble, huh?' He says as you stood in front of him, trying your best to curl the hair that fell beside his face

the way his voice was quiet and slightly husky, the way his large hands were dangerously low on your hips, the way he leaned closer to you whilst pulling you into him - everything about him made you melt

you give him a rather nervous smile before leaving him to change into his outfit, but wait - he pulls you back into him

the way he's manhandling you is so hot, ngl

partially, itto really wants to just prove his strength and manliness to you, to prove that he's the best because he knew his band members want you too (who wouldn't, mhm???)

your back was against the wall, his hands hooked under your knees holding you up while his hips rutted into you

'fuck, look at you, taking my big fat cock so well.' he groans. his cock tip was probably kissing your cervix because he was so big. he gripped your blush thighs tight, groaning when your cunt sucks him back in

'shit, you're so tight, doll.' he pants, laughing at your terrible attempt at trying to form a sentence, only incoherent babbles exit your mouth. 'i bet none of the others fuck you like this, mhm?'

you can barely think as he works you impossibly close to your climax, eyes rolled to the back of your head

'fu- i- i'm gonna cum.' he pants, lifting you slightly so that his cock head pressed against your g-spot every time, loud cries ripped from your throat at feeling the knot in your tummy threatening to unravel

he possibly got even harder at seeing your tummy bulge

'yeah? you want me to fill you up? you gonna take my cum like a good girl?' you couldn't answer him, drool running down the corner of your lips, tongue lolling out, way too fucked out to think or respond. but he knew your answer when you whined loudly, walls fluttering around him

he thinks you look pretty, even prettier than usual - barely able to walk, his cum running down your thighs

bassist! diluc

he's the quiet one

but bc of the kind of aura he has, bro's popularity skyrocketed

actually not the type to wear rings and shit, he likes stuff simple

but! the fans went wild when he started wearing them at your suggestion

upon noticing his popularity dramatically increase, kazuha started including more bass riffs in the songs

actually has a good singing voice, but only shines when he does adlibs for venti's vocals

he looks so good on stage, sheesh

long red hair usually pulled back into a ponytail with small braids here and there, bangs curled to frame his face perfectly, rings adorning his long fingers (very much at your genius suggestion, big thank you)

like childe, he interacts with his members on stage

doesn't just open up to everyone, but feels really close to his band members

he's not as outgoing about it, he only subtly shows his trust in his companions

he gives everyone a reassuring nod before lowering his head again to look at his fingers strumming the strings, or pressing down on the fingerboard

bobs his head slightly as he plucks the strings

redid his hair once in the middle of a concert, but he did it by fixing his hair while biting on his hairtie

ooof that was so hot

gentle in his approaches, generally prioritises you and your needs over everything

always brings an extra bottle of water to the dressing room - oh, one of them is for you

gives you a small but sincere smile as you lean closer, gently dabbing eyeshadow/doing eyeliner

the kind to lean closer to you, tuck a fallen strand of hair behind your ear before stroking your cheek

'thank you,' he whispers, leaning in to press the lightest peck to your cheek, before making his way to the stage, not forgetting to give you a small smile - a smile that he reserved only for you

oof i'm whipped

he rlly loves it when you do his hair, bc you're so gentle with him

catches your eyes in the mirror as you worked away on his hair, curling iron in one hand, hairbrush in the other, bobby pins held in your pursed lips and clips on your sweater sleeve

your touch feels so nice, oop

oh, you look so cute, he thinks. you look so cute when you're all focused on him, and not focused on childe's/venti's shenanigans

but - you look even cuter when you're on your knees in front of him, pouty lips wrapped around his dick, struggling to take all of him in your mouth

'you look so pretty like this.' he says, cupping your jaw in one of hands

quiet for the most part, but when you struggle take more of him inside your mouth, pressing your tongue flat against the underside of his shaft and raise a hand to fondle his balls, he loses it

a gutteral groan rumbled from his chest, throwing his head back, reaching to hook his hand on the back of your head, he pushed your head down slightly as he tangles his fingers in your hair

'you're doing so- ah- so good.' he pants, tugging your hair slightly as he bucked his hips, smiling slightly when you gag as his tip hits the back of your throat, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you whimpered

'you look so pretty, good god.' he groans, rutting his hips into your mouth as he cums down your throat

keyboardist! kaveh

pretty!

his hair is so soft!

literally doesn't give you any trouble when you try to style it

tie it up into a ponytail, half-up, braid it - anything works and anything looks pretty on him, and he has zero objections in you trying out new stuff

does the thing where he drums the desk or his thigh or the arms of the chair, his deft fingers playing his keyboard part, tapping away

at first it was really annoying, geez

but it slowly became comforting, calming, even

almost like a kind of silent noise at the back of your mind, soothing you as you do his makeup

big eyes peer up at you, batting his lashes innocently when you are not working away at his eye makeup

and when you are, a soft smile dances on the curves of his lips, feeling the brush against his eyelids or along the corner of his eyes

he's so gentle, so sweet with you, you could practically see all his affection towards you pour out of his eyes

your heart aches when he's around you because his attention is all on you

but at the same time, he wants, needs, craves your attention so bad at the best of times

quite affectionate with you too

ruffles your hair, pats your cheek, swings an arm around your shoulders - you name it

my gosh, have you seen his music scores?

any and all space is filled with doodles of you - and they look so accurate!

he's always focused on every little detail on your face, every tiny perfect imperfection, he can't get enough of you because you're so pretty that it hurts

it's only fair that he captures your beauty perfectly, since you make him look so pretty when he goes on stage

clingy! he's basically half hugging you when he peers up at you, taking in how you were frowning slightly as you worked away at his face, tracing his cheekbone with a dab of highlighter

takes advantage of every single chance he has to be alone with you, and that's how you ended up being pulled onto his lap as his bandmates filed out of the dressing room, heading onto the stage first

'ka- kaveh, you have to go on stage-' you manage to stutter, feeling him grind his bulge into your aching cunt

'shh, you want this too, no?' he whispers, leaning in to press openmouthed kisses to your collarbone

but it was obvious you were needy - small hand fisting and clutching his shirt tight, humping your hips against him to match his rhythm, quiet whimpers leaving your throat when you feel his erection against your barely clothed cunt

'you're so cute.' he says breathily, tugging you closer to him whilst moulding his lips with yours

oh, his lips are so soft, and he tasted so sweet - like strawberry and peach blossoms and all kinds of other nice things, you can never get enough - he tasted just as sweet as the way he treated you

and when he finally slips inside you, both of you groaned loudly, not even caring about other people hearing

you felt so full - his long-fingered hands on your hips, helping you move up and down on his cock

'i can feel myself here.' he pants, caressing the bulge in your tummy with his warm palm. 'shit- your gonna kill me with your clenching- god- just- just relax, yeah? i've gotchu.'

just like he knew all the small details on your face, he also knew exactly how to work his way around your body

'shh shh, you're doing so good for me, so good.' he praises, leaning in to suck on your neck, pretty red and purple marks blooming across your soft skin.

'i'm- nngh- i'm close.' you manage to make out, hands on his shoulder to support yourself.

'i know, princess. me too. cum with me, yeah?' he smiles, pulling you to him to cradle your head in his neck, voice cracking when he feels your walls clamp down on him again

he brought a hand down to swipe across your clit, feeling you quiver in his touch

with a sob, you cum around him, white strings of both your juices dripping out of your cunt as he pulled out

'good girl.' he says, leaning in to press another sweet kiss to your lips.

vocalist! venti

cheeky little shit

straightup just blatantly stares at you in the mirror when you're doing his hair

peeks under your skirt you're bent over, grabbing tools and getting ready to do his makeup (oh, how he wished he can bury his head between your legs)

always always always makes you dye his hair

under the excuse that the other styling team members never gets the turquoise colour quite right

'they can't mix the same colour like you can.' he complains, whining about you rushing off to do kaveh's hair instead of paying attention to him

no, that's a lie, because it literally has nothing to do with hair colours whatsoever

he just thinks that his hair should be only for you to touch and stroke

of course, he's exclusively yours, and only yours

the fans love him - he's lively, he hypes up the concert, he interacts with the fans while singing, leaning over the stage to highfive and take selfies with them

but he's yours, and only yours

stopped doing his braids by himself - must be you that does it!

whines that he can't do it as well as you do, but actually just really enjoys your touch

'ehehe, is this the tint that you use for your cheeks?' he asks, leaning in until you were nose-to-nose, while you are dusting his cheeks with the pretty blush

you don't reply, opting on leaning back to continue doing his makeup

he knew you were only trying your best to convince yourself, because you were staring at him, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, hands shaking slightly

'you always make me look so good on stage, i was wondering how you do that...is it because you use the same things personally? ehehe, i knew it~' he laughs, teal coloured eyes twinkling in feign innocence as he grabs your wrist, tugging you closer to him again

'hey, what flavour is your lip balm today?' he asks, batting his lashes, the rather mischievous glint doesn't leave his eyes as he leans in

but he doesn't wait for you to answer, this little shit guy literally just leans in to sneak a kiss by pressing his lips to yours, relishing the muffled 'mnhm!' of surprise

oh, you are so cute

the fans call him cute, but only if they knew, really, that you are the cutest

you're so sweet - you smell sweet, you and so sweet towards him, and you taste so sweet

your lips taste so sweet (oh, they are strawberry today) - but your cunt tastes even sweeter

he's obsessed with your taste - nose nudging at your clit, tongue eagerly prodding at your entrance, finally delving into your hole when he's had enough of slurping at your arousal

'you taste so sweet.' he groans, the vibrations against your folds drawing another whimper from you

'ven- venti-' you pant, but your voice disappears when he moves his mouth to suck on your clit, 2 dainty fingers slipping into your hole

'fuck- i can do this for hours.' he's almost whining, though really you are the one at his mercy. he was on his knees while you sat on the desk, desperately bucking your hips into his face as he worked his way around your folds

it was so lewd, you think. the loud slurps, your juices and drool dribbling down venti's chin, his whimpers and whines as he buried his face into your crotch as angelic as ever

who, amongst the countless number of fans, would think that their idol who had the most beautiful voice, singing songs that praised innocent, sincere love - would be here, your plush thighs opened wide, muffled whines leaving his mouth as he begged to taste you more?

#genshin x reader #genshin x reader smut #genshin smut #genshin impact #diluc x reader #kaveh x reader #venti x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #itto x reader #diluc x reader smut #kaveh x reader smut #venti x reader smut #childe x reader smut #childe tartaglia #itto x reader smut #genshin diluc #genshin kaveh #genshin venti #genshin childe

[periwinklemoonlight]

little sunshine ⋆ boatem knights au

my second short story set in bee @applestruda 's boatem knights au and canon to the plot written by zera @hopepetal !! also make sure to check out bee's bkau gem and etho designs <3 !

cw: decapitation, murder, blood

if you prefer, you can read it on ao3!

⋆⋆⋆

“-And you’re sure this is the man responsible?” The room was spacious, more than big enough for hundreds to fit in, yet the tension in the air filled it with an undeniably claustrophobic atmosphere. Precious artefacts lined the walls and occupied the floors, meticulously positioned in a perfect pattern to suit the path of a would-be museum goer. Now, however, one was missing. And only the most ancient and irreplaceable of the lot, of course.

“Completely.” An odd chill ran up the spine of the curator as she spoke. It shouldn’t have been possible, she thought, she had barely taken her eyes off of that corner of the room for a second before the amulet had vanished into thin air. All she had caught a glimpse of in the aftermath, she was sure of, was a man with stark white hair and a mask darker than the deepest night sky, fleeing the scene with a swiftness she could only ascribe to a seasoned thief.

She had only ever seen that man once before, yet something in her gut was absolutely sure it was him. A few years back, she had stayed at an inn just out of town on a business trip. Her stay had been all-around pleasant, the owner undoubtedly a delight to talk to, full of cheerful stories and helpful advice for travel. The same couldn't've been said for their companion, however. 

He had brooded in the corner of the inn, shooting her occasional unreadable glances as she conversed with the owner, any emotion beyond ice cold eyes concealed by a mask of blackest night. His back to the wall, practically blending in with the shadows around him, she had nearly cancelled her stay the minute she spotted him. 

The only thing that had convinced her to stay despite her better judgement was the owner’s utmost insistence that that man was nothing to fear, that she’d be completely and utterly safe at the inn. Something in their tone had been so, so earnest, she couldn’t help but be inclined to believe them. They were right, she had been entirely safe after all, yet she never could quite shake the cold chill that permeated her body every time the man passed her by. 

“Then it seems we’ve got a bounty on our hands.” The guard concluded with a severe nod.

“Bounty, you say?” A cheery voice asked from across the room. The curator whipped her head around to watch as polished hooves clicked onto the museum flooring. 

“How did you-?” The curator asked, before cutting herself off to fully take in the person before her. There stood Gemini Tay, adorned in finely crafted emerald silks and lightweight armour, wild red hair expertly contained in a sweeping braid, and absolutely armed to the teeth in various weapons hanging lazily across her waist. It wasn’t a bad look for the most notorious bounty hunter in the land, all things considered.

“Word gets around,” Gem replied with a grin, absentmindedly twirling an intricately carved knife in her hand as she approached. “And I’m always down to lend a helping hand!”

She paused, then eyed the curator’s own ostentatious outfit. “...For a fair price, of course.”

“Of course,” The curator repeated, a keen smile worming its way to her face. 

⋆⋆⋆

If there was one thing she relished in being known for, it was that once she had her target in her sights, Gem wasted no time.

It wasn’t hard to spot him, after all. The description the curator had given her was one of the most interesting she’d gotten in a while. A man known only as “Etho”, with a harsh red scar blinding him in one eye and never once seen without a dark mask obscuring half his face. During her journey, Gem had learned that nobody in the area could quite recall when he’d started working at the inn, or even if he actually worked there at all. In fact, it was a popular local rumour that the man was simply a vagrant that the kind innkeeper had taken pity on during one particularly frigid winter and never thought to kick out afterwards.

Regardless of whatever his backstory might have been, Gem couldn’t really care less. All she really cared to know about him was that he was the only thing standing between her and a ludicrously lavish payout. 

It was only a lucky coincidence that the innkeeper wasn’t in when she arrived. There was her target, standing far too nonchalantly behind the counter and looking as if he was preparing to greet her. She wasn’t about to give him the chance. Instantly she swung at him, hard and fast, looking to get a clean kill. To her astonishment, however, he suddenly disappeared within a blink of an eye, reappearing once more just as fast and now on top of the counter. Gem watched as a dark, smoky substance wafted off him as he jumped down and dissipated as quickly as it appeared. 

When she looked at Etho now, it was as if he were slightly transparent, blurred at the edges. She blinked, and he was whole again, no trace of anything amiss. She growled and swung again with impossible force, heaving as her sword broke the floorboards where it landed. Again, she could have sworn that some dark substance was following him, aiding him in his escape. 

“Hey, hey! I don’t know what I did but, uh, I’m sure we can settle this some other way?” Etho offered as he slid backwards on the wooden floors like they were an ice rink, smoke trailing off him and weaving through the air. 

“No can do sir!” Gem replied as she swung once more, again missing him by a fraction of a centimetre. “You got a hefty bounty on your head, and I intend to take it!”

The fight escalated with Gem’s frustration. She spun herself around and leaped at Etho, sword high in the air and aiming to plunge it deep into his skull. Instead, she hit the inn’s counter, splitting the wood and knocking several small objects astray. Her hooves skidded against the floor as she reeled backwards, and wasted no time forcefully wrenching her sword free. 

Wood chippings now scattered across the floor, Gem paid them no mind in her pursuit. The action seemed to distract Etho somewhat, discontent flashing across his heterochromatic eyes, and she took the opportunity to strike. 

Finally, with a lucky stab, she managed to pin him down against the inn’s wall, plunging her sword into his shoulder with a devastating crack and watching as what must have been blood seeped out from it. He gasped, eyes darting to the wound. A wild grin found its way to Gem’s face.

“You’re a tricky one, aren’t you?” She asked, using the moment to catch her breath before unsheathing a second, smaller sword from around her waist. The sharp blade glinted in the deep, warm light of the inn. The reflection didn’t make it to Etho’s eyes. “Shame I’m gonna have to take you out like all the rest of ‘em. I’ll make it quick, though. You’ve earned it.”

It was odd, she thought briefly. Despite the sword driven straight through him, he didn’t appear to actually really care about it all that much. His breathing was as steady as ever, and he barely moved at all beside a futile effort to scoot away from her intense gaze. His eyes were calm, watching her every move in something almost akin to silent fascination rather than the fear she had grown accustomed to. No matter, though, Gem decided as she made clean work of him, lopping off his head in a single swing. 

It fell to the ground with a solid thunk, rolling slightly before making its stop like any old head should. A tenseness she didn’t know she was holding finally released, and she breathed again. Blood was splattered all over the inn’s floors, and she grit her teeth as she imagined the cut from her paycheck she’d have to give the keeper to get it cleaned. All this for some measly priceless artefact? Still, it was over. 

She picked up his head by the hair, and stepped back in shock as she felt just how cold it was. Instantly, it called to mind the way it felt to grab a fistful of snow with no gloves for the first time, fingertips fully immersed in the unadulterated icy chill. For a brief moment, it reminded her of… home. Gem had never considered herself the squeamish type, especially not with an occupation such as hers, but the realization gripping hold of her in that split second was enough to make her gag.

Her grip on his hair loosened for a second, but she caught herself before the head could drop. On a second examination, she noticed what looked like snowflakes scattered in his white hair and decorating his long eyelashes. It was then she finally heard the faint crackling sound that had been slowly spreading around her. The blood that had been flowing freely from Etho’s body was freezing up, and fast.

Gem could do nothing but watch in horror as the blood on the walls and floor turned to thick ice, cracking and shattering into pieces around her as soon as it solidified. Within no time it had spread to his severed head, and she gasped as the blood that still dripped from his neck froze midair and fell to the floor, fragmenting into dozens of tiny pieces. 

She broke her gaze from the head in her hands just long enough to witness a mountain of ice emerge from what remained of his body’s neck, accompanied by a low hissing noise that made her stomach churn. Gem realized then the shape that it was forming. Fractals of ice packed in and around each other, working in tandem to sculpt out a new head identical to the one in her hands. The only difference being, there was nothing to cover the lower half of his face. If she could even call that half a face.

Once the hissing had stopped, that same dark substance she had seen swirl around him in their fight began to seep out from the wound, covering the newly formed head in a thin black layer and obscuring his features. Her heart dropped as she watched the shadowy liquid be absorbed into the ice, revealing a brand new head on Etho’s shoulders, indistinguishable from the first and complete with a new mask. His eyes fluttered open. 

“That wasn’t very nice of you, now was it?” Etho asked as he turned his head to look over at her, an amused smile painting his voice. Gem screamed.

⋆⋆⋆

Gem had never fainted before. With the amount of blood and guts she spilled with a smile on a daily basis, she hadn’t thought it was even possible for someone like her. Evidently, though, everyone had their limits. 

More confusingly, though, was that she had awoken tucked nice and neatly in a warm bed, with at least a dozen pillows cushioning her head and antlers. With a slight turn of her head, she could see a still-warm cup of cocoa resting on the table next to her and causing a sweet scent to waft through the little room she now found herself in. 

She groaned, sitting herself up in the bed and trailing her hand up her forehead, where she could feel a piece of gauze sticking out. Another glance around her surroundings revealed that her weapons were nowhere to be seen. Gem cursed under her breath. 

Her eyes darted around the room. It was quaint, with wooden walls and flooring and a decorative carpet in the center. Faint light streamed in through a window, accompanied by the warm glow of a candle. Must be early morning, she thought. 

Oddly though, the corner across from her seemed to be completely wrapped in shadow, defying the soft sunlight that should have illuminated it. Gem found herself unable to tear her trembling eyes away as the shadowy corner suddenly warped in her vision, the dark matter collecting and solidifying together as a familiar figure materialized before her. 

Etho drifted nonchalantly towards her, stopping by the table to eye the mug, something almost disappointed flashing in his expression as he noticed it hadn’t been touched. Gem faintly spotted a stitch in the shoulder of his tunic. He turned his attention to her.

“How’re ya’ holding up?" He asked, his tone both concerned and casual at once. “You took a pretty nasty fall back there! Never seen anything like it, it was crazy.” A small laugh punctuated his last sentence.

She blinked, then blinked again, but found herself unable to erase the image of what she had just seen from behind her eyes. It was the kick she needed to jog her memory though, and she leaped backwards away from him, nearly hitting her head on the wall behind her. 

“You… What in void’s name are you!?” She squawked. Etho furrowed his frosted eyebrows quizzically. 

“Well, I was hoping maybe you’d be a little bit more appreciative of the setup you’ve got going on here. I even made you a hot cocoa! Iskall told me you guys love that stuff!” There was something genuine in his voice that made Gem calm somewhat, even if his words only added to her bewilderment. She turned back to look at the mug, and slowly reached a hand out to grab it.

Pulling it close to her chest, she spoke, “You made this? For me? Why? I tried to kill you! I did kill you! At least, I think? I’m… still not entirely sure what happened back there.” She stared down into the mug, feeling a weird sense of shame bubble through her. Having the man she’d killed standing right there in front of her, it felt like talking to a ghost. The bounty hunter wasn’t used to having to think about the aftermath of her career beyond what minor property damage could ensue from a struggle, nevermind like this. Her grip on the handle tightened.

“What, this old thing?” Etho asked with another laugh, pulling up his own severed head from the ground next to Gem’s bed. “I left it here for you, since you seemed to really be after it. Figured it could make a nice souvenir from your stay here, you know?” Etho seemed to pick up from Gem’s appalled expression that she did not, in fact, know. 

“Okay, okay, uh, well, you can take it with you when you leave if you want.” A pause. “This… is what you’re after, right?” Gem could make out tiny frozen droplets still connected to the head’s neck, suspended in time and ice. Momentarily, she considered being alarmed at the notion that she’d been sleeping soundly next to a severed head, or grilling him on why exactly he thought putting said head in her room was a normal thing to do in the slightest. The thumping pain rattling around in her skull made the decision for her.

“Partially,” she replied curtly, evidently still attempting to win her staring contest with the mug. Finally, she broke the one-sided tension, and dared to take a small sip. 

It tasted… cold? No, that wasn't right. The liquid was sweet, if a little watery, and at a comfortably warm temperature. It was more as if the ethos of the mug itself refused to be hot. Like it had reluctantly taken to the liquid, yet refused to be any more than a temporary vessel for its warmth. Or, perhaps even more strangely, as if the liquid itself wasn't quite sure it knew how to be warm. 

Despite Gem’s own lukewarm reaction, Etho lit up. 

“Do you like it?” he asked, his normally chill and steady voice brightening with excitement. An amused look found its way to Gem’s face at the sudden change. 

“It’s nice,” she replied simply. She took another sip, then paused to close her eyes. She swore she could hear a triumphant noise from beside her as she tried to calm her searing nerves. Having the head as proof was good, sure, but the curator had expected — and promised payment for — much more. Gem needed that artefact back. She turned back to face him.

“To be honest, Etho,” She began, “Your head’s not all I’m here for. You don’t just get a bounty on your head for nothing, you know. I’m also here to retrieve that artefact you stole.” 

Etho blinked. “The what?”

Now it was Gem’s turn to furrow her brow. 

“You know. The amulet of the ancient Sun people? The last surviving of its kind? You took it from a museum just a few days ago.” She tilted her head, not even trying to hide her bafflement. Etho squinted at her. He tapped his fingers on the nightstand beside him thoughtfully.

“Ancient amulet… ancient amulet…” He mused. “Oh! Is that what that shiny gold necklace was? It was just lying around on a shelf at that ‘museum’ place Iskall took me to! I don’t know why nobody else thought to take it, to be honest. Here, check it out!” He tugged at something unseen underneath his mask for a minute, before producing the very artefact Gem had been seeking. He handed it to her casually as her shaky hands returned the mug to its nightstand. 

“You’ve been wearing it this whole time!?” She exclaimed, yelping when the item made contact with her skin and reeling backwards at the sudden burst of heat running through her fingertips. 

