#the next time I gif this I would have seen it with my own two eyes omfg

[candycandy00]

This is my first time really interacting on here, but I really love you work so I just had to request something.💜💜

Character: Nanami

AU Setting: Masquerade ball

Spice Level: NSFW

Mood: Your choice

Kinks: Degradation and size difference

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Non Curse AU. Degradation. Dirty talk. Size difference. 

Part of CandyCandy’s 2k Followers Event! Any feedback at all is adored! Dividers by @benkeibear.

 The stranger at the open bar is looking at you again. He’s totally your type, with his slicked back blonde hair and impeccably tailored black suit. He’s tall, muscular but not too bulky, and he stands there holding a drink in his large hand as his eyes slide over to you again. He’s wearing a black silk mask that covers the top half of his face, the sort most of the men are wearing at this swanky masquerade ball for bored rich assholes. 

You’re just here for the free drinks and food. Your uncle’s tech start up recently hit it big, so he got an invite to this party two weeks ago. “New Money”, they probably called him. But of course his perpetually single ass didn’t have a date, so he invited you to be his plus one. He even bought you a fancy cocktail dress, in shimmery fuchsia with a low neckline and high split up to the hip. You topped it off with a matching lace mask. 

When the two of you walked in, your uncle patted your back and jokingly told you to “go nab yourself a rich guy”. You smiled and grabbed a glass of champagne from a tray being carried by a server. 

That was over an hour ago, and you’ve barely seen your uncle since then. You spotted him a couple of times, chatting with other tech business bigwigs, but otherwise you’ve been on your own. You don’t mind. The food is fabulous and the drinks are plentiful. 

Then there’s the handsome stranger who keeps looking your way. You can see his eyes through the holes in his mask, can watch them travel up and down your body as you move across the room. There’s a dance floor where some of the early 20’s folks are dancing, so you head over and put on a little show. You may not be used to fancy places like this, but you go to clubs with your friends every weekend, so you know how to shake your ass to some music.

It worked. The stranger’s full attention is on you, his eyes practically glued to your every move. You wish he would just come over and dance with you, but you suppose he’s too mature for that. He gives off a totally different vibe from the young guys who hang around you at the club. 

Feeling emboldened by his hungry gaze, you work your way over to the bar and stand a few feet away from him, tantalizingly close yet just out of reach. You fan yourself as if you’re hot after dancing, hoping your perfume drifts over to him. 

Within seconds, he moves closer to you, leaning back against the bar casually as he asks, “Who did you come with?”

Are you that obviously out of place? You smile at him. “Who says someone didn’t come with me?” you say teasingly, sipping your fruity drink. 

“Just a hunch,” he replies, glancing at you sideways. 

You point to your uncle across the room. He’s laughing a little too loudly, being just a tad too clingy to the bear-like man standing next to him. You hope they’re hitting it off. “My uncle didn’t have a date, so I tagged along.”

The stranger smiles faintly. Was that his way of finding out if you’re single? His eyes roam blatantly up and down you again. You hope he’s enjoying the closer look. You certainly are. He’s tall enough to tower over you, and his warm, honey-colored eyes draw you in. He’s the kind of man you want on top of you at the nearest opportunity. 

“Are you enjoying the party?” he asks, moving even closer to you. He smells expensive. 

“The drinks and the food? Yeah. Not sure about the people yet,” you say with a grin. 

“Oh? This isn’t your usual crowd?”

You turn your whole body to face him. “Not really. I don’t usually hang around snobby rich jerks. But maybe a few of them are alright.” You say the last part playfully, looking him up and down the way he did you. 

His eyes flick down to your chest, as if tracing the dipping neckline, then return to your face. “Perhaps we could talk in one of the private rooms, and you can find out if I’m ‘alright’.” 

You feel your heartbeat getting faster as your excitement builds, but you maintain your breezy attitude. “Private rooms? Are we allowed to go in those? The owner of this house might not like that.”

The person throwing this lavish party is also the owner of this ridiculously huge mansion. Your uncle mentioned their name but it didn’t seem important at the time. 

The stranger smiles again. “I’m sure he won’t mind.”

He holds out his hand, and you take it, trying to keep your breathing steady as he escorts you through the room. He keeps pace with you, probably walking more slowly than he’d prefer, and moves in such a way that it seems like he’s clearing the path for you. Such a gentleman! You really hope he’ll be fucking you like a whore soon. 

As the two of you step into a hallway, you notice the marble floors and the walls lined with paintings. “Look at this,” you say. “Who actually needs all this? It’s obnoxious.”

The stranger chuckles. “You really think so?”

You stop to look at a Chinese vase. It probably cost more than your apartment and your car combined. “All this stuff is beautiful, but I heard the owner lives here alone. He has to get lonely in this giant house, right?”

The stranger regards you for a moment, then says, “He probably does. Maybe he even throws these parties just to have some company.”

You think about his answer. “If that’s the case, I feel bad for him.”

The stranger says no more on the topic, instead leading you into what appears to be some sort of dressing room with an enormous walk-in closet. It’s exactly the kind of room you imagine a stupidly rich guy would get dressed in. There are multiple full length mirrors, high quality lighting, and a display case showing off dozens of expensive looking watches. 

You turn to look at the stranger as he closes the door behind him. He holds out his large yet elegant hand to you again, and when you take it, he suddenly pulls you close, right up against his body. Oh god, he’s so firm and strong! He leans his face down and kisses your lips, both of you still wearing your masquerade masks. His hands slide across your back, one of them moving down to squeeze your ass. 

He pulls away and looks at you, his dark eyes peering into yours. “What would you like me to do?” he asks, his voice low. 

You lean in closer to him, pressing yourself to his warm, sturdy form, and whisper, “I want you to wreck me.”

He puts both hands on your shoulders and, not too hard but not too gently, pushes you down to your knees in front of him. He unbuttons his sleek black pants as he says, “Let’s put that annoying little mouth to good use.”

Oh fuck. How does he know exactly what you’re into? Maybe you give off a vibe. You watch with anticipation, licking your lips, as he pulls out his beautiful, massive cock. Is everything about this man as sexy as possible? From the color to the shape to the thick, delectable meatiness, his cock is gorgeous. 

You don’t waste any time. You lean forward and run your tongue over it, spreading your saliva around, before wrapping your lips around it. You take him so deep, it feels like he’s halfway down your throat, and you love the fact that there’s going to be a hot pink lipstick stain around the base of his cock. 

His hand is in your hair, grip firm but not harsh. “You’re practically swallowing me,” he says. “You must’ve been hungry for cock all night. Is that why you put on that lewd little show for me on the dance floor? So you could end up on your knees for me?”

You look up at his face, your mouth still stuffed full, and mumble a whiny “mmhmm” around his cock. You can see his eyes widen slightly behind the mask, feel his fingers flexing within your strands. You move your head back and forth, fucking him with your throat, fighting back gags, your tongue swirling around him the whole time. 

And when he reaches his limit, he pulls your head back and says, “Open wide.”

You’re happy to obey, sticking your tongue halfway out of your mouth to give him a proper place to aim. When his warm cum hits your tongue and lips, you slowly swirl it around your mouth, giving him time to see it pooled inside before swallowing it. 

He loosens his tie and then lowers himself to his knees in front of you before unbuttoning his shirt, leaving both it and his jacket on but open. You can see his toned torso, can feel how damp your panties have become. He slides the straps of your dress down, revealing your breasts, and then leans down to take one hard nipple into his mouth. You moan as you dig your fingers into the fabric of his jacket. 

The stranger eases you onto your back on the floor, then pushes your shimmering dress up to your waist. It’s the most expensive dress you’ve ever worn, and right now you don’t give a shit it gets dirty. He slides down your lace panties and opens your legs, looking down at your wetness with a somewhat self satisfied smile. 

“So wet for me,” he says as his fingers probe your depths. “Such a little slut, getting soaked for a man who’s face you haven’t even seen.”

Ahhh, fuck, his voice turns you on so much! His fingers rubbing circles into your clit are driving you wild. You want him, no you need him inside you! 

“Please,” you whine, tugging him closer. 

He withdraws his hand and lifts your hips off the floor, pulling your lower half into his lap, his thick cock resting against your needy pussy. “Do you want my cock?”

“Yes, please!” you cry, wiggling in his lap, desperate for some friction. 

He has mercy on you, positioning himself at your entrance and then plunging inside. You gasp in pleasure, arching your back as he begins thrusting into you. 

“So tight,” he groans, gripping your thighs. “You’re clenching me so hard… so desperate… Fuck, you’re the cheapest whore I’ve ever had! You probably would’ve paid me for this cock!”

“Ahhh! Yes, I’m a whore for you! Please fuck me harder!” you scream, feeling your climax approach as he repeatedly hits your g-spot. When he slams into you one more time, you feel the pleasure wash over you as you cum, moaning and trembling. 

He gives a few more pumps, then completely buries himself inside you as he cums, filling you up so well. 

You both pant as he pulls out and stands up, buttoning his clothes. He then extends his hand to you again and helps you to your feet. While you straighten your dress and pull your straps back up, he looks at you somewhat sheepishly and says, “I hope I didn’t go too far with my words.”

You blink in surprise, then laugh. “Oh, don’t worry about it! I was into it.”

He smiles. “I thought so. I’m glad.”

You open your mouth to respond, but there’s a sudden knock on the door. The stranger walks over and opens it. A man in a server’s uniform is standing in the doorway, looking frazzled. 

“There you are, sir! We’ve been looking all over for you!” the server says breathlessly. 

“Oh? And what do you need?” 

“We’ve run out of champagne! Your guests are getting irritated!”

The stranger pats the server’s back. “Send Ryusuke to buy more immediately. Everything will be fine, I’ll go talk to the guests.”

The server seems to relax. “Thanks, Nanami-san.”

You watch the scene, trying to keep your jaw from dropping. Now you remember the name of the host, the man who owns this huge mansion that you’ve been shit talking all night. 

Nanami turns to look at you over his shoulder, a sly grin on his face. “Will you be accompanying me back to the ballroom?”

You smile back at him. “Of course. I might get lost in this stupidly huge house otherwise.”

He takes your hand. “Perhaps if you started visiting on a regular basis, you could learn your way around.”

You walk out the door with him. “That would probably work, Nanami-san.”

#nanami x reader #nanami #nanami smut #kento nanami #nanami x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #x reader #candys2kevent

[squintyeyedjoel]

Look For The Light | (Joel x Reader) - Coming Soon!

Synopsis: When Joel and Ellie are on their way to find the Fireflies, they stumble across something else in an abandoned farmhouse. Something unexpected and life changing - you. ….and the three year old toddler you rescued three days ago that happens to harbor something familiar Joel has a hard time reconciling with.

(Sneak peek below the cut!)

Suddenly the handle on the door to your room jiggled, making the breath stutter in your chest.

The low voice on the other side of the wooden barrier made you jump. “I’ll give you to the count of three, otherwise I’m breakin’ this thing down.”

You gulped.

“One.”

Silence.

“Two.”

A beat more.

“Three.”

Suddenly the door swung open, the latch busting into pieces and skittering across the floor as the hulking frame of a man barreled through shoulder first. Just behind him you saw a teenaged girl peeking in curiously from the top of the steps.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, offering a timid smile. “I’d have met you at the door, but,” you looked down toward the bundle in your arms, the smile turning more genuine. “My hands are full.”

“Holy fucking shit,” the teenager mumbled, before trying to make her way around the grumpy looking man. He caught her by her backpack, not allowing her any closer, to which she turned a skeptical look his way. “Really, Joel? It’s a baby. What’s it gonna do, drool me to death?”

You snorted a laugh, arching an eyebrow at the man- Joel’s unimpressed look your way.

“It’s a toddler. They’d scream your ear off b’fore they’d drool-” He stopped when he glanced from the tiny human in your arms who looked up at him with wide, curious eyes, and focused back on the teen, finding her already looking at him with raised brows.

After a moment he released her with a sigh, and she took a few tentative steps your way, wide grin climbing up her face.

“How would you know, anyway?” She teased the man without sparing him a glance.

The look he shot at the back of the girl's head made you want to grin, but you successfully tucked it into the top of the little human’s head in your lap.

“I’m older ‘an you. Been ‘round the block a few times, is all. Know a thing or two.” His voice was a rumbling grouse, the dry tone exasperated and saying he’d been here a time or two before, this argument worn and thin.

“Yeah, because you’re ancient,” she mocked.

“Ain’t that old,” he grumbled.

“Dirt is younger, Joel.”

“Not worried I’m infected?” You kept your voice calm, not wanting to poke the angry bear known as Joel.

The girl smiled in a way that said she had more to say than what she was telling as she knelt next to you. “No. Not really.”

“Ellie,” Joel groaned, taking a step closer as the teen sat next to you, her shoulder lightly bumping against your own as her back pressed against the wall.

“I’m not, by the way,” you looked between them both. “Infected.” Looking down to the toddler in your arms, snorting as she tried to hide further into your threadbare shirt, you couldn’t help but smile softly. “Neither is she.”

“What’s her name?” Ellie reached out a finger for the little one to hold. It was taken tentatively, and given a firm shake like she had seen countless adults do around her in the QZ you’d been in before.

It made Joel snort out a laugh through his nose.

“Sarah.”

The laugh turned into a choking sound, quickly melting into a coughing fit as Joel bent over at his waist, bracing his hands on his knees as he fought for air.

“You okay, old man?”

You tried to stifle the smile Ellie’s comment brought to your face before you turned your gaze back up to Joel once again.

After a long moment, he stood up straight with a huff. “Fine.” Another long pause. “Just swallowed wrong.”

Wanna be tagged if/when I write any future Joel stuff? Here’s how to sign up!

#the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller reader insert #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfic #tlou fic #tlou fluff #tlou imagine #tlou reader insert #joel miller comfort #joel miller angst #the last of us reader insert #the last of us imagine #the last of us x reader #the last of us x you #the last of us x y/n #tommy miller #ellie williams #dina the last of us

[precious-little-scoundrel]

|| My fellow Colonel

Y’all asked for it and here it is. Whew, I wrote all of it today so here’s to hoping it is tolerably alright. Also, as an aside, I am just shy of 1k followers and that’s astounding to me. I had to rebuild this blog from scratch in December after two previous deactivations where I lost a similar amount collected over a far longer time. I’m truly so grateful for each of you who take an interest in sharing this little corner of the internet with me. Thank you, thank you!

Warnings: usual universe warnings apply, 18+ with additional chapter warnings for gore and violent character death, brief mention of racial discrimination and a very dark headspace for Ida at times including brief yet crassly recollected sexual assault

April 1945, escape spoilers ahead

“Bitte.” Ida kept her hands placating, outstretched and harmless by her side, the most open expression on her face that she could summon as she stared the woman down, “Bitte nicht!”

For eleven days she and Smith and Cleven had managed to scrounge their way westward, evading recapture or altercation. But eating from the dead horses on the side of the road was out of the question, agricultural fields were churned to sludge by Amtrak’s and the small amount of wheat berries they found in one abandoned supply truck had long since ceased to fuel their weakening bodies.

They had passed by a camp, one that they observed from the shelter of the woods to be abandoned or liquidated, once used for civilian labor, judging by the signs. After a careful reconnaissance it was agreed that Ida should go and act on her hope that the commandant's empty dwelling may not have been completely ransacked. That there might be some leftover provisions either there, or in the homes of the other personnel. She had had no luck at the commandant’s, it had been empty, no luck in the next idyllic little shack either, only the eerie knickknacks of some bygone person whose vocation it was to deal in pure evil.

In the third house she had found jars of spoiled milk, tubers of some sort gone to sprouts but she did not care, she grabbed a ratty towel lying on the floor and made a sling for them. She was in the process of prying a loose floorboard up, anticipating some root cellar below when the whining creak of a sneaking step sounded behind her in the still place.

She whirled around in a crouch, half expecting either one of her companions or else one of the many starving children they encountered on the road. Instead, silhouetted inside the bright doorway there was a woman, in the uniform of a guard and with a Lugar poised at the ready. Ida felt a cold spike of fear at the flashing recollection of her last encounter with such a female, at the horrid misery that was Ravensbruck, the complete and entire lack of respect shown to her or her girls by these indoctrinated tools.

Ida’s grasp of German had been sufficient enough to keep herself and her companions away from suspicion in their occasional interactions with passersby. While she wore the heavy overcoat of a military man, it had no markings, and it was just as likely for some freezing civilian to steal it off a carcass as it was for an American female officer to be on the loose. Ida knew this and she tried to play at being dumb, pointing to the food, explaining in unstudied desperation that she was starving.

The female guard observed her coldly, her impassive face showing a certain lack of curiosity or even remote interest in Ida’s narrative that made her heart quicken with a presentment of a swift and sudden execution. She has seen these guards lift a gun, squeeze the trigger, and move on boredly all in the matter of a second. What about her own features or story were so compelling to prevent it?

“Bitte nicht!” She repeated again, choosing to take a step forward, eyeing the woman’s grip and posture, professional, soldierly, the woman left little opening for Ida to capitalize on, but she would rather get a bullet in the gut while fighting than be shot hunkering over stolen potatoes.

There was a darkening in the doorway, it caught Ida’s eye right before she timed her launch. It was Cleven. His appearance made her hesitate a moment too long. He had his arm barred around the guard’s throat in an instant but the pistol was out of his reach and one stride too far away from Ida’s grasp. Unlike the hapless children in the forest that had attacked them days ago, this officer had bullets. Ida felt the searing tear of its bite smart her shoulder, blurring her vision in pain before she rushed in, clasping her own hands around the pale wrist.

Cleven had the woman’s eyes rolling back with his grip, her grapple at his forearm growing feeble as her oxygen ran low. Another shot rang out, a bullet embedding in the ceiling rafters as Ida managed to wrench it away at last. She turned it on the woman and fired, only to find her luck run out again, as well as the chamber.

There was a knife in the guard's boot, both women seemed to think of it at the same instant as the guard became possessed with a final animated struggle to reach for it, desperate to break out of Cleven’s strangle. But Ida wasn’t about to watch another friend die, or miss her chance to go home, to bear witness to what her girls, her men, her brother were yet enduring, not to spare herself a fleeting moment of misplaced mercy. She dove for the boot, wrenched the knife free from its sheath and drove the blade in under the sternum, carving it upwards as she herself rose to her feet. Her wrist was fully in the chest cavity, arm covered with warm still living blood, by the time she saw the guard’s head loll impassively against Cleven’s chest, the soul finally gone dim behind the eyes.

“Sweet Jesus.” He stepped back from the corpse, letting go. Ida felt the weight of the body in her wrist as her grip on the knife was all that kept it standing. She tore the weapon free with another sickly gush, and blearily observed it crumple to the floor.

“There are spuds.” she told Cleven as she braced her hands on her knees, nodding to her abandoned sack of potatoes. The edges of her vision were blurring from the exertion, her coat sleeve was soaked to the elbow, but she had a weapon now and a dead Nazi at her feet. Both sat well with her.

The potatoes bought them another days walk, with Smith using the ratty towel to wrap Ida’s shoulder, it was only a flesh wound. That evening they had another run in, but this time it was with the friendly faces of gum chewing yanks who were welcoming with their smokes and their K rations. Poor infantry boys, they were bamboozled by the existence of a female officer, the experiment of integration having only added to the flyboys somewhat derisive glamor. But it was mostly awe, and a healthy amount of respect, that they showed for the blood smeared lady Colonel.

“That make you one of Brady’s Banshees?” one bright corporal made conversation with Ida as he allowed her a seat beside himself on the hood of a tank, it was a hitched ride into Belgium.

“She is Brady.” Smith drawled for her, enjoying far more than Ida how gobsmacked the man was to be in the presence of feminine greatness.

They were welcomed warmly everywhere by their fellow allies, ferried like heroes on any conveyance possible. Smith was their cheery intercessor, knowing her superiors were of so torn a spirit and conflicted of conscience as to be half inclined to go back to where they came from. In truth, Ida could hardly bring herself to board the last plane -an unbelievable courtesy taking them from Paris straight to Thorpe- as all she could think on were what repercussions might have been exacted on the others for their escape. And what cruelties she had left her brother to endure without her.

Cleven was not much better; Egan, Maureen, all of them still left behind. As they took their seats on the benches, felt the old nostalgic rumble of the engines, not of a Fort but of a Gooneybird, what should have been a lightening of spirits as they soared over the channel was instead a dismal camaraderie of guilt.

That fateful night when they had all agreed to escape before crossing the Danube, the organization had been infuriatingly chaotic yet the groups were chosen with emphatic pragmatism. The guards were used to watching certain persons in company with their favorite fellows. The Bradys, the Buckys, Smith and Murph, each had some comrade the Germans expected to be their partner in any subversive endeavor. With this in mind, their agreed-upon groups were intentionally fractured to confuse their captors, each hoping to meet up somewhere on the road or in the forest.

Cleven and Ida had waited only a few hundred yards in the tree line for over an hour, hoping to be joined by their fellows. In the end only Smith came, with the word that the gig was up, Egan had been detained, John Brady never even began to saunter off before they closed the perimeter. No more were coming. It took all of Smith’s vicious logic to keep the officers from going back, she had to lean on reminders of reprisals and certain death, how they could in no way alleviate the suffering of the others by rejoining them.

What they could do was carry through, escape, go back to England, spread the word, liberate.

Despite this inner turmoil, Ida felt like kissing the ground when her feet landed on East Anglian soil. Or, rather, the cement of the old familiar runway. Instead she settled for Crosby‘s cheeks, the beaming fellow being so utterly honest in his welcome that some tiny part of her melted in momentary relief at having actually made it. That hadn’t really sunk in, not until there was an English mist pelting her face and Harry’s crinkled cheeks between her hands.

“A major?!” she repeated his rank and felt prouder than his mother in that moment while Harry blushed scarlet under the affirmation.

“A-and a father.” tumbled out of his mouth as a deflection except, that subject made a great hullabaloo too, with even Cleven growing exuberant in his congratulatory shoulder slapping. “What am I doing makin’ you stand out here, get in the jeep sirs, I’ll take you to a hut, or-or the club? Or the doctor?”

