#He would like it. Maybe not more than he likes making men worship the ground he walks on for a piece of ass though | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lady-djarin · 4 months ago

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independent contractor

joel miller x f!reader (one shot)

fully inspired by this post

warnings/tags: no outbreak au, no sarah mentioned, but we can always pretend she’s at collage or something, infidelity by reader(reader’s hubby is an asshole), contractor!joel, age gap (late 20s/mid 50s) , masterbation (m), smelling of panties(?), sexting, oral (receiving), p in v (unprotected- don’t do that!!) general smut so children leave!! mdni 18+

word count: 6.1k

a/n: i understand not everyone is going to dig the infidelity thing so i get that, if you are not into that please just scroll on, thank you :)

* ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

It was a beautiful dress but damn if it wasn’t complicated, the back had all these complicated buttons and clasps to hold it closed. You had managed to get yourself into the thin fabric but just as you needed your husband to close the dress, he had conveniently disappeared. He had been dressed for the party for a while and had been running around the house trying to organize the vendors. It was all for some charity thing he was throwing through his company. He was the CEO of some big company that even after 5 years of marriage you still didn’t understand. Something to do with finance? Maybe.

“Hon? Are you up here?” You huffed as you realized he was not in ear shot. Your husband had a habit of doing this, leaving right when you needed him in favor of something he needed.

You can now admit to yourself that the marriage you were in was a little rushed. Ok, maybe more than rushed. You were engaged within three months of meeting and married in less than a year. The first year of marriage was amazing, he would shower you with gifts and trips and practically worshiped the ground you walk on. It now felt like he only did this to rope you in. He began to take multiple long ‘work trips’ every month and you soon found evidence of an affair (or multiple). Once, there was long hair all over his clothes that was definitely not his or yours along with red lipstick smudged on a white shirt. Was he not even trying to hide it or did he just not care?

You had always told yourself that ‘you’d never be with a cheater’ and you wouldn’t fall prey to men who used women. Well, after a quick marriage, that you begged your parents to go along with, you felt like you had nowhere else to go. Your parents would not be happy and would surely find a way to blame you, and all your friends were also his. So, you kept your head high as your husband did as he pleased. You were now a forgotten trophy on the shelf he felt didn’t need polishing anymore. So you did as you pleased, with his money. One of the things you liked spending his money on was renovations to the house that you were usually alone in.

Currently, you were renovating the other side of the house to become a library/craft area for yourself. The contractor was actually at the house doing a walk through before the party got started. He happened to hear you calling for your husband from down the hall and came to your rescue.

“Sorry to disturb you ma’am, I think he went downstairs,” he was looking down when he first walked in, probably to make sure you were decent. What a gentleman.

“Of course he did, uhg,” you fumbled with the clasps behind your back and failed to make a difference.

“I can go get ‘em for ya?”

“No that’s ok Joel, thank you,” Joel Miller, one half of Miller Construction. He had been so great from the beginning, knowing exactly what you wanted for the library, seeing your vision immediately. He was very much the southern Texan gentleman, ‘yes ma’am, no ma’am’, no matter how many times you told him you hated it. “and please, Joel. I’m not a ma’am.” Your smile drew his eyes up.

”My mama would kill me if she heard me call ya’ anythin’ but, ma’am,” he stepped into the room, already coming to help even with your refusal. “I’m more delicate than ya think, im sure i can handle some buttons,” he came up behind you in the mirror and his soft touch on your shoulder blade made you inhale. You held the dress against your chest making sure he had room to fasten the small clasps. You caught his gaze in the mirror that was fixated on the dip in the front of the dress.

He matched your smile.

His surprisingly nimble fingers secure every last fastening and it feels like you can hear your own heart beating out of your chest. It had been a long time since you were looked at the way Joel was looking at you. He was a handsome man, big and rugged but soft in his features. He had these deep brown eyes that you could get lost in and lips that would make a nun blush. He was affecting you in ways your husband hadn’t done in years, he was turning you on. A complete stranger was turning you on and you didn’t really feel guilty.

Did that make you a terrible person?

You know what, fuck it. Your husband cheated and left you alone in life, you were entitled to some flirting every now and then.

“There ya are darlin’,” dear lord, his voice. The deep southern drawl made your panties wet.

“Thank you… Joel.”

”Enjoy the party,” watching him walk away was the hardest thing all night, aside from having to laugh at all your husband’s bad jokes all night. All night your mind was occupied by the sexy contractor.

It had been about a week since the party and the library reno was well underway. Joel and his team, including the other half of Miller Construction, his brother Tommy, were working tirelessly. In that last week your husband had been in and out of the house at weird times. On this particular day he left early in the morning without saying so much as a word to you. You used the day to mope around on your phone or read but what kept stealing your attention was the attractive contractor.

His team wasn’t around so the house was truly empty, the quiet was starting to drive you mad. As you wandered up the winding staircase, you found a sweatshirt draped over the railing. That damn husband, he leaves shit everywhere. Without thinking much of it, you threw the hoodie on as you found the library under construction.

The sweatshirt smells like sawdust and something distinctly man. That's different from what your husband normally smells like. The thought of him buying new cologne for some mistress almost made your blood boil, if you truly loved him anymore it would.

The library was really starting to come together, the plans on the table laid out the new shelves and built in table being put in and you dreamed of the days you would spend in there. The rest of your day was spent inside, no husband in sight so you did what you wanted, camped out on the couch with snacks galore and bad tv. Your husband eventually came home, after midnight, to find you passed out on the couch. You were roused by him, he woke you to send you off to bed. He used to carry you.

“Hey, get to bed, it's late… New hoodie?” Your eyebrows narrowed and you looked at him confused.

“What? It’s yours?”

”No it's not, I don't work at ‘Miller Construction’…” his tone felt like sandpaper against your skin. Also, have you been wearing Joel’s sweatshirt this whole time?

You wore it almost every day. Refusing to even wash it, it would get rid of the smell. The smell of him. It was like a drug, anytime your husband left you alone in that big house you wrapped yourself in Joel.

The rumble of the engine told you someone was at the house, but the deep southern drawl was what told you it was Joel. You felt giddy, like a girl with her first crush. You were already wearing the sweatshirt because you were expecting him today. He was leading his team of guys up to the library, telling them what to get started on. You made your way up there, under the guise of greeting Joel and asking if they need anything. In reality you wanted to see his reaction to you wearing his clothes.

“Morning Joel, you guys need anything?”

His eyes nearly popped out of his head. He noticed right away, scanning the hoodie and his gaze set your skin on fire. You felt your cheeks heat up as he stepped closer, the air was thick with tension and you immediately felt the mood change. His lips curved up in the corner slightly as he lowered his voice.

He looked handsome as always, the salt and pepper in his beard and hair was somehow very attractive to you. He was older for sure but you’d be lying if you said that wasn’t part of the attraction.