“Ah, yeah.” He didn’t appear too upset at its departure, though Gem couldn't help but notice his lively attitude had faded somewhat. She brushed her thumb over the deep amber pendant, briefly fascinated by the perpetual heat emanating off of it. 

“It’s neat, right? I’ve never seen a necklace like it. I wasn’t planning on taking it, at first, but I really wanted to figure out why it made my fingers melt like that.”

“You really are something,” Gem muttered. “But, I’m afraid I’ll have to take this back. A job’s a job.”

He gave her a nod. “Yep, yep, fine by me. Is that all you need?”

“Oh, I have one more thing, actually,” Gem replied, tucking the amulet away safely.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I want my weapons back.”

⋆⋆⋆

The curator grinned and clasped her hands together as she spotted Gem, a full-looking satchel and small brown bag now decorating her waist alongside her clanking swords and knives. The bounty hunter approached her desk with a matching smile, untying the smaller bag and placing it before the curator.

“I see you’ve returned! Remarkably fast as well. This is?”

“The amulet, back safe and sound without a scratch. Very pretty, might I add. Anyone would be able to see why it’s the prized jewel of your exhibit. And why a rotten thief would want to take it.” Gem placed the satchel next to it.

“And this…?”

“That deplorable thief’s head, just as you asked. I can assure you, he won’t be any more trouble for you now.”

“Excellent. Then, I believe you are deserving of your reward.”

“Yes,” Gem repeated. “Excellent.”

#my writing #boatem knights au #bkau #geminitay #ethoslab #cw murder #cw decapitation #cw blood

[skvatnavle]

A Friendly Push

Robert 'Bob' Floyd x reader

Warnings: some god ol' pining (so much pining!), kissing, SMUT! Handjob, fingering, protected sex (be smart and wrap it folks!) and fluff... lots and lots of fluff.

Notes: This might be one of the most self indulgent fics I've ever written, so bear with me. And I know I should focus on my WIPs, but ever since I saw Top Gun Maverick, this cutie has been all I could think about. But it's the first thing I've written in two weeks, so it was nice to feel inspired again 💜

A trifolded shout out to @a-reader-and-a-writer for 1) convincing me to write this, 2) beta reading and 3) for letting me use her awesome dividers. You are truly a gem! ❤️

words: 3.5K

Part two

When you started working at The Hard Deck, Penny had told you… well, rather warned you about the clientele. Being that close to the airbase, most of the guests were pilots blowing off some steam during the weekends. 

Penny hadn’t exactly made a rule against dating the guests, but had told you to be cautious. She had been burned before, more than once, and didn’t want you to share the same fate. And you hadn’t really wanted to date any of them anyways. But that all changed the day the newest team walked through the doors. 

One of them instantly catches your eye. Well, several of them did, cause you had to admit a few of them were drop dead gorgeous. But there is one guy, seemingly quieter than the rest. He immediately stands out although he walks silently behind the others. 

As most of them banter around the pool table, having a regular pissing contest, he sits down on a stool with a cup of snacks, softly pushing his glasses up his nose, observing the others quietly. Every time he does that, he wrinkles his nose slightly in the most adorable way. 

And when the others address him and he finally speaks, his voice is sweet with a southern accent. Bob. So that was his name. Well, callsign at least. You can’t help but smile as he brushes the crumbs of his uniform a little awkwardly.

Later that night he comes up to the bar and when his sweet, blue eyes fall on you, a blush slowly creeps up your cheeks. He was even cuter up close. This was going to be a problem for sure.

“Ehm, hi. Could I get a beer, please?” he asks softly as he shyly pushes his glasses back in place. The soft smile he offers you just adds to his appeal. With no sleazy pick up line or wiggling eyebrows, this was definitely a first. Not that you would have minded if he flirted a little. 

When you hand him the beer, he politely says thank you and gestures to go, but feeling brave, you gently shout after him.

“Are you new here? Haven’t seen you before.”

As he turns to you, a surprised expression adorns his face. Almost as if he can’t believe you were talking to him. Honestly, could this man get any cuter? He walks back to the bar, his cheeks already a bright red as he barely looks you in the eye, but still smiling.

“Yeah, ehm. I’m part of a special mission, but I-I don’t really know if I can tell you anything.”

“I get that a lot here, actually. But you can tell me your name, right?”

The corners of his mouth slowly turn into a sweet smile, his eyes finding yours. As if by habit, maybe a nervous one, he pushes at his glasses again.

“Robert Floyd. But they just call me Bob. Y-you can too.”

Repeating his name back to him, you give him another bright smile. The flush of his cheeks have spread to the tip of his ears and a little down his neck. Definitely not like the others. You give him your name, which he in return repeats with a smile. You notice there’s still some crumbs on his uniform, so you lean over the bar and brush them off.

“You had a few crumbs.”

Stunned, he just looks at you and he is about to say something before one of the others at the table calls for him. He gives you a soft ‘sorry’ before he joins the others again. 

The rest of that night, you sometimes catch him looking at you. Each time he quickly looks away, trying to look indifferent. But if you keep looking long enough, sure as amen in church, he looks at you again, an awkward smile on his cute face and your heart would flutter each time. Yeah, you were definitely in trouble.

Another good thing about working on The Hard Deck besides the clientele, was the beach right outside the doors. What made that even better was one day when the infamous Maverick decided to do some team building. And that’s how you found yourself sitting outside the bar, looking towards the water.

And oh, what an amazing team building it was. Beach football on a hot day was equal to you gawking at the pilots as they were running around, the sweat pouring down their exposed, chiselled pecks. Except for Bob. Much to your dismay, he kept his shirt on, but it kinda just made you like him even more. 

Maverick had asked for some refreshments, and you were happy to oblige, giving the thirsty pilots their drinks after their game ended. Luckily, the game seemed to have worked. They were all happy and seemed like a tighter knit unit now. As they down a few beers, they all seem much friendlier, like a family.

Looking to the side, you find Bob sitting with a beer in hand, looking at the sunset with a content smile on his face. You sit down next to him, getting a shy smile in return when he sees you.

“You all looked pretty good out there.”

"Some more than others." He counters softly, obviously talking about the two taller men of the group. Rooster and Hangman, you believed they were called. And sure, they were very easy on the eyes, but you only had eyes for Bob.

“I guess it depends on who's watching." You try softly, but he just fiddles with the label of his beer, clearly not taking the hint. So you had to be more obvious, then.

"It sucks a little I didn’t get to see you without your shirt.”

Bob almost chokes on his beer, as he turns to you in disbelief. It’s a bold move on your part, but you hope it pays off. As he searches your face for any indications you’re messing with him, you just keep smiling genuinely. If only he knew how much you meant it and how badly you actually wanted to see him with less clothes on.

“M-maybe next time, I… I’ll take it off just for you.” he manages to nervously stutter as his smile grows bigger than before. Dammit, if it doesn’t make the heat go straight to your core. Every fibre of your body is screaming for him, never before felt this kind of attraction to anyone. 

“I’ll look forward to that.”

You lean a little against him. Whether it’s to emphasise your statement or simply because you need to get closer to him, you don’t know. Maybe both. The sweetness and innocence of him draws you in like a moth to a flame. Biting your bottom lip, you look to his lips, wondering if they feel as soft as they look.

Glancing up, you find Bob looking into your eyes, his beautiful blue ones searching yours. Nervously, he leans in closer, his eyes darting from your lips to your eyes. His tongue wets his lips, images of what that tongue could do to you flashes through your mind. Boy, did you want him. So bad.

You close the distance, your lips almost touching. His breath is hot on your skin, coming out in small quick huffs. He’s clearly nervous, but so are you. 

The shout of your name makes you pull away, looking towards the bar. Penny is waving at you, the rush hour beginning. Dammit. Seconds away from finally kissing Bob and she has to ruin it. You turn to him and even though you’re mad at Penny for ruining the moment, the look on Bob’s face makes you smile. His cheeks burning red, his eyes and mouth drooping like a hurt puppy. 

Not exactly enjoying seeing him hurt, it still makes you happy to know he wanted this as badly as you. You at least hope that’s the case and it’s not just because of the beers. But you still opt to giving him a quick kiss on his cheek.

“I’m sorry, I… I have to go back”

“No worries, I-I’ll see you in there.”

He offers you a sweet smile, as you stand. Going back to the bar, you curse Penny for ruining the moment, but hopefully you’d get a chance again. 

He couldn’t even count the times he’d caught himself looking at you. 10? 20? But he just couldn’t help himself, so captivated by your beauty every time he walked into the bar. Your smile would always be the highlight of his evening, your laugh making his heart swell every time.  

If only he weren’t so damned shy, he’d done something a long time ago. Countless times he’d gone over his little speech in his head, practising what he’d say if he ever found the confidence to finally tell you how he felt. He had flown dangerous missions, yet this made him feel more nervous than ever before, way out of his element.  

He wasn’t exactly the most experienced guy, always been kind of a wallflower. And you were the opposite. Outgoing with that constant radiant smile on your perfect lips, able to talk to everyone you meet. Even a little flirtatious, according to Hangman. He kept insisting that you had been flirting with Bob, but he couldn’t really believe that. A girl like you choosing a guy like him, when guys like Hangman and Rooster were around? Not a chance.

But… There had been that day at the beach. You had actually chosen to talk to him, not the others. And there had been an almost kiss. Maybe it was just in the heat of the moment, but ever since then, you were all he could think about. Well, that had actually been the case for several weeks, but after the way you looked at him that day? The setting sun playing on your beautiful face, making you even more gorgeous than any woman he’d ever met before? Boy, had he fallen. Hard. But he had barely seen you since, training so hard every day.

“Okay, that is it! I’ve had it!”

Looking to the side, Bob finds Hangman staring at him, clearly annoyed. All the others are looking too. Oh God, once again he hadn’t been paying attention, mesmerized by you. Fixing his glasses, he tries to look indifferent as he turns to Hangman.

“I’m sorry, I was-”

“Staring at your little crush again? Yeah. So, when are you gonna do something about it?”

All eyes on him, Bob is hit with a sudden wave of insecurity. One thing was talking to you without anyone seeing it, but with all of them knowing? Oh boy, this was embarrassing. Hangman leans in closer, looking him straight in the eye with that smirk of his.

“Look, she is cute. So if you’re not gonna do anything, I’m going in.”

“What? No. You wouldn’t-”

“Oh, I would. You have 10 seconds or I’m going up there. 10… 9… 8…”

Before he can reach 7, Bob stands up from his chair, swallowing hard. Looking over his shoulder, he sees you walking towards the backroom, tray of used glasses in your hands. So this was it. Not how he had planned it, but the thought of Hangman hitting on you was too much to bear. Straightening his shirt a little, he makes his way through the crowd towards the back.

Rooster moves in close to Hangman, grinning as they both look after Bob. He shoots him a glance.

“So… Were you really gonna hit on her?”

“Nah. Our boy just needed a little push.”

They laugh as they turn back to their game of pool. 

After starting the dishwasher, you turn to find Bob standing behind you, fidgeting slightly with the hem of his shirt. He looks nervous, more than usual, as you make your way to him. 

“Bob? Is everything okay?”

Nodding softly, he finally looks up and into your eyes. You can see something is wrong, so you close the distance and put a reassuring hand on his arm. It almost feels like he shivers under your touch. He opens his mouth as if he wants to say something, but stops. Looking around, he frowns before taking you by the hand, leading you out the backdoor. 

“Ehm, what are we doing out he-”

He steps closer, the intensity of his gaze so foreign it makes you stop dead in your tracks. He looks so nervous, yet still so determined, as he softly takes one of your hands in his, slowly looking into your eyes.

“I, ehm… I didn’t want our first kiss to be in the kitchen.”

He looks down with a shy smile. Finding your eyes again, he pushes his glasses in place as he shakes his head.

“And now I ruined the moment again by sayin-”

Crashing your lips to his, he stops talking. Once he realises what is happening, he kisses you back, his hand slowly cupping the back of your head. Pulling you closer, he deepens the kiss with a soft moan that sends shivers down your spine. Pulling him even closer, your kiss turns almost desperate, pouring the weeks of yearning into it. Too soon he breaks away, panting heavily. But the look on his face is of pure joy as he looks at you.

“So… I don’t know if I can squeeze in a date before we leave, but…” he pauses, looking sad at the prospect of leaving you. “But maybe I can take you out when… if I get back?”

He averts your gaze, looking at his hands. Looking hurt, like he expects to get turned down, it almost breaks your heart. Cupping his cheeks, you make him look at you.

“I would love that, but… I have a better idea.” You say softly, before pulling him into another desperate kiss. “How about I take you home with me when my shift ends?”

His breath hitches for a second, his hands gripping your hips a little in anticipation. Unable to respond, he just nods frantically with a shy smile. You give him another kiss, barely able to pull away from him, wanting nothing more than to stay in his arms.

As he makes his way back to the others, he can’t hide the giant smirk on his face. He kissed you. He actually kissed you. He had imagined how that would be like for weeks, but nothing compared to the real thing. Embarrassed to admit it, he even got a little hard from that kiss. 

Still in disbelief it had actually happened, he sits down at the table and takes a sip of his beer, laughing a little to himself. When he looks up, he finds the others looking at him, all with knowing smiles on their faces.

“So…?”

Bob just smiles softly, taking another sip as Rooster is leaning in over the table, looking at him with a grin. Bob just picks up a cup of snacks and chew on a peanut, before looking up.

“So… what?”

“Ah, come on! You know what we’re talking about. How did it go?”

Hangman sits down beside him, throwing an arm around Bob and shakes him, causing Bob to giggle softly. He pushes his glasses up his nose, trying to act indifferent. Which he knows is hard with the grin that will permanently be edged into his face from now on.

“I, ehm… I never kiss and tell.” He starts off softly, before realising what he just said. As Hangman and Rooster’s curious faces slowly turn excited, Bob covers his face. “Damn, I should not have said that.”

Happy for their friend, Hangman and Rooster shout excitedly as they sit down beside him, ordering another round of beers, wanting to know every detail.

At midnight, you stand outside the bar, tapping your foot impatiently against the wooden deck. But soon the door opens, and Bob comes towards you, still with a big grin on his face. Not sure you can wait much longer, you take his hand and drag him to your car. 

The drive home is long… too damn long. But soon you park outside your building and guide him towards the door. You fidget impatiently with the key and when Bob moves in closer, placing a soft kiss to your neck, you almost drop the key. 

“Kinda making it hard to concentrate here, Floyd” you grin, as you try one more time. He just laughs softly against your skin, the vibrations sending shivers through your body. As soon as the door swings open, you pull him into a needy kiss. As you drag him with you to the bedroom, you almost combust with desire, wanting him so much it hurts. But as you’re about to pull him down onto the bed, he pauses and for a second the shy Bob is back.

“I want you to know, ehm, I’m not just here for sex. I-I really like you.”

“I know” you say softly, kissing him more passionately before. Moving a little slower, you softly pull him with you as you lay down. You unbutton his shirt, and it quickly finds it’s way to your floor. As you take in his great physique, Bob blushes under your gaze. 

“I know I don’t exactly look like Hangm-”

You stop him with a soft kiss as your hand gently caresses his chest. With a body like that, he has no reason to be shy, but you get it. So you just pour every ounce of love you can into the kiss, before looking into his eyes.

“You are gorgeous, Robert.”

Swallowing hard, he looks teary eyed as he dips down and kisses you. Within no time at all, all your clothes are on the floor. His touch is gentle, yet firm, as he explores every inch of you. His fingers gliding over your skin as if storing you to his memory in case this is the only night he gets with you.

Moving down his body, you find his cock already painfully hard. Wrapping your fingers around him, he hisses at the contact, his breathing already strained.

“Please…”

At his soft plea, you start stroking him, pulling small whimpers from him. Bob bucks against your hand as his mouth moves to your breast, kissing and sucking at the tender bud. Letting your nipple go with a soft pop, his mouth finds yours again in a feverish kiss. 

When he moves his hand down to your aching core, he finds you already soaking wet. It doesn’t take long for him to make you fall apart, moaning out his name.

“Can… Can I p-please make love to you?”

“God yes.”

His fingers continue to roam your body as you reach into your drawer for a condom. Ripping the packet open, you quickly put it on, not wanting to go another second without Bob buried in you. He pushes you down gently, kissing you softly as he repositions himself between your legs. Just as the tip of his cock is at your entrance, he looks to you a final time for confirmation. 

And with a nod, he finally pushes into you. Slowly at first, the stretch of him is delicious as he lets you adjust to his size.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“More than okay.”

He starts thrusting into you at a slow and steady pace, but soon he pushes a little faster, but still very soft. It's unlike anything you've tried before. So caring and tender, whispering small praises in your ear, yet fiery hot as each snap of his hips makes him push against that sweet spot inside you.

It's not long before his pace begins to falter, his thrusts becoming uneven. His fingers find your clit, rubbing it gently in rhythm with his thrusts, keen on making you come before he does.

It only takes a few more drags of his cock combined with those magic fingers of his, before you come undone. The feeling of you clenching down on him is too much to bear and Bob follows close behind you, groaning as he thrusts a few more times, riding out his high.

He slumps against you, careful not to put all his weight on you. But you don't mind. You could spend days like this, pinned beneath him. And hopefully you would.

Pulling away, he quickly discards the condom and pulls you closer into his nook. Looking very content, he gives you a sweet kiss to your forehead before his hand finds yours, softly interlacing his fingers with yours.

"I should have said something sooner. What if all I ever get with you is tonight?"

His words hit you like a freight train. You both know there's a possibility he'll be assigned to fly the mission and from what little you've picked up, you knew it would be almost impossible and very dangerous. There really was a chance he'd never come home.

Putting on a brave face, you kiss him gently on the cheek, making him face you. When he does, you plant another kiss on his lips, deepening it a little.

"I know you'll come back. We have a date, remember? So you better show up for it." you whisper against his skin, as you bury your face into his neck. He just smiles softly in return, kissing your forehead as he pulls you into a tight embrace.

"Yes Ma'am. And I'm looking forward to it."

*

Thank you so much for reading <3

Tagging was hard, since I don't know who likes Top Gun Maverick or Bob, so I'm tagging a few of my usual peeps. No hard feelings if this is not you: @fictionalnerdery @lucy-sky @loverhymeswithlibrary @yespolkadotkitty @mindidjarin @chasingdreamer

And then a few people who I noticed loved Top Gun Maverick, I'm giving a soft tag? Please just let me know if you don't want to get tagged: @mmurdock85 @edwardbaldwin @lorecraft @srry-itshockeyszn @jakelcckley

#robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #bob x reader #bob floyd x reader #lewis pullman #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #robert bob floyd x fem!reader

[animemensblog]

What you deserve

Akaza x reader, some of Douma x reader

Summary: Douma found you hiding under a blanket, behind a small home. He killed your abuser, then took you in- but still hurts you like the last. Well that's until Akaza walks in on Douma hurting you.

Warnings: they're demons, so yes violence is almost guaranteed lol. This involves an abusive/degrading relationship, smut/fluff with Akaza- praising, dom!Akaza/sub!reader, oral-f!receiving, overstimulation, soft sex with him <3

I wanted to do human Akaza but I think it's more precious when a demon falls for a human🥲

-----MINORS~ AGELESS DNI-----

The bed shook slightly as he turned away from you, causing you to awake. There he was, Douma lying contently after a fulfilling night, or so he thinks. As much as he likes to talk big, he's not much into pleasuring others. He's selfish in every way and nothing turns you off more.

You were embarrassed.

Disgusted, even.

He's a demon who will live until his head comes off, technically has all the time in the world. Yet he can't take a few extra minutes to satisfy you. It's odd to prioritize this considering your situation, but it's all you can do.

You lean over to see if he's sleeping before leaving, knowing damn well he's not going to wake up soon after fucking him.

On your walk, you ran into many servants and guests, almost all of them asking where the rest of you was. You were talking with a maid when a particular guest turns the corner. When you look over, Akaza is already staring at you.

There's only been one time Akaza and you talked with Douma present, all the other times it's just you two. He knows your interests, likes and dislikes, knows your favorite flower and book, even knows your everyday scent. The day he met you, he knew you'd be his sole reason for visiting this dreadful estate.

Akaza practically runs over to you, and places a small rock in your hand. He's got the cutest smile on as cradles your hands in his.

"I found this. It's the prettiest f/c rock I've seen so far"

"Thank you", you were inspecting all the lines and chips on the somehow smooth surface while he was admiring you. Akaza is always proud when he makes you smile, it's his goal each time he visits.

You two realized your closeness when a loud voice booms down the hall, forcing you to step back. Any smile on your faces fell as Douma came closer, you could feel his stare.

"Akaza! How lovely, wasn't expecting you." He says as his arm wraps around you, his gaze falling on your little gift. Doesn't take him long to connect the dots.

"I know, I only came to return this gem you left at our last meeting." He gestures to your gift hoping to cover your ass, Douma doesn't take the bait.

"Nonsense, we don't carry around these things. Here let me," he states before taking and throwing the rock away from you "excuse us, we have business to attend to". Akaza was wanting to reach out to apologize, to remind you what's about to happen is his fault, not yours. Akaza knows he shouldn't give you anything unless it's for Douma too.

All you hear from Douma is mumbling before he tosses you on the floor, moving over to grab some rope. "Did Akaza take you?" He says loud enough for just you to hear.

"I'm not sure I understand my lord"

"I said, did Akaza take you? Did he free you from that monster? Is he the one who cares for you?"

"No my lord" you say as your head moves to the floor

"Then don't accept anything from him, he doesn't deserve your attention." He ties your arms and ankles together, then kicks you towards the middle of the room. "I don't get why he gets your attention. Everyone says when he's here, you're there with him."

With every comment and hit, you could feel his anger spilling over. Then when you don't acknowledge his words, he moves to grab a cane that happens to be in the room (he put it in there knowing who you were visiting) and beat you with it.

Your body couldn't be covered and you knew no one would save you until after he's finished, that's if he allows them to touch you.

A soft knock came before the door slid open, your cries and shaking immediately stop, hoping Douma sees your effort to hide his abuse.

"Akaza! Hello again, I thought you'd go back by now."

"Forgive me but I can't this time" Akaza states

"What would you need to ask forgiveness for? You should know it's her fault for tempting you and using you." Douma says before going back to his 'business'.

"I wasn't talking to you." Akaza walks over and starts to untie you, noting all the damage. He sits you up and fixes any stray hairs. "Are you okay enough to walk?" You drop your head and refused to say or do anything. He opts for just picking you up and holding you against his chest.

During this, Douma couldn't pull himself to speak. He was confused but intimidated that he was that brave to interrupt. So, he lets Akaza leave, fully believing he'll let this happen then go and collect you.

As he held you, he grabbed your hand and put the same rock from earlier in it. "I really wanted you to have this" he mumbles against your head. Soon after, you fell asleep as he walked you back to a place he is staying at. He sets you down on the bed while he cleans up any wound. Wiping up the blood, covering cuts and bruises, then cleaning off your skin.

Akaza found every sound you made adorable, any sigh or grunt when he touched your injuries. All the times you crinkled your nose and tossed your head, he thinks he could watch you for hours. That's creepy isn't it? He thinks to himself, letting out a scoff as he stands up. But seeing how uncomfortable you looked, he couldn't pull himself away. So he laid beside you and kept watching.

Until you tossed over too fast for him to react and smacked him, in which the impact woke you up. It took mere seconds to realize you were trying to fight him.

"I'm so sorry Akaza,"you say while holding his face, soothing the red spot. Holding back your giggles, "I swear I didn't mean to"

Akaza was tossing his head back and letting out a loud laugh, trying to tell you its okay but couldn't breathe long enough to.

"Do you think my strength is that pathetic or what?" You say, letting your giggles escape

"No, not at all. It was rather painful, actually" he holds your hand against his face.

"I'm sorry" you whisper to him before placing a gentle peck on his opposite cheek. You say it again when you place one on his forehead, he moves your hands so you can leave another.

His hands found your back and started moving down, following your spine. He hums every time you kiss him and whimpers when you reach his lips. Your hand holding his chin as you start to move above him.

Akazas grip gets tighter and sets you on your back, he kisses your neck and hugs you. Your nails rakes down his back as his kisses become licks, and licks to sucks.