Both Ida and Cleven stiffened in their swing into the jeep at the last suggestion, a brittle defensiveness tightening their smiles, “Bed and board are all we need, thanks Crosby.” Gale gave him one of those devastatingly final little nods of his.

They kept him occupied and rambling on the ride, updates on new crews, new buildings, Jeffreys, Meatball, the improvement of rations, tales of bombing Berlin, the prospect of victory within reach. By the time he’d parked outside Cleven’s old barracks, Harry knew next to nothing about their own experiences, and he felt that somehow to have been quite calculated.

“There’s still a ladies sector, Colonel,” Harry assured Ida, much to her confusion as to why there wouldn’t be, “I’ll take you and Smith there.”

The old hut was as she remembered it, same as all the others, curved metal amplifying the patter of rain and the monotonous comfort of Air Force regulated bunking. It hit then, no more wooden combines or roadside shelters. She was really back.

“Where the hell is everyone?” Smith asked, the place eerily quiet, even for midday.

“There at- there at work.” Crosby offered haltingly.

Suspecting something dreadful, or as Bucky liked to say of her instincts -sniffing out bullshit- Ida slowly turned to Crosby and gave him a stare, one she recalled having once effectively shrank the man by a few literal inches. Perhaps because it was remarkably similar to her brother’s. Harry bore up under it better now, oak leaf cluster on his breast or a hard three years adding some spine to him, she didn’t know, but still his expression wavered guiltily.

“At work?” she repeated his phrasing, “That what the kids call war these days?”

“A few, a couple, -some,” he settled on, “are on missions. We’ve been uh, we’ve been running a lot of missions. Picking up prisoners -like you guys.”

“The rest?”

“At work.”

“Where’s this work?”

“Uh, well, various posts, you know how it is-“

“-grounded?” She supplied.

“Well, yeah. Just like Douglass and me and-“

“They badly hurt? Who’re we talking about?”

“Colonel,” Harry begged her, looking mildly close to drowning on dry land and sending a wet eyed sos at Smith, “dozens of them are posted here. Grounded yes, but, in good positions, required positions-“

“Did they get corresponding promotions?” Ida hit back, “Were they grounded because they were too valuable or were they hurt? Or did they just get squirreled away in some cupboard with a typewriter?”

“Look, uh, sir,” Harry chuckled nervously, “a lot of them are on missions, some of them are at their jobs -where I should be right now. But, it’s true, uh, the brass thought that, well they weren’t sure, Ida, when we got word you’d escaped we wanted to welcome you back right and uh, we didn’t know what to expect. We’ve had a lot of reports. Some reassuring and a lot…not. Not reassuring at all. And uh, we didn’t know what to expect, they didn’t know and uh, depending on how you were, it could affect the morale. So they thought, clear the place out a little, yeah? Make sure you were -you were…”

“Didn’t wanna scare the kids.” Ida supplied, tone softened, suspecting she probably did look half witch from all her trials.

“We didn’t know what to expect.” Harry repeated, a significant amount of relief bleeding into his voice, like he was going to get choked up on her mere continued existence.

“Well I need a change of clothes, and I need a shower.” Ida smiled at him until he gave her a fastidious look while glancing at her blood stained coat and she sent him a sour glare in return, “And a nap. And then I dare say nothing about me will be cause for alarm, not even for general LeMay.”

Harry was back to chuckling nervously as he walked his way backwards out the hut. “Of course, yeah, uh, we tried to supply uniforms, laid them out -best we could scrounge, for now.”

“Thanks Croz.” Smith offered, trying to soften the ending of this interaction.

“Before you go,” Ida stalled him, “tell me a little about the new ones? Who should I know? What should I know? Hate to wake up in here and have to start making acquaintances from scratch.”

“Colonel,” Harry answered her in the most mournful voice, “there aren’t any new ones.”

That old whiff of cold dread was back. “Crosby.”

“They uh, after you went down, colonel they, they scrapped the program.”

“You cannot be-“ Ida rubbed at her throat, trying to get it to open up, wondering what the hell it must be like to be Gale Cleven and get to come back to Thorpe Abotts and nothing be different, get to be home and get to find everything where it should be because your own higher ups aren’t fighting against you right along with the bastards with the flak and the barbed wire and the endless taunts about women being made for breeding. “Crosby what do you mean scrapped? They shut it down?” she wished she sounded angry, but she knew it was a cry, and to his credit he looked ready to cry for her.

“Colonel I’m so sorry, the reports were so alarming and the-“ he shook his head, “-they grounded all female servicemen right after. Cut the program, if it wasn’t for Kidd they might’ve sent them all back, discharged or moved to the WASPS. Well, they stayed, but, it’s not- it’s not what it was, colonel.”

Ida bit her lip, that old throbbing pain from the old injury of her cheek bloomed again, it felt like arriving at the stalag in one too many ways. “Y-you said something about, you said some were up on missions.” She wracked her brain for it and found it, that one bit of hope and she clung to it like a woman drowning.

“Yeah!” Crosby was over eager to soothe the pain with the modicum of good news he had, “They are! Rosenthal he uh, he’s over the squadrons now and uh, he’s seen to it they are allowed up. Mostly uh, mercy runs or behind allied lines, they don’t want anyone captured but, they’re up. They’re getting their thirty missions. They’ve uh, they’ve changed the number, since you were here.”

“Thirty.” she repeated numbly.

Harry’s footsteps had long ago receded along the gravel outside by the time Ida allowed herself enough movement to sink atop the pristinely made bed in her filthy clothes and just stare at the opposite bunk of equally pristine sheets and all of it so pristine and so rigorous and so proud and so pristine and so-

The echo of her own scream startled her, banging off the tin walls and circling back to her. Ida felt more than saw the implacable Tallulah Smith jump in fright beside her, but that level headed woman knew better than to soothe her officer. Not after what they’d just learned. She bit her tongue and busied herself sorting amongst the clothes and provisions for towels, combs, soap, toothbrushes. Ida watched this rich display of care on the part of their fellows with a snarl bending her lip, she could taste salt and knew she was also crying and all that she could hear amongst the cacophony in her head was a desperate wail -she didn’t want combs and towels, she wanted her squadron back.

Some aspect of this heartbroken petulance must’ve shown on her face as Smith extended both a comb and towel to her with forceful kindness, “LeMay didn’t lay these out.” was all she commented. “Think of it as Harry’s hospitality. You look a mess, and won’t get any respect for it.”

Smith had some vantage point from which to speak, Ida knew. Native American with bronzed skin just shy of being segregated twice over, getting screwed over was something Smith had made into an art form of cat and mouse. Ida had long admiringly observed it; she never thought she’d need to adopt a similar posture to this degree. Not when she felt like grabbing at the knife still in her trench coat pocket and making a charming scene and all it would get her was confirmation of the reports.

Whatever those were. Alarming reports, apparently. It was so very upper brass of them all to find the enemy’s methods unfortunate and so shoot themselves in the foot like it evened things out.

“I’ll be along in a minute.” Ida insisted to Smith from her bunk, refusing more than the towel and comb.

They’d all been through hell for daring to be combatants. But Ida, at this news of her loss, was beginning to recall particular parts of her own hell she had not dwelt on since they occurred.

Colonel -the way each had called her that, sneering at the mere concept of a colonel with a cunt, an officer so easily breached, a leader made by her Creator to be bent over and taken. She’d had a squadron then, and no amount of scorn or cruelty could take that from her; no, only her friends could take that away.

And they had.

Robert Rosenthal was giving himself a little pump up speech as he stalled outside with his hand on the door knob, knowing he needed to knock first and that knocking would buy him a little more time to ready himself, and so he really should go ahead and knock. The pattering drizzle on his hat brim should have been human incentive enough to get inside already, if duty and honor and admiration weren’t quite cutting it today. But he stalled, even went so far as to cast an indefensibly juvenile and furtive glance over his shoulder at the shrinking form of the accommodating lady who’d passed him on his march here. A Lieutenant Smith, who had told him she was glad to be back and that her famed superior was still inside-

“Angry as God after catching the Israelites worshiping cows at Mount Carmel.”

Rosenthal knew Ida Brady had every reason to be utterly furious, hell -he was furious for her, with her, about her. And he had no right to stand there and wish she wouldn’t take it out on him, to defend himself with shitty excuses like the fact a few of the girls got to see the top of clouds because he had put his shiny and promoted boot down and asked for it. He wasn’t exactly the problem, perhaps, but he was, by sheer implication of it being men like him unable to require better treatment, at fault. And so, Rosie stood in the drizzle and gave himself one last minute to think about Colonel Ida Brady as she had been the last time he’d seen her, terrifyingly formidable and utterly kind.

“It’s no worse than your dread of it, I swear.” she had told him and Nash that night before their first time up, “I was relieved to have seen it.”

What had she seen since? He stared at the little leather binder in his hand and scoffed at the administrative mission that carried him here. To hell with it. He knocked, he waited, he knocked once more, and he went in.

The stipple of rain on the roof of an empty Nissen hut was a calming background noise he himself savored whenever possible. Despite their bare aesthetic and extreme practicality, there was a serenity to them as well, and on spotting a seated figure a few bunks down from the entrance, he felt a pang of empathy for the desire to just decompress.

She looked up at the sound of his footfalls, not startled in the least. Not angry. In fact, she looked utterly dazed, like the men he’d helped out of their forts after a bad run of it. A face he’d seen in the mirror once or twice or a couple dozen. There was a docile listlessness in her gaze that he knew better than to be comforted by, despite the selfish feeling of relief at not immediately being eviscerated about her squadron. She was gaunt, understandably so, her strong jaw so pronounced he could cut his thumb on it, the pallor of her skin jarred unsettlingly with her dark brows, set off in stark relief by her tangled, jet black hair. Her overcoat was half muddy brown, half doleful rust. There was a bloody story there, a recent one, not washed away by a hard rain or bath. Rosenthal didn’t have any doubt how that struggle had ended for her assailant: she was here, wasn’t she?

He’d never seen anything more magnificent in all his life than this battered figure sat on a pristine cot with dawning recognition in her eyes.

“Welcome back, Colonel!” he ventured, keeping his tone soft as befitted the setting, yet unable to keep the creeping happiness at her return from showing in his voice.

“Mm, yes. Rosenthal.” Ida was straightening automatically, rising from her seat, shrugging off her clumsy overcoat and standing near to attention at sight of the brass on his lapel, “I remember you. A Colonel now, I see. Well done.”

Rosie felt his cheeks burn, another juvenile thing, her hand extended itself to his surprise and he clasped it warmly, maybe a little too firmly. “Well that’s kind of you, Ma’am. Very kind. Welcome back, Colonel.”

“You’ve said that already.”

“Apologies.” he stumbled, releasing her hand in hopes of regaining his thoughts. She didn’t look angry yet, she looked wary, “Just glad to have you back. There was…a lotta concern.”

“It was touch and go but -here I am.”

“Right.” There was silence after that, it was so thick that the quirk of his kind lips and the gleam of his eager eyes slowly dimmed and fell as no small talk resumed. “Uh, colonel,” he ventured, “due to those aforementioned concerns, uh, I’ve been asked-“

“Aforementioned? What kind of talk is that?”

“Ha, well, lawyerly talk I’m afraid. I need to get a report from you, colonel.”

“For God’s sake man, I just got here, maybe with a shower and a nap and a cup of joe I might have a report for you but- I just got here.”

“Yes.” he refused to wince, he refused to. He was a colonel now, he had to require unpleasant things every day from his friends. Today it was required from a hero. Small difference in a war. “And if it were up to me I’d give you weeks to do all that before asking a thing from you. But I can’t, colonel. They wanted an immediate, preliminary report. It’s -it’s the same as an integration after a mission. Less interaction beforehand, less time to confuse the details- you get my drift.”

“You’re under orders.”

“I am.”

“Why didn’t you say? God’s sake Rosenthal.” she was close to angry now.

“Sorry, ok, Colonel I-“

“Why the whole welcoming committee schtik? Just say what you mean.”

“It’s not a schtick, Ma’am,” he insited, heatedly, “it’s a genuine honor to have you back with us and a relief to see you safe. And yes, I have orders to get a preliminary report.”

“In future you can save us both precious minutes of our lives by being this forthright, please?”

“Understood.”

“Right, well. What’s wanted? What kind of report?” He didn’t fail to notice the sudden and very studied nonchalance that took over her gait, the way she leaned against the railing of her footboard, almost a slouch that made the lean line of her look entirely unperturbed. He wasn’t a good lawyer out of naïveté about such posturing. She was braced like hell for this, probably worse than he was.

“On uh, on your general treatment. Ma’am.” he decided to summarize it thusly.

“Well Colonel,” he had forgotten what a nice voice she had, it wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t gruff, it was simply nice, “if Gale Cleven’s under eyes didn’t tell you the food was meager and hardly nutritious, I’ll go on record to say so. But they did try, I think I can give them that. Looked like everyone was starving by the end.”

“Conduct of your guards?” he had his stupid little leather case open on his forearm and the not quite soggy notepad in it was being dutifully filled with scribbles.

“I’ve little to say against the Luftwaffe, they were honorable for the most part. I think you’ll get that same report from the others. There were a few incidents, but we were enemies. To be expected.”

“Right, uh,” the pencil drug a little “this is a general report so I’ll spare an inquiry into those incidents.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course.”

“Anything else?” Ida tried to smooth her face, she really did.

“Colonel -yes.” she watched him as he deliberated for a moment before seeming to recall her scathing admonition of before, and carried on resolutely in the bluntest manner he could summon, “Regarding your prolonged detention before the stalag. It’s our understanding you were not always under Luftwaffe jurisdiction?”

“That’s correct. Combatant status was not recognized for four and a half weeks.” Ida gave a clipped nod. “We were even briefly detained at a concentration camp.”

“I can’t imagine what you must’ve seen there.”

Ida stared back with some slight emotion flitting over her mask-like face at long last and Rosie felt maybe his own showed it, too, “From what I’ve heard, we may be the only ones to have left alive.” she said at last.

“Your testimony, what you saw there, it could become-“ Rosie drew in breath, “-invaluable.”

“I’d do anything to see justice done, Major.” she agreed, “Sometimes I think I dreamed such mass cruelty. Seems too large to be real, too awful to be abetted for so long by so many.”

“I saw what was left of one of the smaller camps. In Poland.”

“Mm, so you can imagine.” she retorted, but it was a kind retort.

“I don’t see much else when I close my eyes.”

“Mm.”

“Right, back to this uh, report, the question is, how were you treated before civilian status was adhered to?”

“Is this a personal report or a general one?” Ida inquired suddenly.

“The assignment was to ask about your own observations as senior officer of the female contingent of-“

“-then in that case, the treatment was barbaric, Major Rosenthal.” Ida informed him forcefully, “The Luftwaffe used plenty of rough tactics and one officer was particularly cruel to Cleven. I was informed my brother was dying and that my obstinance in denying giving them information was prolonging his torment. All of that I was prepared for, it was one soldier’s attempt to break another. The gestapo, on the other hand, were beasts. And the SS -sadists. They dealt in cruelty for the pleasure of it and my girls went through hell. Once in the stalag there was a reprieve. Then the Luftwaffe were relieved of command and it began again- if you expect details, come back with a larger notepad.”

Rosie gave a curt nod of his own in understanding, his brow creased at the implication.

“No one wants to see justice done for them more than I.” Ida went on, “But they’re still out there, and I’m here. And I-I don’t know that those are my stories to tell, Colonel. What I saw is plenty enough to hang a village. And it wasn’t just toward my girls.”

“At…at a later point, you’d be willing then?” he ventured, softly, no longer professional, “To tell me what you saw?”

“Larger notebook, Rosenthal.”

“Yes ma’am.” he knew a dismissal when he heard one, he even felt a brief and heinous relief at the prospect of slipping away on a high note. The dreaded scrapping of the program still undiscussed. “I’ll uh, leave ya to that shower.”

“It’s good to be back, Colonel.” she called to him while he was still maneuvering through a somewhat meandering exit, she called out this concession as if it were meant only in regards to him, “Like what you’ve done with the place.”

Well now that was -that was kind and that was unexpected and Colonel Robert Rosenthal may have let the door hit him on the way out.

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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#masters of the air #mota #mota fanfic #mota oc #mota imagine #those who can #integrated au #Rosie x ida #mota fanfiction #Rosie Rosenthal #Robert Rosenthal #Nate mama #rosie rosenthal x oc #Rosie Rosenthal fanfic

[marredmusings]

umm so i wrote a little fic/blurb idk i don't think it's good but it's something that's been stuck in my head for a while with my own little oc named grace but her name is only mentioned a few times so it could totally be ignored and seen as reader.

anyway this is my first ever fic so please be kind to me and if you have suggestions or other fic ideas i'd love to hear them.

not proof read and lowercase intended.

and if you think it's awful please lie to me i'm fragile 😔

deny

you are a lover girl. a hopeless romantic, someone who dreams of finding "the one" and living happily ever after. kie often says you tend to fall in love a little with everyone you meet. you can't help it though, you have so much love in you, it feels like you'll burst at the seams if you don't share it with others.

you think you're in love with your best friend jj maybank. no one understands you the way the wild blond haired boy does. no one can communicate with you with just a single look the way jj does. no one makes your heart beat out of your chest and your tummy flutter the way his dimpled smile does, eyes crinkling at the corners, a slight sunburn on his nose because lord know that boy doesn't use the sunscreen you bought him.

so yeah you're in love with jj maybank but then yesterday a different boy kissed you. pope heyward, your other best friend, genius extraordinaire whom you thought was maybe in love with kie but no- he kissed you and you felt a tingle in your ever beating heart. heat filled your cheeks and your ears became fuzzy. that was a new feeling when it came to pope. it made you excited to explore because as much as you love jj, you don't think the boy would ever return your undying affection because your friendship meant too much.

----

you stood in the threshold of popes bedroom, gasp stuck in your throat, eyes wide and mouth open at the sight before you. you’re not sure how to process what you’re seeing.

before you on the bed that pope kissed you on not even 24 hours ago, is jj maybank, your closest friend, kissing the heyward boy.

so many emotions flow through you at the sight before you.

shock because not once has jj; or pope for that matter mentioned or even hinted that they liked men- or each other. then again, jj has always liked beautiful people and pope is certainly that.

sadness because you and pope had literally just kissed. maybe you were naive to think a simple kiss meant something more to the boy, but it was pope, you don't think there's a mean bone in his body. then again you’ve always been too much of a romantic, too blinded to really see what’s in front of you. blinded by your want and need to be loved that perhaps you create situations in your mind that you interpret as reality? maybe you need to contact your therapist again. you're sounding even more delusional than before.

lastly, you feel jealousy. the angry green monster rumbling around in your tummy, making its way up your throat. you’re not sure what exactly is making you jealous because the image of the two boys kissing is surely confusing. are you jealous because pope is kissing another person who isn’t you? a part of you is jealous because he’s kissing jj. or maybe it’s that jj is kissing pope or that maybe they’re kissing eachother and they're not kissing you? you're not sure at this point. dear diary jealousy is a disease babes, and you are infected.

you must have made a noise because next thing you know, the two boys are pulling apart, a string of spit still connecting them and for a second your love rattled brain is jealous of it. the spit that is, because deep down you’ve always known that you wanted them both… to be the one to connect them. you feel slightly crazy being jealous of spit.

jjs face goes beat red and then flushes pale, like a ghost. he looks terrified and like he might vomit all over the floor in a second.

“grace!” popes panicked voice reaches your ears but they’re still kind of ringing from the shock of seeing your supposedly straight best friends kiss.

in your heartbroken haze you wonder if you're being a bad ally right now. you love the gays you swear! you just never pictured pope and jj as being a part of the gays ™.

you clear your throat, “jb and kie are waiting for us downstairs. we were going out on the boat today, remember?”

you try and say that as gently as possible because jj still looks like he’s going to pass out and pope isn’t much better.

popes hands are shaking as he reaches for you and a part of you wants to pull away but you’re not mean. you’ve never been mean so even if your feelings are hurt you’ll always put your best friends feelings above your own. and it looks like pope needs to touch you. maybe to hold your hand and reassure him you’re really standing there, witnessing something that you probably shouldn’t have.

so many emotions flicker through popes eyes. you can’t really see his blush but you’re sure if you touch his face it would be hotter than the sun.

pope grabs your hands in his shaking ones. you can feel how clammy they are and you hazard a look back to jj who has yet to even move. you’re a little concerned he’s gone into shock.

you let out a soft sigh and smile at the boys, a smile that is mostly genuine.

you squeeze popes hand and make eye contact with the panicked blonde boy on the bed.

“it’s ok jj. i won’t say anything if you don’t want me to.” you speak kindly, as if you’re talking to a scared feral cat.

you only see jj swallow hard. “for what it’s worth, i understand the appeal... wanting to kiss pope and all.” you tease hoping to cut the obvious tension in the room. you feel like you're the one choking now.

jj and pope both let out huffs like they’re afraid to laugh but also relieved you’re not upset.

“you’re not mad?” jj croaks like he still has a frog lodged in his throat. he looks at you with soft wonder, like you’re the best thing in his life. his stare makes your tummy flutter.

“of course not. you guys are my best friends. i only ever want you to be happy!” you reply honestly. jj deserves happiness after the shit life he’s been dealt. he deserves good things and if you have to set aside your feelings in order for him to have good things then by golly you’ll do that.

“grace, about yesterday-“ pope starts off,

“don’t worry buddy, already forgotten.” you cut him off. hopefully saving him the strife of having to apologize to you about the kiss and saving you the embarrassment of him telling you he regrets your kiss. you don't think you could survive hearing that out loud.

you march over to jj still holding popes hand, effectively dragging the boy with you. you throw your arms tightly around jjs neck and after a heartbeat, jj returns your hug. you move your head to look at pope and nod at him, encouraging him to join the hug.

“now c’mon. you know how pissy jb gets when he’s made to wait” you giggle.

you lead the boys out of popes room and home and into the twinkie without giving them an option of saying no.

“finally! i thought y’all died or something. what took so long” john b huffs in exasperation.