“Nice sweatshirt you got there…,” you could practically feel his heart beating just inches from you. “Miller.”

You had to strangle down a breath hearing his voice drop an octave like that, teasing you. This was real… Joel Miller, your contractor, was flirting with you. And you liked it, a lot. Not only the blatantly wrong flirting but the fact that your husband could come home at any time. It was making your skin flush with arousal and it felt like he could sense it somehow.

“I can wash it and get it back to you,” you wanted to gauge how into this he was. He did not disappoint.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jesus christ.

“Keep it sugar, looks better on ya anyway,” he left you there, finally with enough room to breathe without inhaling his intoxicating cologne. Holy shit, holy shit!

Your mind never strayed far from the older man, you seemed to fixate on the memory of him crowding you in your own home. The rest of the day went smoothly, you went about your business as the Miller Construction crew worked on your new library. You could hear the men working upstairs and every time you heard that one specific rumbling southern drawl your heart stopped for just a beat.

You were screwed.

Joel’s day could not have been longer, though he was the only one that noticed. The rest of the crew worked through the day, trying to get their tasks done sooner rather than later to be able to go home on time. Meanwhile, he was thinking about the pretty wife of the man who is paying him. He knew it was wrong but damn if it didn’t feel good. He saw the way your husband acted around you the last few weeks, he was engaged in every conversation except ones with you. Joel could even tell that the man was cheating, he clearly wasn’t trying to hide it. That’s really the only reason he was letting himself indulge with you, that and you seemed to be on the same page as him.

He knew he was in trouble, he had already memorized your features, your lips haunting him most of all. Every time you spoke he was entranced, unable to look away from your mouth. This was so wrong, he was working for you and your husband. He couldn’t help it, you were perfect, everything he could ever want. He dreamed about feeling you under him and that thought kept him half hard in his jeans all day.

By the time he was set to leave he felt like if he didn’t get himself taken care of he was going to explode. All he could think about was you in that damn hoodie, and how he would bend you over with it on. He knew it would smell like you now, it would smell like both of you. As he hopped into his truck he was so distracted that he didn’t see you coming down the driveway towards his car.

“Hey Joel…” Fuck. “I just wanted to get this back to you before I forget.” The gray fabric already smelled like you from where you held it by his car window. Why were you giving it back? He told you to keep it.

”Oh thanks darlin’,” it wasn’t lost on him how your eyes sparkled at this nickname. You were in the most delicious little shorts, showing just enough of the tops of your thighs as you walked back into the house. Fuck, he felt like such a dirty old man. You were so much younger and bright and kind. He felt like he could never deserve you.

He threw the hoodie on the passenger seat as he felt another surge of guilt and arousal settle into this stomach. Just as he was about to pull onto the street, he noticed something much darker than the hoodie sticking out of the pocket. He pulled it to reveal a pair of lacy black panties.

His heart nearly stopped. He would have never expected this, a sweet girl like you leaving her panties in her contractors sweatshirt. His jeans became even tighter than before as he pulled the panties up to his face.

He really was a dirty old man.

They had clearly been worn and it made his head spin, they smelled like heaven and you, he worried he might cum at the smell alone. He needed to get home.

As he raced home with your underwear gripped in his hand, he battled his thoughts. He knew it was wrong to mess around with a married woman but he felt different with you already. You were like the light at the end of his very lonely tunnel, no one ever looked at him the way you did. He practically tore his front door off the hinges as he rushed up to his bedroom. He felt like a teenager with an uncontrollable boner trying to find release.

The black lace was tight in his grip as he shucked his jeans off, the constricting fabric making his blood boil. He pulled himself free and the first touch to his hard length caused a gravely moan to slip from his lips. Tension and heat gathered in his stomach as he stroked himself. His fingers were rough as they circled his weeping tip but he needed to feel relief. He couldn’t even get himself into the shower, he just dropped onto the edge of his bed and never stopped moving his hand.

Those dark panties were teasing him, you were teasing him. You had to be, maybe you were making fun of his obvious crush. No, there was no way you would have grinned like you did if you didn’t feel the same way. It was an offering, a way for you to make a move without being apparent.

Holy shit. You wanted him.

That made his lower muscles spasm suddenly and his orgasm started to barrel down his spine. He pictured you in your small shorts earlier that day and he lost it. A deep groan escaped his throat as he spilled all over his knuckles. He pumped until he was oversensitive, his whole body reacting until he fell back into the bed.

All night his brain juggled wanting nothing but you and telling himself it was wrong. And it was wrong, at least on paper, of course he shouldn’t be messing with a client's wife. Even if she wanted him back.

Last time you saw Joel outside his car was almost a week ago. It was driving you crazy. You worried that he took it the wrong way or didn’t even see them. You couldn’t decide if you should be mortified, nervous, turned on or all the above. Then your phone went off.

Usually the texts between you and Joel were regarding what materials or paint you wanted. Now it was something totally different.

5:04PM >Joel: Sorry I have not been to check on the progress of the library personally. There was an emergency at another job.

>Joel: Also, thank you for my gift.

Only someone like Joel would thank you for sneaking him a pair of your panties.

5:09PM <You: im glad you liked them

<You: i was a little worried…

Your heart was thundering in your chest. Your husband was right across the couch, engrossed in his baseball game more than you, per usual. Was it wrong to like this so much, the fact that he had no idea you were texting another man right now, in front of him.

5:12PM >Joel: Why would you be worried? It's the best gift anyone’s ever given me.

>Joel: Any man should be so lucky.

Your pulse kicked up again somehow. He was making it all sound so meaningful. Maybe it was to him. Maybe he never took it the wrong way. Maybe he took it exactly the right way.

5:14PM <You: did you use them?

There was a pause for a few minutes.

5:20PM >Joel: Jesus…

>Joel: I’m at work, darlin.

5:22PM <You: so?

5:25PM >Joel: You got a mouth on you, huh?

5:26PM <You: and i know how to use it

5:28PM >Joel: We might just have to have you prove yourself then.

5:30PM <You: just tell me when

5:31PM >Joel: You are dangerous, angel.

>Joel: I have them in my pocket right now.

>Joel: I couldn’t help myself.

Jesus, this man was going to be the death of you. He was carrying your panties around in his pocket, while he was at work. Your thighs instantly squeezed together and it was at that moment you decided.

Fuck it, he made you feel good and your husband clearly didn’t care about your needs. You needed a divorce, and not just because of Joel. It was about you finally doing what’s good for you.

Suddenly an idea came to you, admititly a very bad idea but again, fuck it.

5:36PM <You: hey, do you have any plans tonight?

5:37PM >Joel: You know darlin, I don’t.

Thank god.

5:38PM <You: what’s your address?

5:38PM >Joel: 7 Oak Village Rd. I get home at 7.