Your legs wrap around his waist and pull him closer, rubbing yourself against him. It's been so long since you've wanted someone like this, and you're not scared to come off desperate.

His kisses trail to your lips and he moans into you, grinding hard enough to make you slightly bounce. He barely stops himself when he feels your nipples slide against his chest, he wants to be rough but he's scared to when you're hurting.

You release his hips and start sliding down your dress, revealing yourself to him. He sits up, taking the rest off then took off his pants. "I've always been curious about how you feel" you say as you pull him back down.

"I can't say you're the only one. I know there's a reason he was keeping me away from you." He kisses you again but messier, tongues in each other's mouths and hands exploring every spot. Your hand reaches down to rub his tip between your folds, causing Akaza to gasp and pull away to look. He watches as your wetness collects before you move it to your hole, he looks backs at you and thrusts in.

"Will you tell me if-f I- if it hurts?" You can only nod as he pushes further. A whimper that sounds like a cry escapes your lips, then your face crinkles, he stops.

"Why did you stop?" You moan out

"I think if I move right now I'll cum too fast" he claims, knowing damn well he can last longer. He just figured if you didn't say it hurt, you were scared to say something. He leans down to kiss you then continues moving until you're full.

"You feel s-so good" you toss your head against the pillow, back arching off the blankets. His thrusts start out slow but got faster the louder your moans got.

His head nuzzles into your neck, making sure you're the only one who hears his moans. "You're so tight- fuck, sucking me in". He pants and nibbles against your ear, one hand reaching for your breasts and the other finding your clit.

As he makes small circles, Akaza feels you tighten around him, making him stall. "God damn- fuck, you're a little too tight y/n. I can't fucking move" a soft laugh leaves his lips.

"I think you might be too big"

"Impossible, I fit perfectly just a minute ago" he spreads your lips to see you clench around him. "Sweetheart, you have to relax for me."

He forces himself to move and pushes further than last time, making a small bulge appear. Your moans changed to screams and his grunts turned into whimpers and deep moans. His hand that was on your clit moved to your lower stomach, feeling how full you were.

His other hand leaves your chest and swirl your throbbing nub once again, sending you into a frenzy. Your hips raise off the bed, and he forces them back down, then cages you in with his forearms. Your arms reach around him to pull your upper half against him, hovering enough to kiss him.

"I love how needy you are" he says, angling his hips to find that soft spot "you're taking me so well."

"Right there, p-please don't stop" you fall back against the pillow as he rubs your clit faster. "Fuck, Akaza, baby it feels s-so gooddd."

"Yeah? Right here?" His head drops to leaves marks along your neck. "I want you to cum for me, please y/n, I wanna know how it feels." A moan is all you can manage to get out, scratching his back.

He brings his mouth to your ear and whispers, "cum for me, sweetheart. Please." Next thing you know, your eyes are shut and you're creaming all over him. Now you can feel every vein and throb, every sense being enhanced. Akaza sits back up watching your pussy and how it reacts.

He doesn't stop thrusting and playing and feeling your pussy lips with his thumb, he's so lost in how you two look he doesn't realize the tears slipping down your cheeks or your legs aggressively twitching against his thighs.

Akaza's thrusts get sloppy and slower, "where do you want me?" You're so overstimulated you can't give a response, instead you wrap your legs around him holding him inside.

"You're so fucking tight, it's unbelievable. Your moans are so beautiful. It's like music- fuck" he continues his praising, still missing how you're falling apart underneath him. Akaza let's out one more moan and cums in you, keeping you close until he stops throbbing. His eyes were shut, his fingers caressing wherever they landed.

When he opened his eyes he looked at you, and decided that's not enough for him. He pulls out quickly and places his head between your legs, forcing your thighs on his shoulders.

He doesn't wait to dive in and clean you up, licking up your cum, taking in how well you taste. Your hands find the blanket and grip it, trying to ground yourself after so much stimulation. Akaza's tongue goes deeper and slides up to your clit. Sucking and nibbling it, aiming to pull another orgasm. Didn't take too long to cum on his tongue, and you couldn't wait any longer- you had to push his head away.

His eyebrows furrowed and a small pout forms, bummed you're stopping his meal, until he sees your tears and twitching.

"I'm so so sorry" he speaks as he wipes it all away, "I got lost in you. You're just that good, honey" he kisses your dried tears and massaging your thighs, he was trying so hard to calm you down.

"It's okay" you mumble, "it felt good. Better than I thought it would."

"Heh, I'm glad. Still, please forgive me for over-doing it." He jumps straight to cleaning you off, licking his fingers clean of your juices, then tucked you both under the covers.

"Akaza?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you", you pull him closer replaying everything that went down. From him saving you to devouring you ~ pun intended hehe.

Although you made that comment, it took Akaza hours to realize you've never gotten off before, took even longer when he figured out he was the first and only guy to do it.

He's silly, protective and loving; no one better than him to be your savior.

#akaza x reader #demon slayer #douma #akaza x y/n #demon slayer akaza #smut #demon slayer smut #akaza smut #akaza x reader smut

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 · · · · 𝙸𝙸𝙸. 𝙾𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 ║ ⓒⓗⓐⓟⓣⓔⓡⓔⓓ

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 || 𝚗 𝚊 𝚟 𝚒 𝚐 𝚊 𝚝 𝚒 𝚘 𝚗 || 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC/reader

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | CHAPTER CONTENT: trauma responses disguised as life skills, angst, fluff, pining, soft!Joel, protective!Joel, girldad!Joel, lots of flirting, inherent power imbalance due to boss/employee dynamic, financial/mental/emotional/physical abuse, mentions/depictions of childhood trauma, high functioning alcoholism | WORD COUNT: 9.7k

| CHAPTER SUMMARY: All the progress you've made is jeopardized by a chance meeting. Joel begins to worry the nagging feeling he has about your home life might just have more truth to it than he knows.

Joel had a good feeling about you even before you started helping out Miller Contracting, but he’d never been so optimistic to think you’d be this quick on your feet with pivoting. He hesitated to call it embellishment or outright lying because it was never an ill-intentioned or malicious thing from what he’d seen. It was more along the lines of a finely tuned social skill, something that could be implemented to mitigate a client’s frustration or labile moods. It was a mastery of sorts that might be used by somebody to change the energy of a room or quell fits of chaos into a more orderly, civil atmosphere.

You’d surprised him with that line to Mr. Dillard about Jennifer having some mystery health concern that required a sudden departure. It was such a simple explanation – and not entirely false. Her mental health had taken quite a hit, and she’d made the decision to preserve what was left of it when she stepped away from the job. It was an understated but effective approach on your part, and possibly the best thing about it all was that it put the ball right back into the client’s court. They really only had two choices then: keep kicking up dust and silently admit you were an asshole or show a little empathy and save face.

Much to his delight and seemingly your relief, most clients chose the latter. After all, it didn’t require much mental capacity to understand that sometimes bad things often happen at the best times. It let Miller Contracting off the hook a little bit as to why there was a sudden hiccup in the daily operations. Even some of the more irascible clients had asked for general updates or news on if there’d be any improvements to Jennifer’s condition. Yet again you handled the conversation with devastating perfection by falling back on not going into much detail to “respect her medical privacy during this difficult time.”

Joel had picked up a few gems from you and used them himself. His go to’s were “it’s one day at a time” and “the prayers really keep her spirits up.” It addresses the situation without saying much of anything, and he gets to move on with his day swiftly.

He wonders where on earth you learned to be so quick on your feet with the perfect thing to say at the perfect time with the perfect delivery. He wonders what sort of life experiences you’ve had that gave you enough practice to hone such a skill. Maybe one day he’ll learn enough about you to fill in the blanks, but for now he’s just grateful you’re here to help him.

Your heart slams into your stomach when you round the corner to your street. Your dad’s car is parked in the driveway. He’s home early. You were going to get all the housework done with the couple of hours you had ahead of you before he got off work. His unannounced, premature arrival meant you had to think of something to tell him about why you were out somewhere on your day off instead at home tending to things. You park your bike and keep a steady pace to the door in case he’s looking through a window somewhere. If you acted out of sorts, he was going to wring you for every last detail. You slip inside the front door and gently close it. You flick the lock just as his voice breaks through the dead silence.

“Where were you?” The question comes out calm like a snowdrift creeping along the edge of an avalanche.

“Just around the neighborhood,” you reply plainly. You can’t sound too evasive, but you most definitely can’t sound too indifferent. He has to know you aren’t just carefree and lazy on your days off. You earn your keep around here and then some. You can’t give him a reason to think you’re not taking things seriously.

“Just around the neighborhood?” he parrots. “You have friends in the neighborhood?” The dubious slant in his tone is meant to be cutting, but the knowledge of that doesn’t stop it from being hurtful. You hear what he’s really saying: you don’t have friends in the neighborhood or anywhere else for that matter.

“Well, sort of. You’re home early. Is everything okay?” Maybe directing the conversation to him and his day will nimbly refocus the attention off of you, your whereabouts, your comings and goings . . . 

He sighs and stands from his irritated slump in the plush living room recliner. The nearly empty bottle of beer sways in his hand. “Denise got into a fender bender. Called me in fucking hysterics. You’d think the whole front end had come off her car.” He pauses to take a swig of beer and shake his head with a derisive tut. “Typical woman driver, though. At least you know it’s better to stick with the bike instead of terrorizing the road with your driving.”

You swallow past the words in your throat and ignore the flood of thoughts about why you actually have anxieties about driving. One too many times of getting into his car as a kid while your mom turned a blind eye or was just altogether out for the night. Your legs were barely long enough to reach the pedals from where you sat on his lap, and it was nerve-wracking to help him “keep the wheel steady” while he drove to get himself something else to drink because he’d run out. All those times he’d run into the store and tell you to sit tight and wait felt like centuries. Being alone with your thoughts meant your mind wandered into full blown paranoia, making you feel so sure you could hear sirens and that the police were going to catch you. 

The cadence of your inhales would outpace your exhales, and soon enough you were in tears trying to strain your ears to hear all the impending catastrophes coming your way. Your brain would race to formulate an explanation you could offer law enforcement so you wouldn’t get in trouble or your dad wouldn’t get arrested or they wouldn’t think a home visit was warranted. You were always so, so afraid that you and Calum would get separated, and then who would he have to protect him?

“You didn’t answer my question,” he points out in a deceptively collected tone. “Where were you?”

You freeze up. Oh god, you can’t freeze up. Not now. He’ll know something is different. He’ll know you’re lying. He’ll—

The steely grip of his fingers across your lower jaw anchors you in place for closer inspection. “You keeping something from me?” His nostrils flare at the mere idea of you having the gall to lie to him. You try to shake your head, but his hold tightens on you. “Don’t. Lie. To. Me,” he seethes.

You try to speak, but it’s garbled around the cage of his hand. He lets up just enough for you to form words. “I-I didn’t want to get your hopes up yet until I–until I knew I had gotten the job,” you plead.

His eyes narrow with interest. “What job?” he demands.

“It’s–It’s a customer at the store. Their secretary quit, and I’ve been helping. I’m trying to get the full time maybe, but I didn’t—”

He covers your mouth with his hand. It reeks of beer. “You quit your job at the grocery store?”

You shake your head, and he drops his hand. “No! No, of course not!”

“Well how THE FUCK am I supposed to know what bullshit you’re getting up to when you’re running around hiding it from me?” he bellows. You flinch when he raises his voice and his arms to the side in a gesture of righteous anger.

Tears start to pool at the corners of your vision. “I wanted to surprise you when I got good news. I wanted to try to get this job, but I didn’t want to get anybody’s hopes up yet!”

He stares at you with empty, cold eyes. “So, what? You’re doing secretary stuff? How much are you making?”

Of course that’s his first concern: how much more money could you be feeding into the joint account? You lie and tell him it’s a dollar less than the grocery store. Before he can lash out too much, you emphasize the long term growth an opportunity like this could offer. There’s more room to go up, and the experience is something that could translate to a lot more stable, higher paying jobs. His brain isn’t wet enough with alcohol to keep him from considering the validity of your statement.

“I want to see your pay stubs.”

“I-I don’t have it set up yet. I’m not in their system yet. I don’t technically have the job yet.”

His eyes thin into scrutinizing slits. “Fine. Write down your hours so I can compare it to your pay. The last thing we need is you getting swindled because you’re too fucking stupid to keep track of your finances.”

“Okay,” you choke.

He juts a finger out and pokes your shoulder with it. “Next time you want to make a big choice like that, you come to me first for permission.” He leans in closer to tower over you. You drop your gaze to the floor. “Do you understand?” Each word is accentuated with a stabbing finger to your shoulder.

“Yes, sir,” you utter. “I’m sorry.”

“Now quit your crying and get the hell outta my face,” he snaps.

Without a word you turn on your heel and rush to your bedroom. You fumble with your door, hands trembling so hard you feel like they’re not even a part of you. You still and listen to your dad go into the garage for another beer.

“Oh, I got somethin’ for ya,” Joel announces as he stands and starts rooting through a desk drawer. His home office is a mess as he’s transitioning everything back into the actual office now that things are back on track for the most part. “Forgot to charge it, but Jenn finally returned her work phone. Figured you might have some use for it since you’ve sorta taken over her duties.” He hands you the nicest phone you’ve ever held in your possession. You look up at him, thinking of how you should turn it down because you couldn’t possibly accept such a nice thing, could you? You don’t even have Jennifer’s old job, so what would make you entitled to Jennifer's old phone?

“I–Are you sure, Joel?”

“Yeah, of course. It just makes your life easier, really. You can forward calls from the office to it if you need to. You know, like if you’re working from home or somethin’ one day. And then if I’m texting you I’m not usin’ up all your personal data plan, you know? Work related things means the company should cover it.”

He explains it simply enough, but you still feel uncertain about him entrusting you with it.

“I mean, I know it ain’t the newest on the block, but–”

“What? Are you serious? This phone is amazing.” You barely hold back a laugh as you pluck your dingy old flip phone from your bag. “Literally, this thing is, like, a million times nicer than this thing.”

“What’d you lose a bet or something?” Joel snorts as he takes your phone and turns it in his hand. You are distracted for just long enough by the difference of how small the phone looks in his hand compared to when you hold it that Joel clears his throat. “I, uh, I didn’t— it’s a fine phone, is what I meant. Perfectly functional.”

Oh. He thinks he said something to make you feel bad. “It’s a piece of shit, I know.” Your lopsided smile and shrug probably aren’t enough to entirely convince him that you aren’t embarrassed about your ancient phone, but it would have to do. There’s no way you’re explaining to him that it’s all you’re allowed and that your dad won’t let you get anything nicer because it would “just be a waste of time and money.”

“Well, it’s…. Yeah, it’s a piece of shit. Sorry. Didn’t mean to be so rude about it.”

“Not rude. Just stating the obvious.”

“Well, still.”

“Besides, it’s nice of you to let me use this phone anyway seeing as I don’t even have the job to justify it. Doing some real charity work there, boss man.” Your cheeks plump up in a self-deprecating smile.

“Yeah, about that….” Joel clears his throat again, but this time it’s a more hopeful sound. “What if you did have the job?”

“Ppffftttt yeah. Real funny.”

“No, I’m bein’ serious. Would you– Are you interested in it? You’ve taken to it like crazy, and you’re already gettin’ things closer to how they were. I mean, I know it’d mean stepping away from the grocery store, but—”

“You can’t be serious.” You sit there, staring at him like he’s grown a third ear on his chin.

“Well, I know it’s a bit of a leap, but I mean… I don’t wanna pressure you, and if you need time to think–”

“You want me to have the job? Jennifer’s job?”

“It’d be your job if you say yes, but, yeah, Jenn’s job.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” Joel laughs.

“Oh my god! I– Are you sure? You’re sure? Tommy’s okay with– you really — you mean–” You jump to your feet with a burst of energy and try not to get too ahead of yourself. Maybe you heard him wrong. Maybe he’s playing an elaborate joke on you. So many other things would make more sense right now than what you think he’s saying.

“So is that a yes?”

“I– Of course! I would – oh.” Your shoulders slump in disappointment. Of course this was too good to be true. “I just remembered that I don’t exactly have a, um, have a way to get– I mean, I have my bike, but–”

Joel waves you off like it’s no issue at all that you don’t have a way to get to the office except for biking a long commute. “I’ll take ya with me. I live just around the way. It would actually be kinda silly if we didn’t carpool.”

“You mean you’d take me to work?” You can’t imagine why someone would go out of their way to be so kind to you. “You’d drive me every day?”

“M’already goin’ that way anyway,” Joel points out. “It’s not like I’m goin’ outta my way.”

“It just doesn’t seem…. Are you sure? I don’t want to put anything on you. It’s still a big commitment. You don’t have to, um, you know – I was sorta joking about you doing charity, but I don’t want you feeling like you have to—”

Joel holds up a hand to stop your running dialogue. “It ain’t a big deal, and even if it was, I’d still do it. You’re good at the work, good with the customers, a fast learner. You’re reliable and a hard worker. Seems like a pretty fair exchange to me.”

You practically strain your eyes trying to keep the hot pinching feeling from blooming into full on tears. “Joel, this is so– I can’t thank you enough for — this is so… thank you. Yes, I would love to have the job. And thank you for taking a chance on me. I won’t let you down.”

Joel grins at you and shakes his head like he’s thinking through some inside joke with himself. “Same to you, sweetheart. Took a chance on me when you agreed to help out, so I think we’re in the same boat here.”

“Here’s to taking chances then, I guess,” you giggle after a loud sniffle.

“Here’s to taking a chance on each other,” he agrees with a wink.

The more downtime Joel has, the more opportunities he has to sit and think about you. It’s one of the reasons he’s been trying to keep himself busy, to keep himself from blurring that line between professional and personal with you. He’s your boss for chrissakes – officially now that you accepted the job offer. Not to mention he’s much older than you but apparently missing the wisdom that was supposed to come with that. 

It was his responsibility to set clear boundaries and make sure he was fostering professional relationships with his employees. The problem when it came to you was it felt personal no matter what he tried to do. The more you two got to know each other, the more you eased into conversation and opened up. The more you opened up, the more greedy he got to unravel some other tangled string about who you were and what made you tick and what things you liked and what he could do to make you smile.

It was a death knell in his delusions that he didn’t feel anything for you when it became clear that you shared the same dumb brand of humor, taking delight in the small, nonsensical things that cropped up everywhere and anytime. You’d surprised him a few times when you’d have some smartass little quip out of the blue, looking nervous for a moment that it would be taken the wrong way, but of course it never was. He loved those random moments where you’d come out of left field with something and make him laugh in the sort of carefree way kids do when they’ve stayed up too late and had too much sugary soda and junk food.

And just when he’d gorge himself on those little moments, there was an undeniable, unsettling feeling he got sometimes when you’d talk about things. Carrying yourself in a way that seemed like you anticipated censure even when you’d done nothing wrong. Acting surprised when he’d compliment something you did, even if it was simple. You had a hard time accepting and believing all the good things but no difficulty whatsoever in assuming the worst about yourself. He couldn’t understand it, especially when you were so easy to get along with and so good with people.

Sure, your old boss Jeremy was a jerkoff, but you hadn’t seemed fazed too much the handful of times Joel was aware of his mistreatment towards you. There was something else going on there, but he wasn’t sure what. He wasn’t exactly close enough to you to ask about your mom leaving all those years ago. He’s wondered more than once if you struggle with feelings of being unwanted or not good enough – things that Sarah had struggled with when her mom up and left without so much as a backwards glance.

It was painful enough to see Sarah go through it, and he wasn’t sure watching it happen to someone else would be much easier to witness. You seem sensitive and ironclad all at once, but he’s not sure if that’s just the protective shell you’ve built up over the years. All he knows is that he doesn’t want to contribute to any notions you have about low self-worth or lack of talent.

And then even after all that, the more he learned about your home life, the more muddy the waters became. You’d mentioned your brother – Colin? Calum? Calvin? – had moved out several months ago with stars in his eyes and dreams of living a bigger life than what he could ever make here. It all sounded a bit too much like those perfectly curated responses you always had – like the one you’d skillfully delivered to Mr. Dillard to get him to warm up to you.  Joel didn’t like to press you too much about your brother, and you didn’t say much about if you two had a good relationship or a relationship at all. But you always seemed a little sad whenever it came up.

He knew your dad still lived in the house with you, and that was maybe the most perplexing piece of the puzzle yet. Joel had seen his newer car parked in the driveway before, knew from what you’d told him about his job title and where he worked that he must have a pretty decent salary and selection of suits and ties, and he had a house in the same neighborhood as Joel. All signs pointed to doing pretty well in life, at least enough to be financially comfortable, but then why didn’t you seem to have those things? 

You didn’t have a car. Maybe you didn’t have any interest in driving? But it didn’t seem that way. And regardless, your bike had certainly seen better days. At the very least you and your dad could pool finances together for a newer bike? And you wore a lot of the same clothes over and over again. He hadn’t said anything about the business casual that was loosely encouraged for the job you just accepted. Maybe you just had a few clothing choices that made you feel the most comfortable? He didn’t want to risk stepping in it by mentioning something other than the plan t-shirts and jeans you often sported.

Joel glances at the clock on the wall of the car shop – 11:30. His mechanic buddy was supposed to be done with the company truck by now. Not wanting to sit and mull over every tiny tidbit about you and your life, he got up and headed for the front desk to check with Susan about how much longer she thought it might be. Before he got there, she called out for someone else. A someone else with your last name. It was a unique enough name to make him wonder if there was some relation, but the man’s face confirmed it. There was that stony, cold face Joel had conjured in his mind’s eye a few months back. He hadn’t just imagined that distinct lack of warmth after all.

The woman with him seemed impatient and jumpy, following behind him like a petulant shadow. The cut of your dad’s voice to Susan made Joel’s head clock to the side. He hadn’t said anything rude, but he didn’t need to. The tone there expressed all the disdain and irritation left unspoken. Susan responded with something about the cars getting backed up because someone called out sick, and your dad’s companion rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

“I can’t attest to the reliability of your staff, but I hope your work on her car is more promising,” he says plainly. His posture was so rigid and lax all at once. Everything about him was a bit of a contradiction. Joel noted the clean, shiny watch on his wrist where his pressed dress shirt grazed against it in a crisp, starched line. His hair was groomed without a single strand out of place. His shoes looked freshly polished. Between the attire and his demeanor, he certainly commanded respect and attention.

“Again, I apologize for the inconvenience,” Susan replied in a bored tone. She had never been one to take anybody’s bullshit in all the years Joel knew her. “If you would like the mechanic to review the work with you, I would be more than happy to call him in.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary, but I appreciate the offer,” your dad says without sounding much like he means it.

“Alright then. I’ll call you up shortly once I print out the paperwork and detail. You can take a seat. And you can come on over, Joel.”

Susan waves him to the desk. Your dad meets his eye and seems to vaguely recognize the name and the face together. Joel puts his hand out for a shake. “Yeah, hi there. Joel Miller with Miller Contracting. Unless I’m mistaken, your daughter has been helping us out these past few weeks.”

Your dad gives him an up and down before offering a tight handshake. “Mr. Miller, yes. Joel. Nice to meet you. I’ve been wondering who this mysterious side job had come from.”

“You’re lookin’ at him,” Joel laughs low with a shrug. He waits for him to introduce his companion, but he doesn’t. “And, uh, nice to meet you….?”

“Denise,” she sniffs. She takes his hand in an awkwardly pinching grasp before tucking her arms across her chest again.

“Denise, nice to meet you.” The insincerity in his voice came through, but thankfully Denise didn’t really seem to care regardless.

“So Miller Contracting is doing pretty well these days?” your dad asks.

“Yeah, can’t complain. Projects are steady. Customers are good.” Joel tucks his hands into his pockets, calm and friendly.

“Good, good. Maybe a bit more growth and that starting pay could get bumped up a little, huh?” your dad chuckles. His tone is light, but the underscoring message is clear that he’s serious.

“Uh, definitely like to share the success of the business with our employees, for sure,” Joel answers back stiffly. How did your dad know exactly what you made? Had you talked to him about it? Were you upset at the amount? Did you think it wasn’t enough? It was more than the grocery store, and you didn’t have any experience in the field. He was covering transportation for you and setting you up with a better work situation than what you’d had before, right? And he and Tommy always did their best to show appreciation to their staff with things like holiday or hire date anniversary bonuses.