“my fault jb!” you quickly chirp so the boys don’t have to panic and think of a lie “pope showed me the new book he got and it’s my favourite and i starting gushing and you know me i can’t shut up and… well i forgot why i went up to get them in the first place” you giggle with a sheepish smile.

“you’re so lucky you’re cute, grace” kie laughs teasingly.

you see pope and jj making eye contact. you have a feeling you might need to play therapist for them soon. pope doesn’t know how to talk about his feelings without beating around the bush and well, jjs favourite thing to do is deny deny deny.

actually, that’s exactly what you’re gonna do too! deny you have feelings for pope. deny you have feelings for jj. deny you ever saw them kiss and deny that them kissing only upset you because you weren’t a part of it. deny that a part of you enjoyed it. deny that your feelings matter in this situation and deny that if given the chance, you’d love to be in between a beautiful jj maybank and pope heyward sandwich.

yep, deny deny deny. this is gonna be a long freaking summer.

#jj maybank #kiara carrera #obx #outer banks #pope heyward #jj maybank x reader #pope x reader x jj #jj maybank x oc #pope heyward x reader #pope heyward x oc #john b routledge #my fic #obx fanfiction #obx fic

[breakbleheavens]

CRUEL SUMMER The Eras Tour — Melbourne, Australia (Night 2) | February 17, 2024

#tswiftedit #taylorswiftedit #tswiftgif #taylor swift #the eras tour #eras tour #lover #cruel summer #*mine #*2024 #*gifs #mine: eras tour #mine: lover #eras tour australia #this video is crazy she's staring into my soul #the next time I gif this I would have seen it with my own two eyes omfg #also I’m not gonna stick to the one per city this year it’ll be if I feel like it and like a video haha #it was a bit Too Much last year ngl

[wheresarizona]

but I would die for you in secret

summary: The relationship you have with Joel Miller is… complicated, and you’re not entirely sure what to even call it. There’s the fact no one can know, so his kid doesn’t find out, and you’re pretty sure he’s ashamed of your age difference��he’s not your boyfriend, but you only fuck each other; this thing started months ago, and Joel does not like it when men give you attention, because he wants you all to himself. But again, he’s not your sexy, older boyfriend.

pairing: Joel Miller/f!reader

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, porn with some plot, explicit smut, Possessive Joel Miller, Joel being a lil dominant, age gap (unspecified, reader is an adult), secret relationship, sneaking around, accidental voyeurism, edging, orgasm denial, mutual masturbation, dirty talk (so much), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), rough sex, explicit consent, creampie, spanking, spit as lube, love confession, Good Parent Joel Miller, Ellie giving Joel so much shit, TLOU AU where Joel doesn’t lie to Ellie and they’re good when they get back to Jackson)

word count: 7.1k+

a/n: Hey! I needed a break from my long fic that I’ve been writing nonstop for five months, and I was really missing Joel and Ellie, so here we are. I hope you enjoy! Thank you to @juletheghoul for betaing!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Masterlist - One Shot

The relationship you have with Joel Miller is… complicated.

To start with, there’s the age difference. It doesn’t bother you at all, and why should it? You’re both consenting adults who know what they want, but he’s got this idea in his head that he shouldn’t be chasing someone so much younger than him and that you should be with somebody your own age—he mentions this almost every single time you’re alone together, and you've learned a simple flash of your tits or a sudden kiss will make those thoughts disappear.

Then there's the fact he isn't your boyfriend, yet you only fuck each other. His days are spent working whatever job he’s assigned here in Jackson and he’s at your place most nights after his daughter goes to bed—however, that’s a secret; No one can know about you two, even though Joel’s a tiny bit possessive and doesn't take kindly to other men giving you attention; which you're not one to judge because you can't stand when women flirt with him, especially Sandra, his next-door neighbor who won't leave him the fuck alone after the many times he’s told her he’s not interested.

So, again, he's not your boyfriend, but neither of you wants to fuck anyone else; whatever this thing is between you has been going on for over eight months, and he doesn’t want people to know you’re together—yet, any time he catches a man being too friendly with you, there's a 100% chance a grumpier than usual Joel will show up at your house that night, and at some point, while he’s fucking your brains out, he'll let a 'Mine' slip out.

Clearly, you have some kind of relationship with him, and it borders somewhere between fuck buddies and him being your boyfriend; where it gets confusing is it's not all sex with him. If his kid is staying over at a friend's, he'll show up at yours earlier than normal, and usually, with a movie he hadn't seen since the world ended or a record he thought you'd enjoy that you both listen to all the way through for him to tell you facts and anecdotes that he could possibly be the only person on the entire planet who knows.

If you need anything fixed around your house, he'll do it, and sometimes you don't even have to ask. You'll mention something, and the next thing you know, he's at your front door with a toolbox—sometimes, he uses doing repairs as a ruse so people will see him arriving at your place with his tools when, in actuality, he’s there to spend the day with you.

You’re also probably the only person, unrelated to him, he has actual conversations with; there’s hardly any grumbling or muttering.

There is a reason he won't acknowledge you’re dating, and it's his sixteen-year-old daughter whom he doesn't want to know he has a love life—it's to where Joel's basically taken the role of the rebellious teenager, sneaking out of his own home in the middle of the night to ensure she's unaware he left.

It's an accumulation of factors why she can't know. The big two, you think, are your age, and you know for sure he doesn't want Ellie to think she'll be any less important to him or that he's abandoning her if he's seeing someone—he worries she won’t take it well, and from what you know she's been through, you can understand why he’s being so protective.

Do you wish you could openly be in a relationship with Joel? Sure, it'd make you happy to shove it in Sandra, his stupid neighbor's face that he's taken.

That isn't a possibility, though, and honestly, what the two of you have is good, so you're not going to make a fuss about labels.

It's been a few nights since Joel has snuck over to your place, and you know why he hasn't stopped by—Ellie—she's sick with a cold, and to put things mildly, her father is freaking the fuck out that it could turn into something worse, and he won't let her out of his sight.

Now, if a person didn't want their child to know they were dating anyone, they’d keep them separated, right? Well, you live across the street from them—that's how you met Joel; he saw someone had moved into the tiny one-bedroom, one-bath home across from his and came over to introduce himself—and since you live across the way from him, and Ellie, the two of you have this, 'Just being a good neighbor,’ act, where any interactions you have in public, are under the guise that you’re just friendly neighbors. So, Ellie has spoken to you many times and has even invited you to hang out and eat meals with them at their house or in the mess hall, where Joel always does his damndest to act indifferent.

Joel left a simple note three days ago stating Ellie was feeling under the weather on your front door. The next day, you stopped by, as the good neighbor you are, to drop off some chicken soup you convinced the kitchen at the mess hall to make. Joel had let you in with a ‘Thanks’ and took the large bowl from you to the kitchen, and you followed the sounds of sniffles to the living room, where you found the teenager wrapped in a blanket on the couch, her stuffed-up voice exclaiming when she saw you in relief you were there so she’d have someone other than her dad to look at or talk to; obviously, she was tired of him, and with how he was hovering, and fussing over her like a mother hen, you would’ve been tired of him, too.

The man had bags under his worried eyes and looked like he hadn’t slept since she’d gotten sick. After he served her some soup and saw she was eating it, Ellie and you convinced him to take a nap while you hung out with his kid—the kid you’ve had a suspicion for a while knows there’s something up between you and her father, simply because every time the two of you are alone, she grills you about your love life.

The thing is, she always fishes for information you won’t give her, but she never seems bothered by the prospect of Joel dating; frankly, she’s supportive and wants him to be happy. However, that wasn’t something you could tell him because he’d probably end things with you immediately, so you’d have to wait for them to eventually have a heart-to-heart for him to find out—which, you’re not holding your breath with how bad they both are at talking to each other about their feelings.

And now it’s been over three days since you last got laid, and after having great sex regularly, the horniness is hitting you hard tonight, and you need to come.

It might be the dead of winter, but you’ve pushed the blankets to the end of your queen-sized bed, the old sheets not as soft as you imagined they’d once been when they were new, your bare, heated skin pressing into them. You’re lying in the middle of the mattress, your head cushioned by a pillow that’d lost its firmness long ago, your naked legs spread while your fingers rub at your swollen clit just right, the others pinching at your pebbled nipple to have the pleasure welling up inside you. You’ve been biting your bottom lip so much it’s sore, your breaths panting from your lungs, the wood stove in the living room keeping your house warm, and that, combined with your arousal, has a thin layer of sweat coating your body.

Sure, you can get yourself off, but the orgasm will be nowhere near as good as what Joel coaxes from you; it’ll take the edge off, at least, so you’ll feel a little better.

For the last hour, you’ve been building yourself up, almost hitting your peak, and stopping, edging yourself over and over again to try to make yourself come as hard as you can by your own hand to assuage some of your need—the sheets are wet under your ass where you’ve dripped onto them.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, thinking about that one night Joel saw some guy about your age at the bar laying it on thick to get you to leave with him, and how after you turned him down and left, a familiar presence followed you along the dark streets. You had to keep quiet when those big, gun-calloused hands you knew all too well pulled you into the stable that had nobody in it except the horses—Joel fucked you from behind against a wall, having to brace yourself with your arms on it. You remembered his palm over your mouth to muffle your sounds and him blanketing himself over your back to have his lips at your ear while he pounded into you hard and fast, quietly grunting about how you were his and that no one could make you feel as good as he did. There was no forgetting how his cock stretched open your cunt, or how before he sheathed himself inside you, you heard him spit on his fingers to slick himself up; the way he made you come around him while he circled your clit with those same digits. The memory of how he’d worked himself up so much he’d forgotten to pull out and spilled deep in your pussy, has you so close to coming by your hand you moan loudly, “Joel.”

“Stop,” the familiar gruff voice makes your eyes snap open as you gasp, immediately sitting up on your elbows.

There at the foot of the bed is the man on your mind—he must’ve taken off his winter jacket in the living room—his green flannel shirt is gaping from most of the buttons being undone, revealing his chest, his grey waves of hair looking to be slightly damp from melted snowflakes. What steals your attention is the fact his jeans are unbuttoned and open, and he’s slowly stroking his hard dick; from how the tip is angry red, leaking precum, and his shaft shines, he’s been watching and jerking off for some time.

“Joel,” his name comes out as a whisper, and your eyes flick up to his, finding them dark and staring hungrily between your legs at your glistening cunt.

You’re so happy to see him you’re not even mad he ruined your orgasm, knowing he’ll make it up to you.

“How many times have you made yourself come while I’ve been busy?” he asks, finally meeting your gaze, his expression grumpy.

“No-none,” you stammer.

His eyebrow lifts. “You lyin’ to me, sweetheart?”

“No.” You shook your head. “Are you mad at me…?”

His face pinches in confusion. “What? No. I’m not mad at you, baby. I’m mad at myself for leavin’ you hangin’.” He undoes the last two buttons on his shirt and shrugs it off for it to fall to the floor, pushing down his pants to step out of them, now standing before you completely naked.

His body is a tapestry of littered scars that tell of his fight to survive this long, some from injuries you’re sure should’ve killed him. Yet, somehow, if by spite or the grace of God, he managed to stay alive—your fingers have traced many of them, mapping the silvery and pink lines in the quiet of the night with only the glow of a bedside lamp. With what people have to do in order to keep living these days, they rarely like to share the stories behind their close calls to death. Still, there’s a jagged scar low on the right side of his stomach lesser men would have died from, you noticed the first time he took his shirt off, and you always wanted to know the story of. Surprisingly, he told you how he got it a few months into this not-not relationship when you asked.

Excitement pools in your belly, your pussy throbbing needily, watching as he climbs onto the bed to kneel in front of you, between your legs, down by your ankles.

“Touch yourself,” he orders and takes himself in hand again, languidly pumping his cock. “I wanna watch you make yourself come; then I’m gonna show you how I’m better than everyone, includin’ you, at gettin’ you off.”

Your cunt clenches because he is better, and the promise has you doing as he said, sliding your hand down to the apex of your thighs to rub your clit the way you like while you watch him fist his shaft. This isn’t the first time he’s watched you touch yourself, and you’re sure if it was anyone else, you’d feel embarrassed, but with how the desire is clear as he stares at what you’re doing, it spurs you on.

Having been so close to coming when he told you to stop, and now, it’s turning you on so much that he’s jacking off to what you’re doing, all of it is building you back up quickly, the familiar heat growing at the base of your spine.

“Just like that, baby,” he rasps and wets his bottom lip. “Keep rubbin’ that pretty pussy—did you miss me?”

“Yes.”

He hums in the back of his throat. “Missed how good I make you feel—how I stretch open that perfect cunt with my cock? Do I fuck you so good, you were thinkin’ about me to make yourself come?”

The strokes of his hand sound wetter, your arousal drooling onto the bedding while the muscles in your belly begin to tighten.

“Yes,” you gasp.

“That’s right, you were. So fuckin’ pretty spread out like this for me—I wanna taste you, shove my face in your pussy, and drown in it; just look at how you’re drippin’ for me.”

“Joel,” you moan. You’re so close it’s not going to take much more.

“God, I fuckin’ missed that sound; I missed hearin’ your voice and how good you smell, how soft your skin is, and the few hours I get to sleep next to you—come for me, baby. Come all over your fingers, and I’ll give you my dick—I’ll make those gorgeous eyes roll back in your head and give it to you so good, I ruin you for anyone else.”

He’s already ruined you for anyone else, and you doubt there’s another who’d fuck you as good as him.

It’s the thought that he’s yours and no one else can have him like this that sends you over the edge, your body seizing up as you come, pleasure erupting from your center as you moan his name.

He doesn’t give you a chance to recover, batting away your hand to dive in and bury his face in your wet heat. He shoves his tongue inside your soaked hole, groaning loudly as he laps at your come, your body trembling when he drags the flat of it up through your folds to suck your clit between his lips. Your fingers press into his hair, soft sounds leaving your throat at how good it feels.

The one orgasm isn’t enough—you need more, his mouth igniting arousal to burn hot in your belly, making you feel achingly empty. He’s licking up every bit of your need, coating your sex, moving to flick his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re feeling greedy; what he’s doing isn’t enough, and you want, no, need him inside you.

You pull at his hair as you tell him in a somewhat whiny tone, “Fuck me, Joel—stop making me wait.”

His chuckle vibrates into your sensitive skin before he rises to kneel with a groan. “Impatient.” He smacks your thigh. “Flip, ass up.” And it’s not a suggestion, his hands on your waist helping you to roll over, pulling your backside up into the air while your torso is against the sheets. Your knees are sinking into the bed and spread a little, putting yourself on display for him, the mattress jostling when he shuffles forward, feeling his body heat behind you. His palm lands on your asscheek hard, the sharp sting making you moan. “Now, ask me nicely to fuck you.”

You should’ve known he wouldn’t care for your lack of manners.

Your head is resting on your crossed arms in front of you.

“Joel, will you please fuck me?” you ask as sweetly as possible.

“Yes.”

The sound of him spitting on his fingers meets your ears, and you know he’s slicking himself up. One of his hands holds your hip, the other guiding his cock through the lips of your pussy to wet it even more, nudging your clit—it doesn’t seem like he’s in a mood to tease too much. Your eyes slip shut when he notches himself at your entrance and starts slowly feeding himself into you, your tight, velvety walls expanding to take the considerable girth of him, whining as he fills you. He slides all the way home, your cunt throbbing around him.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he groans. “Is this what your needy little pussy wanted?”

“Yes,” you moan.

He’s as deep as he can go and pulls out until just the tip remains, and slams back into you hard enough to knock the air from your lungs—oh, this is going to be one of those times where he fucks you to the point your legs are too shaky to walk on afterward. The pace he sets is deliciously brutal and has your eyes rolling back, all thoughts leaving your brain, unable to think with how he’s pressing into so many heavenly spots, his grip tight on your waist.

The sounds in the room are obscene—the springs beneath you are squeaking, and there’s the noisy slap of his hips colliding with your ass, Joel grunting with each dull smack of his skin to yours, while you gasp out moans.

He’s fucking you so good, your orgasm is already taking shape, its fiery tendrils tightening in your core with each stroke.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he says through gritted teeth. “You’re so fuckin’ wet—I could live in this perfect pussy.”

His hand slaps your ass hard enough the crack echoes amongst the four walls, the sweet pain making you clench around him and press back into his thrusts, crying out his name.

“Does it feel good, baby?” he asks. “Did you miss getting fucked like this? You love this—this pussy is mine, isn’t it? You’re mine.”

He’s not wrong; you are his, and all you can do is mewl in reply, waves of your arousal seeping down his shaft to catch on his balls.

His gun-calloused hands adjust on your hips to get a better grip, pulling you back each time his dick impales you, fucking you harder and faster, hearing him panting behind you—the wet sounds of him working himself in and out of your drenched cunt, are loud, and lewd.

You’re so close; you’re just needing—

Joel leans forward to get his hand under your body to the swollen pearl of your clit, circling it how he knows you like it.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he grits out. “Let me have it—soak my cock with your come. Let me feel you—I know you’re almost there.”

That’s it—the knot in your belly winds tighter and tighter until the tension snaps, and you fall over the edge with a silent cry, your pussy clamping down on him hard enough that it slows his rhythm almost to a stop. Joel groans loudly while euphoria explodes out from your center, feeling it spread to your fingers and toes. Your brain goes blissfully blank, and your legs tremble under you like a leaf in the wind.

A gasp leaves you when he suddenly pulls out and flips you onto your back, taking his place between your spread thighs. He puts your legs high on his ribs, holding his weight on one arm while his other hand sheaths himself back inside you.

It’s not surprising that you’ve found yourself under his hulking frame with his hips snapping in and out of you—when you open your eyes, his are closed, his expression looking pained, and it’s his broad shoulders and head that take up your vision. This is how Joel wanted to fuck you from the start, but he’s a gentleman and did your preferred position first.

Your fingernails end up digging into the skin of his shoulder blades for something to hold on to, and he kisses over your chest to duck his head, wrapping his lips around a stiff nipple and sucking on it, the shock of pleasure causing a moan to slip from your throat. His breaths are heavy, and you know he won’t last much longer.

Your voice is hoarse when you speak, telling him what you know he needs to hear, “I missed you, Joel.” He whines. “I want you to come for me.”

His mouth leaves your breast to crash against yours, and you’d been wondering how long he’d go without kissing you—something about kissing while he fucks makes him come faster; maybe it’s the intimacy?

He’s told you the last woman he was with back in Boston wouldn’t kiss him because sex between them was just scratching an itch, and she wasn’t looking for anyone to replace her dead husband.

All you know is Joel loves kissing and touching—he’s admitted that he sleeps best with you snuggled against his back as the big spoon, which, you’ll never tell him, you think is adorable with how he scares people enough, they move out of his way when he walks down the street.

His kisses are fervent, and you give just as good as you get, welcoming his tongue when it presses between your lips, his pace speeding up. You love having him inside you, the way he fits all nice and snug to fill you completely. This is what you’ve been needing, and it’s perfect.

When his rhythm gets uneven, you expect him to pull out at any second to spill his release on your belly. What he does next, you’re not expecting.

Joel shoves his face into the crook of your neck, his facial hair scratching your skin, feeling his hot breaths.

He says something that’s too muffled to make out, so you pull on his hair to make him lift his head, finding his eyes dark and glazed over, looking totally and completely wrecked. His pace slows to him rocking in and out of you.

“What did you say?” you ask.

“Can I—” he pants. “Fuck, can I come inside you?”

The question has your tight walls constricting around him.

“Fuck,” Joel hisses, his eyes closing. “Please, can I?” he asks again.

The answer that immediately pops into your brain is ‘yes,’ but thinking about how the only times this man has finished inside you in the past were all accidents, you’re worrying he’s just pussy drunk and not thinking straight; that if you fell pregnant, something you didn’t mind, he’ll regret it.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

He looks at you and nods. “Yes, I know—” The consequences, he leaves unsaid. “—please.”

“Then yes, come for me, Joel—fill me up.”

He raggedly moans, his face falling into your neck again. His thrusts speed up and become frantic as he pounds into you, your heels digging into his ass, feeling the muscles flex. He works himself up until he presses into you one last time as deep as possible and comes with a guttural groan—his dick jerks inside you, and the hot spurts of his spend gush into your depths, filling you up. Electricity zips down your spine as you moan, your tight walls throbbing around him while he grinds his hips, fucking his come deeper.

The weight of his body is welcome when he eventually slumps onto you, and instinctively, your fingers slide into his hair, scratching your nails lovingly against his scalp, the man practically purring on top of you.

For the first time in three days, you feel happy and finally sated, loving how he’s stuffed you full of his cock, and come. There’s no talking as your heartbeats slow together and your breathing evens out, basking in each other’s presence. Your eyes are closed, and you’re choosing to ignore your shaky limbs.

It’s hard to imagine a life without Joel, which is odd since up until this point, most of it had been spent without him, or anyone really. What you actually mean is you don’t want to imagine a life without Joel and Ellie—you think she’s a great kid, and you have a soft spot for her; plus, she and her dad are a package deal. Then there’s Joel, who you’re absolutely and completely in love with, and it bothers you that you don’t know what this relationship between you is or if he even feels the same as you.

Minutes pass, the old, wooden bones of your house creaking as the winter wind gusts outside.

“Joel?” you break the silence.

“Mhmm?” he hums, nuzzling into your throat.

“What are we?”

“Huh?”

“What are we? Like, what is this thing that we’re doing?”

His head lifts, and he pulls out, rolling off you to lie beside you on his back, pressing his hands to his face.

“Somethin’ I shouldn’t be doin’ in the first place,” he finally answers.

You turn on your side toward him, propping your head up on your arm. “Take my age out of the equation.”

His palms lift, and he looks at you confused. “What do you mean?”

“For some fucking reason, you are stuck on my age—take it out of the equation; if that wasn’t a factor, would you openly date me?”

“Well, there’s Ellie—”

“—let’s pretend she doesn’t give a fuck about your love life,” you cut him off, “and actually wants you to be happy, and my age doesn’t matter—would you openly date me?”

“Yes.”

“So, you have feelings for me?”

“Of course.”

“Do you love me…?”

“Yes,” he whispers, covering his face again.