5:38PM <You: see you then

You needed a plan. Your husband wouldn’t really care if you made last minute plans, you just needed a reason. Since he barely takes the time to pay attention to you, he definitely doesn’t know your friends very well.

“Hey, I know this is super random, but my friend Ashley”(totally a fake friend) “just got dumped, Isn’t that awful? She wants me to come over so she’s not alone. Would you care if I spent the night with her?”

It wasn’t really an odd thing, you spent the night with friends before. You should feel bad for lying so easily like this but the thrill of it all was keeping you going. You knew he wouldn’t object but he barely even looked at you. A quick glance back before he focused on the tv again as he waved you off.

”Yea, I don’t care… Johnny’s coming over anyway. Have fun.”

You shook your head and rolled your eyes, you knew you should be upset but you were too used to it at this point. You went upstairs to pack a bag and get ready. It had been a long time since a booty call and you forgot how giddy it made you feel. Knowing you were going to a man's house who actually wanted you there and actually wanted you.

Once you showered and finished packing, you went down to head out the garage. Apparently while you were upstairs Johnny and many more came over and had taken over the couch as they all debated over some play in the game. You tried to get your husband's attention, calling his name and waving at him. Anger boiled over in your gut. Just another reason not to feel guilty about tonight.

You loaded up into the car and pulled out of the massive driveway without a regret in your heart. This was the beginning of a new chapter and it felt right in so many ways. Your skin was buzzing with arousal, you had been thinking of Joel’s thick hands that would soon be on you, throughout your whole shower.

Before you left the neighborhood you sent Joel a quick text.

7:13PM <You: on my way

7:14PM >Joel: Can’t wait.

You felt the heat creep up into your cheeks and down your neck. Your nerves did start to wear on you though, all the usual stuff; Will he like me? Do I look nice? Did I miss a spot shaving my legs? You decided to wear a thin silk slip dress/nightgown under a baggy zip up hoodie. You figured it was a good way to look ‘sloppy’ enough that your husband wouldn’t care, if he even looked your way. You made the short drive over to Joel’s neighborhood and your nerves seemed to melt away as you got closer. It was odd, normally this kind of thing would send your pulse skyrocketing but the thought of seeing Joel made you calm, almost serene. He definitely made your head swim with giddy arousal though.

You found the beautiful house marked ‘No. 7’ and knocked on the perfectly painted door. Of course his house was gorgeous, he was a contractor. Only moments went by until the door was pulled open by that very sexy looking contractor. His brown curls were slightly messy on his head and he wore some kind of faded shirt and loose sweatpants that hung way too low. You couldn’t look away.

“Hi darlin’,” he rubbed his neck and his cheeks went red. He was nervous.

“Hi,” you couldn’t help the smile spreading on your face.

“Come in, here let me.” He gently took your bag from your shoulder and guided you to the couch where he had a bottle of wine and two glasses on the coffee table. The inside of his home was just as beautiful as the outside; the couch was large and comfortable, there was quiet music playing in the corner from an old school record player and books and plants littering the shelves. He came back and poured you both a glass and clinked the two together before you each took a long drink. He finally sat down and you turned so your feet were up against his leg, quickly feeling comfortable with him.

“I wasn’t sure if you would be ok… with me coming over.”

“Why?” God his southern accent was like honey.

“I don’t know, maybe it was…I was too forward.” You were sure why you felt the need to bring this up, maybe clear the air somehow. “I’m divorcing him, I can't do it anymore.” Saying it out loud made your heart lurch.

“I get it sweetheart, it ain’t fair that he treats ya’ that way.” You were leaning into each other at this point, unable to stop the magnetic pull between you. His arm was draped over the back of the couch, his hand near your shoulder. He started to entwine his finger in your hair, his big brown eyes danced over your face and it made you almost want to shy away from his gaze.

“You don’t think I'm a terrible person?” You looked into his eyes finally, wanting to know how he felt about you, how he felt about this.

His fingers left your hair as his thumb brushed over your lips. “Y’not a terrible anythin’ darlin’,” then he moved.

He was on you before you could take another breath. He slotted his lips over yours, his tongue sliding between them. He devoured you, stole the breath from your lungs. It was all consuming the way he kissed you, it felt like he was starved and you were all he wanted to consume. He sat back and pulled you with him, your legs wrapping around his hips leaving your core right in his lap. His hand cupped both cheeks as you pressed yourself fully to him, your hips grinding down into his. Your baggy sweatshirt was obstructing your skin from touching his, you needed more and the fabric was too warm.

You leaned back and you finally got a good look at his face as you pulled the zipper down. His lips were swollen and red and his eyes were almost all pupils. After ripping the bulky fabric off he finally moved his hands to the rest of you. He traced your arms down to where your hands laid on your thighs, he then lightly ran his fingers up your back over the thin fabric of your nightgown.

“You are so… fuck, you’re so gorgeous.” He sounded like he couldn’t catch his breath and yours caught in your throat. He pulled you into him again but it still wasn’t enough skin. As his soft lips worked over your pulse and his rough beard scratched at your neck you knew you needed more of him. You groaned as you pulled away again and tried to pull his shirt off yourself but he was just large enough to make it difficult. He smirked at you as he leaned forward to remove the shirt and your skin finally made contact with his.

You both groaned as you came together once again, finally able to feel his warm solid chest against yours. He explored your body again as your mouths did the same, he kissed down your neck, over your shoulders and between your breasts. The thin straps holding up the nightgown were quickly pulled down, revealing your chest to him. He lavished you and you felt the vibration of his groans as he licked the crevice between your breasts before closing his mouth around a peak and sucking. Your whole body arched into his, your fingers carding through his hair which made him groan deeper.

“Fuck— Joel,” your skin was on fire and you were lightheaded. You knew somewhere deep down you should feel bad or guilty but it was the furthest thing from your mind. He made you feel like you were floating, your soul somehow detached from your body.

He pulled back from you, just enough to catch his breath and look into your eyes. His hands however never stopped roaming your skin. His pupils were blown wide, almost none of the deep brown in his eyes were left now. He dipped his head and dove back into your skin, his lips attaching to your neck and it made you groan and your core clench.

He groaned into you and you felt it rumble through his chest. You felt like you were losing grip on reality, you couldn’t tell someone your own name if they asked. It was all worth it because you were lost in the pleasure of feeling him under you, but you needed more of him.

You dropped to the floor, the carpet soft under your knees. You tried to pull Joel’s pants down his hips, almost frantically as if you didn’t see all of him now you would die.

“Hol’on darlin’,” he kind of giggled as he slipped the fabric off his hips and he fell back onto the couch and looked down at you with his mouth hanging open in awe. You met his gaze before looking down at his hard length.

Fuck, he was big.