Most of all, you hadn’t ever seemed concerned or upset about your pay. Was this just another example of you tamping down a reaction or thought to something just to keep the waters smooth?

“She’ll never ask for it. Probably wouldn’t occur to her,” your dad laughs at your expense. “Never been too financially savvy. Takes after her mother, unfortunately.”

Joel doesn’t know your mother and doesn’t know the circumstances of her leaving, but it’s clear a comparison to her is not in any way intended with kindness. A burning hot impulse to stick up for you rolls in his gut.

“Well I don’t know about not bein’ savvy. She’s been doin’ a knockout job so far. Got a good head on her shoulders for sure.” It’s a harmless enough claim to vouch for you, but Joel feels a bit at odds with himself trying to balance the instinct to defend you with the logical, benefit of the doubt sort of way he usually handled things. After all, your dad was a finance and economics guy. He probably thought most everyone was lacking in that area of finesse and knowledge. He probably didn’t mean to single you out specifically.

“We’ll say that’s where she takes after me then,” he laughs with a tight smile. “Well, it was nice talking to you, Joel. We’re gonna go take our seats now.” He glances back at Denise, who immediately turns to sit down.

Joel shakes your dad’s hand again and waves at Denise when she makes no move to interact with him again. He doesn’t miss the unimpressed yawn that Susan does while watching them go sit back down.

He doesn’t mention meeting your dad at the auto shop. He wants to see if you bring it up first or at all. He wasn’t sure he’d do very well communicating all of his thoughts and feelings about it, anyway. It bothered him to imagine you being upset, feeling taken advantage of, and then not feeling comfortable enough with him to say anything about it. Every imagining of it always ends up with some saddened version of you badmouthing him to your dad. Now your dad thinks you’re being underpaid by some random asshole, and Joel knows how he’d feel if Sarah was ever in a situation like that.

But then he couldn’t stop thinking about how there was something peculiar about your dad. Maybe it was the stress of haggling for a fair price over the repairs? Maybe he was feeling like he had to act like a strong, stand up guy for Denise and handle business? Maybe maybe maybe. There was still something so detached in the way he spoke about you. 

His plan to not bring it up falls through halfway through the week. He can’t take the idea of you seeing him as unfair or cheap or deceitful. “Hey, uh, so I ran into your old man a coupla days ago.” He clocks the way your entire body freezes for a moment before stiffly sitting up straight and chewing hard around your bite of sandwich in the break room. 

“Oh?”  

His brow pulls together at your forced casual inflection. “Yeah. Yeah, he was, uh, he was giving my mechanic friend’s shop a bit of a hard time. Think he was just tryna impress his, er, lady friend that was with him? Denise?” Joel cringes at his bumbling explanation, but your split second sneer tells him he’s probably on the right track thinking it was a girlfriend. Maybe one day you’d get to know each other well enough for him to ask about whatever happened with your mom. When the neighborhood gossip had made the rounds about her abrupt departure, leaving behind two teenaged kids with her husband of 16 years, he’d been so curious to know what had happened there.

“Yeah, I guess she was getting her car repaired. She was in an accident a little bit ago. My dad is helping her out with it.”

“That’s nice of him,” Joel supplies with a pleasant but neutral tone, searching your body language or expressions for any tells or clues.

“It is,” you agree. Your answers always veered into this curt, factual sort of expression whenever your dad or family came up.

“And, uh, well he mentioned somethin’ to me that’s been sorta buggin’ me if I’m bein’ honest.”

Your eyes snap up to his, panic swelling and being forced back so quickly he almost misses it. “What did he say?”

“Just somethin’ about the pay, and I guess– well, I’ll just come out with it. Do you feel like you’re not bein’ paid fairly?”

That quelled panic now cannonballs back into the picture. “What?! No! Of course not! I’m very happy!”

“Now listen, it’s okay if you don’t. I want you to be honest with me. I want you to know you can talk to me about that sorta stuff, and—”

“I’M VERY HAPPY!” You say it like you’re begging him to believe you, so he does.

“Okay, alright alright. It’s okay. I’m not upset with ya,” he assures you. That seems to take some of the edge off. He hated whenever he got you into these little destabilized whirlwinds. You had several tripwires of interaction that he’d come to learn and try to maneuver, but he was trying to get better at figuring out what made you feel calm again, too.

“Listen, my dad is just— he’s protective or whatever, okay? He’s just very— he takes— he wants to make sure the money goes into the account like it should,” you flounder. “He keeps tabs on it because I’m just–I’m just not good with that stuff. I’m not— I just make stupid choices. I’m stupid about stuff a lot, so he just– he wasn’t—”

“Hey now, whoa whoa hold on,” Joel interrupts with a partially raised hand. He turns to face you at the table and makes the bold choice to cradle your bicep in his hand. A part of him sings and swells with delight when you don’t pull away and actually look a bit comforted by it. “You aren’t stupid. You’ve got to quit with that shit.”

You stare back with a deer in headlights look. “I’m– what I meant to say was that he’s– I’m not a finance person like him, is what I meant. So, in comparison or whatever, you know? That’s what I meant.”

“Well then say that instead. Don’t call yourself stupid because it’s not true. Okay? You hear me?”

You nod, eyes dropping down to your lap, and fiddle with the fabric of his jeans taut against his knee. “Okay.”

Your deliberate choice to make physical contact with him overwhelms him with a sense of pride he doesn’t fully understand but recognizes nonetheless.

“Listen, I gotta head out in a few minutes to meet with a client, but I’m gonna call to check in on you after when I’m on my way back, alright?”

You smile a little at that. “Okay.”

He can’t shake the strange feeling about your dad and your pay and why he’s apparently managing your money for you. His words come out before he’s really even thought about what he’s saying. “I think if you’re okay with it, we’re gonna keep doin’ the cash payroll for the time being. Might switch over after tax season is done.” He doesn’t even know if that’s a thing or what it even means, but it’s all he can concoct on the spot to keep your finances in a gray area until he gets a better hold on what the dynamic is between you and your dad.

Your face brightens and relaxes. “Oh, okay. Yeah. No, that’s fine. I’m fine with that.”

Way to fucking go, you idiot. 

You’re practically seething at yourself after Joel leaves to meet with a client. Why why why had you given your dad such a low number? You got greedy, that’s why. You could’ve just said it was a 50 cent pay cut instead of a whole dollar. Now Joel thinks you’re an ungrateful employee after he hired you even though you weren’t qualified whatsoever, and now your dad has made some point of contact with Joel. What if they run into each other again and your dad confronts him with the number you gave him? What would he do when Joel corrected that he in fact did pay you a whole two dollars more than what you were claiming.

You can imagine it now, the way your dad would go back through every timelog and bank statement to calculate how much you’d diverted. A cold snap runs up your spine when your mind starts to wander into the “how would he reprimand you for your dishonesty and disregard for his rules?” territory. You grab your flip phone to distract yourself for a moment in the hopes you can shove all this mental disequilibrium to the side until you have time to process and deal with it. 

You mindlessly read through Kenzie’s texts about meeting up with a classmate last night to study, only for it to end up with “lots of not studying oops lol” and a winky text emoji. She goes through her usual Dicking Down Rubric as she liked to call it, and ultimately gives her “study buddy” a 2.9 out of 5. Any hopes of getting your mind to a clearer spot have gone out the window. You wish your biggest life issues right now were how to grade someone’s sexual presence and prowess. You hadn’t been laid in forever, and you briefly wonder if your pussy could wither away permanently if the dry spell was long enough.

Maybe you could still become a nun or something one day if things don’t work out.

You sigh and shake your head. This wasn’t helpful, and it was keeping you from getting your work done. So, you force yourself to open an email, return a voicemail, open another email, double check the calendar for next week, open another email…..

Joel’s picture is taking up your phone screen before you know it. Your heart does a little leap just seeing it. “Hey,” you answer in an unbothered, collected sort of way. You hope, at least.

“Hey, just checkin’ in,” he says.

He remembered to check in on you after he said he was going to. The notion is enough to make you feel a tad too emotional for a work setting. Pathetic. Get it together.

“What a good boss,” you hum – light, bubbly, playful. Definitely not still reeling from your earlier conversation. Definitely not spiraling into the abyss. Definitely not panicking. Definitely not wishing you could feel him wrap his hand around your arm again or anywhere else he pleased.

“Just a perk of the job,” he chimes in with a hearty chuckle. He clears his throat. “So, uh, you’re doin’ alright? You feelin’ okay from earlier?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you exhale.

“You’re doin’ it again,” he gently chides.

You aren’t sure what he means at first, but then you realize you must’ve apologized. At this rate you were downright curious as to what he deemed apology worthy because anything you’ve ever felt bad for thus far hasn’t met the criteria. “I guess I shouldn’t say sorry for saying sorry, huh?”

He breathes a little laugh over the receiver, and you want to melt into your seat. “And you have the nerve to call yourself stupid?”

Ever since that afternoon discussing his run in with your dad, Joel has been doing his little check ins more frequently. Chats in the car. Calls to and from clients or job sites. Little texts here and there over the weekend when he didn’t see you. You’d always regarded attention on you as a harbinger of corrections and judgements, but this sort of attention was different. It was nice. It made your chest feel more open, like you could breathe a little easier. It inserted a strange sort of hard stop to your day no matter what was going on, and it provided a clear moment of pause for you to check in with yourself.

You’d never been good at checking in on yourself. You were always too consumed with taking the temperature of everyone else around you. It was always harder to gauge your own thoughts and feelings without someone else’s mood and mindset acting as the measuring stick.

The entire month passes with these threads of outreach and gentleness and concern and support. Before you know it, the threads have woven into a tapestry of care and a true connection with somebody you might’ve never expected it from. How is he so soft and solid at the same time? How is he so commanding and comforting at the same time? How is he so steadfast and sympathetic at the same time? How is he so action oriented and receptive at the same time?

How was he so many things that your whole life you thought you had to pick one or the other when apparently you could be both without contradiction?

“You keep starin’ at me like I got barbecue sauce on my mouth or somethin’,” he laughs. His eyes stay fixed on the road, but his grin is so broad it bleeds into his entire side profile.

“Maybe you do,” you laugh back with a nonchalant shrug. You fix your eyes ahead now, too. Caught red-handed.

“I told you after y’all let me walk around with that booger in my nose for pretty much the entire day last week you’re required to tell me if I got somethin’ goin’ on.”

“I didn’t even see the booger,” you giggle.

“Liar,” he huffs. “Kept lookin’ at me so much I got to thinkin’ I musta looked real nice that day. Then I go to the bathroom and see that giant bat in the cave. Crushed my heart. Ego up in flames.”

“If you want me to say that you’re handsome even with a booger hanging out of your nose, you’re gonna have to promote me to CEO.”

He chuckles at that and fake pinches your leg. “Better read your contract again, ma’am. It’s right in there: employees must lie to Joel about how handsome he is.”

“Hm, sounds like a lawsuit waiting to happen,” you muse.

“The only crime bein’ committed is y’all hurting my feelings by letting me walk around with delusions of grandeur,” he charges. “And I think that deserves jail time, honestly. County jail. None of that cushy stuff.”

You whistle low and cock an eyebrow. “Judge, jury, and executioner?”

Joel pulls into your neighborhood, and your heart sinks a little bit. It was always too short of a drive, always too short of a day. It wasn’t fair.

“Shame, isn’t it? And all you had to do was lie and tell me I’m handsome,” he tuts.

You angle your body towards the driver’s side and prop your elbow into the headrest. You rest your head against your hand and prop one leg on the seat. “So you go out of your way to hire liars then?”

He glances at you now with an impish little grin. “Sweetheart, if they’re as good as you are, I don’t care if they’re a liar or not.”

“Well in that case, you are devastatingly handsome.” You bite back a smile and pray to god he can’t feel the heat in your cheeks radiating off you.

“Knew it,” he declares in mock vindication.

You pretend pinch his leg back, and he grabs you before you can pull it away. His hand is so warm and big and safe.

“You better quit it,” he warns. You have a moment of internal shock when his words – words you’d heard spoken a million times in a million different variations, all intended to elicit compliance out of fear – don’t make you afraid. Nervous? Yes. Nervous in the stage fright sort of way. Nervous in the first day of school jitters sort of way. Nervous in the first kiss on a first date kind of way. But there’s no fear here. Just heady anticipation.

He drops your hand to make the turn onto your street, and your heart plummets through the floor. Everything with him always ended too soon.

Joel: Paul Revere here to tell you the trick-or-treaters are out and about.

Joel: The kids are coming! The kids are coming! 🐎🕯️Ready the candy bowls!

You: what’s with the horse and the candle lol

Joel: Paul Revere’s midnight ride. It’s not midnight, but you get the idea.

You: wow I’ve never met an emoji artist before

Joel: Ha ha very funny.

Joel: You get any trick-or-treaters yet? I don’t know what half of these costumes are.

You aren’t sure you want to tell him you’re currently sitting by yourself in a pitch black house so no kids come to your door thinking you have candy. Because of course your dad was out with Denise and her two kids, so of course he didn’t give a shit about putting out candy or what your plans were. He hadn’t even bothered to invite you, but you suppose that’s fair because you probably would’ve declined anyway. He was just saving you the extra step, really.

You: yeah funny enough we didn’t get any candy so I’m hiding out in a dark house so the kids don’t get mad at us

Joel: You’re by yourself?

Your heart did little flips every time he showed a modicum of protectiveness and thoughtfulness.

You: yeah it’s no biggie though I can just live vicariously thru you

You: you can tell me about the best costumes tomorrow morning and I can try to guess what the character is based off your terrible descriptions 🥲

Joel: Or you could just pass out candy with me? Unless you like sitting in the dark by yourself.

You: lol you tryna con me into passing out your candy for you?

Joel: Yes. 😎

Joel: Is it working?

You: be there in 5

His heart leaps into his throat when you cruise around the corner on your bike. God he hadn’t in his wildest dreams expected that texting you that stupid Paul Revere joke would result in you spending the evening with him. In truth, he’d just wanted to talk to you again. He couldn’t count how many times over the past several weeks he’d picked up his phone to send you a message and thought better of it at the last second. Can’t cross another line when he’s already crossed too many. 

He’d usually just stare at your contact picture for more time than was appropriate – a little consolation prize for barring himself from sending inane messages and calls your way – before shoving his phone back into his pocket. But now he didn’t have to settle for a static image of you. Now you were here in the flesh and going to spend a couple more precious hours together. He knew he shouldn’t make his giddiness too obvious, but christ was that becoming harder and harder the longer he knew you.

He takes your bike and props it against the porch railing. He makes a mental note about getting you a new one or at least letting him fix this one up for you. You settle onto the bench where he has the candy bowl already set up. He kicks himself for not knowing your favorite candy so he could’ve dumped a few bags of it into the mix.

“You want a beer or anything?”

You scrunch your nose and wave him off. “No, I’m good. Thanks, though.”

He settles onto the bench and can’t quite muster enough genuine regret about the tight fit it is for you both to share. You don’t lean away or adjust in your seat, so he takes it as good a sign as any that you don’t mind your thighs touching. You draw your legs up and place them criss-cross, apologizing for how your knee rests against his leg, and he takes a deep gulping swallow. Nope. Certainly no regrets about not building this bench bigger in the first place.

The first few trick-or-treaters come springing up onto the porch with their sights set on candy acquisition. You keep laughing at him trying to ask the kids what their costume is or who they’re supposed to be, only to have them flying off the porch in search of the next house.

“Quit it,” he laughs with a prod to your side. You squeak and nearly fold in on yourself towards him. “Oh, ticklish, huh?”

“Don’t you dare,” you warn. You sound like you might really mean it.

“I would never,” he huffs. “I’m the handsome gentleman boss, remember?”

“You’re just adding adjectives now, huh?”

“Caught me,” he concedes with a wink.

You’re icy when he asks about why you were holed up at your house by yourself. You tell him your dad is out with Denise and her two kids. There was that same odd energy from you whenever your dad cropped up in conversation. Trying to change the subject and lighten your mood, he asks about what sort of costumes you wore as a kid. You give him generic, vague answers — princess, witch, princess again, witch princess — and don’t seem all that nostalgic about any of it. 

“What about Sarah? What sort of costumes did she have?”

He loves talking about Sarah and all the things she’s done in her life and all the places she’s going next, but other people weren’t always as invested so he kept it simple. He laughs as he recalls the one year she insisted on being a hot dog for some reason but ended up stomping around and crying when all the other kids kept calling her a wiener. “It wasn’t funny, but shit… I mean….” He breaks into another round of laughter, and you join in.

“You’re a really good dad.” It’s a gentle remark, a tender observation. It makes Joel’s throat feel tight how delicately you share the sentiment, how soft it is on your tongue. It almost sounds wistful the way you say it. You reach over and squeeze the hand not holding onto the candy bowl. “Sarah’s really lucky.”

He squeezes your hand back. “Well, I’d say the same about her. Hard to not try for a kid like her, you know? She was better to me than I deserved most of the time. The least I could do was show up for her.”

Your sad smile goes tight as you look off into the front yard at the dwindling number of kids. It’s almost time for you to go home, and Joel knows it. He hates it. Every time he’s with you, the clock goes too fast and the time is up too soon. It’s always over too soon.

“Well, I’d better head out,” you announce. Your eyes drop back to your hand in his. He nearly slots his fingers into yours when you gently rub his hand with your thumb before standing up.

“Let me drive you,” he blurts out. Anything to make this last longer. Anything to spend more time with you.

“Oh, that’s silly. It’s just around the corner. That’s really sweet, but I—”

Joel hops up and abandons the nearly empty bowl of candy on the bench. He’s grabbing your bike and putting it into the bed of his truck before you can talk him out of it. “Just grabbin’ my keys,” he says as he skirts around you to the front door and swipes them from the console table.

“C’mon,” he insists. He places a hand on the small of your back. Your lashes flutter in a syrupy haze at the contact. He ushers you to the passenger door. He opens it for you and shuts it behind you.

“You really don’t have to,” you contend. It’s a weak appeal. He knows you don’t mean it. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up that maybe you like spending any spare second possible with him, too.

“It’s dark out, and who knows what kinda weird pranks some teenagers are tryna play. Gonna get yourself hit with a water balloon full of pee or somethin’ if you bike home.”

You exhale a shocked laugh through your nose. “A what? Is that the sorta thing you and Tommy got up to as kids?” You lean closer to him in the front seat.

He laughs and swears he never did more than TP a house or two or play ding dong doorbell ditch. He drives as slow as he can to your house, but it’s not very far. He’s helping you out of the car and unloading your bike for you before he knows it. Your dad’s car isn’t in the driveway. He hates thinking about you being in the house by yourself late at night like this. You walk him into the backyard where you store your bike in the shed. 

You walk so close to him side by side that he can feel the heat coming off you. He jokes that he really just wanted you to come over because he’s a big scaredy cat on Halloween. You snort and give him a light bump with your body. He gives you one back, and you grab onto his arm with the claim that he “could knock you flat on your ass” if he wasn’t careful. Joel lets himself be delusional and believe that you just want to hold onto him the way he wants to hold onto you.

“Ya know, talkin’ about being scared of things. I’m so fuckin’ glad I didn’t scare you off when I came with that offer to work in my house out of the blue.” He shakes his head and chuckles at how odd it probably was for you to be approached with it. “It was a weird situation, but I’m glad you don’t spook easy.”

You shoot him a soft, wistful smile from the porch steps where you turn to meet him almost eye level. “Spook me? No, hardly. Not when it’s more like you’re the one keeping The Scaries away.” Your eyes glance down to where your hand eases into his. You look up at him again and give his hand a little squeeze. “Get home safe. Don’t get yourself pelted with piss balloons.”

Joel grins and shakes his head instead of what his body is compelling him to do because he knows it wouldn’t be right to snatch you up right now into a kiss. “I’ll text you when I get home to let you know my fate.” He reluctantly drops his hand before he does something stupid that he can’t take back. You wave him off and head inside. 

Joel’s tail lights disappear around the corner, and your entire body feels like it could collapse under the taut band of whatever your relationship with him was turning into — or had already turned into weeks ago.

No. No. This isn’t a relationship. It’s a work relationship. It’s professional. 

He’s your boss.

The house is empty. Your dad is still trick-or-treating with his ready made, play pretend family. You thought you’d be used to it by now, the nauseating sensation of someone else always being picked instead of you, but it still feels like a scab being ripped up every time. Even during his love bombing phases, he never showed up for you like that as a kid. He was almost always putting most of his energy into keeping your mom complacent enough to stay.

There wasn’t ever any leftover energy or motivation after he charmed and conned your mom into believing this time would be different. You’d always felt even as a child that she’d been the one who wanted to have kids and that he obliged but resented her for it, even all these years later. Kids were a means to an end, a bandaid on a broken relationship, and you wonder if it ever occurred to him that you and Calum were actual people with actual feelings and individual hopes and dreams and thoughts and aspirations. More often it felt as though he regarded you much the same as some household pet or other dependent thing that was more trouble than it was worth.

It always seemed so obvious that he cared mostly about the projection of family life rather than the actual family unit. Appearances were something him and your mom could actually agree on, and they both exacted their demands to fit the mold in different but equally excruciating measures.

You feel like crying, but you aren’t sure why. You don’t want your mom to choose you. You don’t want your dad to choose you. Not when all the destructive, dysfunctional aspects come with it. It’s a package deal you never truly want, even if sometimes your heart tried to tell you maybe it was okay if you did want to be chosen by your parents just once to know what it felt like.

The gleam of light from your work phone illuminates your room. It’s Joel.

Joel: Made it home dry. Didn’t get hit by any pee balloons either.

You: is that a double pee joke??? 😭

Joel: Yes.

You: wow all I can say is that urine luck that I like you so much because otherwise 😐

Joel: Please never tell Sarah I was bested in a toilet humor joke-off. I have so little, and I can’t lose this.

You: oh you want my silence huh what’s in it for me?

Joel: My undying love and gratitude.

Your heart swells at his words, and you allow yourself to slip into the fantasy of it. The alternate universe where Joel Miller truly does wish to give you his undying love and gratitude. In text land, though, you play it cool. Or try to.

You: hmmm idk anything else on the table?

Joel: Breakfast tomorrow morning on me?

You: ok now we’re talking

Joel: See you bright and early. 😎

You: lol ok see you in the am

Joel: Night. 🎃💤🧸

You: what’s the bear doing?

Joel: That’s his favorite stuffed animal, thank you very much!

You: the pumpkin?? 

Joel: Yeah. Because it’s Halloween. Get it? Goodnight? Jack-o-lantern with his favorite teddy bear going to sleep?

You: wow you should write books

You feel a rush of excitement and nerves when his contact picture takes up the entire screen. You answer almost immediately, eyes fluttering closed at the sound of his breathy chuckle on the other end.

“Well, hello, Joel,” you hum.

“You makin’ fun of me?” he demands in feigned indignation.

“No, not at all. In fact, if you wrote that book I’d read it one hundred percent,” you assure him in an over the top sweet voice. “I’d be first in line at the signing and everything. I’d have on my jack-o-lantern and bear t-shirt with my matching wristband and baseball cap. I’d be decked out. Totally. Your number one fan.”

He scoffs and fakes offense. “You mean you aren’t already my number one fan?”

“I dunno, where are you buying me breakfast?”

He laughs hard now and mutters under his breath about you being a wolf in sheep’s clothing. You tug your lower lip under your teeth and stifle a giggle. “Wherever you want, princess.”

“Oh, now who’s brown nosing who, huh?” you lob back with a tiny titter, trying with all your might to not scream into your pillow and the way his voice dropped with that last line.

“So what if I am?”

Maybe he hadn’t meant to come across so charged and weighted, but it landed like a lead brick in your lap. A beat of nervous silence and then–

“Well, then I’d say it’s working,” you tease. He breathes a little laugh, a relieved exhale more than anything. “And I don’t care where we get it. Just some random drive-thru would be fine with me, honestly.”

Joel tuts in disapproval. “C’mon now, you can do better’n that.”

“I’ve never been a huge breakfast person, so I don’t know all the good spots. I mean, why don’t you just pick whatever your favorite spot is, and we’ll do that?”