One word has your heart picking up in speed.

“I love you, too.”

His head whips in your direction with an expression of bewilderment.

“What?” he asks.

“I’m in love with you—have been for a while, and I’m fine with doing what we’ve been doing if that’s the only way I can be with you, but I kinda, sorta, would like it if you thought of us as a couple, and weren’t ashamed of me…”

A secret relationship? You’re fine with that. But Joel being ashamed of you? It fucking hurts.

“I’m not ashamed of you,” he says too quickly.

“Joel, if Ellie were okay with you having a love life, you wouldn’t openly date me because of how old I am—I’d just continue being your dirty little secret that one other person knows about.”

His eyes dart away, and the sigh he lets out is long and weary.

“I’m not ashamed of you,” he says. “I’m ashamed of myself for fallin’ for you and not bein’ able to give you the future you deserve. I just felt like I was stringin’ you along when you could be with someone who can offer you more, but I’m so fuckin’ selfish.” He looks at you. “I want you, and I don’t want anyone else to have you—I can’t let you go, even though I should cut you free.”

Your fingers brush back the sweat-soaked hair on his forehead. “I don't want anyone else, Joel—I want you, and you’re not stringing me along. I’m happy with you and any future I can have with you and Ellie.”

He’s frowning. “If only it were that simple,” he sighs.

This is a conversation you thought might make him end things with you, but maybe giving him a slight nudge will be okay—at least, you hope it will.

“It is that simple,” you tell him. “I’m gonna tell you something that if you can work up the nerve to talk to her about, she'll confirm it.”

His eyebrows furrow. “What?”

“Ellie doesn’t care if you date. She’s told me she wishes you weren’t such an asshole ‘cause then the only negative thing about you is how ugly you are, and people love ugly things all the time, and if someone loves you, then you won’t die alone, plus it’d hopefully make you happy, and she really wants you to be happy—that’s pretty much what she said word-for-word.”

His eyes close, and the sigh that leaves him is that of a father who’s real tired of their child’s shit, and you smile.

“That’s Ellie,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m not even sure how I should be feelin’ right now.”

“I hoped you’d be relieved at least, possibly even happy.”

He looks at you. “Yeah, I’m relieved and happy but also a little ticked at her embarrassin’ me like that.”

Scooting closer to him, you lay half on top of him with your arms folded on his chest, resting your chin on them to stare at his pretty face.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It was said out of love—she loves you.”

He sighs again, wrapping his arms around your bare back.

“I guess she does, even if she’s mean. Jesus, I can’t believe I just needed to talk to her sooner.”

“That’s usually how things work—it’s called communication, and you should talk to her.”

His eyes narrowed, and he smacked your ass, making you giggle. “There’s no need for the sass, sweetheart, and I was plannin’ on bitin’ the bullet and tellin’ her about us in the next couple of days.”

Your eyes widened. “You were? What?”

“Yeah, uh, I had a hard time with Ellie bein’ sick, and when you came over, I didn’t feel like I was goin’ insane with worry. Havin’ you there made it better, and I missed you.” His lips dip in a frown.

“I missed you, too—you were really gonna tell her?”

“I was.” He nods. “With how happy she was to see you, I thought maybe she’d be okay with it.” He shrugs.

You smile. “I think you’re right,” you reply, giving him a quick kiss. Meeting his gaze, you ask, “Is she feeling better?”

“Yeah, and thank Christ, she is.” He looks visibly relieved. “I think it was that soup you brought over—thank you for that and for givin’ me a chance to sleep.” He pecks you on the lips.

“It was no problem. I would’ve been there the entire time had it not been suspicious.”

He smiles. “I know.”

“Good. Sooo, I’m wondering, what are we now?”

“A couple,” he answers. “I’ve thought that for a while, but I’m too fuckin’ old to be callin’ myself your boyfriend.”

“I quite like having a sexy, older boyfriend.”

You squeak in surprise when he rolls you onto your back, your legs automatically opening for him to nestle his hips between. He’s holding himself up with his arms beside your head while yours loop around his neck, his lips pressing to the side of your throat, kissing the taut skin.

“You like havin’ a sexy, older boyfriend, huh?” His question is muffled, and you swallow hard when he sucks on your pulse point.

“I do,” you reply.

“I like havin’ you.” He’s kissing and nibbling along your jaw.

“‘Cause no one else can?”

He nips your chin, then hovers his head over yours to look you in the eyes.

His expression is serious. “Yes,” he says, “and I love you—if Ellie really doesn’t give a shit about me datin’, then every fuckin’ person in town is gonna know you’re mine.”

And something about that declaration thrills you.

“I’d like that.”

He gives you a small smile and kisses you for a moment before a thought comes to him, and he pulls back to meet your gaze.

“Maybe that neighbor, the annoyin’ one who doesn’t seem to know the meanin’ of no, will finally get it through her head, I’m not fuckin’ interested.”

You glare off into the distance. “Fucking Sandra,” you seethe.

The first time he met you, Joel knew he was fucked.

All he wanted to do was be polite and introduce himself to his new neighbor, then you opened the door, and his brain stopped working because you were so beautiful. It didn’t help when you blatantly checked him out, clearly undressing him with your eyes before looking entirely too pleased with what you were seeing.

If he’d been a stronger, honorable man, he wouldn’t have accepted your offer to come inside for a drink; he wouldn’t have kissed you back or laid you down on the couch to eat your pussy; he wouldn’t have let you choke on his dick or crawl into his lap and ride him; he wouldn’t have gotten so lost in being buried in your wet, warm, perfect cunt and your lips on his that he forgot to pull out when he came; he wouldn’t have gotten addicted and returned to you almost every night after.

If he’d been a stronger, honorable man, he would’ve ended things before it went too far and definitely before he fell in love with you.

From the beginning, he knew he was way too old for you, and he didn’t understand why you wanted him or kept letting him into your house. He had nothing to offer you, yet even when the opportunities arose for you to go home with men your own age, you rejected them and welcomed him into your bed instead. It made little sense that someone as young and beautiful as you would give someone like him all of your attention.

He’s lost count of how many times he’s told you that you’d be better off with somebody younger than him. It’s usually when he remembers your age or when you don’t know what he’s talking about when he brings up certain things from how life was before it all went to hell. He says the words out loud, practically a reflex at this point when the guilt gets to him, and as quickly as the feeling comes, it goes because, as he told you, he’s selfish; he doesn’t want you with someone else; he wants you all to himself. When you tell him there isn’t anyone you’d rather be with than him, it feeds something deep inside of him that won’t let you go, and hearing you say you love him has only made it stronger—you have his total devotion.

Ellie being sick messed up his head enough that in the moments when you came to mind, he was plagued with the thought that you probably found someone new. The only time he felt a modicum of peace was when you stopped by, and with that and how much his kid loved you being there, and in general, he came to the conclusion he couldn’t lose you:

It was time for him to tell Ellie.

Joel isn’t delusional; you’d grow tired of only getting his nights and the occasional day, eventually, and he needed to give you more of himself, which required his daughter to know about your relationship.

If Ellie knew, then he could give you more.

He’s ashamed of himself for hiding your relationship and, in turn, not having much to offer in terms of a future. It bothers him so much that he hasn’t been able to be with you out in the open because you deserve better than being his dirty little secret, as you call yourself.

He hates that.

He wants everyone to know you’re his and that he is yours.

When he realized he was going to tell Ellie, he started imagining how your relationship would change. You could finally have a life together, and it had him thinking about things he never would’ve considered before you and actively tried to prevent in the past, but you didn’t mind the idea of bringing a new life into the world, and he thought that might not be so bad; Jackson’s safe, and he has no doubt you’ll be a great mother—and it’s a future he’s pretty sure you want since your reactions have always been positive when he accidentally finishes inside you. That’s why tonight he decided to say fuck it and asked if he could; he wasn’t worried about the consequences anymore.

He’s kicking himself in the ass for not talking to Ellie sooner.

The only reason he hasn’t broached the subject with her is after what happened in Colorado, Joel’s treated her like she’s a fragile piece of glass that he doesn’t want to risk getting broken again—the way she lost her spark after that resort town killed him; and what happened at the hospital? If he had the chance, he’d murder every one of those Fireflies again for how fucked up she was when he told her their plans to kill her without knowing for sure if they could make a cure or not and that her life meant nothing to them.

It took a lot of time for him to put her back together again, and being in Jackson helped a lot with her making friends and having some semblance of normalcy. But he’s worried any major changes will mess her up, and add in her biggest fear of ending up alone, Joel dating seems like a recipe for disaster—Ellie will always be his top priority, even if it’s at the expense of his happiness.

It’s early morning, and he’s got another thirty minutes before the sun will begin its ascent on the horizon, fresh snow coating the ground, the temperature freezing. Joel is skulking home from your place to be there before Ellie wakes up.

His point of entry is the back door that leads into their kitchen, which doesn’t make as much noise as the front and can be locked when he leaves. He’s staying close to the side of the house, heading toward the backyard, and peeks around the corner to check the vicinity—his heart pounds when he sees a dark figure trying to get into the door, Joel pulling the knife, he walks around with, off of his belt, keeping his steps light, silently approaching them.

“Why the fuck don’t we have a light back here?” he hears them quietly mutter.

“Ellie?” Joel says at regular volume.

“Ahhh!” she screams, turning in his direction. Her hand is over her winter coat-covered chest. “Jesus Christ, Joel! Way to give me a fucking heart attack!”

He walks closer, sheathing his knife, as he says, “What the hell are you doin’ out here?”

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

His hands perch on his hips. “Doesn’t matter—you, on the other hand, just got over bein’ sick and shouldn’t be out in this cold. Move, I’m gettin’ your ass inside.”

She stepped aside, and he walked over, quickly unlocking and opening the door; he grabbed her by the shoulder and firmly guided her inside. He flicked on the room’s light once they were inside, and the door was closed and locked, Joel crossing his arms over his chest.

“Now, where the fuck have you been?” he asks.

She’s unzipping her coat. “Where the fuck have you been?”

“I asked you first.”

She shrugs off her jacket and tosses it onto the kitchen table. Joel sighs, walking over to pick it up—he’ll hang it alongside his by the front door before he goes up to his room.

“I was at the same place you were.”

He keeps his face neutral, but his heart is thudding, and he’s pretty fucking sure she wasn’t at your house.

He meets her eyes. “And that is?”

She smirks. “My secret girlfriend’s.”

“Goddammit.” His fingers press to his forehead as he closes his eyes. “You fuckin’ know—how the fuck do you know?”

“Let’s see, she’s literally the only person in town aside from me and Tommy’s family you like. You stare at her with, I don’t know what to call them, googly eyes? It’s that look the dudes have when they see the love of their life, or whatever, in those shitty romantic movies we like to make fun of. I’ve heard you call her ‘sweetheart’—” She fake gags, and Joel sighs. “—you’ve gone over to her house to fix so much shit that, at this point, it’s gotta be a whole new house. You sneak over there every fucking night. Oh, and when she sees the lady next door, the crazy one who’s got a real hard-on for you—gross by the way—when she sees ‘you can call me, Sandy,’ flirt with you—double-gross—I’m pretty sure she’s plotting murder; you’re definitely plotting murder when guys hit on your girlfriend—which, I don’t get why the two of you pretend like you aren’t together; is she embarrassed that you’re so fucking old and ugly, or something?” His teeth clench, and he glares at her. “God, don’t give me the murder eyes, Joel! I was kidding!” She playfully punches his arm. “Kind of… I mean, I’m happy you found someone who loves you even though you’re a grumpy asshole and look like that.” She points at his face.

“You done?”

“Telling you you’re old and ugly? Sure. For now. But I have one more thing that gave you guys away.”

His eyebrow lifts. “What is it?”

“When she came over the other day while I was sick as balls and hung out with me, you slept. Joel, you do not fucking sleep if there’s anyone else here besides me, which is why if I wanna have a sleepover with my friends, I have to go to their houses.”

“Were we really that obvious?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew?”

She’s clearly confused. “I thought we were avoiding the topic.”

“What topic?”

“Like, relationships—you never said anything to me, so I figured it was something we don’t talk about.”

He cringes. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel…”

She smiles. “I don’t give a fuck if you date, Joel—if you’re happy, I’m happy.”

He matches her look. “I’m pretty fuckin’ happy. Are you happy with your uh, girlfriend? Have I met her?”

“Yeah,” she nods, grinning. “It’s Cat!”

His eyes round—he was under the impression Cat is her best friend, and he has met the other girl many times.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re way better at this secret girlfriend stuff than I am. I had no clue. I like Cat; she’s got all those neat tattoos.”

“She does!” she replies with a grin. “And I’m getting one!”

“You’re what?!”

Masterlist - One Shot

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know! 

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller/reader #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller smut #wheresarizona writes #joel miller x you #Joel miller/yo

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 6: Dry Hump- James Potter

Summary: James Potter was your best friend, and he was unequivocally in love with Lily Evans. However, he has one secret he trusts only with you: he’s never kissed anyone.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, inexperienced James & experienced Reader, friends with benefits vibes, kissing/making out, dry humping, cumming in pants, teasing, nearly caught

Part 2 // Part 3

masterlist 📚 

kinktober masterlist😈 

AO3 Link 

James Potter was your best friend. He had many best friends, including the other Marauders and fellow Gryffindors, but he was YOUR best friend and had been since the first year at Hogwarts. James was the one person you always ran to and shared all happy memories with; if you needed cheering up, he’d be the only one who could pull a smile to your lips. It had always been just the two of you until he became infatuated with Lily Evans.

It had been years of hearing about how wonderful Lily was, which you knew anyway as she was your friend. Finally, you convinced her to say yes to one date with James, even though she did wait until everyone was finishing their time at Hogwarts and about to graduate. He’d waited long enough, and you were thrilled to see him getting his dream date.

This was until he casually announced one day, “I’ve never kissed anyone”.

He’d mumbled it to himself under his breath. James had gone from pure exhilarated joy to fear and doubt at the weight he’d put on his shoulders for having to be the perfect date for Lily. You’d taken him to the Shrieking Shack to try and get away from everyone else so that James could blow off some steam, but all he’d done so far was sulk in his armchair and stare into the fire whilst waiting for Sirius and Remus to join after their lesson.

Then, out of the blue, he admitted his secret that he had yet to kiss anyone. A frown dawns on you as you turn away from the book in your hand to inspect the messy-haired Marauder next to you visually. “What?” you asked with a hint of uncertainty as if he was telling the truth, “How have you never kissed anyone before?” Your mind raced to all of the parties in the Gryffindor tower where most people, including yourself, had made out with others, but now that you thought about it, you’d never seen James lip-locked with anyone else.

It was James’ turn to frown as he looked at you blankly, “When would I have had time? I’ve just wanted to be with Lily, and she’s always said no when I’ve asked before. Anyway, I don’t see why you’re saying it in that tone; it’s not like you’ve been kissing loads of people”. You give James a tight-lipped smile to show that he was, in fact, very wrong with that statement. His eyes widen as he realises the truth, “Wait, you have? Since when?”

“James, how can you be shocked? I’ve kissed plenty of people before, especially during those parties with the fire whiskey that Sirius always steals for us. You wander off with the Marauders or fawn over Lily, and what am I supposed to do? Stand on my own? Absolutely not, I go and find some fun”.

Your best friend’s mouth drops open in shock. Still, he quickly covers it up by looking away grumpily, “Great, so I’m the only person in our year who hasn’t kissed anyone, and now, I’m going to take Lily out, and she’s going to refuse to see me again because I don’t know what I’m doing, we’re going to finish school, and I’ll never see her again, and I’ll die alone!”.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his over-the-top rant, shutting the book with a loud snap and facing him completely whilst still in your chair. “James, you need to chill out a bit; I’m sure it’ll be fine. Do you really think Lily’s been going around snogging loads of boys? I’m sure she’s just as inexperienced as you”.

James’ shoulders dropped in relief as he turned back towards you with hope in his hazel eyes, “Do you think so?”

Your face immediately gave it away that you’d been lying as you sighed, “Ok, I might have seen her making out with a Ravenclaw a year ago, but still, I wouldn’t worry about it! You’ll be excellent! You’re James Potter, the Gryffindor King, a founding Marauder and Gryffindor Seeker. You can sure as hell make out with Lily Evans correctly”.

The pretty Marauder smiled thankfully at your dramatic declaration, “That’s true, thanks, Sweetheart”. Relaxing back into your seat, the book returned to your hand, assuming the conversation was officially over. However, only a moment later, James is whining pathetically, “But what if I’m not good? What if I hurt her or lick her wrong or-”.

“Lick? Why are you licking her, James? I thought we were on about kissing?”

“We are! But you know, people use tongues and-”

“James, I don’t know what you want me to say; if you’re that petrified with kissing, why don’t we practice a little so you can stop freaking out”. It took you a couple of long seconds before the offer you’d just given him genuinely dawned on you. You weren’t sure why you had said it, expecting him to say no but wishing for him to calm down and thinking this was the only option.

James’ head snapped towards you, giving his full attention as he asked, “Wait, you’d do that?” He pushed himself up off the chair's arms, and his eyes were wide and hopeful again.

Lowering the book, you spoke slowly, “Yeah, sure. I mean, it’s just a kiss, and at least we’re friends, so no feelings have to be involved”.

“Yeah, that's a good point! Okay, right, so, um, how do we do this? Do I come over to you, or do we stand?”

Sighing at James, you stood abruptly, dropping the book and strutting to him with arms swinging. The marauder sits up suddenly, taking his feet off the stool he had been resting on as he stares up at you with wide eyes that you can see the whites of his eyes beneath his glasses. “What are you doing?” He questions uncertainly as you straddle his lap without a word, your knees resting on either side of his toned thighs, your fingers slipping around his neck and interlocking at the base of his skull.

“I’m going to kiss you, James. Is that alright with you?” You didn’t mean to sound sassy as you asked with a single raised questioning eyebrow, but you also needed to make sure that he was happy for this to continue.

Those two wide hazel eyes stared at your lips, licking his own to moisten as he slowly nodded, “Uh yeah, just tell me what to do.” A pang of sympathy rushed through your chest at seeing James becoming nervous, which was not usually a sight that you had to see as he was usually such a confident, happy person. You would have spent some time to explain that it was normal to be nervous during your first kiss, but you didn’t want to allow any more time for him to freak out, so loosening your intern locked fingers, you moved them to cup each of her freshly shaved cheeks and pressed your lips delicately against his. You wanted it to be quick enough that he didn’t even have time to tense, even though he did proceed to lock up as you moved back to assess his reaction.

“See, it’s not so scary. You’re supposed to enjoy this, James”. Thankfully, as your face lowered once more, he forced himself to take a steadying breath and relax the tension in his muscles as your lips caressed his.

They were softer than you’d anticipated, plump and smooth like a pillow and instantly, your eyes and his close. However, James surprised you by moving his first. His hand lifted and rested on your hip so gently that you hardly felt it until he gave your body a little squeeze to test the waters of how much he could get into the moment. So you rewarded him by pressing your face harder against his, lips beginning to move and rubbing against each other on instinct.

James even amazed himself with how naturally and quickly he could make out with you. Tilting your head, you deepened the kiss, nose pressing into his cheek so that you could smell his skin that had remnants of his aftershave, which was always spicy and woodsy. As the air became necessary, you pulled back enough to take deep, greedy breaths, now noticing he was doing the same thing but looking up at you with half-lidded eyes.

“So what did you think-”

James didn’t allow your sentence to finish as his other hand cupped along your jaw, pulling your face closer again until the two of you kissed with much more heat with the movements. His mouth opened wider to match how yours was moving against his; your heartbeat quickened as you leaned further into his tall, warm body, melting into his touch and kiss.

Then you wanted to take a risk and licked his bottom lip, which you were ultimately greeted with a praising deep groan of satisfaction that vibrated James’ entire chest and sent tingles straight to your core.

Ok, wow, you thought as James attempted and succeeded with his own lick back against your tongue; you were definitely getting turned on by this. As if he was reading your mind, James pressed harder on your hips, willing you to move down, which you did, your skirt pushing up on your thighs so that when you sat on his crotch, your panty-covered pussy was flush against the material of his trousers.

As one, the two of you pulled away from each other. Mainly because you were now sitting on his very hard erection and also because he knew you could feel his evidence of being aroused. You both stare at each other with wide, unblinking eyes, lips slightly swollen and the taste of his spit still on your tongue.

However, you didn’t want to stop and awkwardly sit back in your seat, and he wasn’t rushing to push you off, either. You were horny, and so was he. Yes, James Potter was your best friend, but that didn’t have to matter; you just wanted him to enjoy the moment and show that it wasn’t as scary as he thought.

Enough time passed, and if he didn’t want to continue, he would have said something by now, so you took the opportunity to lean back in, your thumb attempting to soothe him, stroking across his cheek in timid circles. As your mouths reconnected, your hips ground down on his crotch. You were hoping that he knew enough about anatomy to tell that the warmth from your pussy was a sign of arousal, wanting him to know you were just as turned on as he was.

You do it a few more times, rubbing back and forth with increasing pressure until James makes a pained noise that has you stopping altogether and checking in on him.

He’s looking everywhere but at you, as he apologises, “Sorry, it’s just these trousers are tight and rubbing me painfully”.

“You could just take them off”, you say once again, not thinking before you speak. James looks at you with dramatically wide eyes as he, too, realised what you’d just said. Quickly, you clarified, “I’m not saying that to have sex or anything; I just mean, we could kinda carry on doing what we are doing, but if your trousers are hurting, then just in your boxers”.

You’re surprised by his automatic response of a nod, yes, his arousal blocking all thoughts of Lily as he begins to undo his belt easily. Rising onto your knees to give him room, he pushed the offending material until his thighs were bare and his plaid boxers were on display, barely containing his length. Not wanting him to feel exposed, you lowered yourself once more, and both groaned at the contact, yours at a higher pitch as you could feel the entire outline of his cock against your cunt.

James was bigger than you’d thought and was currently pointing down his left thigh, so you angled your hips in this direction. Tilting your hips forward slightly, your clit grazed along his shaft, causing a hitch in your breath as it caused pleasure to pool in your abdomen, moisture slickening your hole with each movement.