You lowered your mouth to him, teasing your lips over his silky skin. His breath caught in his chest. You ran your tongue up and his hand came up to hold the back of your head, not to force but support. Eventually his fingers grabbed into your hair when you wrapped your lips around him and pulled him in. You felt his rough moan reverberate into your body every time you dropped your head. It was difficult to take him all at once but you had to feel him, everywhere.

“Fuck, oh my—gooood…” he dropped his head back onto the couch but you knew he was watching you, his eyes never left you. You felt your arousal spread between your thighs knowing you were driving him mad. Before you even got a chance to really do much Joel pulled you up on your feet. He stayed seated and looked up at you through his lashes and your heart stopped for a second seeing him below you like this made your stomach dip and your panties wet.

His eyes were blazing a path over your body, nightgown bunched around your waist with your entire chest exposed. You should be cold but you felt like you were on fire. He ran his palms up the backside of your legs until he reached the lacy fabric of your underwear. His eyes never left yours as he slowly pulled the fabric off your hips and over your ass, his hands touching skin the whole way down and helped you step out of it. That swooping feeling settled into your stomach again as he slid his fingers back up the inside of your leg until he reached your hot center, eyes never leaving yours. You both moaned as he dipped into the slick that coated your skin.

“Mhmmm, this all f’me?” He looked at you with a mix of arrogance and pure desire as he moved his fingers in a slow circular motion. It was made easy by just how wet you were, you didn’t know if you had ever been this wet before. That’s the effect he had on you, or maybe this is just a primal kind of desire that you never had with your soon-to-be ex-husband.

Either way you were spiraling fast. You knew once you two came together you wouldn’t last long. You needed to feel him, it was driving you mad.

Joel seemed to be taking it slow, which you can admire as this is very new and he probably wanted to make sure you’re comfortable. While you admired him taking the time to make you comfortable you couldn’t wait anymore. As he kissed your chest and his fingers kept moving in agonizing circles across your sensitive bundle while you straddled his lap. His hard length rubbed against your center and both of your bodies shook with desire.

He groaned as he wasn’t expecting you to be on him so fast. His hands ran along every inch, taking you into him and never wanting to let go. You rocked your hips and slowly dragged your core across his length causing you both to stutter and moan. You were sick of waiting for the thing you had been thinking about non stop for weeks.

“Will you… make me feel good?” Your voice was squeaky and horse from all the moans and his eyes fluttered at your request.

“Oh darlin’… that bastard ain’t taking care of you huh? When’s the last time you were properly touched?”

You turned your eyes away from him, slightly embarrassed that he was able to tell that so easily. “Uhm… a while.” He gave you a pointed look, clearly not liking your non-answer. “A… a year,” his eyes widened at your admission. “Over a year…” You cringed at your final answer. You weren’t proud of the fact that it had been so long but you haven't been attracted to your husband in a long time.

”Oh… you poor thing,” he bracketed your cheeks with his large hands. “Don’t worry darlin’.”

Joel was losing composure quickly, he was ready to give you everything you deserved. His nimble fingers reached between your bodies and slid along your center, drawing a wanton moan from your chest. You ground your hips into his hand trying to create the friction he wasn’t giving you. He slowly spread your lips and ran his fingers gingerly over your clit causing your body to shake in his grasp.

“Hmm… y’all wet f’me?” His southern drawl was making his lust-drunk words slur together deliciously. The scruff of his mustache scratched at your neck but his lips and tongue soothed over the sensitive skin.

“Mmhmm… Joel— oh god please,” you sounded just as lost. Your voice cracked and your hips never stopped moving over his hand, desperate for attention.

“Don’t worry darlin’, I gotcha,” he quickly flipped you and your back hit the plush couch. A soft ‘oomf’ escaped your lips and Joel was mesmerized as you lay beneath him. “Oh look at’cha, you’re so pretty baby.”

His words were like hot honey, warm and sweet. You shifted under him and wrapped your fingers around his hard shaft and the groan that reverberated through his chest made your breath catch in your throat. You kept stroking him as his fingers found your wet center again, spreading your release over your puffy folds. As you wrapped your legs around his hips, you guided his crown to your core and felt the sweet stretch of him entering you slowly.

He paused for a few moments and looked like he was trying to center himself again before pushing his hips fully into yours and held himself there. A deep rumbling groan broke through his lips as he began to move, the stretch was making you nervous at first but you felt more and more comfortable as he kept moving. When he started to rub your neglected clit, a bolt of pleasure shot down your spine causing your back to arch and nails to dig into his arms.

“Such a good girl, baby… ngh— you-you feel so good,” his syrupy words made your head feel fuzzy and limbs heavy. His hips started to snap into yours at a harsher pace and his fingers spent up between you in tandem. Your orgasm was quickly approaching with his movements, faster than you expected. Was this the norm for people with healthy relationships and sex lives, real attraction? You couldn’t even finish the thought before Joel sped up his fingers and started to hammer into you. He was surrounding you, hovering over with those dark eyes and large shoulders. The smell of him alone was about to send you over the edge, he smelled like soap and a little like sawdust, all over man. His voice broke you out of your hazy state.

“You’re gonna— cum for me darlin’, I—I can’t hold on…much longer baby.” His voice was rough and demanding and almost like your body listened, you fell over the edge. The lewd moans and shouts of Joel’s name coming out of our mouth surprised you both. At feeling you cum around him, Joel lost all of his remaining control. He stilled inside you and you felt his muscles contract in his release.

“Oh fu—fuck! oh my… god,” he slumped against you and you welcomed his weight. You both settled into the couch as you rubbed your arms up and down his back. “I’m— I’m sorry darlin’, it's been a while. Normally I'd have… taken my time.”

He sounded almost nervous, it made you smile.

“Joel, stop. You have nothing to apologize for.”

”I’ll redeem myself next time.”

Next time? He wants there to be a next time!

You smiled to yourself and hummed at the content feeling of being under him while he still filled you.

You drifted to a place of half consciousness and woke up in, what you were pretty sure was the morning to the smell of bacon. You turned over in a bed, Joel's bed, to find it empty. You looked around the room and found it to be just like Joel, cozy and masculine. You located a shirt of his and threw it on before heading down the stairs to find a very sexy shirtless Joel standing in his kitchen, flipping pancakes.

“Mornin’ sleepy head,” his voice was thick with sleep and you walked up to him at the stove. With one large arm he pulled you into his side and kissed the top of your head. A slow smile spread on your lips at the familiarity of it all, the warmness of having someone to take care of you like this, emotionally. Something you almost never had with your husband, soon to be ex.

“Joel… thank you, for this.”

“What’cha mean darlin?”

“Taking care of me. Letting me come over last night.”

“Hey, look at me,” he tilted your chin up to meet his eyes. “Anytime you need me, I’m here.”

You tried to blink away the tears gathering on your lashes but one managed to slip, Joel’s thumb catching it before it reached your cheek. Time felt like it stopped as you leaned in to each other, lips pressing together as you moaned at the feeling.