He considers this for a moment before agreeing. “Yeah, alright. I’ll figure somethin’ out. I’ll pick you up about 30 minutes earlier tomorrow. You get some rest now and don’t let me keep you from it, alright?”

“You’re not keeping me from anything,” you softly correct. When the quiet passes between you two again in that weighted, charged energy, you add, “Tonight was really nice. Thanks for letting me pass out candy with you.”

“It was nice,” he agrees. “And I enjoyed the company and conversation. Brought up lots of good memories for me all while makin’ some new ones.”

Your heart feels like it could burst at any moment.

“Definitely some wholesome piss balloon memories made,” you joke.

He laughs again, a sound you’ll never tire of hearing. “Absolutely. Now on that wonderful note, I’ll let you get some sleep. Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Joel.”

trying to do the tags even tho they didn't work last time:

@witchy-and-persnickity @tuquoquebrute @ellenmunn @akah565 @goodwithcheese @koshkaj-blog @umnitsa @jupiter-soups @pastelnap @fadajnaoqkzalq @confusedpuffin @zooty-and-fruity @drunk-and-capable @cumberpegg @persephone-girl @lovelyjess69 @verybigvag @nutterbitter @sunshinehaze1 @beelzebeth87 @bizarrelove-triangle

#fic: chrysalism #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #hurt/comfort #pedro pascal characters #joel miller smut #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller au #joel miller fluff

[farfromstrange]

Hi I just read your fic where reader and matt are having sexy time and reader goes under the desk, and I was wondering what if you made a part 2 in which reader is at work and maybe foggy or Karen comes to visit, and matt is hiding under reader's desk and goes down on her

Hi, nonnie! Thank you so much for your request! I'm glad you liked the first part enough to think of another scenario of that kind, so... I whipped this little gem up for you and I hope you like it :)

Cruel Revenge | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: After going down on Matt at work the other day while Foggy was in the room, he decides to return the favor.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, oral f!receiving, orgasm control (?), slight Dom!Matt, praise kink, marking kink, breeding kink, exhibitionism, poor Foggy and Karen I’m sorry

18+ directly under the cut!

It’s cruel revenge. 

His lips suction around your clit and suck gently, enough to make you squirm but not enough to make you combust. Every so often, his tongue will lick leisurely through your folds, parting them expertly, and he makes sure to use his thumb to stimulate your clit in all the places you need him to.

He knows every last nerve ending on your body and how to make you jolt, whine and scream for him. He knows how to make you come, and yet he continues touching you oh so slowly to the point the orgasm is hiding in the pit of your stomach, just waiting for the moment he will pick up the pace, and then you are sure that you will coat his face in your cum the same way he so often does. 

You wouldn’t mind if the setting was different. In fact, you would have encouraged him to keep edging you until your voice is hoarse, but Matt Murdock, the proud little shit that he is, decided to play with you today. 

You suppose it’s fair after sliding under the desk when Foggy and Karen came back early from their lunch break and sucked him off under his table as he tried to talk to his best friend about something legal – you don’t even remember. You remember the taste of his cum and the feeling of his rock-hard cock on your tongue, and you want nothing more than to moan. 

It’s fair that he’s licking your pussy so agonizingly slow, you can see stars but not the finish line, but he still manages to make you want to scream his name in ecstasy like he always does. It’s fair and at the same time, it’s cruel revenge he has bestowed upon you. 

You got lunch together. Lunch, that is all you wanted to do. You weren’t even planning on having sex, not like the time you came to him, and yet Matt had you cornered in a matter of a second, pushing you against the wall and swallowing your needy moans with his lips. 

But fucking you wasn’t on his agenda. You only noticed what he was doing when the door to the main room opened and you could hear Foggy’s and Karen’s voices asking for you, and Matt slid under your desk with a proud smirk, his glasses now discarded somewhere his friends wouldn’t be able to see, and he went to work right when the door opened. 

Your eyes begged him not to; he knew exactly what kind of look you were giving him, but he still acted oblivious and as blind as he is, and then he dove right between your legs to cover your sweet cunt whole with his mouth. 

Their voices blur together when they start talking about dinner plans and birthday surprises; if it weren’t for Matt between your legs, you would surely try finding a solution for his birthday together, but you’re too busy focusing on the rough surface of his tongue and the goosebumps he sends hurdling across every crevice of your skin. 

Keeping surprises from him is futile anyway because he always knows what you’re planning, you only play along for the pretense. 

“Okay, hear me out,” Foggy says, “Daredevil cake.”

Matt sucks a little harder on your clit and you grab the edge of the desk with a loud gasp. 

“What? Not good?”

You swallow a moan. “No, no, that’s–” His tongue is teasing your hole now. “That is a good idea, but maybe not– not a Daredevil cake.”

“Why not?” asks Foggy. 

“Because it’s gonna–” Another moan threatens to escape your throat as you pull at your hair. “It’s gonna make people suspicious,” you manage to choke out. 

Karen frowns. “Are you feeling alright?” she asks. 

“Yeah, fine. Just… feeling a bit under the weather. Lots of work. No rest. You know how it is.”

They start bickering about workload again, and Matt takes that as a sign to speed up. At this point, sweat must be dripping down your forehead, maybe even down your back and into your pores. You are so wet, you’re scared his lips might start making noise now. You can feel his beard scratching the inside of your sensitive thighs, his fingers leaving their marks as he grabs them to spread them further apart. Instead of letting him though, you trap him between your legs. Not sure whether to push him away or grind against his face, you try to at least control his gentle assault on your pussy, and his speed slows down a little before you can come with your friends right in front of you. 

You find your eyes closing at the pleasure building up in your core, strumming the tight coil in your stomach like a guitar, and it spreads right to your cunt. 

Foggy calls your name and you open your eyes again, blinking away the haze. Your heart rate picks up and Matt dares to smirk against your slick folds. His tongue parts them again, circling your clit, and you are about ready to smack his head. 

“You look… tired,” he remarks. “Are you sure we’re not imposing?”

This is your window, you think. If you can get them out fast enough, you can focus on Matt’s tongue and then curse him to hell after. He doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of making you come, but the thrill of being seen like this sends shivers down your spine, and it only adds to the pooling wetness between your clenched thighs around his head.

You want to tangle your hands in his hair, ride his face and make him yours all over. You want him at your mercy as you use him for your pleasure, but he is in control today, you know that. This is revenge, this is punishment and if you fight it, you will only get punished more – but maybe that is exactly what you want. Getting bent over the desk and pounded like a wild animal, his cock deep inside you as he fills you up with his seed until you’re dripping and all he can smell is him on you, and you can feel him so deep, you feel like you’re about to burst, and then you come over and over and over and–

“I have a work call,” you say, your voice a little too high and too loud. It’s suspicious, but it can be blamed on a lack of sleep because it has happened before, and Matt has not been between your legs then. “In f–” You are about to curse, but you pull it together, “five minutes,” you tell them. “Very soon. I, uh, have to get ready f– for that. And then I’ll see about Matt’s–” You so very hope you didn’t just moan his name. “Matt’s gift, I promise.” 

Foggy and Karen share a look and nod. “Sounds good,” she says. 

He agrees. 

Finally, you think, they bid their goodbyes and head out, still talking to each other as if your behavior hasn’t just been out-of-this-world weird, and when all doors finally fall shut, you throw your head back and let out a guttural moan.

It’s almost as if Matt planned the exact second the two left your office for him to pick up speed and apply more pressure to your clit, his lips sucking mercilessly now as he alternates between sucking and licking and thrusting his tongue into your tight, velvety walls until you’re crying and shaking above him. 

The office is empty except for you two, and it allows you to be as loud as you want. Your hand tangles in his hair, your hips rocking at a steady rhythm against his face. Over and over again he licks and sucks and licks and sucks, and when he thrusts his tongue inside of you again while using his thumb to play with your nerves, the other hand squeezing your breast through your blouse, your walls clench and the coil tightens to an agonizing point. 

But he hasn’t permitted you yet. You should disobey him and come right then and there, show him that he can’t just do that to you, but you did the same thing to him a few days ago, so the cruel revenge is fair. It is fair, but you don’t find it fair, so your body is trying to let go while your mind wills it not to. But you need to come oh so desperately, all of your muscles are tense. 

“Fucking hell, Matthew!” you cry out. “God! Just… fuck!”

He chuckles, releasing your clit only for a moment to say, “Don’t be shy, sweetheart, come on my tongue.” And it’s all it takes for you to clench around his tongue once more as he dives back down, and with a few more heavy sucks to your sensitive bundle of nerves, your legs tighten around his neck, and you come hard on his tongue.

He grunts. “So fucking good,” he says, his voice still muffled through your heat. 

If he could have a sip of you every day, he would. 

You zone out until he’s kneeling straight before you, his head close to yours. Your lashes flutter as you stare down at him. “Hi,” you whisper. 

Matt smirks. “Hi.”

“That was…”

“Amazing?”

“Rude.”

“Powerful?”

“Mean.”

“Hot as fuck?”

“Cruel revenge,” you finish, your finger coming to rest on his wet lips to shut him up.

He only chuckles and pulls you down into a kiss. “Is there a work call?” he asks. 

You shake your head. 

“So, you still have time?”

“Yeah,” you say, “I still have time.”

His smirk widens as his fingers begin to stroke your thighs again. “What do you say?”

He’s already halfway down your body again, ready to devour you all over again, and the horny voice in your head responds before you can think, “I’m all yours, Matthew.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he says. “Good girl.”

And as he goes down on you again, you let all the moans and whimpers loose you swallowed before. He eats you out like a man starved until you come two more times, and even then, he isn’t satisfied. 

He will most likely continue fucking you into the desk until you have exerted your lunch break and Foggy is going to wonder where he is, but at least he will leave you stuffed to the brim with his cum. 

Matt Smut Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @lina-mar @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock fluff #daredevil x reader #daredevil smut #x reader #reader insert #lizzi writes #request

[im-not-corrupted]

@samsalami66 very kindly gave me another prompt for a new Dreamling fic--Can I do your hair? from this list of prompts.

Features: human au, too much pining, Dream on the aromantic spectrum, childhood friends, developing friendship, and so many feelings!

-------

The sun is already low in the sky when he asks, evening setting in far too quickly for Dream’s liking.

The question comes as quite the surprise. Dream doesn’t quite know why, exactly—they have been steadily growing closer over the last few months, since they reunited after a good many years apart. It is a strange thing to go from close friends to nothing but tentative strangers after years apart. There is familiarity, of course—not everything changes. Some things remain the same.

Most things do not. Dream recalls the way he saw Hob after their numerous years apart. He did so with an entirely different light, though whether that perspective came with age or that distance, he doesn’t know. It was simply that he saw Hob grin at him—small and tentative, unsure despite the confidence he held himself with, a beautiful study in contrasts—for the first time in years, and it did something to him. Stirred something within him, something that remained stubbornly latent until that one moment.

It was something to do with his eyes, Dream thinks. Hob has lovely eyes. Russet brown with specks of gold. They are made for sunlight and seem to crystallise its rays in their irises, all brilliant colours that manage to take his breath away each and every time. They are gentle, hopeful things, those eyes, and made even more beautiful by the soft lines in their corners. Crows feet, barely noticeable but there. Those were not there when they were children, and serve now as proof that they both grew older, but also that Hob has spent these last years away from one another happy.

There is a jealousy to be found there, in the idea that he has been unable to contribute to this joy. He has found the act of bringing smiles onto Hob’s face almost addictive—they are blinding in their brilliance, precious gems Dream just knows he will treasure until the end of time. He wants to be the one to bring him further joy, and wishes he was there to do so during their years apart.

Yet Dream has duties to his family. He could not forsake them, not even for Hob. (He wishes to. They meet every fortnight since their reunion. Dream creeps out the palace, takes his mare from the stables and rides to their obscure meeting place, where Hob is always—always, without fail—waiting for him. The sight always makes his heart ache in his chest, and when they say goodbye…When they say goodbye, Dream wishes he could follow Hob. Wishes he could follow the steps of his childhood friend who he had become ridiculously attached to, a bond that is so terribly unwise he knows he should not continue to meet him yet finds himself unable to not do so. He wishes he could forsake every duty that has ever been placed upon his shoulders and see what life away from the palace might be like—what a life with Hob might be like.

He imagines it to be wondrous. Hob’s stories have always been so…so full of adventure, the tales he spins so full of drama and excitement and everything the palace is not. He wishes he could experience that, if only once.)

In the end, that faint amount of jealousy—the idea that he should be the one to inspire joy inside of Hob, the selfish thought that he has missed so much—it all faded away into gladness. He is happy that Hob has been happy in their time away. He is glad his friend gets to have that, and gets to have enough of it that it has made a permanent mark upon his face.

That, Dream thinks, is enough.

So they have grown closer, these last few months since their reunion. It started tentatively, with unsure steps, a little like walking on eggshells. For Dream, though much about Hob remains the same, the differences are large enough that, at first, he was terribly unsure of himself. There is Hob, with his new-found confidence, with arrogance that suits him instead of feeling obnoxious or annoying like half arrogant nobles back at the palace, with his new-found strength and tanned skin from years spent in the sun, with easy smiles that look so natural on his face. And then there is Dream, who is, for all intents and purposes, much the same. He still dresses in black, as he did when they were younger. He still finds court to be stifling, frustrating, a cage he has yet to escape and one he fears may crush him someday. He still argues with his parents, though admittedly far more politely than he used to, about duties and marriage and all the things that were predetermined for him the moment of his birth. He still wanders the halls of the palace a little like a ghost, stays quiet when he is expected to raise his voice, and is perpetually terrified that he is not enough. For his kingdom, for his family, for anybody he truly cares for.

When he thinks about them like that, it is clear that the two of them are so different. It seemed a foolish idea, that the two of them could be friends, that they could rekindle what they once had. Dream missed him dearly in their years apart, of course—Hob was one of the few things that made his life bearable, along with the books inside the Library and Jessamy. But in that first moment, the day of their reunion, he was sure that he was so much lesser than Hob. That Hob would see it and spit at his feet and simply leave.

That did not happen. For all his fears, all his uncertainty, things were just as easy that day of their reunion as they were the day Hob left. They learned what parts of them had changed, decided they still fit together, and they formed a friendship that now seemed stronger than the one they left behind when Hob had to leave.

It is a blessing, Dream thinks. He thanks the stars that Hob decided, however foolishly, that he is worth befriending. That he is worth knowing.

Still. Growing friendship or not, Dream was not expecting Hob to state at him for a couple of moments and ask, abruptly, “Can I do your hair?”

He blinks, taking a moment to register the question. He replied with a quiet, “…What?” because, truly, he is unsure he heard correctly.

Despite all his confidence, gained from years of befriending people with nothing but a smile, Hob sometimes manages to be so unconfident sometimes. This is one of those moments—his eyes widen fast enough to almost be comical, staring at Dream like he had made a grave mistake, before his face turns red. Distantly, Dream wonders at that, at the way it appears so becoming on him. It compliments the tan skin of his face and Dream wants to see more of it, though isn’t entirely sure where that impulse came from.

“Sorry,” Hob says sheepishly. “Only—your hair is so pretty. I had the sudden urge to braid it. I know that may be…weird? Just. Forget that I asked?”

”No,” he says, and, truly, he is unsure where the word came from. Only, he is not opposed in the slightest to the idea of Hob’s hands in his hair. They’re tough hands, scarred and callused from years of soldiering, yet they have only ever treated Dream with an unfamiliar tenderness he craves. The few touches they have shared are memorable solely due to this—to the carefulness with which Hob touches him. Not like he is a delicate, breakable thing, but instead like he is something worth treasuring. He did not think there was a difference between those two things until Hob Gadling pulled him in for a hug the day they reunited, one arm around Dream’s waist and the other cradling his head.

It is a moment that has changed him, he thinks. Because now that he has been offered more of those touches, more of that gentleness, he wants it. He is familiar with want. It is a great burning thing inside of his chest. He does not want with any kind of moderation, and he wants so much of it that the wanting has nowhere to go.

But it has a direction now. He thinks of Hob’s hands in his hair, of the loveliness with which Hob would no doubt do this with, and he wants. Which is why he looks at Hob, at the red blossoming across his cheeks, pretty like roses, and he offers softly, “You may. If you truly wish to.”

He watches as a smile full of relief and delight breaks over Hob’s face like the sun at dawn. It feels a little like a miracle to be able to see this, and even more like a blessing to know this is solely his. That, in the end, Hob smiles with such beauty in his direction, and now he is able to keep this close inside his memory and revisit it again and again. “Really?” he asks, and he tugs at his ear in a way that can only be nervous, and Dream thinks this is what it means to be in love. “I only want to if you’d be comfortable with it.”

He has read about it, in books. There are plenty in the library, and it seems to be one of the more common themes. Love. Romance. These are things he has never understood.

He does love, of course. He loves his dear older sister, Telute, who they all call Death. He loves his youngest sister Del. He loves Lucienne even if he is not strictly supposed to, for she treats him less like a prince and more like a person, and that is important. He loves Jessamy, who has taken care of him even when his parents have not.

But romantic love is another thing entirely. He feels a little as though he is incapable of it, and cannot quite understand why. It seems to come so easily to everybody else, after all. It seems to be such a universal experience—has to be that, if there are so many works about those feelings inside the library.

Here, in this moment, he thinks he understands. He wants, only he is not sure what exactly it is he is wanting. He aches with it, with the desire to see Hob’s smile again and again. It is different from friendship, he thinks. It is a little like a wildfire catching, burning bright and beautiful and yet so dangerous.

This thing is large enough to ruin him, he can tell. If he reaches forward and lets his fingertips brush those flames, he will burn.

He offers Hob a smile that feels a little like tempting Hell and figures he will be okay with burning if it means he gets to have more of this. More of these moments, lovely and warm and gentle. More of Hob’s smiles and more of his touches. “I wouldn’t agree if I didn’t want you to,” he points out, and Hob laughs.

It is a loud, joyful thing. Dream wants. He wants to taste that sound for himself. Wants to swallow it and let it take root inside himself so that he has a piece of Hob with him. Wants to press his lips to Hob’s and see if he will be as kind to him then as he is every other time.

”Alright then, my friend,” Hob says, and he is beautiful when he is delighted. It becomes him. He had a face built for joy and a voice made for expressing it. Dream wants as many of these moments as possible. “Sit in front of me?”

Hob crosses his legs where he sits in the meadow, amongst wildflowers that bathe the area in a sweet scent that reminds Dream of all things summer. Of sunlight on his skin, its warmth seeping in through his blood and settling inside his bones. It is heady, and it reminds him also of the early days of his and Hob’s friendship—the times when Hob would convince him to take his horse down to the beach so that they might be able to jump in the sea, the times when Hob would drag him to the market in town and teach him the art of pickpocketing. Each time felt a little like courting danger, for he knew his parents would disapprove of both of those endeavours, but they all felt golden, the days so full with possibility that any bad ending would surely be worth it.

(There were no bad endings, not even when they jumped into the sea. Jessamy found him before his parents ever could and tutted softly at the sight of his sodden clothes, no doubt ruined by sea water, and bid him clean up before anybody else found out. There were no bad endings because Jessamy protected him from them, and Dream is eternally grateful to her.)

And, after a moment’s hesitation, Dream sits between his friend’s crossed legs with an insistent feeling of anticipation. He faces forward, turned towards the gradually setting sun. It is beautiful up here, on top of this hill in the middle of a meadow.

He brings his legs up to his chest, wraps an arm around them. With his other, he picks at the grass beneath them, the green so beautiful and vibrant and lovely. It is a nervous thing, this action, and he feels distantly foolish for it. He is not supposed to appear nervous—he is a prince, after all.

Yet Hob makes him feel like this. Like anything is possible. Makes him nervous, despite all the effort Dream has put into learning how to mask these things.

He does not mind. Hob is…Hob is safe. He knows this.

He does not gasp when he feels Hob’s fingers in his hair, but it is a close thing. The touch is so light, so soft that Dream could melt into it. He does not think it would be entirely appropriate to lose himself like so if he does, but he is tempted. For now, he keeps his eyes on the sun and tells his heartbeat to calm down. It is only Hob.

Except it has never been only Hob, has it? This is Hob he is talking about, after all. He is beautiful and lovely and Dream loves him so much. Perhaps a little more than platonically.

”Is that alright?” Hob asks him. He is…close. Which makes sense, considering their proximity, but being confronted with this so suddenly is almost startling.

It takes him more time than he would like to admit to find his voice. When he does, his voice is small and breathy, and he does not have it in him to feel embarrassed. “Yes.”

Hob hums softly under his breath, and then he starts to braid.

He starts from the top of Dream’s head, so it is certainly no ordinary three-strand braid. He sections the hair carefully, mindful not to tug, and braids with an efficiency that feels practised. Dream did not think this would come out of keeping his hair relatively long out of little more than pure spite and a vague like for the style, but does not mind it at all.

“I used to have a sister, you know,” Hob tells him with an air of wistfulness, like he looks into the past and wishes he could go back as he says it. “She used to demand I braid her hair constantly, so I was forced to learn. Admittedly, I rather enjoyed it. Your hair is perfect for it, too.”

He doesn’t preen at the compliment. He doesn’t. “Used to?” he asks softly, then winces slightly. The use of past tense says enough, does it not? There is no need to drag up old ghosts, and yet, he has done so. Accidentally, and without thinking, but he has. “I apologise. You do not need—“

”Hey.” It is so soft that it stops him in his tracks. “Don’t be. You didn’t know. She died a couple years ago. I miss her very much. You would’ve liked her, I think. I am glad you let me do this. Feels like I’m…remembering her by doing so, if that makes sense.”

Dream thinks it does, and says as much. Hob hugs once more, and the two of them fall silent for a while. There is little more between them than slight rustling of movement from behind him as Hob readjusts himself to continue the braid. More than once, he pauses for a reason Dream is unable to determine.

It is comfortable. Quiet. Dream thinks he would like to do this time and time again, if Hob is amenable.

Eventually, Hob tells him, “It is done,” and Dream immediately regrets having not brought a handheld mirror with him. It feels a crime that he is unable to see Hob’s work with his own eyes.

There is nothing for it. But he reaches behind himself and it feels so neat, so tidy, he knows Hob has done well. Then he runs his fingers over feather-soft petals and asks, “Flowers, too?”

”Yeah. There’s plenty about. They suit you.”

Dream turns to face him once more, and Hob stares at him with an expression he cannot quite read. He wishes he could. He wishes he knew what this is, this growing thing between them. He wishes himself capable of putting it into words.

It is enough, he supposes, to leave this thing between them to its own devices. Perhaps it will make sense, make itself known and understood, at some other point in time. For now, Dream lets himself imagine pressing his lips to Hob’s cheek in the gentlest of kisses, let’s himself wonder if Hob might hold him close with the same gentleness he does everything else, and he decides it does not have to be anything more than what they were already, not necessarily.

”Thank you,” he murmurs softly, and Hob smiles. It is a small, delighted thing. Dream adores the sight of it.

”Anytime, my friend. Anytime.” He settles back a little, resting his back against the grand oak tree they mark their meeting spot by, and says, “Come on. Tell me a story. You’re good at those.”

”I am,” Dream agrees. And Hob asked this of him, so he does. He tells him a story, and eventually, the two of them part ways.

He does not take his hair out until long into the night, where he takes the flowers out carefully and keeps them on his nightstand. They will wither soon, he knows, but for now he keeps them as—as a token of Hob’s friendship, he supposes.

When he sleeps, he dreams of his friend, beautiful and joyful and oh so lovely.

#the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling fic #morpheus dream of the endless #the sandman fic #eris writes things

[ellewritesalright]

Foxtrot

Nikolai Lantsov x reader

A/N: hi! This was a request by an anon! Hope yall enjoy :)

Request: reader is like the princess or some kind of duchess from kerch and she gets invited to a ball in ravka. there, she meets nikolai and he is head over heels for her and they dance and everything

Warnings: Fluff, dancing, me not knowing shit about dancing

Word Count: 900

..........

The ball wasn't his idea. Genya was the organizer, and David and Zoya fell into the roles of enabler and enforcer respectively. Nikolai didn't see the use in a great gathering like this, but Genya was insistent.