You’re breathing just as heavily as he is, lips still moving against each other, exploring, tasting, needing more. You were kind of proud of him when he moved his face down your jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses and causing more pleasure to pulse through you. You were half tempted to rise onto your knees again to show him the evidence of your arousal that had soaked through your panties and onto his boxers, but you didn’t want it to stop.

As your fingers delved into his messy black hair to hold his face closer, he thrust his hips up against yours to add to his stimulation. He was still apprehensive, so he didn’t push too hard, but he rocked back and forth until his tip was pressed against your clothed folds. The muscular thighs beneath yours tensed with each thrust, the muscles defined from all his years of playing quidditch.

His hands remained in place, one on the opposite side of your jaw to where his mouth still kissed, and the other hand helped to move your hips back and forth in time with his own ruts. You’d never actually gotten off like this with anyone before. Usually, underwear would be removed at this point, and more direct contact could occur, but it was still exciting to have some barriers between you. The lace of your underwear was quite rough against your most sensitive area, especially your engorged throbbing clit. You were sure to be sore afterwards, especially with the amount of pressure you were rubbing against each other; with each passing second, the need to find completion made you both desperate.

As his lips found yours again, his tongue began to delve and explore the hollow of your mouth, along your palate and even over your teeth; your pussy began to clench, fire blooming in your core with the impending release.

Pulling back, your fingers moved to rest on his shoulders to hold on tighter as you quickly moaned, “Please don’t stop; I’m going to cum”.

James moaned huskily, out of breath, but both of his hands were now on your hips, moving both his hips and yours faster to find his orgasm. Resting your forehead on his, you both shared the same area, still tasting the other in your mouths, sweat beginning to coat your faces. You were sure you could feel his own wet patch against your arse cheek from where precum was dribbling from his tip and staining his underwear. 

“Ah, fuck- James!” your head tilts back as you finally orgasm, thighs shaking and pussy fluttering around nothing. However, just as you were beginning to come down from your pleasurable high, James suddenly grabbed you painfully, both arms wrapping around your waist as he sat up further on the chair, nearly knocking you off of him if it wasn't for his grip around your midsection. Reassuringly your arms wrapped around his shoulders as his face nuzzled into your chest, his body shivering as thick spurts of cum soaked his boxers.

His moans were like music to your ears and sounded slightly pathetic, making you cling to him more, attempting to run your fingers through his hair to calm the crazy style, but to no avail. Your pussy felt like it was on fire due to the rough stimulation and the untouched orgasm, but it felt so good you savoured the sensation for a few minutes whilst trying to catch your breath.

“There you go, Potter. Not only have you kissed a girl for the first time, but you’ve also made her cum”.

James laughs, loosening his grip slightly to look up at you, but then you both hear the worst noise imaginable: voices from a few floors below, especially those of Sirius and Remus. You scrambled to your feet, straightening your clothes and sitting back in your chair, picking up the book and opening it to a random page as James pulled up his trousers, both of you ignoring the bodily juices completely.

James just about had his feet back on the footstool before Sirius and Remus walked in, but both immediately halted and looked between you and James. It was Sirius who spoke first, eyes squinting in accusation, “Why do you both look so guilty right now? What did you do?”

#james potter #james potter smut #james potter x reader #james potter one shot #harry potter smut #harry potter #mine* #kinktober #kinktober 2023

[riseatlantisss]

The end we start from

Pairing : Astarion x female!reader/Tav Around 1,8 words Takes place after the events in Cazador's palace in act 3 (non-ascended Astarion, established relationship) Angst with a happy ending (and loooots of sex) <3

Astarion doesn’t feel good enough. you show him he’s everything.

TW : 18+ MDNI, unprotected sex, very angry/angsty/rough sex, fingering, mature language, mentions of death and depression, mentions of blood

A/N : when i don’t work, i do two things: i take care of my dog and i play BG3. i don’t eat. i don’t sleep. i don’t socialize. i just play BG3. and I write stuff about *him*.

Astarion is many things. Quiet is not one of them. But lately, that’s all he’s been, and you’ve been worrying about him night and day. Tonight is no exception. You wake up in the middle of the night and realize two things : not only is Astarion’s side of the bed empty but the sheets and pillows are untouched, uncrumpled. His side hasn’t been slept in. This isn’t right. Of course, he doesn’t really need to sleep but he always, always lays next to you at night, spooning you, playing with your hair and whispering sweet I love yous in your ear until you fall asleep. His absence means something’s off. Unable to shake off the anxiety, you get up in one swift motion, determined to find him. No chance you’re falling back asleep now anyway.

Your bare feet hit the cold marble floor and you shiver as you make your way accros the bedroom in a hurry. You think of searching outside in case he went for a hunt, but it turns out you don’t have to look too far. There he is, silently leaning against the wall by the window, gazing into the pitch-black night of the Underdark. The light in the room is so dim that you couldn’t even spot him from your bed. You approach him and your heart breaks a little when you notice the lingering sadness in his crimson eyes, enhanced by the faint light of the burning candles next to him.

You want to ask him if he’s ok but it’s obvious he’s not so instead, you remain silent and close the space between the two of you, wrapping your arms around him and gently resting your head on his shoulder.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask softly after a while, your voice barely above a whisper.

Astarion averts his gaze and gives you a faint smile, nothing but a twist of lips.

“Nothing,” he replies. “I’m just being selfish, as usual. Forgive me, y/n.”

You frown and stare at him incredulously. “You’re not selfish,” you say, surprised at how intensely he means it. “Why would you even say that?”

“I –” He pauses, rethinks his words. This does nothing to make you less worried. “I caused you great pain,” he finally says. “I put you in danger. Repeatedly, ever since we met. You could have died a hundred times and it would have been my own, entire fault.”

You look up to him and feel a lump form in your throat. You have never seen him look like this – grief in his eyes and etched into the lines of his face.

“I’m not dead, Astarion. I’m right here with you.” You say as you wrap your arms around his neck. He makes a sound somewhere near a sob and your arms tighten.

“But I did put you in danger and now you’re stuck with me for eternity, in the middle of nowhere, and you—" Again, he stops. He’s bad at this, at talking about emotions. But he fights through it because it’s you. And nothing can be left unsaid between the two of you. Not after everything that’s happened. “You deserve so much better. You deserve the world, and I can’t give it to you.” You’re not sure where this conversation is going but you don't want to find out. His lower lip quiver but he goes on, words spilling out of him like blood from a wound. “I can’t give it to you, and I’ll never be able to forgive myself for it. It’s killing me all over again.” You crumble under each one of his words. His lips are trembling now and you can’t stand it. You can’t but you can’t do him the dishonor of looking away either.

“Astarion, I chose this life.” Your hands flutter to his face, each one cupping a cold cheek, forcing him to look at you. Your heart is pounding, and you know he can feel it. “I had a choice; I could stay, or I could run, and I chose you. I’m not stuck here. I’m home.”

Astarion heaves a faltering breath in an attempt at composure. “Sometimes I think you would be happier without me. Better off.” He barely mouths the words, but you hear them all distinctively, nonetheless. “You should go and leave me here. Walk in the sun. Be happy and live your life.” You draw your hands away from his face and he steps back, speaking louder now.

“It won’t get any better in here,” he continues, gesturing urgently around the room. “It’ll always be cold and dark, I’ll always be a blood-thirsty monster. I belong to the shadows, and I’ll never be able to make you happy, so you might as well just leave.”

His words knock the air out of your lungs and, for a moment, you cannot breathe. You feel your pulse pounding in your veins and blood thrumming under your skin as your heartbreak turns into anger. That fucking idiot, you think, looking up at him through eyes blurred with tears.

“You don’t know what makes me happy. You don’t,” you shout, surprised by the vehemence in your voice. "And you certainly don't get to speak for me." Astarion looks at you in such confusion that you almost feel bad for a moment, but you continue.

“You – you make me happy, Astarion, gods you do. I would rather live an eternity in the Underdark with you than one more day in the fucking sun.” Your heart is clenching in your chest, and you can feel the heat pooling in your cheeks. “By no means would I be better off, let alone happier, without you. I can’t believe that you could even think –” You trail off and sigh in frustration. You can’t bring yourself to scream at him any longer because that’s all he’s ever known before you, screams and shouts and abuse, and you can’t do this to him. But that doesn’t leave you with many options to get through to him. Astarion opens his mouth to say something, but you don’t let him.

Without warning you grab his shirt to pull him close and your lips crash into his, knocking the breath out of both of you with the force that you collide with. It only fuels your rage because the moment his lips are on yours, you can’t help thinking that you almost lost this once and you can’t actually lose it. You won’t let that happen. So you kiss him harder. It’s rough and desperate and sloppy. It's harsh breath and biting teeth.

He turns you around and backs you against the wall. You take it rather hard, but you welcome the sting. Anything to shut him up about not being good enough for you. He crowds in closer, presses you even harder against the wall, shoving his knee between your thighs. His cold lips connect to your throat, making you eagerly tilt your head to give him access to your thrumming pulse dancing at your neck. You have absolutely no qualms about it. If he wants it, it’s his.

But he doesn’t take it. Instead, his mouth sucks and licks, making you squirm and rock your hips against him. You cling to him, grabbing his shoulders and sliding your hands down his shirt and to his back. He hoists you up like you weighed nothing and you wrap both legs around his waist. You tangle your hands in his curly silver hair and pull him forward to feel that mouth on yours again. His tongue running over your lip makes you grind faster, searching for more, more, more. You moan when his hand reaches beneath your gown and through your damp underwear.

Firm, icy fingers are stroking you into madness. You make a sound that’s close to a whimper, but more like a groan, because damn it, you are so impatient now. You are clenching – aching to have him inside.

He is gasping at the feeling of your fluttering around him, and you must be gasping too, but you’re not sure; your head falls back and it feels like you’re breathing, but you could just as well be drowning.

You dig your nails hard into his back - you need to channel the anger into something. Maybe you’ll be the one drawing blood this time. You lean forward to rest your dizzy head on his shoulder and groan in anticipation. Not wasting anymore time, he pushes his hard, large cock into you, going steadily until he’s all the way in.

“Harder. Fuck me harder.” You plead and he obeys.

He sets a pace that graces all the right spots, spurred on the increasingly desperate noises escaping your mouth. This is no effort at all for him, holding you up easily and fucking you hard with determination. But you can see it when you rest your forehead against his – the sheer weakness you feel is reflected right back at you and you know he needs this just as much as you do.

You are so close. You need to concentrate on breathing, just so you simply don’t die. Your lower back thuds against the wardrobe with your oh gods and fucks singing in tandem. The vampire trails open-mouthed kisses and little bites down your neck while maintaining the almost vicious pace in and out of you. Every stroke curls and loves and breaks you into submission. You forget to be angry because your release is in his hands and your body is desperately handing itself over to him.

Your thighs start to quiver around him, the sounds of wetness and the feeling of his own explosion of pleasure deep inside you taking you so high that eventually, you shatter into him. You’re so grateful for the strength holding you up, so you can fall apart.

Your repeatedly moan his name on your way back to consciousness, lips brushing softly against his pale skin.

Before you know what is happening, you break into a sob.

“Please…. Please don’t ever tell me to leave, ever again.” You try to articulate, your voice shaking uncontrollably.

He sinks down onto his knees, holding you in his lap and whispering, “Shh,” into your ear.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice is low and full of gravel. He never sounded so sweet. “I love you, always have and always will. And you’re not going anywhere.”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion baldurs gate #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x oc #astarion fanfic #astarion imagine #astarion x female reader #astarion fluff #astarion smut #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 smut #baldur's gate iii #astarion x you #larian studios #neil newbon #baldur's gate #bg3 fluff #astarion ancunin #astarion angst #bg3 tav #bg3 spoilers #astarion x y/n #astarion fic

[writingoddess1125]

The old men of One Piece finding out they have a child with you.

Shanks, Buggy, Mihawk X FemReader

Healthy mix of Angst and Fluff.

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Part 2

Buggy

"You two get your asses down now!" You yelled, trying to stop the two blue haired boys from destroying the restaurant further. Your two identical twins sons where only 11 years old but they were trouble- Double Trouble as everyone called them. Benny and Danny, who had given themselves the Nicknames of Bee and Dee- cause of course they did.

It wasnt just their dramatic tendencies, destructive nature or lack of volume control that made them silkar to a know pirate but also their appearance Who was non other then- Buggy the Clown. While they did lack the trademarked rounded red nose. They did get almost everything else- Long nlue locks, watercolor eyes and that crooked smile of theirs- it really wasn't fair how your genes didn't even have a chance-

It hasn't exactly been your best of moments when you conceived your children- Having been a performer on the famous pirate ship you ended up sleeping with your Captian one night on his Silly Throne. A few weeks later you started to feel unwell and realized you had been pregnant. In a moment of panic you fled the ship the next time it docked- Running from your Crew and Captian to never be seen again.

Once realizing you were on your own. You did what you could to make a living- opening a flashy little restaurant and using it to raise your two trouble makers. Dee running past you with a giggle snapped you from your thoughts, frowning as you set down your customers order infront of them before following the boy.

"Mom Mom! Look!" Bee yelled as he stood on one of the tables pointing out the window of the restaurant at the open ocean, Dee taking his place next to his twin. You walked closer to see what your son was looking at, the fog being thick that night as you tried to focus on what he was seeing.

Squinting your eyes you finally saw it- a Ship. As your eyes focused you saw the Jolly Roger and gasped, Ice feeling like it ran through your vain. You grabbed the boys quickly and backed away from the window. As if on cue the alarms set to alert that pirates had arrived. The sounds of canons hitting the town soon peirced through the alarms and the whole town erupted in chaos. You rush from the windows to the back of your restaurant.

Rushing down the stairs you knew Buggy and the crew would level the town to ashes. The best place to hid being the cellar, while it was small it would hopefully keep you and your boys safe. "Mom what's happening!?" Dee cried as he did his best to keep up with your fast pace. You didn't bother responding as you rushed to the old underground cellar lifting the rug and opened its little door.

"Mom I don't want to go down there!" Bee cried as you lowered him in the cellar first, Dee following soon after as you tried to sooth them.

"I know I know my loves, But do as I say- Stay quiet and-"

You paused as you heard the sound of crashing from out in the dining room followed by screams. Quickly you climbed in with your boys and lowered the wooden door of the cellar above you and frantically tried to place the rug so it fell onto it before plunging you and your sons in darkness.

You sat there shaking, holding your boys close to your chest as you heard the sound of someone walking towards you. Your hands shaking as you held them closer, feeling the moisture of your sons tears soaking into your dress.

You heard the sound of footsteps starting to search the room above you. Previously looking for valuables or anything interesting-

"Captian! I found the liquor!" The voice above you called out, Clearly grabbing the cases of rum that sat in the room above. Heavier footsteps followed into the room, hearing the cackle that made your skin stand up on end.

"Grab it all and whatever people you can find! We have a show tonight afterall!" You heard Buggy voice sound. The crew mate clearly rushing out with the cases while Buggy remained. You heard him turn through the room, ready to leave before his heavy steps landed on the cellar door above you it's old wood groaning at the weight. Your eyes widened as you realized you'd been caught, Without time to react the door was ripped open and you couldn't help but release a scream.

Buggy- In his hands you see his signature blades as he grinned down in the cellar. Reaching down and grabbing you by the hair and yanking you out-

"A new audience memeber!- wait" He raised an eyebrow as he held you up higher by your hair and looked over your crying face. His eyes looking over your face. "I know you... (Y/N)?" He asked questionably before his eyes shot to see a flash of blue dart at him and kick him as another one came to try and pull you from his grasp.

"Let her go!" "LEAVE OUR MAMA ALONE!" Your boys desperately screamed as they weakly tried to attack the man holding you. Buggy dropping you quickly as he stared down at the three of you, You quickly pulling the boys away from him and behind you.

A awkward silence following this as Buggy released a shaky breath before laughing loudly. A insane laugh that had him doubled over, before looking at you again with crazed eyes. A few crew members coming into the room after hearing their Captian laugh, especially at the sight of you, their former crewmate and two boys that looked like their Captian.

"Freaks, Take these three and lock them in my personal Quarters. We got a family reunion!"

Shanks

"Mommy I have Missy Luc-ia ready!" You heard your daughter call out. Setting out the freshly frosted cupcake, onto the countertop, that she was just barely taller then. Smiling down at the bright face before you- She may be only 4 but she was the sweetest girl.

"Thank you Vivian. Can you grab the order list for Mommy?" You ask, getting an exaggerated nod and running off. Her mess of bright red hair bouncing with each step. A little clone of her dad, The famed Shanks 'Red Hair' a former fling of yours.

It had been a nice little relationship you two shared, him coming by every other week to meet with you when his ship restocked. Buying random pastries you knew he bought to get close to you, always complimenting your Baking skills and sweetness. Which ended up to many passionate nights both in your own bed and on Shanks ship. The last time you met, Shanks told you he had to go for a while and didn't know if he's return. Tears shed as you watched him set sail- having the feeling you'd never see him again.

As if the gods had sympathy for you or wanted to use you as a cruel joke you fell pregnant. Giving birth to your daughter who ended up being a Shanks part 2. A giggly and happy baby with unique red hair, while she was a perfect mix of the two of you in terms of face she inherited Shank's smile, hair and eye shape.

As you packed the poorly frosted cupcake that your daughter had made. Ignoring the fingerprints in its frosting- you hit it in the back of the fridge you'd never tell her you couldn't sell it since she had eaten part of her work and replaced it with the true finishes product to be delivered.

As you finished your packing you heard the bell of your bakery door chime.

"Welcome to the Sweet treats bakery, how can I help yo-" the words froze to your lips as you saw Shanks. Eyes wide at seeing him again, it was clear he had delt with some serious wear and tear by how the world seemed to settle on his shoulders a bit more.

"(Y/N) long time no see" He said softly as he stared at you, mentally still trying to process what you were seeing. He stepped forward, Looking ready to explain himself away before the sound of tiny footsteps drew him in- Seeing the little girl holding a notepad with all your orders and running to you. Out of muscle memory you scooped your daughter and placed her on your hip, she smiled at you and held the order book out to you again which you gingerly took.

"Here you go Mommy!" She chimed, Looking at you as she noted your shocked face. Her gaze following the now shocked man, He looked like a breeze could knock him down as he stared at her then you then her again.

"Shes mine isn't she?" Shanks asked, his eyes never leaving the little girl on your hip. Vivian looking at Shank's then you confused at what was taking place. Before you could respond however it seemed Shank's answered his own question. Laughing loudly in utter joy and jumping forward towards you, scaling the countertop like it wasn't even there and crashed his lips against yours happily.

"Ha! I'm a Dad!!" He cheered, Taking his one arm around you and starting to spin you and Vivian who at first was scared. But hearing the giggles from the man started to as well- the two even laughed the same which made the Red Haired man even happier.

"Y-Yes Shanks. She is yours...This is Vivian" You said softly, watching Shanks lean in close to view his daughter. It was like he had found the most amazing treasure in the world and it shone in his eyes.

"Vivian, Such a beautiful name for the most beautiful girl in the world" He said in awe, earning a shy smile from Vivian.

"Vi, This is... this is your Daddy" You say softly, watching Vivian look up at you then back at Shanks. Hesitant at first before holding out her arms tk him, taking the opportunity he scooped her up in his single arm and held her close. Tears welling up in his eyes as he looked at her delicate face, her chubby little fingers touching his face and looking over him.

"You're my Daddy?" She asked innocently. A smile breaking over Shanks face as he nodded and held her close, tears pouring down his face.

"That's right baby girl- I'm your Daddy"

Mihawk

It had been 16 long years since you had laid eyes on Mihawk- a simple one night stand that had long consequences that followed. Your son, your beautiful baby boy who you named Alucare.

It had been at a bar, the two of you drinking and simply talking. Before one thing lead to another in the alleyway next to the bar- You truthfully cringed at the thought of how embarrassing it was to be undone by a few nice words, a charming warlord and some drinks.

"Mother, which one did you want?" Your son asked, snapping you from your thoughts pointing to the fishmongers selection, his emotionless face like a carbon copy of his father's.

Truthfully he looked too much like his damn father- same yellow eyes, black hair, very tall form, stoic face the only thing missing was the facial hair Which you thanked The Gods for since you didn't think you could stare at your one night stands face forever. Alucare did have some differences, he had your nose as well as kept his hair longer. The thick spicy locks hitting the center of his back which you helped him care for. But truthfully that was really it-

You also knew that other people would star long at your boy, a few times Marines having come up to see your son when he was walking to school or going to the market. He knew who his father was, having Marines who had seen him in battle tell him as much. However he never seemed to care, just giving them a frosty look that made them back away before leaving. Whenever you'd brought up the topic of His father he often would sit quietly for a few moments before saying he wasn't interested in such a conversation which you respected.

"Hmm, that one is fresher-" You say sweetly as your boy grabs the fish and plops it in the basket, Handing the merchant the berries.

Always the gentleman he would take your arm in his as the two of you walked. He would hold the heavier baskets and give you only bread or a small bag of fruit. He was too kind as a child, you felt bad at times at how his eyes seemed to know the struggles you had faced when he was born and tried to help you out now that he was older besides your persistence.

"Alucare, I heard from your teachers yoh got very high marks again. Do you want to celebrate? Maybe a nice dinner is in order? Or-"

"It's just a test Mother. No need for so much trouble" He said softly, giving a hint of a smile at his words. You chuckled at him and shook your head. Stubborn too.

You felt your son stop midstep- Glancing up at him as his face turned to stone before your eyes.

"Honey?" You call to him, before following his gaze at what had caught his attention. Across the market a dark figure stood, You immediately felt your heart drop to your stomach as you knew instantly who it was- Mihawk standing there with the same stoic expression as Alucare but his eyes seemed to be a bit wider. Most likely the closest to shock that could come over his face-

You tugged slightly to turn back, not wanting to create a accidental scene but your son clearly had other plans. Instead starting to walk again, His arm still holding yours as he kept his gaze at Mihawk. You expected Alucare to stop infront of Mihawk- a blowup or something but. No.