The day was spent lazing in bed and talking about all the things you two would do when your divorce was finalized. The idea of divorce was the scariest thing in the world when you first thought about it, but now, knowing Joel would be with you every step of the way… you couldn’t wait.

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou #pedro pascal #fanfic #lady djarin

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sailoryooons · 1 year ago

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Bust | KTH | (m)

☾ Pairing: Heistman!Taehyung x f. Reader

☾ Summary: Seeing a beautiful man in the middle of a bank robbery is unusual. Seeing him again afterward is even more unlikely… and yet not unlucky.

☾ Word Count: 2,211

☾ Genre: Criminal, Smut, PWP

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Bank robbery, light depiction of fear/anxiety, mentions of poor financial situations and money-related stress, recreational drinking, ‘good girl’ petname, explicit language, sexually explicit content including oral (f. receiving), biting, spanking, implied body worship kind of, a hint of overstim, bodily fluids and cum-eating.

☾ Published: Monday, January 15, 2024

☾ A/N: This is an idea I randomly spoke about forever ago in a TikTok DM with @gimmethatagustd and this is strictly written to ruin their entire life tonight. I hope it works idk osifodigjoijg.

☾ A/N 2: Tonight is number four for my 100 Drabble Challenge and I rolled number 24 for criminals! I hope you enjoy my depraved thoughts of Taehyung in that GOD DAMN SQUID GAME OUTFIT AT PTD. MY MASK KINK DOESN’T MAKE AN APPEARANCE BUT BE FUCKING SURE IT WILL ONE DAY. HE MADE ME INSANE.

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾ 100 Drabble Masterlist ☾ Ask ☾ Song Inspiration ☾

Sweat beads down your back, the trickle of it slower than the clock ticking above your head. Time seems to slow as you sit on a carpet that hasn’t been steam cleaned since the 80s and push yourself against the wall, eyes glued to the open vault.

It had happened so fast and yet now, it’s like it can’t be over fast enough. Each second that ticks by feels like it takes a year. You cannot hear the chatter of the men inside the vault, but their harsh whispers raise goosebumps on your skin.

At least they haven’t noticed you. Not that you would do much, anyway. You have no intention of going over to push the alarm by the door, too afraid to alert the armed man who stands just outside the vault room on the other side, and far too underpaid to risk your life for a financial institution.

For a moment, you wish it were you robbing the damned bank. Maybe you could pay off the student loans on your degree you’re not using and run the heating in your apartment during the winter instead of bundling up in several layers.

Your momentary lapse of delusion passes as the men rush out of the vault, duffles in hand. They’re all dressed in red, black masks covering their faces with shapes on them. You’re vaguely aware that the costume belongs to some sort of show you saw online, but you can’t place them.

Perhaps you’ll watch it now.

“Hurry up,” one of the men barks toward the vault. There had been three inside, but only two came out. “Grab the last and let’s go. Two minutes left.”

They’re gone in an instant. Your eyes dart back to the vault where you can hear the last person inside. Glancing at the clock, you watch the seconds tick by.

Ten seconds. Fifteen. Thirty. A minute.

A man dressed in a red suit, hood pulled over his head comes out of the vault. As he slugs it shut with one arm, the bag on his shoulder droops, spilling the contents inside out onto the floor. Bands of cash fall out, thudding around his feet. He swears loudly and bends over, back slipping more to drop cash on the ground.

In his frustration, he crouches and tips the mask up a fraction, shielding his face from the camera above but not from you, huddled on the floor a few feet away.

Your heart skips. The thief is beautiful. Dark eyes focused on his task, a wide nose that fits perfectly on a symmetrical face with high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and a pursed mouth. There’s a flush in his face from the heat, the tip of his nose an endearing shade of rose.

As if sensing your gaze, his head snaps up. You cower against the wall, realizing now that you’ve seen his face, you’ve doomed yourself. He stalls completely, gloved hand hovering over the cash, eyes boring into you. He arches a brow as if to ask you a question and you respond by shaking your head.

The thief gives you a cocky grin, nodding before he finishes picking up the money and tossing it into the bag. He looks at you again, a smirk on full display before he winks and pulls the mask back down. “Good girl,” he purrs. “I like that.”

Despite the situation, your stomach flips. He stands and rushes out, lingering by the door for a second longer to stare at you through the black mask. You can’t see his face, but you know you’ll never forget it, pretty as an angel, dangerous as a devil.

When the group is gone, you wait in silence, only the pumping of your heart to keep you company. When the cops come and ply you with questions all you can do is shake your head repeatedly.

I was too scared. I can’t remember.

It is the same thing you tell investigators for nearly two months. Just when you think they won’t keep asking what the man looked like, they finally drop it, handing over the robbery details to the FBI. They were at least a little less callous, caring a little less about how many questions you answered.

If you had to guess, your unimpressive financial situation even after the robbery was significant enough that you weren’t involved with the robbery.

It’s hard not to wish you had been. The straw in your mouth belongs to a drink that is far too expensive for you to not wince and it barely tastes like anything. At this rate, you know you won’t get a buzz. You’d love alcohol to take the edge off of the loud club music or loosen you up a bit, but you’re resigned to being sober for the rest of your friend's birthday.

Around you is a gaggle of men and women, both people you know and new faces trying to pick up your friends. Anyone trying to hit on you has already decided you’re far too grumpy to waste time on, most of their backs facing you as people shout over the music about working in finance.

You wonder if they also rob banks in their spare time. It makes you grin, thinking fondly about the thief once again. You do that a lot.

Sipping the drink, you glance at your phone. It’s been an hour since you arrived, but you’re wondering if enough time has reasonably passed to excuse yourself. Tomorrow is one of your few days off and you intend to spend it lounging on the couch watching TV instead of nursing a headache.

Someone slides into the space at the bar next to you. You don’t glance up at them, spinning your skinny cocktail straw absently as you stare at the melted ice of your Long Island iced tea. You hoped that once it melted it would turn into a second drink, but it hasn’t. Cold, bitter water it is, then.

“Why the long face?” You frown at the vaguely familiar voice and glance up, freezing.

Mr. Bank Robber looks down at you, cocking his head to the side with a wolfish grin. Your mouth pops open in surprise, leaning back a little as you drink him in. This close, he is far more beautiful than you remember, the edges and shadows of his face like a carefully painted fresco. Michelangelo could hardly be talented enough to capture this.

“You,” you whisper, his grin spreading further.

“Have we met?” he leans on the bar, dressed in all black. You eye the three-piece suit and the glinting diamonds in the cuff links. His clothes are far finer than anything anyone else is wearing and when you breathe in sharply, you smell a hint of woody cologne. His dark hair is slicked back and you catch the dainty hoop earrings in his lobes. You like the juxtaposition.