"You need a queen, and what better place to find one than through drink and dance," she'd said.

He wanted to bash his head against the freshly painted walls of the Grand Palace's ballroom, but sighed and stayed stoic at his post in the corner. He took up residence there as soon as the evening started, allowing guests to approach and greet him while Tamar and Tolya flanked him. He made idle conversation as he watched the dancing.

Ties and tails and ballgowns of every colour--though he noticed a wealth of women in emerald green, the same colour of the gem reserved for the Lantsov royal family--swished about the room. It was a little nice to see the dancing, a little mesmerizing even, but he would never tell Genya that he was enjoying himself.

When the band's song finished, the dancers came to a stop. People milled on the floor for a moment, then a Kerch foxtrot began. Many people left for refreshments, but a few couples remained. The dance was not popular with Ravkans as most preferred a waltz, and he saw many nobles from his country skirting to the edges of the room. Even the seemingly most accomplished dancers from other countries were sitting this one out, but there in the middle of the floor was you and a graceless partner.

He'd seen you throughout the night, flowing across the room no matter who your partner was. His eyes often tracked you and your deep blue dress. It reminded him of the ocean waves cresting, especially with its white lining that complimented your movements so perfectly.

He knew your partner. The Count of Ulensk, who spent more time bidding on horses in Caryeva than caring for his people at home. Despite all his time in the liveliest Ravkan city, he was a terrible dancer. You flowed as gracefully as a swan, he moved more like a penguin, clonking about and stepping on your toes.

Without a second thought, Nikolai excused himself from whichever diplomat he was conversing with and strode towards the floor. He tapped the Count on the shoulder.

"Excuse me for interrupting, but may I steal this dance with your partner?"

The Count seemed offended for a moment, but he quickly nodded. "Of course, your highness."

As soon as he was out of sight, Nikolai gave you a smile and took your hand. He bowed, you bowed, and the dancing began

"Thank you," you said.

He gave you a charming smile. "Don't mention it. I couldn't let you suffer out here, especially not when you're the best dancer I've seen all night."

At his words your eyes dipped bashfully.

"That's a lofty compliment, one I'm not sure I'm worthy of. I'm only alright at dancing."

"Then everyone else must be abysmal. Quite unfortunate they were all invited to this ball, then. I must tell my advisors to invite real dancers to one of these next time. And you, of course. Even if you are only alright." He took a good look at you before he swiveled the two of you. "Where are you from?"

"Kerch, your highness. I came with my father, Councilman Bodden."

Your father was a Councilman in Kerch? That meant you had money; Genya and the squadron of people invested in his future queen would love that for Nikolai and for the Ravkan coffers.

He turned the pair of you around again, marveling a bit at how well you kept up. "And how was your journey?"

"Land travel became a bit boring after a while, especially through the desert of the former Fold. The trip across the True Sea was my favourite part of it."

"Was it now?" He raised a brow.

He wasn't sure if you were honest. He knew some in Ravkan court knew his identity on the sea. Perhaps the secret had spread and your speaking about the sea was a mere tactic to attract him to you. Yet that possibility didn't stop him from thinking you were incredibly cute.

"It was, your highness." Your eyes lit up. "My family's home is on the water, but we rarely go out into the harbours, and we'd never crossed the sea before--well I think my father had, but I certainly hadn't."

"Until now," he grinned

"Until now," you said with a nod.

He dipped you, his hand strong at the square of your back. You smiled politely, though he could see in your excited eyes how you were holding back a grin. He raised you back up.

"And do you like it here in Ravka?" He asked quietly.

"Yes," you breathed. "Very much so."

"I'm glad," he said.

Then the pair of you danced in comfortable silence. Nikolai couldn't stop staring into your eyes. And you–despite your initial meekness–met his stare eagerly, as though his eyes were speaking of their own accord, whispering pretty things to you. Saints knew he wanted to say them aloud, but a crowded ballroom hardly seemed the place for them.

The band slowed, the rest of the dancers did too, but Nikolai didn't want to stop. He held your hand even as the music stopped completely and both his and your feet had halted.

"Will you dance the next song with me, your highness?" You asked, your eyes hopeful.

"It would be my honour."

..........

A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment if you want to read more, I really appreciate the feedback! Reminder that requests are still open for shorter fics like this. Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov x you #grishaverse fanfic

[catkyunie]

Drink You Deeply ♡

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: The tension has been building for weeks between Changkyun and the boss of their little syndicate. Stolen glances, timed brushes in passing. Finally, the tension snaps.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: mafia!changkyun x mafiaboss!reader

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut, smut, and more smut

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ(ꜱ): alluded criminal activity, oral (m! and f! receiving), fingering, pet names (angel/baby), thigh slaps, face fucking, pussy drunk changkyun (please let me know if I miss any!) MDNI 🛑

ᴡᴄ: 4.8k

The room was exactly how Changkyun had left it. Numerous items worth varying degrees of wealth littered the large mahogany table, anything from precious gems to pieces of deconstructed tech. Beneath that? An intricate and precise map of Seoul, down to alleyways and backstreets that average cartographers didn’t even bother with. Nevertheless, in I.M. 's line of work, he made it his business to know every twist, turn, and secret corner their capital might have hidden. Whatever caused the maneuverability of his brothers to be as effortless and smooth as possible. However, standing languidly before the whiteboard at the head of the table was the most priceless treasure in the room—the boss. 

Her back was turned to him, eyes surely focused on the makeshift plans scribbled concisely over the face of the board, different colored notes representing the input and dictations of the members. The curtain of hair that Changkyun had imagined spilling over his body time and time again was tied loosely at the crown of her head, the planes of her slender neck peeking through with the subtle movements of her body as she studied. The thoughts of sinking his teeth into the pretty flesh, leaving his mark, and claiming, made I.M.’s throat bob as he swallowed past the thick taste of desire that bubbled up from his chest. She wore what looked like a pressed, white button down, rolled to the elbows and tucked into the waistband of a dark pencil skirt. Her arms were folded at her chest, her hip popped as she adjusted her weight from one foot to the other. Godammit. 

Changkyun mimicked her demeanor, leaning casually against the far wall. Arms folded at his chest, accentuating his bare biceps, one foot lazily crossed over the other.  He allowed his eyes to do one more quick sweep of her body above the table, thoughts of having her bent over its top darkening his gaze. Inhaling deeply and angling his chin, I.M. cleared his throat, pulling the young woman from her train of thought before asking simply, “We aren’t quite finished going over the logistics. Didn’t Shownu tell you as much?” 

The boss turned on her heel to face Changkyun, her painted lips pulled up into a grin. He could have sworn he felt all of the air leave his lungs. Time and time again, I.M. found himself floored by her beauty, by the utter presence she demanded when she entered and occupied a room. Though she stood a full head shorter against the backdrop of him and his brothers, her gaze's calm, deep onyx commanded and brought rival syndicates to their knees. It was her voice and cunning that threatened violence and pain on those that fucked around in their territory. While every member had their role within the small group, they knew that she was the driving force that had propelled them to their standing in the rankings within the inner workings of the Seoul syndicates. And god damn, did it turn him on.  

“Of course he did. But, when has that ever stopped me from peeking at plans?” Her voice was like silk, passing through his ears and massaging every bit of his brain that he never knew needed tickling. He replied with a quick, single-shouldered shrug, “It hasn’t. Just didn’t want you to think we were slacking off.” 

Changkyun observed as her full lips slacked into a mock sulk as she bent forward at the waist and rested her palms on the deep red of the table. The exact shade of red that colored her lips and that he wished with every bone in his body to leave printed on her ass. 

“Ever the perfectionist, Changkyunie.” she pouted. 

He physically had to stop himself from whining at her teasing. From matching her sulk with a very real one of his own and explaining to her, as he had repeatedly, that if he wasn’t, everything could and would likely go to shit. While everyone held the same level of serious precision regarding their selected roles, I.M. felt that he was the orchestrated music that each of their instruments relied on to execute symphonies properly. He was their appraiser and getaway. The one that not only found the jobs and weighed their payout but that also ensured their safe passage to and from the heist. If he failed, they all did. Regardless, he refused to play into her razzing. So, instead, he settled with a furrow of the brow, his shoulders tightening as the muscle in his jaw twitched slightly. 

Unfortunately, that was all she needed. Straightening from her position, arms crossing loosely beneath her breasts again, the boss clicked around the table. Stopping right in front of him and pressing a thumb to the crease in his brow, I.M had no choice but to relax beneath her touch as she spoke plainly, “You’ll wrinkle if you don’t learn to relax a bit, I.M. Didn’t Kihyun tell you as much?” Using his turn of phrase against him, she tilted her head in question, how her eyes softened despite the playful embers that glinted behind those black orbs. If her proximity to him hadn’t set his blood on fire, the care and sincerity behind her words certainly had. Without thinking, spurred forward on intuition and instinct alone, Changkyun’s hand went to her wrist, holding it tenderly as the thumb pressed to his brow now glided down the length of his nose and settled gently against his bottom lip. She tugged at it, making it fuller still, his grip on her wrist tightening slightly. 

I.M. lifted his shoulders from the wall, straightening to his full height. He had half expected her to step away, to allow space between their bodies for breath to pass but, to his surprise, she stood firm. She did not budge as the swell of her breasts pressed lightly to the planes of his chest, her thumb now leaving his lip and resting lightly on his chin as she took it between her fingers and examined his face closely. There was no hiding or denying the lust that darkened his gaze, his eyes watching as she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. Biting lightly and then licking at the swelling it induced. 

“You’re playing a very dangerous game.” The words were palpable in his throat, thick and honeyed, sticking to the inside of his mouth. The back and forth with the boss had been going on for months. Subtle brushes of flesh, stolen glances, innuendos that both considered missed but were very much received and understood. This was the first time Changkyun allowed himself to act on his impulses. To take the thoughts that swam in his head and give them life, a voice. Judging by how she fixated on the curves of his mouth, her eyes hooded and mirroring the lust that stirred within his own, I.M. couldn’t help but wonder how long her inclinations had whispered to her. 

“My favorite kind,” she said in response, her eyes finally meeting his. Inviting. Tempting. Challenging. Who would bend to their whims first? Break and fold under the gaze of the other? I.M.’s grip tightened further, his very bones feeling like they might snap under her continued contemplation. It was with his next inhale, a shudder that heated his blood and left his body quivering, that he knew. He was putty in her hands, to be molded, shaped, and used however she saw fit to please her cardinal needs. And she, being the perceptive leader she was, could see it, feel it, hear it in the way his very breathing seemed to bend to her. This was checkmate. 

Just as quickly as the fire had begun licking at the base of his spine and tangling itself in his veins, he willingly and gratefully accepted defeat, it was plunged into freezing water and smothered. The step she took away from him, the hand that followed her and fell to her hip, stole the heat from his body and left a cold chill. The inches between them might as well have stretched for miles. Changkyun had to physically stop himself from moving in time with her, to plant his feet solidly to the ground instead of following her into that space, into that distance. Was this a coming to senses, a realization on her side that mixing business with pleasure would only lead to unneeded complications? Or, perhaps, this was another level to their unspoken game. Regardless, I.M. needed that heat like a drunk needed their booze. She was the finest whiskey brand, and he had every intention of succumbing to his basest desires and drink her deeply. 

Changkyun’s hands met at his lower back, the palm that had previously held her wrist now wrapping around his own. Slowly, painfully so, he bent forward. Testing the space between them, watching to see how she responded. To no one’s surprise, she did not balk. Her face, her posture, gave nothing away. She stood firmly, one hand propped on a hip while the other hung loosely at her side. It wasn’t until I.M. had bowed to meet her at eye level, his mouth so close to her own, that their breaths mixed in a way that left his head spinning. At that moment was when he noticed the way her body responded. The sharp inhale, her bosom blossoming to steal his breath away and take it into herself. He grinned, despite himself, and on a whispered exhale, said against her lips, “Your move, boss.” 

There, a silent switch was flipped in that too-quiet space between heartbeats. One that catapulted them into a direction that there would be no coming back from. Thumbs curled into belt loops as Changkyun felt a tug at his waist, positions of power shifting as the boss yanked him and spun him on his heel. With a flourish, I.M. found himself pushed up against the table's edge, his hips pressed tightly into the frame by the boss's insistent hands. The consistent ebb and flow of energy between the pair left Changkyun’s head spinning with a drunken stupor that he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to recover from. Now he knew how delicious the conflict would be, based solely on the fragrant aroma of their shared lust occupying the same space. To think he was already this befuddled, and he hadn’t even tasted her yet– 

His thoughts were quickly smothered down by the overwhelming sensation of her digits whispering against his flesh. I.M.’s eyes followed her every movement as she lowered to her knees, the friction of her slender fingers tugging at the tank tucked into the leather of his pants. It was enough to pull a whimper from the depths of Changkyun’s belly. The sound only spurred her further, bunching the clothing up near his middle before trailing those manicured nails over the raised muscles of his abdomen. He was utterly enthralled with the look of her, eyes blown out with desire, cheeks and ear tips kissed with the softest shade of pink. All while kneeling before him, admiring his body, on the verge of devouring him whole. Akin to a position of worship. 

Before Changkyun could collect his thoughts and clear the fog of desire that had clouded his vision, he felt her fingers tugging at his hips, skillfully unbuttoning his trousers and pulling them from the cut of muscle at his pelvis. Slowly, languidly, those same fingers inched around his body to the seam of clothing that clung to his lower back, pushing past the fabric and down over the curve of his ass. And then, with one final tug, I.M popped free from the too-tight clothing. Now fully exposed, the head of his cock already swollen and weeping at the promise of what her hungry eyes entailed, he had to bite back a hiss as she leaned forward and drug her tongue over the slit, collecting the moisture there and savoring his taste. 

Gone was the air of light-natured teasing. Now, there was a sense of urgency in how she pushed forward on her knees, how her tongue hung past her full lips as she slipped him into her mouth. The boss left him no room to breathe as she hilted him between her lips, nose brushing his public bone as he twitched at the back of her throat. 

“Fuck–” he quipped, pushing up and into her throat, letting her feel his length, his girth, relaxing around him and adjusting her movements to accommodate him. As she worked her mouth over the shaft of his dick, taking his length and sheathing it between her lips, the boss’s eyes slowly and unconsciously slid closed. She was so engrossed in the feel of him filling her mouth, how his hips bucked to meet her throat, and the subtle taste of precum that coated her tongue and cheeks that she hadn’t even realized that her eyes had left his. She was chasing the high that came with knowing how Changkyun reacted to her touch and the feeling of her mouth milking him for everything he had to offer. However, unbeknownst to her, this was only half of the fun for I.M. He wanted her to witness how he came apart for her, to watch the subtle changes in him. He bit into the hem of his tank to keep his abdomen and hips exposed for her, one hand teasing at his puckered nipple as the other gently wrapped in her hair and tugged with encouragement. Her eyes on his body and experiencing firsthand how much of a whimpering, desperate mess he became, naturally submitting beneath her powerful gaze, did just as much for the man as being buried between those pretty lips. 

“Please…” he begged through the cloth and gritted teeth, the fingers that had previously been tangled in her silk curtain now brushing gently against her jaw, pleading for her to place those beautiful eyes on him. And, just as he’d hoped, she entertained his request and did just that. From beneath those long lashes, her eyes found him. Watching the way they darkened upon seeing him in such a state, how he, quite literally, felt her cheeks tighten and suck at him harder, vacuuming him into the back of her throat, damn near sent Changkyun over the edge. 

Feeling the way she adjusted beneath him, I.M’s eyes snapped down to the floor, her legs naturally spreading so she could place her center of gravity in her hips and thighs. When their eyes met again, he felt her hands trailing up the back of his thighs, nails dragging along the hardened muscle. The sensation pulled a groan from deep in his belly, eyes rolling to the back of his head as goosebumps littered his skin. Goddamn, this was better than he could’ve ever dreamed. He could feel the tight fist of climax grip his lower spine, but he had no plans to slow its impending arrival. She just felt too fucking good. That was when he felt it. Hands gripping at his firm ass, nails digging into the tender flesh and pulling him deeper into the depths of her throat. 

“Oh, what the fuck…” he gasped, the hand in her hair tightening. Eyes locked on eyes once again, and as he held himself there at the back of her neck, waiting to see what she had planned, he felt her swallow against his dick with a slight nod of the chin. 

“Can I fuck your face, angel? Is that what you want?” he breathed. 

His answer came in the form of her pulling off of him slightly, centering herself, and once again pressing the tips of her fingers into his backside, urging him. That was all he needed. Readjusting his hand in her hair, his fingers grazing the nape of her neck and holding tightly, he nodded. 

“Hold on tight, baby.” 

Caution was thrown to the wind as Changkyun began to pump himself into her wet mouth, hips rolling forward and back steadily. With each thrust, the coil in his spine tightened further. Coupled with her nails in his skin and the look of absolute fucked out bliss on her face, I.M knew it wouldn’t be long before he emptied himself down her throat. She took each stroke like a professional as the force of his hips began to quicken. He was lost in his sea of need, the desperate and quickening pace he took evidence enough as he chased that high and the surge of dopamine that would come with it. He could feel his knees quake as lewd pants were pushed out of his throat. His eyes were clouded with an unspoken question that the boss answered with a slight tilt of her head, one of her hands snaking back to the front of his body as she palmed and kneaded his balls. That was what broke the dam. 

I.M. had to brace himself against the edge of the table as his body arched and found release, fingers white knuckling against the wood surface and in the length of hair he had been gripping in euphoria. He felt the knot in his lower back tighten as he emptied into her mouth, her cheeks filling with his cum before she greedily swallowed it and savored every drop he gifted her. Quivering and breathless, he felt his body finally relax against the table as she pulled him from her mouth. The grin that tugged at the corners of her mouth had him hardening almost instantly. She was smug. And he wanted nothing more than to wipe that shit-eating grin off her face. 

Bending at the waist with little warning, Changkyun’s lips found her in a hungry embrace, the hands at her waist quickly tugging her from the floor as they switched places. He didn’t have time to play this little back-and-forth they had established. Not now, not after he had found his climax and regained his head. Tasting himself on her tongue only elevated his need. He needed her, craved her. He was ravenous, and the slick heat between her thighs was the only thing to satiate his appetite. Gingerly placing her back against the mahogany table, a hand at the back of her neck to support how tightly he pressed his mouth to hers, Changkyun’s other hand was already working at her blouse. Deftly undoing the buttons straining against the rise of her chest, his teeth nipped at the bottom lip he sucked into his mouth as he quickly pulled away the brassier that held her breasts. Finally releasing the vice from her mouth, Changkyun straightened his spine as he peered down at his first in command and her state. He hadn’t even touched her yet, and she was already trembling. Her cheeks flushed, nipples perked, the skirt scarcely covering her lower half, riding up her legs and clinging to the plush flesh of her thighs. 

“You’re perfect,” he breathed, his hands quivering as he reached for the seam of her skirt, pushing it up and around her waist. I.M’s hands now held her hips tightly as he bent before her covered slit, the boss’s legs unconsciously pulling away to give him the access he needed to admire. There was no hesitation in her movements, nothing showing that she was timid or uncertain. She knew what she wanted, and he always intended to give it to her. 

“Kyun…”

Peeling his eyes from the moist cloth that covered her cunt, Changkyun met her gaze as she pushed up on her elbows and considered him. Licking at his lips, he turned his cheek into the hand she now offered him, pulling in a sharp inhale as the same hand quickly slid up and tangled in his dark locks. 

“Be a good boy and tend to your mess,” she spoke lowly, eyes sharp and expecting. 

That was all the encouragement he needed. Turning his attention back to her core, he pulled a hand away from her hip and quickly hooked a finger around the cloth of her panties, pulling them to the side and being welcomed by the most beautiful specimen he had ever seen. Every one of Changkyun’s senses was locked in. The world could have been burning down around them, and he wouldn’t have cared or bothered to notice. Seeing firsthand how swollen and plump the entrance of her body became from having him in her mouth, the feeling of her arousal coating and slicking his fingers as he traced his knuckles loosely over her entrance. Teasing. Enticing. The smell of her lust amalgamated with his saliva as he flattened his tongue over her slit, his nose pressed against the bundle of nerves at her apex. Hearing the sounds he elicited from her throat with every lick, lap, and stroke of his tongue and fingers set his blood on fire and drove him deeper into the folds of her cunt, as if smothering himself in her desire would bring him closer to God. And Christ Almighty, the taste of this woman. It was as if her flavor had been explicitly formulated to satisfy I.M.’s needs and desires. The richness of her, how she fully coated his tongue and throat and left him desperate for more. It was a brand she was unaware she had left on him, one that had tied their bodies together in ways that would send Changkyun to the ends of the Earth. To pleasure this woman, to kneel at the altar of her body and hear how she sang when met with his worship and devotion. He would give anything. He would give his life, his soul. He would give everything.

“Changkyun…” her voice was little more than a breath as he felt her fingers curl tighter in his hair, nails dragging over his scalp and causing him to groan into her cunt. His response had her back arching like a cat, her hips grinding into his nose and tongue as she gasped for air, desperate for friction and inching closer and closer to the edge of release. As desperately as I.M. wanted to tease and prolong their time together, pulling his face away from her sex left him trembling and fiending. His need to please her, to have her cum on his tongue and flood his mouth with her essence, smothering him between her thighs and completely encapsulating him in her own need, won out over his want to have her beg and plead for liberation. The line of desperation blurred between them, becoming a hazy daydream as they each crawled closer to their shared, common goal. Release. 

The build-up was beginning to send tremors through the boss's body, her spine now permanently affixed in a seductive curve, her legs curling into her body as her thighs began to tremble. Changkyun knew she was close. He could feel how her hands tousled his hair, her hips rocked back and forth on his tongue, and her voice elevated from breathless pants to lewd sounds of pleasure and bliss that echoed in his mind. His hunger for her orgasm chased closely on its heels, driving him to bury his face deeper still as he lifted his shoulders and readjusted his angle. Both hands reached forward and tightly grasped her thighs, burying his fingers into the soft flesh and pushing her knees to her chest. Temptation pulled at his yearnings, and, answering the call that stirred deep in his belly, Changkyun pulled his face away from her cunt long enough to experience this new perspective. Lips that were slick and flushed a bright pink, that same gloss painting his mouth, nose, and chin, shimmering off her pale thighs. He pressed her legs together, causing the folds of her pussy to follow suit, and the view made him groan. Supple and juicy, the most delicious fruit he had ever had the pleasure of tasting. Lifting a hand and bringing it down with force against her thigh, Changkyun reveled in the bright pink stain that colored her skin. Bringing his hand back down against the abrasion, I.M. squeezed at the plush flesh, leaving indentations with his fingers. Gripping both thighs once more, he opened his mouth above the boss’s glistening cunt, allowing a dribble of spit to fall from his full lips and cover her entrance before diving head-first back into her folds and finishing his feast. 

He pressed his tongue past her labia, the length of it finding and lapping hungrily at the bundle of nerves that made her thighs quiver beneath his palms. Bringing one of his hands down to chest level, Changkyun prepped one at her entrance, teasing at the opening before slipping past her wet folds. He felt her body jerking beneath him, her hips pushing down for the friction, her breath hitching as she choked out a beg. 

“More…Kyunie, please.”

Slipping another finger into her, Changkyun drug his fingers upwards in a curl, feeling the pillow patch of flesh that sent her reeling. Massaging the tips of his fingers over it, his tongue steadily teasing and lapping over her clit, I.M continued the motion until he could feel her body tense and her breathing catch. Pressing his face into her, he propelled her over the edge, a cry passing through her lips that damn well almost made his twitching cock spill over the floor. It was hands down the sexiest thing he had ever heard, her pants of pleasure being a close second as the muscles of her cunt tightened around him, riding out her orgasm. 

As the boss’s fingers loosed in his hair and he felt her coming down from the climax, Changkyun slowly removed his fingers from her core, planting one final kiss on her cunt before erecting his spine. Taking a step back, I.M admired her form as he sucked his fingers clean. Her body was still being rocked with aftershocks, her perfectly placed hair now sticking to her forehead as her head lolled lazily to the side. He bent forward, slowly wiping her bangs aside and kissing her forehead. As he went to stand, readjusting her clothing, he felt a hand at his wrist. She had rolled her head back, eyes finding his, pleading, as her legs began to spread again—a silent request. 