Alucare just walked past Mihawk- Like he wasn't even there. His face staying forward as no words passed. As you continued to walk you turned to look behind you where you saw Mihawk, he seemed to stagger on his feet like someone had finally peirced him with a blade.. but it seemed to be a invisible one to his heart.

#x reader #one peice x reader #one peice live action #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #hawkeye mihawk #mihawk x reader #one piece mihawk #shanks #shanks one piece #shanks x reader #one piece shanks

[rynbutt]

pierced. | spencer reid.

Moving into a new apartment in a new city is stressful, what's even more stressful is when there's a fucking murder in the apartment across from yours... at least the fbi agent is cute.

you can find the other parts on my masterlist.

cw: fem!reader, 18+ piercing, fluffyish, reader has pierced tiddies, flirting, wondering if i should do a part 2 fr

a/n: coming from a pierced nipple girly who wants a cute boy to knock on her door. also enjoy <3 and follow >:) also yay for the first thing i've posted :3

You let out an exasperated sigh as you collapsed another cardboard box.

Moving into a new apartment was fun in theory, but the practice of filtering through everything you own and finding a neat little spot for it? not so much. You took a long sip from your now cold cup of coffee before glancing across the room at the looming pile of cardboard boxes that just stood there and mocked you.

You picked up the next box of what was probably clothes and took a box cutter to the almost twenty layers of tape across the seam (it wouldn't stay closed, in retrospect you should have made up another box but you were really determined to make it fit at the time).

You ripped the rest of the tape off and put your hands on your hips, glancing at your cat Tofu on the couch.

"Care to help?" you asked... the cat. Tofu proceeded to curl into herself and begin grooming tubby belly. "I guess not."

There was an abrupt knock on your apartment door, Tofu scattering to the wind at the sudden sound. You furrowed your brows, confused as to why anyone would be knocking on your door.

You had moved here a matter of days ago, knew no one and were far too broke for doordash. You ignored it for a moment, thinking whoever resided on the other side of the door had the wrong apartment. When the knock came again, you thought you'd better answer this time.

You opened the door ajar, just in case it was someone who wanted to steal any of the maybe four things you'd managed to unpack. A tall darker skinned man looked down at you, "Yes?"

"Hi ma'am, I'm Agent Morgan and this is Dr. Reid, we're with the FBI," he introduced himself, holding up his credentials for you to peek at. You opened the door the rest of the way, glancing at the second tall man standing in your door way. He had messy hair just below his ears and was wearing a collared shirt with two black pens tucked into the pocket over his chest, he was cute. He pulled his lips into a tight line and held his hand up in a wave.

Spencer's eyes glanced down your body briefly. He has certainly seen some strange outfits when people answer their doors but none that made his skin run hot like this.

You wore a baby blue tank top and grey adidas shorts, he could see a small sliver of skin between your two garments but that's not what caught his eye. You had your nipples pierced.

Now, Spencer really didn't mean to stare but they were right there. The air of your apartment was clearly chilly given how your nipples pressed against the fabric. He could see the little studs on either side of your hardened nipples and he felt like a Victorian boy seeing an ankle for the first time.

"Oh no, you found me," you joked, laughing at yourself lightly. They didn't laugh. Your smile dropped, "I'm joking. Uh, come in, please." You stood aside, letting the two men into your basically bare apartment.

"Just move in?" Morgan asked, looking around your small living room.

"Uh, yeah, yeah. I'm starting a new job in a week," You replied, trying to make small talk. "What exactly are you here for?"

"There was a murder in the apartment across from yours," Dr. Reid said abruptly, stealing the air from your lungs.

Your eyes were blown wide, "What?"

"Young woman like you, stabbed to death-"

"Reid," Morgan warned, shaking his head softly at the younger man.

"Shit, that sucks," you replied, glancing between the two men. "I assume you're talking to me because I live close by, huh?"

"It's just procedure," Morgan replied. "Can you tell me where you were around 11pm last night?"

"Uh, yeah. I was here, I had a lot to unpack, you know?" You replied honestly, wondering how you didn't hear that someone was being murdered across the hall.

"And you didn't hear anything?" Morgan asked, eyebrows furrowed as he stood to face you.

"No, no I honestly didn't. I had my headphones on while I was unpacking, I went to bed around midnight." Were you incriminating yourself? Maybe you should make some friends so you don't get caught up in this kind of stuff.

"The UnSub we're looking for is white male, mid 20s to 30s, seems out of place. Have you seen anyone like that around?" Dr. Reid asked.

"No, I mean, I just moved here, I don't know anyone. I haven't left my apartment since I got here," you replied, looking Dr. Reid in the eye. You caught him glancing down at your boobs for a moment before he caught himself, clearing his throat.

It was only then that you realised what you were wearing. Fuck. Two FBI agents, one of whom was your type to a T came to question you about a murder and your nipples were gazing upon the world like a deer in headlights.

You quickly crossed your arms across your chest before scampering across the room to grab your hoodie off your couch. You pulled it over your head before staring at the two men awkwardly, your skin feeling hot.

"I'm sorry about... my attire, I didn't even-"

Morgan smiled, chucking softly, "Please, this is your home, sweetheart." Morgan glanced at Spencer, who suddenly found the ceiling utterly fascinating. "You mind if I have a look around? We suspect he used the fire escape."

"Of course, yeah. You can see it from the bedroom," you replied, being left alone with the cute doctor. "You seem young to be a doctor," you said softly, trying to make small talk.

"Scarring, tearing and nerve damage is possible when you get your," he coughed, "nipples pierced... infections and bleeding are also common," he quickly said, lips pulled into a tight line.

"Mm, cute and smart... well, I've had them for five years so... I think I'm safe, Dr. Reid," you replied with a chuckle.

"Spencer," he muttered.

"Huh?"

"Spencer, it's my name. Spencer Reid," he said, hands clutched tightly around the strap of his leather satchel.

"Spencer," you smiled, "I'm Y/N."

"Well, we better get out of your hair," Morgan returned from your room, glancing between you and Spencer for a moment. "Let's go, Reid."

You opened the door for them, Morgan thanked you as he left and started down the hall to the elevator. Spencer paused for a moment, glancing at you for briefly before walking out the door.

"Hey," you called softly. Spencer spun around to look at you and you definitely couldn't let him escape without your number. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Uh, girlfriend? I, uhm-"

"He doesn't!" Morgan called from down the hall, making you smile.

"You don't know that!" Spencer retorted, making a face at Morgan who was grinning.

"So... you do?" You asked.

"...No, I don't." He muttered.

"Okay, well," you laughed, plucking the pen from the pocket of Spencer's shirt. "Call me sometime," you scribbled your name and number with a little heart onto a scrap piece of paper that once wrapped your toaster.

"Yes... Okay, I will," he replied nervously, holding your number in his hands gently. He glanced at it, a smile beaming across his handsome face.

"You, uh, might wanna go before your partner loses it," you giggled after a beat. Spencer muttered a quick 'oh' before walking quickly toward the elevators.

"Bye," Spencer said softly, waving at you with a little smile.

"Bye, Dr. Reid!"

Spencer stepped into the elevator with Morgan, the silence palpable in the tiny mental container.

"'Bye, Dr. Reid~'," Morgan raised his voice an octave, planning to tease Spencer relentlessly and text the group chat as soon as they got to the car.

"Shut up!"

reblog and follow me :3 also come chat, i love to yap.

dividers by @cafekitsune

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #dr reid #spencer reid #fluff #spencer reid fluff #x reader #criminal minds x reader #derek morgan #spencer fluff #dr spencer reid x reader #reid #criminal minds spencer

[irndad]

won't you be my sunshine-a.h.

a/n: runner!hotch x sunshine!reader !! sooooo fluffy, first hotch fic of mine so be gentle with me! lots of pining and happy end <3 happy to continue with these two in an au!

Aaron Hotchner is not a particularly emotive man. 

This is a skill he has honed, a cherished quality that was not born of luck or of natural ability, but a skill that he has honed down to a fine tip point. He needs to be, in this job. It’s cost him things, of course, but for the most part, Aaron is happy with his choices. He takes a firm line with people he works with, and does not always let up in his personal life.

The only time this sometimes causes a hitch, is in his romantic life.

Which isn’t to say that he has one. 

There is a woman who reads in the park every morning. Aaron affectionately thinks of this bench as her bench, as it is marked by wisterias and hyacinths on either end of it. It’s something of a ritual, after his runs, that they talk. 

It’s fun. He doesn’t have a lot of space for fun. He’d collapsed on the bench one day after siphoning his anger at a particular case into a difficult run. He’d crashed onto the bench, sweaty and exhausted and hadn’t even seen her there. Which is a bit impressive, as she’s hard to miss the sight of. It is also in equal measure embarrassing. It’s not every day you collapse in front of a gorgeous woman, disturbing her from what is likely a lovely afternoon in the park.

That’s how it started, anyway. She doesn’t run, so each break is punctuated by her company. He’s actually not sure if they’re flirting. He’s not very good at that- the last time he has to he was 17 and so full of unearned confidence, he lucked into a partnership. 

Now, he’s a bit older and a lot more scarred. She’s younger than him, not by much. She laughs with her whole chest at his dry, glib humor- and this is something Aaron had forgotten. The joy of a beautiful, wonderful woman’s company beside you. 

He feels a little out of place next to her. Romance is not something he does. Ever thought he’d do again, really. That’s not to say that this is romance. Their romance is almost entirely hypothetical. He thinks of her at work, which is a monumental development in and of itself. 

“So, how was the paperwork? I know you’ve been taking a little more on since your colleague had a baby. It’s so kind of you to do it.” She asks him on a beautiful August morning. 

He fights off a blush that she remembers what he’s done for JJ. He’s not big on mentioning his own good deeds. Aaron believes that this would cancel it out. Still, her praise is a warm balm to the exhaustion that plagues him. It’s hedonistic, the way he wants her to say more about him. He wonders absentmindedly if she knew everything about him that’s hard to love, she’d still paint him with such a light and warm glance. She’s bright enough, he’s tempted to tell her everything about him just because she asks. 

“It was…alright. My team is excellent. I’m lucky to work with people like them, it makes the process better. I couldn’t ask for more.”

She giggles a little at this, and there’s that roar of affection. 

He feels a sense of ease around her, one that is suspicious for him. He tries not to romanticize, but this connection is hard not to. She’s beautiful- this is obvious to anyone who meets her, a simple truth of her. But Aaron is trained to notice things little factors that show the truth of someone. 

He likes to watch her- it’s a pleasant thing, getting to be in her presence. It’s a little addicting, the way she looks at him. It makes him feel like all of the things he knows to be true of himself- his relative failures, the closed-off nature of his demeanor- are things that not only can be overlooked, but don’t seem to be in her line of sight at all. It’s an honor, to have her doe eyes rake over the sight of him, to meet him with gentle conversation. 

He tries not to notice that she is gorgeous. Aaron has been around beautiful women, of course- this is not something that should surprise him. But there’s something effervescent about her, something that his him wondering if it’s possible that she might feel the same way about him. He knows that he used to be a more attractive man, but now. Well, he’s a bit bruised, both metaphorically and physically. 

It feels odd to even think of this happening. She’s just got a warm, sweet tone and he replays what it’s like when she greets him. She smiles her brilliant grin and sometimes hugs him. It’s embarrassing how much he likes the feeling of it- soft curves against hard muscle and scarred skin. She always smells wonderful, and he wonders how nice it would be to have more of this. 

“I like your new shirt, by the way.” She smiles at him, and his heart jumps. It feels juvenile, but- she’s wearing a new lipstick, it seems. Her beautiful pout looks awfully tempting. 

“I like the lip color,” he tries to compliment back amenably, but that doesn’t stick. Instead, it comes out too earnest. He’s hyper aware of the fact that she’s right by him. She flushes, and Aaron feels a surge of pride. 

“Thank you,” she says, voice softer and flattered, and isn’t that a pretty sound? He’d love to do that for her, make her feel seen, make her feel like she’s as beautiful as she is, “I thought you might like it.”

It’s her directiveness that breaks the seal, he supposes looking back. Because she wore the lipstick for him. That’s just about the only thing it can mean, and he is struck with a particularly sensory fantasy of what it would be like to slot his mouth against hers- he gets the feeling it might be worth it even if he gets the color on his mouth. 

He’s a gentleman, though, he decides after a decidedly ungentlemanly amount of time spend staring at the gorgeous curve of her lips. 

“Would you want to get dinner with me?” He hears himself say it before he’s processed it, and then it’s out into the world. His heart is hammering and he’s blaming on the run, when god, it’s absolutely about how breathtaking she looks, the sunlight reflecting off her hair like a halo. When she beams back at him, she looks particularly angelic. 

It’s then, she leans over and kisses him on the cheek. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

(Months later, when she is sitting on his kitchen counter and he is standing between her legs, gazing down at her with unabated fondness because he is entitled to that, he reflects on this moment and thinks god, how lucky am I, that I ran past that bench?) 

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner imagines #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner blurbs #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotch fic #hotch #hotch x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner x bau!reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #ssa aaron hotchner #agent hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

[multifandomfanatic02]

"You Don't Own Me."

pairing : Alastor x overlord!reader

summary : A new overlord has came to play in Hell, you. Alastor took notice in how many souls you've accrued in such a short time. He has to let you know where you stood in the overlord hierarchy, however things don't go the way he originally planned.

warnings : slight blood play ig? Idk. Author trying to edge the reader :)) not proofread

word count : 900

You hadn't been in Hell for long but it felt as if you belonged. It didn't take long before you started catching the hearts of the sinners. A lot happily giving up their souls to simply breathe the same sulfuric air as you. The way you used these souls was unique. You weren't mean or evil in anyway shape or form. In fact, you were often seen as an inspiration.

The overlords in Pentagram City were a different story. None of them liked the way you shot up the hierarchy without even trying. Instilling fear was what got them where they were at and they weren't going to give up their seat to a goody-two-shoes like you. Your methods interested one overlord in particular, Alastor. Despite literally being stuck in the past, he was quite the open-minded demon.

He didn't know whether or not to applaud you or challenge you. Your talent would be useful. He wanted you for himself. And for years he fought to claim your soul and make a deal. And not once out of the hundreds of proposals did he convince you it was a good idea. The two of you slowly started to develop a strange relationship. Nothing romantic but there was definitely tension. While he didn't own your soul, you were often in each other's company.

It was like mutualistic relationship. He staved off the overly pushy overlords constantly offering you a job; jobs that would obviously make you uncomfortable. In turn, you offered your assistance in a lot of his business. It came with pros and cons like any other agreement. He was extremely possessive of you. You were treated like precious property. You had enough. There was no reason for this behavior. Typically it didn't bother you, but something snapped.

"Alastor. You do not own my soul. I'm not property that you can toy with. I should be allowed to go wherever I please." You crossed your arms in frustration hearing him explain why he didn't want you in the Vees territory.

"Darling, you know I hold you with upmost respect. It's got nothing to do with you being property. I understand you are immune to Vox's hypnosis spell. It's not him I'm worried about. My worry is of Vox's plaything, Valentino." He gripped your wrist, leaning ever so slightly to place a kiss on your knuckles. "Understand that you are a sight to behold in the entirety of Hell. Valentino, is not honorable in his job as I, my dear. Without the proper protection, you might as well be an easy target." His breath ghosted your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

It's like he forgot who you were, what you were capable of. It was time to show him how that talent of yours has affected him over time. And trust when you say, it did.

"Oh Alastor, I think you forget as to how I became an overlord in the first place. The feminine charm that you oh so fear backfiring on me is why you have been by my side after all these years." You wrapped your fingers around his bow tie, pulling him down to your level. An enchanting smile creeping up on your face as Alastor's expression glitched out from the bold action. The other hand running through his hair making him let out a soft purr. His eyes focused on yours trying to determine your next move before you could decide.

To his surprise, you gently pressed your lips against his. His head was dizzy with confusion and guilty enjoyment. Your lips trailed down his neck, biting down a bit. Enough for his blood to trickle down. Your hands were now trading between playing with his hair and drawing small circles on the back of his neck. Your lips returned to his, smearing the blood from your tongue as if it were a beautiful crimson lipstick. The poor guy was so touch starved, he gave in to the sudden intrusion of affection. He couldn't do anything but allow you to press his buttons.

Your tongue ran over your lips, swallowing whatever blood was left on them. You took a step back to view the obvious mess you've made. Alastor's eyes were dazed as if he was in another world. His face beet red nearly matching the color of his suit. It was such an unusual sight to see on him. And you managed to do it.

"My my, Alastor, you look like you would be willing to sell me your soul just readingthe look on your face." You held your hand to your lips to cover the laugh attempting to escape. "How the tables have turned, dear." A joke of course, he would never actua-

"Yes." His ears dropped to the back of his head, still standing at your level. No sign of humor on his face.

"I'm sorry, what?" You blinked dumbfounded, mouth agape.

"I will give you my soul, but only if I'm the only one to experience that from you." Your face flushed from his proposal. Alastor had actually submitted to you because of a single kiss? But it wasn't JUST a kiss to him. It forced out desires he had been holding in for a long time. Now more than ever was he determined to have you be his. It didn't matter as to how anymore.

"You've got yourself deal, Al."

a/n: I know this one is short, it was more of an experiment because of a dream that I had. However if you like this concept, I'd be more than happy to build upon it in the future.

#hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin #the radio demon #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbinhotel #alastor imagine #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor smut #alastor x y/n #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor angst #alastor fanfiction #alastor oneshot

[dilemmaontwolegs]

just gonna put this here while its fresh in my mind but since lando has been wildin and wont stfu about OF... what if reader does OF 😏 faceless and lando makes a cameo once in a while😵‍💫😵‍💫 OKAY BYE WHY IS HE LIKE THIS LATELY

Your Biggest Fan || Ln4

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, masturbating, only fans WC: 1.3k

One || Two || SMAU || Three

You were a solo act, that was your choice. Everyone who subscribed to your account knew the deal despite offers from some very big names in the industry - you were happy on your own - you couldn’t risk getting caught. Your parents would surely disown you, but you liked the danger that came with your side hustle. 

You could still remember the day he subscribed, top tier no less. The username was generic and he kept his camera turned off but that wasn’t unusual - you preferred to keep your face hidden too. A selection of toys lay across your bed and he hummed indecisively while he internally debated which one to watch you play with this time.

“If I was there, I know what I would do,” he mused, his voice dropping in a way that had your stomach flipping.

You settled amongst the pile of pillows surrounding you, keeping your face above the view of the camera, and teased your nipples while you patiently waited for his choice. “Yeah, what would you do to me?”

Your touch ran further down your body and you spread your legs for him. His breathing changed to slower, deeper intakes and you wished he had his camera on so you could see the effect you had on him. 

“Fuck, I would fill you so good, babygirl,” he groaned. “I would make you cum harder than any of those toys can. You don’t even have one big enough to stretch you like I could.”

Your pussy clenched at the threat and you grabbed the biggest dildo from the pile, running the tip through your slit. You moaned as you pressed it to your entrance and it slowly slid home, filling you completely as you pumped it all the way to the base. “This one stretches me pretty good, big boy.”

“Not as good as I could.”

“Brave words for someone who can’t prove it,” you dared. 

There was some shuffling before his camera lit up and half of your screen filled with a toned stomach, muscled thighs and a dick that put your toy to shame. You sat up straighter, wanting a closer look and salivated at the way he stroked himself, his thumb and fingers not even touching because of the girth.

“Fuck me,” you exhaled longingly.

“Don’t tempt me, babygirl.” He dragged his thumb through the bead of precum and his hand disappeared from view as he licked it clean, something you were completely jealous of. “Now turn around, I want to see you fuck yourself and pretend it’s me.”

You did as you were told, more than eager now that you had the image to use. You got on your hands and knees, reaching between your legs to pump the dildo in time to his strokes, moaning in unison at the sight. Wanting to give him the best show, you shimmied back so he had the best view of the silicone cock stretching your pussy.

“That’s it, come to daddy.” His filthy words surrounded you and your back arched as you fucked yourself for him. You were nearing your orgasm and the sight of his cum spilling over his fist and abs threw you into oblivion. His urging kept you going, even when your orgasm tried to squeeze the toy from your pussy, you kept stuffing it back in until the pressure grew too much and you fell panting to the bed, the blanket wet from the fluid that had gushed from you.

“Holy shit, babygirl, that was fucking amazing,” he praised as you struggled to catch your breath. “Fuck, I have to go. Same time next week?”

“Only if you have your camera on again, big boy,” you half joked, half wishing he would.

“For you, babygirl, of course,” he chuckled and wiped up his mess with a green and white shirt you were sure you had seen the logo for before. “I’m your biggest fan, I would do anything you said.”

“I’ll have to remember that, big boy. See you next week.”

You ended the feed and closed the site down for the night before cleaning up the toys and changing your bed sheets. You had never squirted like you had with L404 and you briefly wondered if you should invest in some waterproof bedding. 

It was late by the time you had showered and settled back into the fresh sheets but you weren’t able to sleep. With nothing better to do, you logged into Twitch and browsed the Just Chatting category for some white noise, eventually coming across a streamer with nearly 20k fellow viewers.

You were a little disappointed to see it wasn’t Just Chatting but playing Fortnite and you nearly left the stream. You weren’t interested in trying to sleep to the sound of gunfire. Before you could exit, you heard the voice. It was one you were intimate with, one that sent goosebumps prickling over your skin.

“Come to daddy,” Lando, that was his name, said. He laughed with his friends he was playing the game with and they joked while oblivious to the epiphany you were having. “Ohhh, doggy man.”

The handsome man in the tiny square of your screen was L404, your biggest fan. 

Hey big boy, you sent to the chat and watched it get swamped by the hundreds of other comments. 

“Ha, mate, someone called you big boy.”

Lando’s head snapped away from the game and he was quickly shot but he didn’t care as he scrolled through the chat to find your username. It was different enough that it wouldn’t be linked to your Only Fans but had enough similarities that he recognised the name. “Shit, I gotta go. Something’s come up.”

He logged off without a goodbye and the comments blew out with disappointment and questions.

Suddenly, your email pinged with a new message: L404 was requesting another private chat. 