“You know we have.” He tongues the inside of his cheek, turning his head to order with the bartender. His eyes stray to you, raising a brow. You supply him with your answer, “A long island.”

The bartender nods, momentarily stupefied by the heistman’s beauty before walking over to the POS, tapping the screen with the speed and aggression unique to bartenders.

“Kind of a shitty club,” he mentions, looking around over the top of your head. Sweat clings to your lower back, your mouth growing dry as you watch colors splash on his face. “Your face is too pretty for a place like this.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm.” The bartender puts the drinks on the counter and the man gives him cash, signaling to keep the change. The bartender raises a brow but says nothing, taking the money as he goes. “What’s your name?”

“You probably already know it.” He cocks his head to the side. “I’m sure you looked me up to see if I was a threat or watched me to see what I’d do.”

“You watch too many heist movies.”

“Maybe I watch just enough.”

He laughs at that and your lips twitch. It’s rich, making his face intimidating as he gives you a wide smile and shakes his head. “Alright, maybe you’re right.”

“Can I know your name?”

“For the right price.”

“My silence was a pretty petty, no?”

He bites his bottom lip, eyes dipping down and back up. You sip your drink, feeling a flush of warmth unfurl in your body, most notably between your legs. “I like you.”

“You have to like me. I know your secret.”

Leaning forward, he ducks down so that he’s murmuring into your ear, hot breath ghosting your skin and making you tremble. “Want to hear more?” Your eyelids flutter as he waits, skin buzzing at his sudden proximity. You nod, feeling lightheaded. “My name is Taehyung. Want to get out of here?”

“Fuck,” Taehyung growls, hands skimming your bare sides. You can’t keep still under his gaze, hips squirming and fingers twisting in the sheets. His mouth is swollen and covered in your spit, his eyes blown as a large hand scrapes down to your thigh where he gives you a good slap. “I knew you were a good girl.”

A moan trips out of your mouth. Your thigh stings where he slapped you but he soothes it with the easy back-and-forth motion of his hand, his fingers digging into your flesh. Taehyung is a man starved, having littered your body with harsh kisses and bites, nearly breaking the skin.

You don’t care. You’re feverish for him, room spinning as you sprawl on his soft sheets in a hotel room that is far nicer than anything you’ve ever been in. You burn up like a star, core raging as Taehyung leans back down, pressing your naked thighs open for him as he sucks the skin of your chest between his teeth.

Everything aches. You want him so bad that you feel a cry come out of your mouth, lips wobbling as he laughs against your skin, sinking lower and lower, mouth loud as he sucks at your skin, tongue brushing over the sting of his teeth.

“Does my good girl need her pussy eaten?” Taehyung rasps, looking up at you where he kneels between your legs. “Is that why you’re crying, hmm?”

Taehyung looks like something out of a thriller. His eyes are dark and hungry, his shadowed face becoming some sort of demon of lust. He’s what you would imagine a dark god. A bacchanal devil, a creature made for sin.

All you can do is nod in response, feeling Taehyung’s vicious grip on your thighs as he presses you further, your muscles stretching. The strain feels good, as does the slow drip of your cunt down the curve of your ass mixed with his breath.

“So messy,” he murmurs, leaning forward and blowing cool air on your sticky folds. You squirm, the sensation sending you into overdrive as you twist your head to the side, eyes squeezed shut. He’s barely done a thing and you’re worked up more than you can ever recall. “Pretty.”

The slow, soft press of Taehyung’s tongue through your pussy makes you sag. It’s the relief that you so desperately needed, eyes rolling back as he circles your clit and drags his tongue back down. Taehyung is slow as he eats you out, tongue savoring every drop you can give him.

He taps your thigh, drawing your attention to him. He smirks as his tongue dips into your entrance, dragging back up to swirl around your throbbing bud a few times.

It’s impossible to tear your eyes away once you’re watching. Taehyung keeps his razor-sharp gaze on you, bringing his mouth fully to your cunt as he sucks eagerly. There is a rhythm to the curl of his tongue and the sharp suck of his lips, the wet smack of his ministrations driving you crazy.

“Mmm,” he hums, pressing his face in further. He’s messy with it, his jaw and nose covered in shiny slick. He laughs throatily when your back comes off the bed, thighs shaking. “Such a good pussy, just like I knew it would be.”

It feels too hot in the room. Your breaths are coming in too fast and there’s nothing you can do to catch it, Taehyung working you up to a frenzied, frenetic orgasm. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, pumping so hard that you think you might need to stop.

And then you break.

Your body seizes as you come, a scream ripping through your mouth as Taehyung slurps hungrily at your mess, spurred by your release. You can’t stop shaking as he dives in, unwilling to stop until you’re babbling, nearly lifeless as the orgasm teeters into overstimulation.

Only then does Taehyung pull his mouth away, trailing wet, cum-spit kisses on your inner thigh, nipping your thigh here and there.

“Think you can take more?” he asks, slurring his words against your thigh. “Think you can take my cock.”

You nod eagerly, hand letting go of the sheets and reaching toward him. “Yes.”

“Mmm good. I’m about to bust.” He bites your knee. “And I don’t mean a bank, this time.”

#taehyung smut #kim taehyung smut #bts smut #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfic #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #v smut #bts v

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libraryraccoon · 11 months ago

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The Aeon Of Creation : Surprise ?

P1 (here) -> P2 (coming soon)

TW : English isn't my first language, bad english. Spoil Penacony quests.

Gender : Male/GN

Pronouns used : He/They

Info : I was sad when I haven't found any hsr sahsr au, so I decided to write one.

There was an Aeon that everyone know in the universe.

The first Aeon that have been appeared, The Aeon Of Creation.

It’s said that The Aeon Of Creation was the first being that had appear, that it’s them that have create the universe, the worlds, and that have created the others Aeons. That it’s them that say who can be an Aeon.

But no one has seen them for a while now. Even the others Aeons were worried, even Nanook.

It’s only decades later that a trailblazer saw them.

<----->

His name was Caelus, he was in a dream at Penacony when he meet them.

They seems so familiar, but also they seems like a stranger.

“Excuse me.” Said the grey hair, looking at the h/c hair. “Have we met before ?”

They had h/l h/c hair, e/c, s/c, and they were wearing a white shirt with a sleeveless sweater on top, a trench coat, black pants and shoes.

They had a men body, and they look like a men in every way. But, more Caelus was watching them, more they don’t seems to be human, and more they remember him someone- but he don’t know who.

It was.. strange.

“Maybe yes, maybe no.. Who know ?” ask the person-thing. “I'm sorry, I have a bad memory."

They were lying, Caelus didn’t know how, but he just know it.

He hate when people lie to him.

“I’m Y/N and my pronouns are he/him. Just a person traveling in the universe. Nice to meet you.” He introduced himself lifting his hat a little in a sort of reverence- since when did he have a hat ?!