“Greedy, aren’t we?” he teased, a lazy smile pulling at the corners of his lips as he stepped forward, stroking his firm cock as her legs easily rested against his hips. Just as he lined himself up with her pussy, he heard voices from up the hall. 

“You knew I was going for that last bit of gimbap,” Hyungwon sulked, close at Minhyuk’s shoulder as his hyung shrugged and continued down the hall. 

“You didn’t vocalize it, how was I supposed to know?”

“Min, stop teasing Hyungwon,” Shownu spoke over his shoulder, a grin playing at his full lips. 

“You’re only saying that because if Minhyuk hadn’t gotten to it, you would’ve,” piped up Jooheon, throwing an arm over Shownu’s shoulder lazily as they rounded the corner into the conference room. 

The four of them found Changkyun and the boss at either side of the room, one inspecting the board closely and scribbling notes as the other was seated at the table, thumbing through notes. An unmistakable tension hung in the air, one that was palpable enough to slice through. Kihyun, not far behind and clinging to plastic bags, elbowed his way through the group before shooting the men an incredulous look and setting the load on the table in front of the boss. 

“Could you not crowd the doorway, please? Especially since you all left me to carry the takeout and drinks. Alone.” he stated pointedly. 

“Thank you, Ki.” the boss said quickly, standing from her seat and going to trifle through the bag and remove the styrofoam containers. Peeking over her shoulder, she motioned to the dinner spread before stating simply, “Dinner’s here, Changkyun.” 

As the men shuffled into the room and took their places at the table, I.M joined them and reached for the drink labeled with his name, nodding in thanks. 

“Not hungry, Chankhyunah?” Jooheon asked simply, sipping from his drink and shooting a glance in the boss’s direction. 

“Nah, I’ve had my fill for now,” he answered lowly, scribbling notes over a piece of looseleaf that sat to his right. With that being said, and one last glance shared amongst his brothers, an easy conversation began to filter through the room, consisting mainly of Hyungwon’s sulks and tandem teasing from Jooheon and Minhyuk. Beneath the table, he felt a hand on his knee, a firm squeeze from the boss. Grinning to himself, he took another sip of his tea and shook his head off the thoughts that began to cloud them again. The squeeze was a confirmation that she had heard his veiled promise. One that he planned to see through again, again, and again.

#monsta x smut #im changkyun x reader #I.M x reader #changkyun x reader #im changkyun smut #I.M smut #changkyun smut #monsta x x reader #Okay? Deal Series #catkyunie fic #paige writes

[collapsedglasshouses]

Hello friend-o! I'm unsure if you're currently taking requests, so if you aren't, please pay this no mind! If you are, I hope you consider this little idea I have that I'm too lazy to write myself. 😅

What about a pining Ruffilo? Y/N asks him to go yet again to the bookstore even though they both know she doesn't need anymore, and yet he follows along with whatever she wants to do because seeing her happy makes him happy. Even though he's at his freaking limits and finally combusts in the middle of their day to tell you how he feels. The fluffier the better, and it doesn't even have to be this exactly. Really just want a pining Ruffilo. 💕

Hope you're well!

A/N: Hello, hope you are doing good aswell! I love that request... Actually I was thinking about writing something along those lines. Sooo... I'm excited! Hope you like it!

Reading Your Heart [Nick Ruffilo x Reader]

PHOTO CREDIT: Bryan Kirks

WARNINGS: FLUFF, maybe one slight curse word… that should be it

TAGLIST: @measuredingold @cncohshit

You took a deep breath as you let your hand wander over the books in front of you while your friend, Nick, followed you calmly.

Nick had always been the quiet type, content to stay in the background and observe the things around him. But when it came to you, he couldn't help but be drawn into the whirlwind of emotions that swirled inside him. He had been madly in love with you the moment he saw you.

It had been almost ten months since he realized his feelings for you, and he did everything he could to show it, even if you didn't notice it.

Every two weeks, almost like clockwork, one of you would suggest a visit to the local bookstore. If you were honest to yourself you actually didn’t need any more books and if Nick would have been honest to himself, he definitely didn’t have the time to go look for new ones with you at the moment. He had lots of things to do at home, but he just couldn’t help it.

He'd make excuses, rearrange his schedule, and cancel plans if necessary just to spend time. For you, he'd always made an exception.

Little did you know, those visits to the bookstore were more than just casual hangouts for Nick. They were a way for him to be close to you, to watch you as you browsed through the shelves, your eyes lighting up with excitement when you found a book that sparked your interest.

"Nick? Could you help me with this?" You asked your friend, looking at him with apologetic eyes while reaching above you for another book.

Nick quickly step behind you and before you knew his hand was on your waist while reaching up to grab the book. Even though this were well known touches to you, you couldn’t help but shiver lightly.

You might love books but when you were honest with yourself, you just wanted to spend time alone with Nick and the bookstore had been the perfect excuse since the others weren’t really fond of going every two weeks.

You were comfortable around Nick. Your favourite part of your little book "dates" were when you set down in your favourite corner and read together.

But before you did so, you tried to find a book that he would like too, so you flipped through the pages of a new release. Nick on the other hand couldn't help but admire your passion for literature. He'd memorized your favorite authors, your preferred genres, and the way you'd smile when you discovered a hidden gem. To him, your happiness was all that mattered.

Not even an hour later you found yourselves in your favourite reading corner together. The soft sunlight from this early evening filtered through the windows, casting a warm, golden hue on the pages of the book in your hands.

As always, you were sitting in front of Nick, your back against his chest. At first you had suggested this position, so he could see the pages better, but with time it became more to the both of you. It was your small excuse to be close to each other.

You held the book in your hands, while Nick's arms were slung around you, sometimes drawing small circles on your waist, causing you to fall even deeper in this arms.

Nick's attention was divided between the words on the pages and the feel of your presence so close to him. He couldn't help but admire the way your hair caught the sunlight, creating a halo of warmth around you.

Your laughter and the sound of you turning pages filled his heart with contentment.

When you read together it always felt like you were in your own little bubble. You connected even deeper while it was clear to everyone around you, that you were both madly in love with each other. But you didn’t let the outside destroy your little thing, making sure it was the pace you wanted your whole relationship to go.

As you set there, devouring the words in front of you, Nick couldn’t help it anymore. He couldn’t ignore the desire building within him any longer.

So, without even thinking, he leaned down, his lips gently brushing against the back of your neck.

You instantly stopped in your tracks and took a deep breath while goose bumps started to form on your neck. After two to three kisses, you closed the book and turned a bit in his arms to face him.

"Nick," you whispered, your voice almost sounding like a soft invitation to him.

Unable to resist any longer, Nick cupped your face in his hands and leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with all the emotions you two had kept hidden for so long - love, longing, and the promise of a future together.

Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourselves in that moment, your hands finding each other, fingers entwined, as you shared your first kiss.

It was a kiss that spoke of all the unspoken words, of the countless moments you had spent together in this corner of the bookstore, of the feelings that had finally found their way into the open.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads touched, and you shared a knowing smile. "I've wanted to do that for so damn long," Nick admitted, his voice filled with honesty.

You chuckled softly, everything in your stomach still tingled and your eyes were sparkling with happiness. "Me too, Nick."

„Really?" He asked, stroking your cheek with his hand, not daring to pull away from you. "Obviously, how could I not?"

Nick began to smile.

In that corner of the bookstore, surrounded by the worlds contained within the pages of countless books, Nick and you had discovered a love story of your own. And it was a story that was just beginning, with countless chapters waiting to be written.

i really don’t like praising myself but omg i love this

@yumikitten thank you for requesting again!

#nick ruffilo x reader #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #bad omens rpf #nick ruffilo x you #nicholas ruffilo x reader #collapsedglasshouseswrites

[sensei-venus]

Omg menaces to society Hawk and gremlin!Reader-

But also imagine like S4 Hawk coming around after being an asshole and seeing Reader hasn't changed much at all. Maybe Sam got her to stop wearing thick af hoodies in the summer time. Moon definitely contributes to Reader's gem collection. And she just sits on the sidelines because she's like everyone's child they have to watch over and make sure she doesn't fall in the koi pond- And Hawk walks in and is like "wait she's kind of cute now"

- gemini sensei

(Unedited) (This was so much longer but half of it got deleted😭) ( @gemini-sensei )

“I don’t think she’s changed mush at all since you last hung out with her if I’m going to be real with you.” Miguel said as both boys glance over at the chubby girl. She was playing near the koi pond, on her knees looking directly into the water. Watching the pretty new koi fish Daniel had put in a week prior. Slowly she inched her hand near the water.

“Reader no! No touching the fish!” Sam yelled out from across the yard. Everyone in the area looked over to the girl who was now huffing. She reels her hand back from the water and slumps backwards. Eyes still glued to the cold water of the pond.

Hawk feels himself start to blush just a little bit as he watches the unhinged girl. Too him she was definitely different. The last time he had really seen the girl was months ago. While she was still around school all the time he had yet to really see or talk to her. Never letting up with showing up out of the blue and then disappearing just as fast. One minute she was there the next she was gone. It wasn’t as if his view on her had really even changed all that much. Yeah she was hanging out with the “enemy” but it was never as if he went out of his way to target her like the others.

He really couldn’t because she was never there in the first place for him to mess with.

When he was still hanging out with everyone, mostly Miguel she was around them constantly. When he first meet her it was all Miguel’s doing. The girl wasn’t attached to him, it was Miguel who was attached to her. Reader was always doing something that didn’t seem real or made any kind of common sense and Miguel always seemed to be drawn to it. The only thing he could think of was the fact that Miguel was so “puppy” like that he couldn’t get away from trying to keep the girl from doing stupid things. He was constantly trying to keep her in some kind of line, so as not to hurt herself or other.

Hell the first time he met her and saw the two together he thought she was Miguel’s girlfriend.

Miguel was trying to keep her from eating something which he later found out was a literal rock she found. Scratch that it was a large plastic diamond she found at the minimart. But still, Miguel had to threaten to not take her to the mall to get her to spit the little piece of plastic out of her mouth. After that she kinda just wandered away from them. Then Miguel had to jog after her once she tried to make a break to the parking lot where a car almost hit her. He found out quickly that she wasn’t stupid by any means she just couldn’t keep herself out of stupid situations.

It took him a while to figure out that Miguel wasn’t lying and that Reader was just a really good friend. One he tried to keep out of getting in trouble or hurt.

When he started dating Sam things turned because as much as Sam decently liked the girl, it was a pain to keep track of her. Hawk remembered when she said during a conversation “It’s like having a child, but the child is our age and likes to run into on coming traffic for fun.”.

For weeks he ended up spending more time with Reader when he went out with them. Hanging out with the three was fun, until Miguel wanted to go kiss Sam in a corner. The two love birds couldn’t really keep an eye on Reader every second but it seemed like every time they did she got into something.

So after alot of begging on Miguel’s part, he talked Hawk into “taking care of” her for a while. He just asked to make sure she didn’t hurt herself or do anything to dumb. Hawk didn’t see why he would ask him that until he actually started to see some of the weird shit Reader would do.

Window shopping at the mall? More like Reader staring at a window for twenty minutes.

Need extra change? Yeah she’s trying to jump into the coin fountain in the middle of the mall because she wants to.

Oh there is a candle place? Reader is trying to snort every candle while thinking about trying to eat some of the wax because she wants to know what they taste like too.

He doesn’t even want to start on the time he lost her in the middle of the food court only to find her buying half a pint of ice cream and trying to eat it with a fork.

Every time he took his eyes off of her it was something else that she was getting into.

At first he wondered if there was something was going on with her. But after he was able to get her to sit down with him for a few minutes it was made apparent that that’s was just her. She didn’t like following rules, she didn’t like staying in one place, and she just wanted to do what she wanted to do. He couldn’t really even say that she was doing any of it out of rebellion, it was just her. It actually frustrated him to every extent.

Two seconds after that conversation she was gone.

He couldn’t even finish a conversation with her without running off to go do something weird.

Now he was looking at her and was seeing a total different person. Maybe not that different but enough to make him scratch his head a little bit.

“Uh I don’t know she looks a little…”

“If your talking about the hoodie thing yeah we finally got her to stop with that. She almost got heatstroke last month from wearing the stupid hood all they time out in the sun. Moon took her hoodies and Sam basically locked mine up so she can’t get them now. I thinks she’s kinda started to embrace not wearing them now that she can’t get her hands on them. She was kinda pissed at first because now she can’t stuff random things in the pockets.” He shrugs as he goes back to watching the girl.

Hawk feels his cheeks grow hot with a nice pink blush coming on.

The hoodie that once draped over her was long gone. Now replaced by a nice tight tank top that she was spilling out of. He noticed her fat tits that poked out of the top and spilled out the sides. Her chubby belly that every so slightly filled out the shirt just right. He could even see her thick thighs now that they where no longer hidden under Miguel’s oversized hoodie. He sucked on his inner cheek as he watched her move around a little in the grass.

Her nice curves where no longer hidden away and he could see her curves which made his face go even redder. She was hot, he could even go as far as saying she was down right sexy.

He wondered if her ass matched the rest of her. Plump and round, filling out her tight jeans just right.

“Reader no!”

He bit his cheek hard, drawing blood as a sudden big splashing sound made him come back into focus. Both him and Miguel watched as Reader held up one of the huge goldfish. She giggled as she held the trashing fish up in the air. This helped to drench her upper body in cold water. Her tank top completely ruined. Miguel sighed as he watched the girl show off her catch. Sam was quick to jog over and try and pry the poor thing from the chubby girls hands.

The whole time Reader whined and groaned at the brunette’s reaction. Slowly she released the fish back into the pond with a small splash. She huffed as she sat back down and watched the fish swim away. Her eyes still never breaking from the cold water of the pond. Sam was busy giving her a lecture about not touching the fish like that. This just made her roll her eyes and pout.

Hawk felt his heart beat start to pick up a bit more in his chest.

Was he really catching feels for the well know gremlin girl?



#cobra kai #cobra kai blog #cobra kai ask blog #cobra kai headcanons #cobra kai imagine #cobra kai blurb #cobra kai hawk #hawk moskowitz #hawk headcanons #eli hawk moskowitz #hawk x reader #cobra kai hawk x reader #hawk moskowitz x chubby reader #eli moskowitz x chubby reader #cobra kai x chubby reader #chubby reader #gremlin!reader

[mpreginthestars]

Big Boy's Bar & Grill used to be a hidden gem… a local favorite for those few loyal patrons who knew where to find it, tucked away in the corners of small towns all over the east coast… but everything changed when the small eatery decided to take their business to new heights by expanding the franchise across the country. Though it was a big financial risk, acquiring hundreds of new locations in the mid and far west, Big Boy’s had a secret weapon on their side, to ensure that they’d make just as much money from promotions and foot-traffic as they’d spend on expansion - none other than Roman Reigns, the renowned WWE wrestler, who happened to be expecting a child at the time of his partnership with the growing franchise. 

Roman had always been known in the wrestling world for his strength, his drive, and his incredible skills inside the ring — and, outside of the WWE, he was a highly respected figure. A true superstar! When he wasn’t putting in the work in the ring, he could often be found chowing down at a Big Boy’s, somewhere along the Atlantic stretch — feeding himself, and his unborn little one. He cared for the restaurant as though it were his own kitchen, and he was more than happy to help them spread their roots across regional lines. An admired man like him wouldn't associate himself with just any old restaurant, so the heads of the chain were more than elated when he agreed to be the face of the establishment. His decision to endorse Big Boy's spoke volumes about the quality of the establishment, a choice that the country soon took notice of.

As the franchise advertised their commercials — with their tagline “Come on down to Big Boy’s, and feast like a king,” in bold letters on the TV screen — Roman confidently shared with the world how great their food truly was, and the response was nothing short of spectacular. From coast to coast, people were turning up to their local Big Boy's Bar & Grill by the dozens. The restaurant's reputation skyrocketed from a dwarf franchise to a titan of the industry, and the dine-in area was always bustling with eager customers. Roman’s image was all it took to make Big Boy’s a major success, with people clamoring to experience the homey charm, inviting atmosphere, and stellar food, that Roman had spoken so highly of. 

Big Boy's Bar & Grill is now one of the hottest destinations for food enthusiasts, wrestling fans, and hungry families alike. Thanks to Roman, every man, woman, and child in America eats at Big Boy’s… and you should too!

_________________________________

#ai image #ai mpreg #roman reigns #roman… the wrestler #big boy’s bar & grill #meta planet 1

[theminecraftbee]

There’s a flier someone’s left on the bus. Something shaming a—company logo he doesn’t recognize, as he shoves it aside to grab the last seat in the back that usually means he and Gem don’t have to sit next to anyone else—for “desecration of the Carrows Life”. Alright; with a logo and a slogan like that, it’s either a religious nut job or one of the people real mad at the Church about the demons.

Yeah, sure. He’s exhausted. Impulse can’t really bring himself to care about neon-yellow fliers in the dead of night on the bus.

Just another hour and practically every single stop down the line, and he’ll be home. He’s glad there’s a late-night bus down here; enough people come and go from these streets at two am that they make some poor bus driver do the route.

Next to him, Gem grumbles as she removes her makeup. “Impulse, why do I keep getting the waterproof kind?”

“Hard to dance and still look good if it doesn’t stand up to sweat,” Impulse says, settling into his seat as the bus starts moving again. “Don’t see why that should make it that much harder to remove, unless you’re sweating acetone these days, but they don’t pay me to know how your makeup works.”

“No, they pay you to be your stupid big protective butt. You absolutely know how my makeup works,” Gem says.

“You could wait until we aren’t on a moving bus to take it off?” Impulse offers.

“Nah. I need something to do so I don’t fall asleep, and I’m not opening my other bag until we’re both safely at home.”

“Yeah, fair,” Impulse says, not glancing at it for too long. Gem had a good night tonight. Sometimes, he’s jealous of the nights she has; the amount people are willing to throw at her sometimes is insane. Most of the time, though, he’s just glad he’s paid a regular salary to stand in the corner and occasionally show people exactly why he’s so big if they act up.

(Someone’s got to do it.)

The doors open. The unmistakeable smell of someone on way, way too much weed wafts through the doors. Impulse sighs. There’s a reason they sit in the back.

“What are the odds we get lucky and get home early?” Gem says. “My knee hurts.”

Impulse looks at her sharply. “You didn’t say anything during the show.”

Gem laughs. “Relax, relax. Not that bad. Nothing a bit of icyhot won’t solve, or one of your little…” She wiggles her fingers.

“You need to tell me these things before you dance on them, Gem,” Impulse says. “One of these days, I won’t be able to fix it! Then what are you gonna do about your knee, huh?”

“Uhuh. And the bruise on your face…?”

“He was drunk,” Impulse says. “It’s barely a scratch. Or, uh, well, it’s a bruise, but…”

“If I were any good at healing,” Gem says.

“I’ll ice it!” Impulse says, putting his hands up. “Besides, I don’t need my face to do my job. Might make guys respect me more?”

The bus stops. A few more people get on. There’s a bit of shouting from a drunk guy, and it makes Impulse look up on instinct, both his and Gem’s awareness hovering around their bag. Gem has a nasty curse on it if anyone but her tries to grab it, but these days…

The drunkard isn’t looking their way. He settles down again. Impulse doesn’t.

“One day, one of us will get a car, and we’ll just drive,” Impulse mutters.

“And pay for parking?” Gem asks.

“Well, it’s the thought that counts,” Impulse says.

The bus stops. Impulse looks up at the sign, just to make sure they aren’t near their stop. They aren’t. He almost looks down.

There’s a feeling in his gut. He doesn’t ignore gut feelings after as long as he’s been doing what he does. He puts a hand in his jacket. He doesn’t actually carry a gun; people think he does, but he’s fairly effective at threatening without it, and if all else fails, he does have a thick vest he’d bought with his own money after the only time he’d been shot. It had taken all of his savings, but it had been worth it.

He curls his fingers instead around the lucky charm Gem had given him after they’d become roommates and tries to focus on the feeling. There's something scraping nearby. A horrible scraping, like talons against brick, or maybe more like death clawing against soil.

The bus starts moving again. The drunks stay drunk. The fellow exhausted club and bar workers stay exhausted. The guy who’s high out of his mind doesn’t even blink.

A woman who had gotten on the bus, though, approaches them. Gem stiffens. Impulse is hyper-aware of the bag full of the night’s tips that Gem has with her.

“Hello. Sorry for interrupting,” the woman says. She’s tall. She has long, light brown hair that she hasn’t tied back. She’s wearing a long overcoat. It looks second-hand, but not properly so, like it’s being worn by someone who doesn’t quite know how to fit into second-hand clothes, or perhaps doesn’t quite know how not to fit.

There's bruises on her face, too. A split lip and a black eye and a bit of blood on the collar of her shirt.

"You look lost," Impulse says without thinking. The woman blinks.

"Oh! Yes, I suppose you could say that," she says. "That's..."

Impulse slowly takes his hand out of his jacket. Her voice is even more lost, somehow. Impeccably put-together. Very hard to read. But Impulse, he has to read people for a living, and this is a woman who is lost.

"I was just here because you two look the most aware and fit on the bus," she says.

"Oh, I'm not all that fit," Gem lies to the woman's face. "I mean, just look at me! I'm delicate!"

Impulse has seen Gem's abs. She's not delicate, she just puts on a show of being—still not delicate, actually, but the kind of not-delicate men like, not the kind of not-delicate she actually is. It's a fine line.

The woman raises an eyebrow. "Okay," she says. "I'm just—there are demons. Not far. I got away from them, but they might be following you."

"They're following you?" says Gem.

"Shhh," says the woman.

"Fine," Impulse says. "They're following you. Why? And why did you get on the bus?"

The woman is silent for a moment. "I don't think they'll catch up to us," she says. "I don't—I don't have another place to go back to, right now. I'm a bit... I don't mean to put anyone in danger. You two are the most fit looking people on here, is all. If danger did happen..."

Impulse feels something in him crack. He looks at Gem. It wouldn't be the first time the two of them have helped someone down on their luck off the streets. Of course, it's not entirely out of the goodness of their hearts, all the time, but, well, Impulse is still Impulse and Gem puts up with it and this world doesn't work if people don't help each other, Impulse has always said.

Gem shrugs and nods.

"Sit down. You can get off at our stop. My name's Gem, by the way."

The woman, slowly, sits down in a seat across from them.

"Impulse," Impulse says.

The woman opens her mouth. The woman closes it. "You can call me Griba," she says, finally.

Impulse quirks an eyebrow. "I can call you?"

"Hey, that sounds like—wasn't there someone with a name like that on the news recently?" Gem says.

The woman grimaces. "You could say that," she says.

Gem and Impulse look at each other. They look back at the woman. "Fine then. Keep your secrets," Gem says imperiously, and her tone works, because it makes—Griba, Impulse supposes, until she wants to give them her real name—laugh.

"At least until we find out if the demons get me," she says agreeably.

The bus stops again. They all tense. One person gets off and no one gets on. The bus starts moving again.

"One of these days," Impulse mutters.

"You've got to finish the sentence," Gem says. "Don't leave me hanging like that!"

"Is this an ongoing thing?" Griba says, and they continue onwards together.

#a bee fic #last days talk #not tagging with the characters both to preserve the (very thin) mystery of who one of these is #and because there are some adult implications here i don't necessarily want in the main tags #anyway. for anyone wondering what i'd do with a last days sequel: something like this. #mentions of alcohol #mentions of drugs #also for the record. the way... griba... enters this story is an intentional parallel with how she does it in last days #however changed because she's changed as a character and that's a large part of what this story would be about

[lunaevangeline]

to devote

{knight!Kita Shinsuke x princess!reader} (sequel)

Written for Laura @ohtokki ♡

Summary: for him, to be with you is a prohibition, but he's determined enough to cross the line (cw: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, breeding, mention of blood and alcohol)

Never in your life have you seen Kita Shinsuke in this state. He tried to keep his stoic facade, his lips pursed tightly to keep the words from falling.

The eyes are the windows to the soul. You see in your beloved's eyes his heart falls to the ground, breaking apart slowly. His eyebrows furrowed, eyes blinking frequently to avoid mourning.