“Hey big boy,” you answered as you sat up in bed, grateful you were wearing a cute lace babydoll nightie. “Back so soon?”

His camera was off but now that you had seen his face you could only imagine the confusion on it.  “Uh, did you…what you saw…did you…” 

You giggled at the loss of his confidence, such a stark change from how he was an hour ago. “You’ll have to finish your question for me to answer, Lando.”

“Fuck.” His camera came on and you had a much larger picture of him. He wasn’t just handsome, he was gorgeous. You desperately wanted to run your hands through his curls and tug on them, maybe while they were between your legs. “No one can know, please, it will ruin my career.”

Taking a deep breath, you tipped the camera back and looked him in the eyes. Realisation dawned on his face and his lips parted in shock. “Guess we both know each other’s secret now.”

“You…you’re…”

“Yup, that’s me.” Like most rich families, your parents had moved to Monaco for the tax haven it provided and you had fallen in love with the province too, opting to buy your own place in the city when you left home.

“So…” You bit your lip as the idea danced on your tongue and Lando remained in a state of shock. “I remember someone threatening to stretch a certain part of me…”

Lando swallowed deeply before licking his dry lips. “On camera?”

It was your turn to think before nodding. “If you’re up for it, I can make an exception to the rule. We might need to practice a few times, you know, compatibility wise.”

He nodded, the thought growing more and more interesting and he palmed his erection beneath the desk. “Practice sounds good. Tonight?”

The idea of sleep was long gone and your nipples were clearly visible through the lace, the stiff peaks begging for attention. “Come on then, big boy,” you teased as you sent him your address. “I’ll see you soon.”

Click here for part two.

#lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #lando norris smut

[celtic-crossbow]

Skin You With My Tongue

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria

Warnings: Poorly written smut, p in v, fingering, oral (fem rec), brief hand job

Summary: What has gotten into Daryl? It doesn’t matter because you like it!

A/N: I haven’t been feeling great but I wanted to finish this before taking a break. Then I’ll work on my last request. Once again, I don’t think it’s great but ah well. I’m trying to just be thankful to be writing again. I hope some enjoyment comes from it!

You had no idea how you’d ended up in your current predicament: flat on your back, naked, with an equally naked Daryl Dixon devouring you like a man starved. You weren’t complaining by any stretch of the imagination. Though he had claimed to have little experience, the man deserved medals for the sounds he was wringing out of you with his tongue.

Anyway, back to the question of how did you end up here?

The day had started like any other. Your group was still new to Alexandria. While most had been given jobs, you and Daryl had not yet been set to work by Deanna. So, Rick had easily agreed to letting you both go hunt. Daryl had refused to give up his crossbow when you had first arrived in the community, but you had to sign out a weapon.

“Bullshit.” Daryl growled from where he leaned against the doorframe of the armory. You couldn’t say that you didn’t agree with him.

Regardless, you played by the rules, got your gun, strapped the weapons to the back, and climbed onto Daryl’s bike. He had decided the two of you could go further out today, not having much luck the past couple of days in the direct vicinity.

Daryl was your closest friend in your tight knit group and had been since you all had been forced to wander around in the cold before the prison. He was difficult to read and his emotional walls were high and thick. Somehow, you had been able to scale those walls, if not shatter them completely. You accepted him without question but you didn’t take any shit from him either. You weren’t afraid to call him out. In fact, the first time he had willingly come to sit next to you by the fire was just after you had asked him if he was “violating the Georgia sodomy law by having his head that far up his own ass.” You’d been close ever since.

You wrapped your arms tightly around his stomach and rested your chin on his shoulder, making kissy noises at him when he glanced back at you.

“Stop.” He grumbled before starting up the motorcycle. You simply gave his midsection a squeeze and could practically feel him roll his eyes as you headed through the gate.

The first part of the day was uneventful. Daryl stashed the bike before you walked and walked, finding nothing to track. About midday, the two of you came across a gorgeous lake. The water was clear and having only crossed two walkers on your trek there, you decided that a swim was an excellent idea after lunch. You didn’t ask Daryl, truly figuring he wouldn’t mind and that, hell, maybe he’d even join you.

You didn’t look at him as you stripped down to your bra and panties, mismatched as they were. If you had, you would have seen him comically fumble and drop the piece of dried meat in his hand.

“The blue hell ya doin’, girl?” He snapped after righting himself.

“Cooling off.” You gave him a smile over your shoulder before mimicking his frown with added exaggeration. “Maybe you should do the same, you old grump.”

He scoffed, keeping his eyes averted. “You’re bein’ careless. Careless gets ya dead.”

“I’m not going in unprotected!” You spun toward him, drawing his gaze toward you before pointing to the small knife tucked securely between your breasts. You couldn’t help but laugh when his face reddened and he looked away so quickly that you could swear you heard his neck crack. “I won’t be long.”

And you weren’t. Barely twenty minutes later, you were sitting down next to him, fully clothed albeit damp, but feeling much better.

“Ready to head out?” You asked cheerfully.

He did not share your enthusiasm, scowling as he stood and secured his crossbow to his back. “Been ready.”

“Well, aren’t you just a bucket of sunshine?” He had already stalked off by the time you gathered up everything. You had to sprint to catch up.

After a couple of hours, Daryl finally caught the trail of a deer and began tracking it. You followed quietly, watching his methods and learning everything you could. You knew how to hunt, thanks to him, but you were always eager to sharpen your skills. When the animal was finally within sight, the archer kneeled after signaling for you to stand still just beside him. He was lining up the shot when something caught his eye to the right of where you stood.

“Get down!” He whispered sharply, grabbing your arm and pulling. The sudden jerk caught you off guard and you were thrown off balance, crashing into him. He fell flat on his back with you on top, your palms on either side of his head with your chest almost directly in his face. With half a dozen walkers shuffling into the area, you couldn’t move lest you be detected.

The deer sensed the danger and ran, the group of undead following mindlessly. As they passed where you and Daryl hid, you instinctively lowered, feeling his breath against your shirt. It took several minutes for the threat to move far enough away that you felt comfortable to lift yourself up and sit back, effectively placing your ass on his stomach.

“Well, that sucks. That was a big doe.” You complained. When he didn’t comment, you looked at him. He was propped up on his elbows, looking anywhere but at you. His face and neck were flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. “You okay?” You queried with general concern.

“M’fine. Can ya get offa me?”

“Oh. Right.” You stood quickly, as did he. His back was quickly turned to you.

“We’re done. Let’s go.”

Your head tilted, brow creased in confusion. “We’ve got hours of daylight left. Shouldn’t we—”

“Said we’re done.” He was already walking away, leaving you staring at his back and wondering what you’d done wrong.

The ride back was tense and silent. You even chose to just lightly place your hands below his ribs and keep some space between your bodies instead of how you would usually have a tight hold on him.

When you entered Alexandria, Daryl parked the bike and got off, leaving you there, confused and more than a little upset. He passed Rick by without a word, the former sheriff turning to look at you with an eyebrow cocked. You gave him a shrug.

“I have no idea.” Shaking your head, you grabbed the gun from where it was secured to the back and went to sign it in before returning to the home you shared with Daryl and Carol. He was nowhere to be found on the first floor, leaving you to assume he had retreated to his room in the basement. With a heavy sigh, you went upstairs to shower.

Evening was upon you before you knew it, the sun having only set a few minutes before Carol invited you to walk to the other house for dinner with the group. You weren’t feeling all that hungry so you told her you’d be there in a few minutes. It was a lie. You had no intention of leaving your room.

Turning over onto your side, you closed your eyes. You had just drifted off when there came another knock. “Ugh.” You groaned and threw back the blankets, remaining in just your tank top and underwear since you didn’t plan on leaving with her. “Carol, I really don’t—” Once the door opened, you screeched to a halt, meeting the impossibly blue eyes of your favorite bowman. “Daryl.” You blinked at him blankly.

“Hi.” He nearly whispered. “Can I, uh—?” He gave a vague motion toward the inside of your room.

“Right. Uh, yeah, right, sure.” You stammered while stepping aside. He stepped in and you turned to push the door closed, a gasp leaving your mouth when you felt him press himself against your back. “D-Daryl?”

“First, the lake. Then your tits in my face when the walkers came. An’ now—this?” His finger was tracing the outline of your panties over your hip.

“What? I didn’t—”

He growled, a low sound in his throat, as he spun you around and pressed you back against the door with his body. He grabbed your chin to force your gaze on him.

“Didn’t what? G’on. Tell me.”

“Daryl, I didn’t mean anything by any of that.” You gulped, though you weren’t afraid. Exactly the opposite. Heat and wetness was pooling at your core, your skin feeling electrified where he was touching you. Nevertheless, you couldn’t lie to him. “I really wasn’t trying to fuck with you, I swear.”

There was an instant change in his eyes and it broke your heart. He released you with a muttered “shit,” his hand rubbing at the back of his neck. The dim light of your bedside lamp was enough for you to see his face reddening and the slight tremble to his frame.

“Y/N, I—fuck—m’sorry.” He quickly attempted to sidestep you and reached for the doorknob, but you were faster and blocked his path. His head shot up, eyes wide and panicked. He had absolutely misread the day’s happenings but he wasn’t wrong on one thing.

“I wasn’t intentionally fucking with you.” You repeated, your tongue snaking out to wet your lips before you continued. “But I would have if I had known it’d end with you here like this.” His arm dropped away from the knob and you entered into his space, pressing your chest against him to hover your lips over his. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Daryl Dixon.”

And now you were here.

“Fuuuuck!” You moaned, pressing the back of your head into the pillow before raising it to look down at the man between your thighs. Your fingers twisted and tugged his hair as your hips rolled, grinding your cunt against his tongue. Daryl growled against your clit, the sound vibrating against the swollen nub. His large hands pressed down on your inner thighs, holding you open while also effectively rendering you immobile.

A whine slipped past your lips when his tongue once again pressed tightly against you, sweeping up and down before he closed his lips around the bundle of nerves and sucked. You tried to lift your hips but he pressed down harder, his nails biting into your skin. He removed his mouth from you, dark eyes glaring from just above your mound.

“Be still.”

His gravelly voice was even lower, darkened with lust and demand. You found you couldn’t help but obey. Breathing through your nose, you nodded eagerly. He kept his gaze locked on your face while his right hand lifted from your thigh, fingertips whispering over your flesh to dance down to your core. He ran a single digit through your slick once…twice, never breaking eye contact.

Your hands left his hair and fisted into the sheets of your bed, but otherwise, you remained frozen in place, panting through the pleasure of stretching around his middle finger breaching your opening. He slid in to the first knuckle, then the second, pausing only briefly before pushing in all the way. The sound that left your throat was positively sinful. You dropped your head back to the pillow and focused on not moving.

“Good girl.” He praised you, rewarding you by drawing his digit almost all the way out before sinking back inside, thus beginning a steady rhythm of which he continued. When you remained unmoving, he lowered his head once again to lavish attention onto your clit.

Who was this man? This was a completely new Daryl. In control, demanding, vocal, and positively panty-dropping. A new part of him for you to accept and adore. A part of him that, to your knowledge, only you had seen. One that you definitely hoped you would see again and again!

“Daryl, fuck!” You cried out when his index finger joined the first. You shivered almost violently when you felt him smile against your pussy.

“In a minute.” He purred, pumping into you faster.

Your hands moved from the sheets to the headboard, palms flat to keep the thrusts of his hand from pushing you upward. The moans and cries were constant, his mouth and fingers igniting a fire low in your belly. The knot was twisting tighter and tighter, and you grit your teeth when you felt the sparks of it begin to shoot down to your toes and up into your chest.

“Nngh, Daryl! I’m—” You panted, eyes screwed shut and legs trembling. He curled his fingers, driving them against that soft spot inside you mercilessly while his tongue and teeth tortured your clit. Just when you thought you might die from the pleasure of it all, that knot in your belly pulled taunt and snapped. Wave after wave of euphoria traveled through you, broken moans of his name tumbling from your lips like a mantra. You had grabbed his hair again at some point, holding him against your center with your thighs attempting to trap him there. He didn’t seem to mind, too busy eagerly lapping at the nectar you spilled while riding your high.

When you went limp against the mattress, he pulled his fingers from within you, leaving you to whine at the emptiness they left behind. You were still pulsing with the aftershocks of your orgasm when he pressed one last kiss against your sensitive clit before sitting up on his knees. You blinked away the haze in your vision to watch him suck on those two fingers that had just fucked you senseless, your juices still glistening on his face.

You weren’t sure what came over you but you dove forward almost clumsily while he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. He caught you easily with the other arm and pulled you against his chest, your arms encircling his neck to pull his lips to yours. The kiss was desperate, all tongues and teeth. The absolute need to be close to him in that moment was something you couldn’t explain. When you pulled back to look at him, your pupils blown wide and lips swollen, it was as if he understood before your sex-addled brain could form any words.

“I gotcha, girl.” Daryl said softly, a contradiction to how he had commanded you only moments prior. You nodded and let him kiss you again. It was tender this time, slow and deliberate. The archer began to lay you back. He caught himself with one arm while the other stayed behind your head to control your descent until you were once again on the pillows.

His mouth left yours and began to roam across your jaw. He nuzzled his cheek against yours in a way that you found absolutely adorable but then he was pressing open-mouthed kisses below your ear. Large hands traveled to your chest to cup both of your breasts, calloused fingers exploring the supple mounds before settling to roll your pebbled nipples between them. He kissed his way down, that sinful mouth eager to take over worshiping that part of you.

“Daryl,” you gasped, arching up into him when his mouth closed around your right nipple, “mmmm, Daryl, please!” You could feel his erection against your thigh, hot and hard and yet completely ignored. “Please—” you tried again, the plea coming out more like a pathetic whine.

“I know whatcha want.” He murmured against the skin between your breasts. He latched onto your left nipple with his teeth while his left hand took over stimulating the right. “Whatcha need.” You did the only thing you could and twisted your fingers into his hair, drawing your bottom lip in between your teeth with a quiet whimper. His touch left you suddenly and you opened your eyes to find him directly above you and lowering down until his lips were just barely touching yours. “But I wantcha to say it anyway.” You felt every syllable against your mouth, the simple action enough to make your cunt clench around nothing. Goddamn, this man knew how to play your body like an instrument.

His fingers were ghosting down your left side only for his hand to maneuver between your bodies. Grasping his cock, he slid it through your folds, gathering your juices in agonizingly slow strokes. Each time the tip of him grazed your clit, your back arched from the mattress with a cry on your lips.

“Say it.”

“I want you, Daryl.” You whined, anchoring your legs around his hips. You dug your heels into the skin just below his ass in a desperate attempt to pull him into you. Too bad he was much stronger than you.

He hummed in response but only began to stroke himself, spreading your slick along his shaft. “Tell me whatcha want me to do, girl.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You were going to literally combust if he wasn’t inside you at that moment. You weaved your arms underneath his and pulled at him. “Fuck me, Daryl. Please, please, fuck me!”

He chuckled. The asshole actually chuckled but you didn’t care because he then immediately entered you in one fluid motion, burying himself to the hilt. His arms nearly gave out as your wet heat welcomed him, stretching and molding to his cock as if your body was made just for him. He groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder but you were too far gone to notice. The pleasurable burn of accommodating him brought you to new heights. You almost came right on the spot.

“Fuck.” He breathed against your neck, fighting to keep himself in check.

After you both had a moment, Daryl pushed himself up onto his forearms, drawing back his hips slowly before snapping forward and earning a broken moan from you. The feeling of him moving inside you was overwhelming, the push and pull driving every thought from your mind to leave only the ability to feel. And you wanted more.

You clawed at his back, each thrust forward tearing a cry from your throat. You barely registered that his mouth was on yours, but responded immediately, craving the taste of him. The smoke and pine mingled with the taste of your cunt on his tongue and you couldn’t get enough. You swallowed his delectable moan when your hips came up to meet this thrusts, the sound of wet skin slapping echoing off the walls of your room. Bringing a hand to his hair, you pulled his head back, pussy clenching when the action made him hiss between his teeth.

Teeth met his skin, biting down just above his collar bone. The salty taste brought a moan into your throat. You marked him there, sucking hard until you brought blood to the surface and then you released him. “You—feel so good.” You panted before your mouth was back on his. He pulled back suddenly and you whined at the loss of his weight but then he was sitting back on his knees, grabbing your hips and fucking into you so hard that you saw stars. It was just on the good side of painful, your cunt spasming around his cock as the familiar heat began to build in your belly.

Daryl didn’t stay that way way long. He released your hips and leaned forward to use the headboard as leverage, pounding you with such force that you again had to brace yourself with your palms. Your cries mixed with his moans and grunts and you prayed that Carol was still away. The angle was intense, each thrust had his tip pressing roughly against your sweet spot, building your pleasure at a pace you wished would slow.

“Daryl, I’m—I’m gonna—” you couldn’t get the words out between breaths and moans, but he knew from the way you tightened around him that you were nearing the precipice. And he was determined to throw you over the edge first.

He released the headboard and grabbed your arms, yanking you up while he sat back on his heels. You grabbed for his shoulders and then encircled his neck, resting one hand on the back of his head and the other on his shoulder blade. He moved his hands to your hips, helping you to bounce on him, spearing yourself on his cock and driving it deeper. Your moans became pleas and then a chant of his name, mouth hanging agape between words and breaths and eyes screwed shut.

“Cum for me.” He grunted against your jaw and that was all it took. You were almost certain you screamed but you couldn’t hear it, vision blacking out as euphoria swallowed you. You came back to yourself as the waves began to ebb, Daryl continuing to fuck you through. Your body felt heavy and uncoordinated and you pulled back a bit to clumsily seek out his mouth, greedily drinking down each sound he offered as he chased his own release. His grip on your hips would leave bruises, but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

His movements grew sloppy and you could feel him beginning to twitch and pulse inside you. You pulled your mouth from his and watched him until he pulled you from his lap. You moved quickly, aware of his actions, and wrapped your hand around him, pumping him fast and hard. He pressed his forehead against yours, his hands gripping your thighs while he fought to breathe through the sensation. His teeth were clenched and his eyes tightly closed, sweat shining on his skin and you were sure it was the sexiest thing you had ever seen.

Half a dozen more strokes before you twisted your hand and he cried out, muscles freezing and face contorting into a grimace of pure ecstasy. He breathed out your name, hips jerking and ropes of cum painting your hand and both of your thighs. No, that was the sexiest thing you had ever seen.

You pulled his mouth to yours before he could come all the way down, relishing each twitch of his muscles. When you pulled away, he finally opened his eyes and swayed on the spot. He seemed dazed but when his gaze met yours, he leaned forward to kiss you. It was gentle, almost hesitant. As if he didn’t know whether or not you’d welcome it.

“That was amazing.” You whispered, finally catching your breath.

“Yeah.” He replied quietly.

You brought a hand to the side of his face, watching all the courage melt away. His already flushed face was growing impossibly redder. You couldn’t help but smile. He had been dominant and commanding only to morph right back into the Daryl you had fallen in love with.

Your eyes widened.

Shit.

You were in love with him.

You were actually in love with Daryl.

You didn’t move when he got up to grab a towel, slipping on his boxers while he was at it. You still didn’t move as he cleaned you up, his mouth moving once he was done but no sound registering. He snapped his fingers in front of your face and you flinched.

“What’d you say?”

“Ya okay?” His brow was drawn inward in concern. He looked so, so nervous and you just wanted to pull him onto the bed and hold him.

“Yeah, I’m great.” You beamed.

He nodded and worried his bottom lip between his teeth, glancing over at his clothes. “Guess I should go.”

Your face fell as he reached for his pants. “Why?” Daryl froze and looked at you, head tilted. “You could stay. Here. With me.” You offered, your own face reddening. He stayed in the awkward position of halfway reaching toward his shirt but was obviously considering your words.

“Ya want me to stay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I really do.” You smiled sincerely. He nodded and straightened, coming back around to the other side of the bed. He sat stiffly against the headboard, chewing his lip again. You started to lean against him when there came a soft knock at the door. You both looked up and then at one another.

Busted.

You both scrambled to get dressed and it would have been comical had you not been thinking of who could be on the other side of the door. Carol. Rick. Michonne. Oh god, Carl! You looked back at him just as he pulled his shirt over his head, an apologetic expression on your face. Turning the knob and pulling the door open, you smiled innocently at—

No one.

“What the—” You leaned out and looked down each hall to find them empty. However, at your feet were two wrapped plates of food. One with a note addressed to Daryl and the other to you. In Carol’s handwriting.

You looked around for the woman once more while picking up the plates and stepped back into the room, kicking the door shut. Eyebrows raised, you crossed the space to hand Daryl his and then placed yours on the bed, removing the note and unfolding it.

“Good for you. Now tell him that you love him.”

You almost laughed but held it, simply folding your note and putting it in your bedside drawer. Daryl was looking at his own with a raised brow before he folded it and put it in his pocket.

“M’starvin’.” He announced, plopping onto your bed while unwrapping his food. He watched you smile and follow suit, gaze lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

His note?

“Don’t be stupid, Pookie. She loves you too.”

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

[livinginshambles]

You're ridiculous, you know | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.0k

Summary: Part one Masterlist

James sees you in a new light and wants to try to change the way you see him too, moment by moment. He is trying to win you over but understands that you're having a hard time believing that he's genuine about his feeling because of his sudden switch of focus from Lily to you (even though it gave him whiplash as well, but I guess he just accepted it faster.)

Notes: Best friend!James, he's less stupid, Lily is a sweet friend, fluff, pining, misunderstandings, (best) friends to lovers I guess, spelling mistakes probably because I typed this out on my phone.



______________________



With the hatch buried between you and James, you felt like you could finally properly breathe again. James had apologized again, of course and told you that he supported your new style.

Trying to balance your two friends groups however, did prove to be much more difficult than you thought. Neither of the two seemed very entertained by the thought of hanging out together as one group. Besides, James had become rather clingy as well, becoming his very own one man group to balance hanging out with.

"I now have abandonment fears," he jokingly defended when you raised your eyebrows at his arm, wrapped around your waist instead of your shoulder like usual while you two were walking down the open court yard.