Caelus ask no question -he was used to things like that.

“I’m Caelus, a nameless.” He said, Compared to usual, he didn't make a joke or show off like he usually did. He didn’t really think about it at that moment.

<----->

Caelus was often with Y/N.

They was what we can called ‘best friend’.

Every time Caelus was in Penacony, he would go straight to Y/N.

Y/N gave off a sort of comforting and familiar aura. One that he found difficult to part with. Maybe the reason he clung so tightly to his friend was to avoid a repeat of Firefly, to protect him. Caelus didn't know, and he didn't search for an answer, focusing on the present.

“Caelus ! Do attention ! I swear one day you will die soon if you continue like that !” His friend swore as Caelus passed on the road to join him, not paying attention to the passing cars, almost being run over by one.

Caelus only give a nervous laugh at that.

<----->

Being the Aeon of Creation for them was boring.

They knew everything, having nothing to learn. That annoyed them. They wanted to learn, to discover things.

But with their creations worshiping them, some much, MUCH, more than others, it was impossible. So they took a human form and visited the planets, the worlds, that they had created from another point of view.

<----->

Humans were very attached to all this gender and sex stuff, so they took on a masculine appearance and he/him pronouns. Like that, they really look like the other humans ! Well, except for their blood. They had a blood that was like the universe, no, that was like their blood was the universe ! Just like their tears. And it's never touching the ground, disappearing in the air. They had to be careful for not being hurt or crying in front of people (but why and how they know their tears colors ?)

They was travelling alone until they meet him.

He was a boy with short grey hair and yellow eyes. His name was Akivili.

They traveled the universe together, in the Express.

Akivili was their first friend, their first best friend,

Their first love.

They were really closed, and the Aeon realized too late that they were falling for him.

The day they wanted to confess, Akivili disappeared.

The Aeon of Creation have done all for finding him, but always in a human form, they didn’t want people to realize who they was.

And, one day, in a dream they meet someone that look like Akivili.

His name was Caelus, a nameless, just like Akivili.

The Aeon of Creation thought that maybe, just maybe, he was Akivili, a reincarnation, or a descendant of him. They were sure the two were related.

Especially that he have the name Akivili wanted to give to his son.

The day before the Creator turn Akivili into an Aeon.

“Hey, if one day you have a kid, what name will you give them ?” ask Akivili.

“Huh- I don’t know ?” said the Aeon confused. They thought about how everyone always gives two names to this question, one feminine and one masculine. “Aether if it’s a boy and Stelle if it’s a girl.”

“Great names. You’re always creatives for names.” Said the mortal.

“And you ?”

“Caelus if it’s a boy and Lumine if it’s a girl.” Akivili answer easily.

Akivili always had something for picking great name.

It’s him who gave them the name Y/N after all.

So, for knowing who really Caelus was, they decided to stay with him.

Of what they had understood, he lost a dear friend, so Y/N helped him at the same time with all his grief thing.

And that worked ! Well, in a way ?

Caelus was feeling better now that Y/N was here, but he was what mortals called ‘clingy’.

The Aeon found that funny – Akivili was always clingy with them when he was tired. So that make them think of the past.

They was happy to compare Caelus to Akivili, making some theories about it, and not to some creep that prayed them..

Maybe The Aeon Of Creations have what mortals called a trauma caused by a few of their believers.

<----->

The Aeon Of Creation is traumatized of all this Sagau imposter AU/j I thought making the creator having a universe color blood and tears will be funny because, you know, they created it- The Creator thinking Caelus is Akivili is an idea that would hurt when it will be more developed.

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x gn reader #hsr x male reader #gn reader #male reader #hsr sahsr au #honkai star rail sahsr au #honkai star rail x gn reader #honkai star rail x male reader #akivili x aeon of creation #Raccoon is writing #sahsrau

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here-to-read-and-write · 2 years ago

Note

Team 141 seeing female reader take off her shirt to train with her friend and seeing she has scars all over her body because she was tortured (burned, knife cuts, bullet wounds, whipped, ect) and reader having a visible pack (I don't care how many packs)

And the boys feeling sympathy for her but also blushing at her body ☻️🤭

You can decline if ya want I don't mind

Should I make Konïg, Las Vargas maybe even add Graves and Valeria versions?

TF 1-4-1: Ghost, Soap, John, Gaz.

don't forget to leave request!!! please!

warning: Torture, no details given. Horny men...little innocent reader, English isn't my first language, my writing!

It was a hot day, and luckily the team didn't have any mission. So they were chilling in the training ground.

It was intimating to see a group of tall and build men sitting and staring at the horizon. Weird too, isn't it? but not when you follow the line where their eyes were so focused on.

In the distance, you stood. Back straight up, as your friends chat with each other. You, on the other hand, were standing waiting for something.

From under the shade, they could see all your expressions, or rather the lack of them. At least, they could admire the stars in your eyes, your pouting plump lips.

It wasn't strange for the TF 1-4-1 to admire you from afar. It became a habit they picked. If you give them a chance they will worship the ground you walked on, not like they aren't already.

They just don't want to hide it anymore, but for now, it will do until you notice their efforts, then maybe things will be different, it all depends on you.

"First, it will be (Y/N) against (your friend's name)" Queu to a groan and a few complaints, while you emotionlessly walked pulling off your mask, and your t-shirt. Leaving yourself bare with only a sports bra as a cover.

It caught the 1-4-1 off guard, especially Ghost, who noticed the ghost's hands, each one holding a breast.

Here comes the train of unholy thoughts.

It sends waves of arousal to warm their stomach and crawl up their spine, as they drank in your form. Each curve, each scares, every inch of you was been craved in their minds.

The men turn away shifting from one foot to another uncomfortably trying to ease the blood rushing down there if you know what I mean.

Some were rubbing their eyes and faces as if it was trying to get rid of the image of you standing there... In only a bra and military pants, but we both know that they were craving it in their mind for later. All for everyone to see, causing a fit of jealousy to bloom in their chest.

Damn you and your body. They thought. Fighting the strong urge to relieve themselves, which could be only done in the bedroom away from prying eyes.

Here comes another unholy thought.

Didn't you know the effect you had on them? Or maybe you know, either way, you really need to stop teasing, or punishment may be the only way for you to understand what you made feel.

They all groaned, for god's sake, they were grown-ass men, not some high school girls stalking their crush.

Fuck!

Why their pants are getting tight?

It was weird for you to show some skins, not like you didn't look great. You looked more than great, but after one horrifying mission, you stopped showing even your hands.

Ghost was present with you that day. He had to watch unable to do anything, as they torture you over and over again for days, and the scars on your body were proof of what you had been through. You screamed still hunting his mind, verytime he closed or opened his eyes.