He gulped in disbelief, "What do you mean, Your Highness?"

"As I said before."

"I-"

You sweep your gaze across the hall, making sure no one is watching over you.

"I'm going to get married soon. The King, His Majesty, has given His words."

You pause, biting the inside of your lower lips.

"We should end this-"

Your eyes are burning but with all your might, you try to look into your lover's eyes with all determination left in the corner of your heart. This should be the right time to break your secret relationship with the knight commander.

Your heart aches. Your feet are cuffed by the heavy weight of the crown, a price you have to pay as a part of royals. You live a sumptuous life, get the best education and all the magnificent gems, but your circle and social life are merely a political party.

Kita Shinsuke, the commander of the royal knights, never broke the rules once. Always chivalrous and honorable, with gallant manners and speech. Firm as a rock but kind as a dove, virtue shown in his actions. His comrades were loyal to him as he served the kingdom.

Kita is your father's favorite. He appointed him to be your personal guardian for some important ceremonial events, where you got closer to each other for the first time. Not only for his notable skill across the country. He had shown his loyalty during the revolt.

Cold eyes pierced the remains of his opponents, his hands and sword were stained with someone else's blood. The entire kingdom spoke of a ruthless knight commander, with fox eyes that would frighten every member of the forest. The rumor has it, never been a witness on how they turned warm to his closest one, and tender, especially to you.

It must be a major sin for you, the princess of the kingdom, His Majesty's one and only precious daughter, to grow such emotions in him, to intoxicate him with a strange infatuation. He had tasted alcohol all over the country but was never drunk. It wasn't like your smile that made him falter, not like your voice which melodiously and politely asked him.

You bear a forbidden fruit, the moment you caressed his face and innocently planted a kiss on his cheek when he was kneeling before you to devote his life unto you. When instead of taking his sword and ordaining the sacrament, you asked him to stand up and said you wanted to claim his heart with the sweetest smile poured like honey.

His heart and life have been bestowed on you. A respectful kiss on the back of your hand turned into a passionate kiss on your untouched lips under the moonlight. His hands rested casually on your side during the rendezvous on a starry night with his lips ghosted over your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "May I?" was all the words that you remembered clearly, resonated before they became hazy and you lost in the night.

Kita was the one who always been courteous, asking for your consent before he touched you. With eyes darkened and lingered a little too long beyond your eyes. He gestured whether it was okay to untie your corset, for his lips to explore your mounds, or to fill your inside with his secretion.

But you always burned for his touch, wanting him to call you by your name, instead of addressing Your Highness. The moment 'Shin' escaped from your mouth was when he knew he would do anything for you to call his name all over again, both in the softest or in the most sinful tone. You have him wrapped around your fingers.

That night you let all your emotions free. Kita benevolently helped you to undo the corset, unraveling the layers before sliding down your undergarments. He was in awe the moment you shied away with your hand trying to cover your intimate part as much as you can. He whispered with the softest mellifluous voice, telling you're the most beautiful girl in this land.

You eased, encouraging him by tugging his silver black hair when his lips were on your mounds, nipping your sensitive buds. Your mind was on cloud nine, with his fingers sliding into your fold. Your downside was drenched already by the stimulation. You muffled your whimper with the satin-covered pillow, whispering your secret about how much you love the man before you.

Your name slipped out his mouth the moment he thrust into you. Brown eyes locked with yours, his heavy breath tickled your skin when he nestled his head on your clavicle. The man became undone and vulnerable under your touch. You traced his toned torso and reached up to leave featherlight kisses on his scar, letting him know he was just as beautiful. Making love to him was fireworks of emotions.

You gasped the moment he pushed his full length unto you, kissing your cervix deliciously. The view of you stammering and chanting his name repetitively was heavenly. He stifled your cries with a kiss on your velvety lips. He went feral, aiming for the part that sent you to see the stars. His low moans and grunts dissipated into the cold night air. The thrust became slower and deeper before the knot within you untangled.

Oh, how glorious it is to see you in such a state under the chandelier. The king would certainly execute him right away if he discovered, with his head hanging at the entrance of the palace - the very idea caused him to shudder. But your sweetness was too dreamy that his mind went blank. He can't think anything more than to let you cum all over again and fills you up, his stamina was more than enough to rail you the entire night. He soothes your figure, reassuringly tracing your spine and kissing you goodnight. You were sleeping soundly in his arm before he left the room.

What if your father found out? You questioned. The night of passion left you both with fluttery feelings and fear. As much as you longed for him there would never be a chance for you to obtain his blessings. The knight won't get the right to marry the princess.

You know beyond his reserved facade, Kita really loves his job. If someone learned about your secret relationship, he will be despised. Not only expelled from his rank but he will also be banished from the kingdom. He might be accused of seducing the princess.

"May I have your assurance that you will be happy, Your Highness?"

He asks with concern. Even if it crushes him, he'll let you be as your happiness is his priority.

You avoid his soft gaze with teary eyes, clenching your fist.

"I have to-," your voice croaked, not really answering the question. 'I want to be with you' is what the heart really whispers.

He takes your cold hand delicately, brushing his lips against your knuckle. Kneeling before you, he still held your hand with grace.

"I would do anything for you. All my lines and rules. They mean nothing when it comes to you. It’d cross and break them all just to make you happy."

Kita is a man of his word and he never failed to show his devotion.

Your happiness is being with him, on how your eyes gleam in his sight. When you talk about mundane things like the sound of the bird in the morning or share the part of the poet you really love. Or when you trace an imaginary line across the stars telling him about the asterism. He will protect them at all costs.

You see the determination in his eyes.

"I fear not of anything. Say again, would you stay in this royal palace or run away with me, my love?"

(masterlist.)

#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyu x reader #hq x y/n #hq imagines #hq drabbles #hq kita #haikyuu kita #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu smut #hq smut #kita shinsuke #kita x reader #kita headcanons #kita scenarios #kita x y/n #kita x you #kita smut #kita shinsuke x you #kita shinsuke x reader #kita shinsuke x y/n

[chrisevansonly]

Just To See You Smile (harry’s angel au)

pairing: harry styles x female reader (angel)

summary: harry’s only been gone a few hours and it’s proving to take a bigger toll on you than you thought

warnings: slight angst, some tears, harry being the fluffiest and sweetest<3

a/n: my life is literally so frustrating right now; i feel lost, alone and lately trying to throw myself into writing because it feels like the only thing i’m good at: even tho most of the time i h8 my writing lol this was written in my phone and not edited yet<3

The soft fabric of the cashmere duvet was your biggest comfort as you lay in bed, unmoving from the spot you usually shared with Harry. He’d left a few hours ago to continue his tour in Belgium and yes I suppose you could call yourself dramatic, but being as pregnant as you were, the sudden disruption to your routine was throwing you off kilter more than it usually would. Despite your pleas and begging, your doctor and midwives told you travelling for the next week and a bit was not recommended, they’d noticed some concerns at your last scan which had instilled panic between both you and Harry at the time.

It hadn’t been an easy pregnancy once you’d hit 5 months along, and now you were even more on edge and anxious, your brain spinning through every possibility and every scenario that could happen to you or your daughter. In a way having Harry with you and touring with him had grounded you and allowed you time to escape the nagging your brain had been doing to you. Of course Gemma and Anne were set to arrive in a few hours to spend the next week and a bit with you, that would help, but nothing could fill that spot Harry did when he was gone.

Your eyes were tired and bloodshot, nose stuffed from the tears you’d been shedding on and off all morning, baby bee not making life any easier with her sharp kicks and rolling around she was doing. It wasn’t until your phone went off that your eyes moved from the laundry basket in the corner of the room to the screen that lit up; a photo of you and Harry at your still secret maternity shoot your newest background. Swiping to answer the facetime call, your heart clenched seeing Harry’s face, a sad smile on his face when he saw you

“My angel…”

“H-Hi”

He frowned, tears slowly lining your eyes yet again, almost in an annoying way at this point

“I’m sorry this is so hard on you baby, breaks my heart to see you so sad…how are you feeling? She not causing you too much trouble I hope?”

“I just m-miss you…don’t like being a-away from you, even if it’s only b-been a few hours…”

Sniffling you paused to wipe your eyes

“Still not feeling very well, she’s been kicking and moving a lot, i’m too tired to move though…s’like she’s sucking the energy right out of me”

It wasn’t as if you were trying to make Harry feel guilty for needing to work but you knew he’d find out how you were really feeling eventually if you lied to him, so there was no point in beating around the bush

“I wish I could snap m’fingers and make you feel better, I know this is getting harder on you, fucking sucks I can’t still be home with you right now..”

“I know…but you’re working hard and so many people are so excited to see you, guess i’m just used to touring with you that I don’t k-know what to do when I’m not”

He nodded, listening to everything you had to say, little noises of agreements or soft praises escaping every so often, anything to try and see his angel smile, that was the goal of any facetime call the two of you shared

“Mum and Gem are coming over soon right? What are you ladies gonna get up too?”

Shrugging you thought about it

“I think we’re gonna plan the nursery together, look at furniture and paint colours and work on some wedding things which I think will be a good distraction”

“That sounds fun baby, I know whatever you come up with will be amazing, you’ve got a good eye for that stuff”

“Not as good as you”

“I beg to differ”

A small smile pulled at the edge of your lips, Harry’s eyes lighting up at the sight of that

“There’s my favourite smile, love seeing you smile darling, my favourite thing in the world”

“Hard when you’re not here sometimes”

He nodded

“I know but even if i’m a country or a timezone away I’ll always make sure to see that smile, even if I have to dance around ridiculously, making you happen is my goal you know that”

Allowing another smile to appear on your face, this time bigger than the last, was enough to have Harry cheering, loudly at that

“You’re so silly…s’just a smile H”

“Yes, but it’s my favourite smile…besides I was hoping to take you on a tour around Belgium with me…maybe that will keep that pretty smile on that beautiful face of yours”

“It might…”

Harry laughed shaking his head while he brought you with him as he changed, showing you the hotel room and the view from the balcony, your eyes catching the bright colours of the city below him. He kept notice of your mood shifting, your eyes brightening the more he showed you, honestly when Jeff asked why he wanted to wait to rehearse until later, he should have known it would have something to do with you.

“Want to go see the city a bit? I’ll show you some of the cute little tea and coffee shops we spotted earlier?”

“Yes please H…love you so much you know that?”

He nodded, bringing the phone to his lips so he could press a kiss to the camera, albeit very dramatically which earned a laugh from you

“I love you more m’angel, i’d do anything for you, always”

You may not have been able to attend the next few love on tour shows, but that wouldn’t stop Harry from calling tou in every city he visited until you’d be reunited, just so he could show you the sights, the sounds and make you feel like you were with him every step of the way, even if you were stuck in London, counting down the days until you’d be back together. One day at a time, he’d tell you, and you couldn’t wait until that day you were able to rejoin him and experience the world with your own eyes again…

#harry’s angel au🦋❤️‍🔥 #harry’s angel🦋❤️‍🔥 #harry’s angel headcannons🦋❤️‍🔥 #harry styles & angel 🦋 #asks with harry and angel🦋 #harry styles x angel 🦋 #harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x female reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x pregnant!reader #harry styles x girlfriend reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #rueswrites #ruesanswers #ruesanons<3 #ruesasks #ruesfriends💙

[kelly-bands]

cake day ( CHLOE KELLY × READER )

one shot!

summary: It's wednesday, cake day! But oops, who said these two know how to bake correctly?

note: okay, this fic is according to that one survey (fluffly wins) and according to that request from chloe's pov, but I'm not a fan of writing in the first person and I decided to write in the third person.

Every wednesday of every week, of every month, Chloe Kelly and Reader would bake a cake together. It had no sentimental or significant value, the two simply entered into an agreement to always bake a cake that day, following the same steps and different recipes.

The problem is that the new recipe was more of an interpretation and cognition test for the couple than something simple and practical.

Chloe cracked the eggs in the corner of the basin: one, two, three… four. In theory, everything was supposed to be working since all the ingredients are there on the counter and so is the equipment. While Kelly started the recipe, Reader took care of the whipped cream and frosting.

" Why the fuck am I seeing four gems from afar, Chloe? " Reader complained, snooping behind her girlfriend's shoulder. It was the first sentence Kelly had heard since the two entered the kitchen minutes ago. The english attacker's optical orbs turned over due to the girlfriend's soon complaint.

" Because maybe that's what's in the fucking recipe?! " The blonde argued, leaving the cake spoon on the counter and resting her hands on the front of her white apron, intending to clean her fingers dirty by the egg whites that barely dripped.

" No, of course not. The recipe says there are only three. " A questioning and at the same time confident tone reached Kelly's ears. Reader approached the woman, while supporting the bowl full of egg whites and sugar between her arm and her chest, looking at the bowl with the supposed four egg yolks. " You don't by any chance know how to read, Chloe Kelly?" She mocked the situation.

Damn, Reader could be annoying. But very irritating when she wants to be.

The english slammed her spoon down on the table, placed the digits on her face and drained them, accompanied by a snort. "Why don't you read the recipe in the book before saying that? Maybe you're blind." Her tone rose a little, threatening to complain even more.

That was why all of Kelly's friends claimed that the two deserve each other. There were no differences, both personalities and tastes (maybe a little).

Chloe Kelly is a bit of an impatient woman, Reader too.

Chloe Kelly hates complaints, and so does Reader.

And that's exactly what the two of them were doing in the kitchen. The big problem is that perhaps it would be crossing the line, but that was the most common thing for this couple.

Reader glanced at the recipe written in the book, Kelly right after it too, but mostly pointing with her index finger where it said 'eggs'.

But the number was smudged and soiled with something dodgy.

" How do you expect me to read it if you got it dirty? " Reader complained once more, but this time with a mocking tone, aware that she would be irritating the woman more and more. Thus, she blamed Chloe for the mess that who knows who had made it.

Kelly frowned. She was praying she didn't explode in front of her girlfriend, though. This was one of the strengths of the english: even though she was impatient, she did everything not to lose Reader's company, because she adored him.

" Honey, love of my life, my princess, my love. I don't know." That was the most mocking tone Chloe could manage, since at this point, even if she was the most competitive woman in the world, she had already given up. And Reader could tell by her tone becoming calmer and lower afterwards.

Reader patted Kelly on the shoulder when she noticed her sulking, signaling that the player could continue the work that was almost going downhill, but being proud of her attempt to collaborate.

Chloe continued the recipe step by step, this time paying even more attention to each letter on that paper. At the same time, Reader was preparing the icing for the cake, mixing for a long time all the necessary ingredients.

The attacker slid the cake batter into the buttered pan, ready to be placed. Her fingers were smeared with sticky dough, grains of flour all over the front of her apron, almost as if she'd been dropped in the snow.

Baking wasn't Kelly's strong point, especially when it came to not making a mess in the kitchen.

But on the other hand, the blonde had Reader by her side. Mainly to clean up all this mess that the two made.

" That's it. " Chloe finished her part by placing the cake in the oven. Slowly she went to the faucet, intending to clean the dirty digits.

" Apparently everything worked out. " Reader dictated in a hopeful tone, after what happened. Her hands were still busy mixing the frosting, but this time, mixing the various dyes in an attempt to get the color correct (not so correct.)

After drying her fingers, Kelly's first move was to approach Reader, who was at the other counter. Chloe realized that her girlfriend would be scattered, focused on the cake, so she was opportunistic, wrapping her arms around the other's chest.

The english noticed how her girlfriend's body contracted, probably due to the fright and sudden touch. A giggle came from between those short, thick lips, close to Reader's ear. The lips descended to the shoulder, depositing a peck on the exposed skin of the Reader, in which she would promptly finish mixing the cream.

Chloe Kelly loved that, loved to always complain and argue about any micro movement of her girlfriend and then hug Reader as best she could. Be it kisses, hugs, caresses or whatever, it always soothed the blonde. Almost as if Reader was her safe haven, the only place the english could rest and take her thoughts miles from earth.

The blonde continued, her nostrils resting on the crook of Reader's neck, the sweet scent of frosting and the scent of, possibly watermelon, mingled and lingered there. This was another point Kelly loved about Reader, about how her scent was so strong (mainly because it was ALWAYS on Chloe's clothes).

" Try this, I also followed the recipe in the book. " Reader's index finger stopped backwards, even though she couldn't see Chloe properly. Covered in icing, it was an invitation for the player to put her lips there, to taste the frosting.

And that's what Chloe Kelly did. Her face, previously pressed against her girlfriend's shoulder, rose enough so that her lips could reach Reader's finger. Slowly wet lips supplied cream to index finger, ending with a small fragile bite. Reader laughed, probably because of the tickle the english gave.

" It's great. Much better than those bakery ones. " Honest and proud of Reader's talent, Chloe always distributes praise for everything her girlfriend does, and this time was no different.

The english felt Reader's body move, twisting and turning between Kelly's long arms, which released as soon as she noticed a change in her girlfriend's direction. When she realized it, Reader was literally in front of Chloe, inches away from the attacker's face. Reader's fingers slowly intertwined around the player's neck, pressing her body even closer to Kelly's.

Reader's back rested against the edge of the counter, while Chloe Kelly's frontal pressed even more, intentionally. The player's hands rested on Reader's forearms, which were pendulous and resting on Chloe's shoulder .

" What did you think of this new experience of making a cake? " Reader asked.

" Awful. " Chloe replied with no regrets. " But doing it with you was a little less work. " She completed.

" Other than the fact that you probably thought about throwing the cake at me… " Reader scoffed and chuckled, referencing the player's earlier irritation.

" Of course, you blamed me for something I didn't do. " Kelly also joined in the joke, adding a tearful tone to her speech.

"Pftt. I'm sorry then." Reader rolled her eyes, slowly dropping her head into the crook of Chloe's neck.

Again, Kelly's heart warmed as fast as a fireplace.

Even though she was a pretty closed off woman when it came to touching and silly emotions like that, she loved, adored, appreciated so much. Chloe Kelly would do anything so that every day she could feel that same touch, in every way possible.

The attacker's cerulean eyes landed fixedly on Reader's face, which in seconds rose. Moments like that where she could appreciate the beautiful face of her girlfriend were incredible, moments that the only thing that could remain was the physiognomy that always, always touched the lips in any region. These moments made her fall even more in love with the person Reader was. Moments that—

Oh shit.

The cake.

Fuck, Chloe Kelly. The damn cake.

"Shit."

Chloe broke Reader's embrace as quickly as if she were running away from her, heading straight for the oven; hot as fuck. Kelly reached for the first cloth she saw, with her other hand free, grabbed the metal handle and opened the oven.

At least something about this cake worked, which was not burning.

The digits gripping the cloth held the cake pan, which was clearly almost overcooked. The english quickly but carefully placed the cake on top of the counter. Finally able to breathe, the warm cloth was thrown over her shoulder and her hands to her waist.

“Please, let's change the cake day to something easier and more practical, Y/N” Chloe complained amidst the worrisome giggles, where she rested her fingerprints on the counter.

" If you say. “ Reader returned close to the player, at the same time, analyzing the cake inside the round mold. It wasn't ugly, or even looking like something bad, it was just… something.

The couple waited for the cake to cool, dispersing amid gossip and conversations that, in their view, would be interesting ( Discussing about species of dogs is certainly an interesting subject, Chloe Kelly.) After the necessary time, the blonde tried, carefully, remove the cake from the mold.

But it was not expected.

Even though the cake pan was buttered and Reader was there to facilitate Chloe Kelly's magnificent and crazy cuts, it didn't help one bit.

“Hand me the knife, let me do it for you. “ Reader was polite this time. She held out his hand hoping his girlfriend would give up the knife.

And this time Chloe didn't argue, discuss or even complain about Reader's attitude. Even her cheeks began to burn, perhaps from the embarrassment of not being able to cut the edges of a round cake. To help her girlfriend, Kelly fetched the bowl of icing, with mixed colors.

What the fuck?

How difficult is it for both of you to get something right?

“Ahm… Y/N. “ The english called out to Reader, who would be focused on finishing cutting this shitty cake that would be causing chaos in the kitchen. The frosting colors turned out terribly, TERRIBLY UGLY.

Something like gray mixed with brown, something like a five-year-old putting all the colors on the chromatic wheel and mixing. Chloe tried in every way to keep a small smile at least fake, so as not to cause any uncomfortable or uncomfortable feelings in her girlfriend.

“ Apparently I'm not the only one who has problems with cakes. “ Kelly finally said something after seconds of silence. And it was only after this speech that Reader turned her face, at the same time that she removed the cake from the mold with her hands, she also saw the shit she had caused in the color of the icing.

"What the fuck—" Chloe just stared at the woman who would be complaining in front of her, nothing new. " How did that happen?" Reader completed her sentence, with a forlorn tone.

" Nice question. " The english quickly tried to come up with some response that wasn't totally her own girlfriend's fault.

" Right. Let's take it easy, let's not give up now. " Oh, done. Now Reader was trying to come up with some solution to all this shit. " Let's use that, and as for the cake, it's okay to be almost breaking. " No, it's not okay. A cake breaking apart is not a cake, Reader.

Chloe rubbed her right eye with her index finger, this whole situation was making her tired. She went for a spoon and spatula, already intending to cover the cake.

Kelly immediately began icing the unfortunately gray frosting, while Reader just watched, not wanting to create any more intrigue.

And apparently, that was the only thing that had worked out of the whole recipe.

Slowly the cake would be taking a beautiful shape and its color, in the end, maybe it wouldn't be so ugly after all. Maybe something rustic, maybe something fashionable among wealthy elderly people.

Chloe focused on spreading that cream on the outside of the cake without saying a word. Little by little, her fingers began to get dirty, gooey, as a result of trying to turn the cake on the turntable. But it was her way, and in the end, the important thing would be the result.

Mainly the taste.

Reader looked down at her girlfriend, working hard to finish the cake. Days like these, even if they were disastrous, were the best days for both of them. Chloe Kelly's biggest hobby ever was spending time with her family, even on the few days she was able to travel there.

However, her problem of being away from her family was solved from the moment she began to consider Reader part of his family. So Chloe always gave her maximum effort in situations like these, even if she never even did it, even if they argued, even if unforeseen things happened.

Even if everything went wrong, it would be okay, because she is doing with the best person in her own family, Reader would always be on her side.

Deep down, Chloe Kelly loved spending time with her wife; your girlfriend, your family.

" What about? Kelly murmured, finishing off one last spatula on the cake. She immediately brought her wrist to her forehead, wiping the little sweat that was almost accumulating.

Surely if Chloe Kelly and Reader were on a cake competition show, they would be the first ones eliminated.

" Enough with opinions for today. Let's eat it now. " Reader's tone only confirmed that the cake was not in the best, not even aesthetically.

"Yeah, it's better."

Chloe selected a random plate from the cupboard that she could place the cake on top of, and said she did. The english took advantage of the situation to immediately cut it in a triangular shape.

She placed the piece on an individual glass plate and handed it over, accompanied by a fork.

" Moment of truth! " Kelly started her bad imitation of drums.

Reader allowed herself a smile as she slowly popped a piece of the beautiful cake into her own mouth.

Let's face it, Reader would have made the ugliest face in the world if the cake had tasted bad.

" It's not bad, but it's not the best thing in the world either! " She stated, licking her lips while letting out the cutest laugh possible. "Try it too."

Kelly picked up another fork, eating the same piece of cake.

It was true, it wasn't a bad thing. To be honest, in their opinion, it was better than some low-income bakeries.

" Don't doubt my baking skills. " The player, inwardly, felt quite proud of being able to bake a cake without exploding the gas.

" Right! Next wednesday, roulade? " Reader questioned and presented a new recipe.

Damn? This feels like a game of levels, each time you go up, the difficulty increases even more.

" And that talk about making something easier?"

" Forget it, it's always good to challenge yourself. "

" Okay. With you, anything. " There's a first time for everything.

And Chloe Kelly always wants to have the first turn of things with her girlfriend.

#chloe kelly #chloe kelly imagine #woso #woso community #woso imagine #woso x reader #chloe kelly x reader #woso soccer #woso couples #chloe kelly enthusiast #fanfic #fic #fluff #chloe kelly fluff #woso fluffly #woso fluff #fanfic fluff