"Right," you replied, seemingly not very impressed. You knew what he was trying to do, especially after your rejection. After all, save from Lily, he'd never actually been rejected. You assumed that this too, was a matter of pride. "You have nothing to prove you know," you told him and he merely hummed in reply.

"And anyway, you'll have to let me go now because my mum sent over some dresses for me. I'm planning on trying them on with the girls."

The grip on your waist tightened.

"No," he pleaded, "Don't leave me." He dramatically leaned his entire weight on you, dragging you down as well. Was he always this heavy? You incredulously thought.

"James, you'll make us both fall! Get up you're-"

"The earth is dragging me down. I can't help it, Love," he said in a playful, strained voice.

"Unless you want to spend the afternoon giving your opinion on dresses, I suggest you fight back against the earth, oh brave Gryffindor." You retorted, amusement clear in your voice.

James immediately straightened up. "Sure, I'll review your dresses," he happily replied.

‘Well’, you contemplated. You supposed it’s not as if you've never gotten dressed around eachother.”



Your mum had been very delighted at the news that she could go ahead and send over a dress through the mail. She went a tad bit overboard though, you thought as you looked at the heap of clothes on your bed.

James was sitting next to the said heap, waiting patiently for you to get changed in the bathroom. A pit formed in his stomach at the thought that he'd made things weird enough for you to want to get dressed in the bathroom. 'I mean, you've seen eachother naked before?' He thought. Not that he was aiming to see you naked of course.

His hands weaved through the beautiful clothes. He was sure they'd all look splendid on you. Would you go with him to the Yule Ball? His heart clenched. Probably not. You rejected a date with him to Hogsmeade. No way were you going to accept going to the ball together.

James stared out of the window, a lost feeling washing over him. How could he turn this around? Would you ever look at him that way?

The door opened and James' breath stopped, literally. It was simply perfect.

Mesmerizing, he thought.

'Merlin this was only the very first dress, how would his heart survive the dozen other dresses? You looked radiant. Like actually radiant. The dress made you glow with beauty and confidence. The color was what he could only describe as your color and made you look like bloody royalty.' He knew his opinion was biased, but it was still the truth, he thought.

And so his mind started racing. You were going to go to the ball, looking like that, with a date who was someone else. Jealousy flared up at the thought. He had to internally slap himself to shake him out of it.

You had taken his long silence as a negative opinion and quickly brought your arms to fold over your middle, covering yourself. "Not this one then?" You asked.

"No. I-I mean yes, sorry. I was distracted."

You felt slight disappointment at his words. Another sinking feeling in your stomach, but you reasoned with yourself that he just wasn’t used to doing this sort of activity with you. "You don't have to do this you know." You gently said and sat down next to him.

"Do you have a date to the ball?" He blurted out in response.

You were taken aback by the change of subject but shrugged. "There's been a few people who’ve asked, but I don't know. I've never talked to them before and it feels a little superficial that they only now would ask me out, just because they noticed I look and dress differently."

James could feel his heart plummet even lower if that was possible. Did you think that about him as well? You wouldn't be wrong of course. He'd only started to view you in a different light when you decided to go for a different style, and stopped only hanging out with the marauders after all. Guilt started to weigh his mind.

"Are you going to ask Lily out?" You tentatively asked.

"Of course," he automatically responded, without having processed the question. Your face fell a little. A confirmation, you thought. You were right. Maybe you'd have to accept one of the student' proposals for the Yule Ball after all.

James’ eyes widened and he quickly averted his eyes when you unzipped your dress right next to him. "The bathroom?!" He sqeaked out in panic.

You put on a grin. "Well, you look like you're bored and me taking my time in the bathroom will take too long. I guess I could just very quickly change here. Besides, you've seen me naked before."

James was somehow feeling more hurt at the prospect of you getting changed in front of him, than hiding in the bathroom. It meant that you really only saw him as a friend, he sighed.

You on the other hand, decided that you were hellbent on refusing to let your dynamic with James change because of unrequited feelings.



James was lying on his bed, wide awake. He couldn't sleep, mind wandering off to you, and he rolled around in frustration at himself and yelled into his pillow. Ashamed, he looked around if the he'daccidentally woken anyone up. He didn't.

He was restless. None of his subtle advances had apparently been noticed by you. And if they had, then you'd blatantly ignored them. James wasn't sure which option he liked better.

Tears of frustration and misery welled up in his eyes. He'd seen you get asked out by three different people today, and every time, his heart would stop, scared that you'd say yes.

The past few days, his eyes couldn't leave your figure as you went off to hang out with Lily, and he cursed himself for never having noticed you, too focused on Lily. He groaned and turned around again in his bed. "You're the perfect best friend," is what you had told him this morning when he had saved you from an awkward conversation with a seventh year Ravenclaw. His stomach had dropped.

'But you agreed to hang out with just him,' he kept telling himself in reassurance. Tomorrow was finally weekend and an off day which meant it was time for your not-date. At the thought, his heart lightened, and he managed to finally fall asleep.



You really weren't complaining at all. If anything you couldn't help your body from completely leaning into James who had once again wrapped his arms around your waist. Arms that were firmly holding on to you as if to not let you leave his side.

A week had passed since he asked you out on a date, and you and James were finally off to Hogsmeade together, your own heart both seering, as well as clenching at the thought that this was merely considered 'hanging out'.

Yes, you'd very much wanted it to be a date. Exactly like James had described it. Just the two of you, together on a date, which in a way was kind of what you were doing right now, even if you denied calling it that.

And if you weren't absolutely sure that you were setting yourself up for disappointment and heartbreak at the prospect of not working out because of his feelings for Lily, you would've definitely agreed with the biggest grin on your face.

But you were sure that that's what you'd be setting yourself up for. And having conflict avoiding tendencies had you make rational decisions such as then. Besides, the fact that he was going to ask Lily out to the Yule Ball confirmed that you had made the right decision.

'Could've been a date though', your mind seemed to whisper, and you grimaced. 'And then what,' you thought. 'Even if he settles for me, it would just be unfair for both of us. He never gets to be truly happy and I never get to be truly loved.' You scoffed.

"You okay, Love?" James shook you out of your train of thoughts, a concerned look on his face and he slowed his pace to a stop to properly look at you. His hands found their way to the sides of your face, his eyes searching yours.

You turned your head to the left and stuck out your tongue. He jerked away in surprise with a loud laugh. "That's foul!" He yelled. He was about to wipe his hand on his trousers when he stopped and then looked contemplatively from his hand to you and back.

Your grin was wiped off your face at the sight of the mischievous twinkle in his eyes and wasted no time to sprint off.

"You keep that hand to yourself Potter!" You shouted with a laugh.

"Absolutely not, you get back here!"

"This is a new dress, no way I'm letting you wipe your hand on it!" You quickly shot back and looked behind you to see him quickly catching up on you.

You watched with a face of disdain as he calmly wiped his hands with your sleeves, holding you in a headlock. "So unfair", you muttered.

James childishly stuck his tongue out and released you from his grasp.

It had you tumbling to the ground. "Hey!"

"Alright truce?" He asked and he stuck his hand out, both to seal the deal as well as help you up.

When you moved to shake his hand, he smirked. 'Oh so naive. You should know better.'

You noticed the trap far too late and weren't able to pull your hand back fast enough-

"James! Now that's foul!" You shrieked at his wet hand. Undoubtedly, because he'd spit in it moments before.

James was doubling over in laughter, and you took the opportunity to wipe your hands on his sweater. He let you.

“You’re ridiculous you know,” you shook your head.

“And you not at all,” he grinned. James wrapped his arms securely around your waist again, and you continued to head to Hogsmeade.



James looked at you from the bar counter. He was waiting for the drinks he ordered and admired you from afar. You were already sitting at a table in the corner for two and were munching on some snacks you had fished out of your bag, waving at him with a warm smile when you caught his gaze.

Sure, up until recently, he’d always seen you as the cool best friend that he could share everything with, tackle to the ground, tell gross jokes to, or get shirtless around when changing clothes. He was used to not at all treating you differently than Sirius, Remus or Peter, because in his eyes, you belonged to the same category.

But now, even though James also absolutely didn’t want your dynamic to change, he was conflicted because he finally saw you in a different light. He just had to try and make you see him in a different light as well.

The bartender gave him his drinks and he walked over to you with a grin. “Pick one,” he told you, still standing next to you and holding the mugs behind his back.

“Left,” you chose without hesitation. He put the mug in front of you and you looked suspiciously in the mug. At the sight of the green liquid you squinted your eyes at him. He put his own mug down and you leaned over the table to peer into it as well. Blue.

“Are you trying to poison us both?”

James snorted and sat down in front of you, “You got me.”

You kicked his leg under the table and he pretended to be in excruciating pain. “You wound me, Love,” He groaned exaggeratedly, all the way slouched down his chair and gripping his leg to sell his point.

“Want me to kiss it better?”, you teased and then immediately awkwardly paused. See this would’ve been a normal thing to say if you said this a month ago, but now it just made things weird. James however was grinning from ear to ear, absolutely soaking in the thought and cheekily replied, “Oh, darling, you must.”

‘Alright cheeky bastard’, you thought. Shaking your head with a chuckle, you moved your chair back and ducked under the table. James' eyes widened in shock, especially when you grabbed his leg.

“Drinking all by yourself?” Frank’s voice had both of you freeze up.

You moved to get up from your crouched position, planning on using a fallen hair tie as an excuse when James blurted out a different excuse. “No, just waiting for Y/N, she went to the bathroom.” You groaned and hit your head repeatedly against James’ knee.

Great, now it would be weird if you just crawled out from under the table.

“Y/N? I was actually looking for her, I mean we’re partners for potions class. You know what, I’ll just wait with you then.”

‘No!” James said, a little too loud, before he could help himself. He cleared his throat. “I mean uh,” James leaned in towards Frank and quietly, as if he was telling a secret, gleefully added, “We’re actually on a date.”

You playfully slapped his leg in a scolding manner.

Frank immediately seemed to get it and wished him good luck before leaving the table.

You scrambled out quickly and when your eyes met, you both burst out in laughter.



Despite your fear that dynamics would change and your resolve that you wouldn't allow it, you didn't mind the change so much if this was how it was going to be from now on, you thought to yourself. James had dramatically thrown himself half on top of you, head buried right under your breasts.

"Rough Quidditch practice", he'd mumbled before collapsing and absolutely melting like snow for the sun into you when you weaved your fingers through his curly locks, the other hand rubbing at the nape of his neck.

When you had tried to pull your hands away to retrieve your book from the bag next to you to pass the time while James seemed passed out, James had whined in protest, grabbing your hands and placing them back on his head.

"Prongs," you tried after a long time but received no answer. you lifted your hands from his head again and finally got a grumbled "What."

"Supper,' you softly spoke.

"Five more minutes, please?"

As if you could deny that request. After another few 'five more minutes' you finally gently pushed him off, both of you sitting up. He looked around, dazed, his eyes drooping and hair messy.

You entered the great hall with James trailing behind you, holding your hand. Peter spotted you and waved you over. James squished himself between Sirius and you, ignoring the other spot front of you that the marauders had saved for him.

"Blimey Y/N, what have you done with Prongs?!" Sirius asked, a horriefied expression adorning his face when James lazily rested his face in your neck. You laughed at his antics and shrugged, getting complaints from James at your movements.

Remus handed you two plates of food. "We saved these for you two."

"Thanks Moony," you gratefully accepted them and poked James with a fork. "Eat, you big baby," you said and pushed the fork in his hand. James internally groaned. But he was so comfortable like this. Why couldn't he just stay like this forever? He reluctantly sat up straight and started eating. He was hungry after all.

"Hey Potter, mind if we steal Y/N for a second?"

"Go away McKinnon," he was quick to respond and stuck out his tongue pettily. "She stays with me, you already had her the entire day."

You amusedly watched them banter. "I think you'll find that I will choose myself where I go, Prongs." And got up from your seat, moving down the long table to sit next to Lily.

"So what the hell was that Prongs?" Sirius inquired as soon as you were out of hearing range. Peter and Remus curiously looked at him.

"Oh, did I forget to tell you guys that I fancy Y/N?"

"Yeah that too, even if it was absolutely obvious," Peter shrugged.

Remus laughed at James' gaping expression. "What Padfoot meant was are you guys like a thing now? Like did we miss something? I thought you said she kinda rejected a date with you?"

James sighed dejectedly. "Yeah, she did." He straightened up again. But I'm working on it though."

Lily nudged you. "So I don't know if I should thank you or pity you."

"Huh?"

"I mean, thank you for getting James to stop pursuing me, but I'm sorry you have to deal with him now," she laughed.

Marlene wiggled her eyebrows at you. "Unless you don't mind having to deal with him of course," she smirked. "You looked pretty comfy," she added.

Alice nodded her head in agreement. "Frank told me you two went on a date last week apparently."

Your friends gasped dramatically and you were quick to deny it. "No, James just said that so Frank would leave us alone," you said and swatted Dorcas when she suggestively wiggled her eyebrows at you. "Ugh, you guys, be nice to me," you complained while laughing. "We're just friends hanging out, besides he still likes you Lils, look he's still staring at you," you said that last part with a sigh.

Lily raised her eyebrows. "Not at me, he's not." She nudged you again. "Look," she urged you.

You turned your head to look at James and your eyes met. He couldn't help but wink and felt very victorious when you looked away flusteredly, a big smile on your face.

'Could it be?'



Over the course of the next few weeks, James and you had gotten a lot closer. By now, you and James walked through the hallways, his hand always touching you somehow, whether he was holding yours, had his arm slung around your shoulders, waist, or lower back.

You also found yourself hanging around the boys dormitory alone with James more often than ever before. You were laying horizontally across his bed, your head hanging off the side of the bed. James went to the bathroom and you were passing the time.

You kept sliding forward bit by bit and when you were hanging low enough to look under James' bed, a brilliant plan to jumpscare him popped up in your brain. Perfect. You quickly moved to hide under his bed. Your hands ready to grab his ankles when he returned.

The door opened and you held your breath in anticipation. You peeked from underneath the drapes, covering your body and saw him look around surprisedly before a mischievous grin appeared on his face.

He called out your name to be certain and when you didn't respond, he pumped his fist excitedly and hurried to hide inside the wardrobe on the other side of the room, undoubtedly having the same idea as you and you couldn't suppress your laugh anymore. You rolled out from under the bed grinning like an idiot.

James joined you on the floor, although he did seem a little bit bummed out that he hadn't been able to prank you. "I guess genius recognizes genius," he admitted with a laugh.

"I have to go to the library to study," you bit your lip while you said it. Disappointed at the thought of breaking the peace.

James turned his head and looked over at you. You were so close. For a moment, he closed his eyes, relishing in the moment of having you within arms reach like that.

When he reopened his eyes, they flickered over your face and rested a little longer on your lips. It wouldn't take more than him leaning in to easily capture your lips and it took everything in him not to. It almost pained him literally. You turned your head towards James due to the lack of response, checking if everything was alright and if he had heard you when you said you needed to go.

"You're mesmerizing," he whispered softly, the words always on the back of his mind since he saw you in the first dress. You chuckled at that. "Using big words now, huh," you whispered back teasingly, a fond expression on your face.

"No, really."

Those two words left you speechless in surprise. You don't know what it was. Perhaps the sincerity on his face or in his tone. Perhaps the way he emphasized that he really meant it. Or maybe even the way he was looking at you right then. 

Whatever it was, it made you throw your reservations and resolve straight out of the window.

Rational decisions were the last thing on your mind when your eyes locked with James' and then you were both leaning in, meeting each other halfway in a soft, fleeting kiss.

"I think you're mesmerizing as well," You murmured against his lips and you could feel them curl up in a smile.



"You're such an arsehole," you laughed, slapping his ice cold hands away. You ended up not going to the library to study. After all, who needs studying anyway? Instead you and James had curled up against each other on his bed, entangled together and James decided to slide his freezing hands under your shirt, resting on your stomach.

"No, I'm mesmerizing," he huffed and attempted to warm his hands again.

"Did you even wash your hands when you returned from the bathroom?"

There was a long pause and you stared up at him incredulously. "James Potter! You are disgusting," you exclaimed.

“Oh don’t tell me you’ve never forgotten to wash your hands after going to the toilet!”

“Yeah, but I don’t have to hold the- the thing.”

James laughed loudly.

“You suck,” you huffed.

He held his hands up in mock surrender. "I can't be that bad, I won you over in less than a month," he wore a triumphant smile on his face and you wanted nothing more than to smack it off. You didn't of course, and instead buried your face in his neck in embarrassment while grumbling about arrogance. You two hadn't really talked about the kiss that happened 10 minutes prior.

Absolutely refusing to let you pull back mentally and physically, James had been quick to mention how uncomfortable your position on the floor really was, and he proposed to lay down on his bed instead where he changed the topic while still getting comfortable with you. It was his way of letting you know that he wasn't trying to skim over the fact that you kissed or ignore the fact that it happened, but rather that he wanted to ease the tension by doing so.

You were relieved and thankful for him, knowing that that tension would have absolutely made things too awkward for you, and that you would've definitely fled from the room in denial.

"I think I fancy you, James," you eventually quietly admitted to him, your voice muffled as your face was still hidden away.

His grip on you tightened and he pulled you even closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Yeah?" he breathed out, his heart soaring.

"Yeah."

"I fancy you too, Love." And with that you tilted your head up far enough to place your lips in a firm kiss right under his jaw.

There was another comfortable silence and then, "So, how about a proper date. You and me, us, together." He quickly clarified the last part.

You laughed out loud. "Yes please, Hogsmeade?"

"Actually, I was thinking maybe the Yule Ball."

#james potter x fem!reader #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter angst #jmarauders era #marauders #marauders fanfic

[markster666]

Every Thought, You. (SFW)

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Flirting, SFW, Romance

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Word Count: 958

A/N: Thank you to @persephoneblck for this base writing prompt suggestion (with my own tweaks/spin). Unedited. Requests are open.

Ever since coming to the hotel, you have felt much less alone than you have ever felt in the duration of your life in Hell. Charlie was the first to greet you with open arms before you could even knock twice on the big, wooden doors. Vaggie was aprehensive about your arrival at first but quickly grew accustomed to you, mostly for Charlie's sake. Husk simply tolerated you and Angel Dust constantly flaunted his figure to... everyone. It made you chuckle sometimes but more out of pity. Every day and night, like clockwork, you did your exercises for supposed future rehabilitation and sometimes they made you feel more alone than ever, but you never felt judged by anybody there.

Not even Alastor.

The first time you two met, he was sitting at the bar, annoying Husk for another drink. You had arrived a couple days prior and had already settled in a good amount. You walked past the bar, not even paying attention to the deer demon staring at you, wide grinned. You almost reached your room before you heard a booming radio-esque voice behind you,

"Well HELLO there my dear! Haven't seen you around!"

You felt your heart skip a beat at the sudden noise and quickly turned around, taking in Alastor's features. His eyes reflected the red of the hotel walls, beaming at you. His ears twitched a bit at the sight of you, but his wide grin didn't falter even for a millisecond. He was dramatically hunched over with his hand out to shake yours. You stared at his hand for a bit until he retreated it as a sign that he caught on to your discomfort and he stood up straight.

"Apologies my dear, your look of fear is something I am graciously used to. I just wanted to extend my welcomes to you. Please indulge in my presence if you feel it necessary, I would LOVE to know what makes you tick!"

His head ticked to the side at the final word before turning on his heel and walking off.

As the weeks turned into months, Alastor's voice no longer startled you and his presence became comfort. You thought him charming and he thought you riveting. He allowed you access into his radio tower, even on his recording days. He had memorized your favorite song and learned it on every instruement and how pancakes make you nauseous in the mornings so you prefer oatmeal for breakfast. You once told him a new cologne of his smelled like all the good things in life, so now that's all he cares to wear. He learned that you have trouble sleeping without white noise, so he'll sit for hours next to your bed, gently humming in his radio voice your favorite songs. Your heart was pure and his heart was warm.

Alastor decided that tonight was the night that he was going to be open about his continuously growing feelings for you. He had gone through several sheets of paper in an attempt to write the perfect confession note and he finally settled on one. Earlier that afternoon, he had invited you to his room to talk and you said you'd be there. You have only been in his room once before because you went in with Val to ask Alastor to get rid of Sir Pentious's Egg Bois.

He heard a knock on the door and took one last deep breath before locking in his smile again and slamming the door open before you could knock again.

"Why hello there Darling, you look absolutely ravishing as usual my Dear!"

He gave you a quick kiss on your hand before leading you into his room and shutting the door behind him, helping you shrug off your jacket before hanging it up on a nearby hook.

"Please, My Dear, make yourself comfortable!"

You walked further into his room, scanning your surroundings before stopping right in front of the undefined line of where his physical room and the forest meet. Your eyes sparkled as you gazed up at the skyline.

"Alastor, your forest is absolutely beautiful."

He walked briskly to join you.

"Ah, yes, isn't it? I imported it myself. I delight in many meals here."

The sky stunned your senses. There were fireflies flying around the trees that rose submissively to the vast sky. The lavish green of the trees complimented well with the hues of blue shading above, the glow of the fireflies adding a etherial touch to it all. The thick fog made the sky's autonomy seem endless.

"It may just be the most beautiful thing i've seen in all of Hell."

Alastors eye twitches very slightly and his ears furrow backwards.

"I have to strongly agree with you, my Dear. Every time I gift my eyes with the sight of this, it helps me remember that there are still some fine things down here with me. I may be a connoisseur in all things audio, but nothing beats this kind of visual. I would relish in it for eternity if I could."

You glanced at him to show him that you were listening, only to have your eyes make direct contact with each other. Your heart skipped a beat as you felt his gaze penetrate you.

He was staring at me while he was saying that.

You smiled at him warmly as it finally clicked. He walked behind you and places his hands on your shoulders, gently massaging them as you both turned your gazes back to the forest.

"You, mon cher, are allowed to stay in my dreams every night. Always."

You took a deep breathe and closed your eyes, enjoying all of the sensations around you.

"And you in mine, Alastor."

#alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #radio demon #the radio demon #sfw