He blamed himself every second of the day, because if he had listened to you and didn't leave you alone, you may have been able to fight the enemy together, and neither you nor him, would have been captured.

You ran a hand through your hair, before putting in a high ponytail. Getting in your position and the boys remarked how your eyes were closed. You didn't even open them when your friend was attacking you left and right. You avoided all attacks, without breaking a sweat. As if you sense his movement, your movements were smooth too. Much different form military training.

Price, unlike the others, was more interested in your abilities Why are you lying? he had read your files. All he could say that is he was impressed. He tried getting you on his team, unfortunately, you had taken two years off the military to heal from your last mission.

He had heard from Lasweel, that you looked like a mummy when the doctors were done. They say it was a miracle that you survived, sadly, the scars will be forever graved on your body, just the memories in your mind.

Now you were back, with a few rumours lit up like fire in the woods about you. They were all absurd of course, yet some seem to believe them, resulting in them avoiding you like the plague, but you didn't seem to mind. Actually, he had noticed how agitated you become when you share the same space as someone else.

You are always tensed and on guard, whenever someone was talking to you, the only person who you seemed to ease around was Soap, who the moment notice your packs accidentally when you were training together, was stuck like the glue to your side.

You never pushed him, you responded to every question he asked, like patient parents with their children, and somehow you were able to understand his weird choice of words, and even then you spoke few words, only listening and humming along the way.

That gave Gaz some courage, to try and talk to, and boy did he feel bad!

Gaz was one of the people who believed the absurd rumours. He found them to be real. You never tried to prove him wrong, until, he sat by your side, as you prepare something to eat.

Soap had practically dragged him, to meet his crush you. For a movie night. You didn't speak much, you just listen attentively to each word that comes out of Soap's mouth, and he could a crossed smile, even it was small each time Soap throw a joke, no matter how bad it was.

He watched you all night eyes only focusing on you. In his mind, he was watching waiting for one wrong move, while his heart was memorizing each part of, each move and the reason behind it. Maybe that's how he knew you well.

You didn't do anything that night that proves that you were the person in the rumours. You weren't arrogant, and even with the little emotion you had shown, he was able to conclude that you were a good person, just broken.

That's how you become close with Gaz, not like how you were with Soap but enough for you to salute him or pat his shoulder or head. Which always flustered him.

A few minutes into the fight with your friend and you already tackled them. You, on top of them, hand behind their back comfortable setting on their back.

They start wiggling under you, and for a moment 1-4-1 halted in their movement eyes intensely watching your breast bounce.

"Fuck" they cursed under their breath. They knew it will be better to leave, yet their body refused to obey their brain and move.

You turn to get your shirt and gear and leave when you saw 1-4-1 standing under the shade. You politely waved but none of them seems to notice you, from where you stood, you could see the tips of their ears red, some were hiding their faces between their arm supporting their weight with the metal bars in front of them.

You, being the innocent female lead, you titled your head, worried that the sun may be the cause of their redness.

You took the bottles before walking to them after it you offered them to them. They all took it gratefully before shrugging in down.

You escorted them back inside, as you watched them walking. You took notice of the awkwardness in the air, with a hint of ginger and peppermint. You knew what it was.

They were scent caused by sex pheromones, so why do they smell like that?

Oh, if only you knew!

#cod mw2 x you #cod x reader #ghost x y/n #ghost x reader #soap x reader #soap x y/n #price x reader #price x y/n #john price x reader #captain price x reader #gaz x reader #gaz x y/n #xreader #variousxreader

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jainydoe · 1 month ago

Text

Misdirection, Ch. 1

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 the sugar daddy au I promised...

This is not a love story.

That’s not how he looks at it, anyway.

Because he is, at his core, a hopeless romantic. Devout in his worship. Ever since he could twirl a flower and tuck it behind someone’s ear, he’s kneeled, their bodies his altar, every act of service his own type of prayer. In his youth, he couldn’t go days without it. After his classes, then in between classes, then sometimes, under the table, one hand writing notes, the other up a girl’s skirt, he’d whisper covenants in their ears, verses upon verses of the old poets and the new on how their beauty would snuff him out right there. It’s why he’s got his sights set on the Bureau - boots on the ground, hands in the dirt, paid to bring justice for souls ripped before their time. There’s nothing more terrifying than death - and in that, there’s nothing as seductive.

Then he gets to college and meets Johanna. The ultimate love story. Boy meets girl. Girl convinces boy the best solution to their raging hormones is a casual sexuationship where he can rail her and make her cum as much as he wants and he’ll let her cheat off their orgo and anatomy exams as payment. Boy is stupid enough to fall in love with girl and she’s bored enough by the rest of the riffraff to actually marry him.

In a shock to all, girl runs off and leaves boy with a baby, a soft little thing with grabby fingers and a gummy smile. He ignores the fact he has her eyes. Tells himself it doesn’t make him love him any less. As if branded and bruised, he can’t bring himself back to church. Not for a while. Not until the sting wears off. He tries meeting men at bars, women at libraries. He smiles and kisses hands and hopes they can see in his demeanor that he’s a man of faith. But maybe they aren’t believers. Maybe they find him dumb and naive. He’s flailing. Begging. Deranged. The spare times once or twice a year, eventually, that he’s pitied enough to be dragged to some hotel room, the Single Dad, the Divorcee, he’s gone for hours, babbling praise and praying on high that he hopes this will work, that this will make them stay, his devotion, his care. Everyone wants passion until it’s from Emmrich, it seems.

When he turns forty six, it marks a full year since the last time he’s had someone, and maybe it’s the time to reflect, but it’s allowed his allegiance to rot into hate. He’s a prude, now. A stiff. He’s always looked down on his colleagues who, in their happy marriages with their happy wives and happy lives, live in secret disgust, wasting away their bodies and wallets on themselves. Agnostics. Romantic on the holidays. Phonies.

It takes years to beat the love out of him. He’s celibate. He’s focused on fatherhood. He’s hardwired into work, the tsunami inside washing itself over the lives that intersect his area of expertise. He’s promoted. Then promoted, again. He’s at the top of his game. He’s the shit. He’s working 36 hours a week with the Bureau, and teaching at Nevarra U., and his students adore him, and the faculty worship him, and he tells himself this kind of love is enough. He’s Mr. FBI, Mr. PTA, Dr. Genius, and nothing and no one will have him on his knees ever again.

Then he runs into Archibald at the annual faculty gala.

SUBJECT: CLICK NOW for HOT Singles in YOUR AREA! XXX

Archibald Battenberg, PhD, JSD <[email protected]>

to evolkarin

Hey old pal,

Glad to have run into you. Mimi thought you were quite the charmer - just like old times, right? If you’re interested in other girls like her (or even her for that matter I’m all for liberation and whatever) I’ve included the link below. I’m sure you’ll pick a winner from the litter. Let’s get drinks, yeah? Celebrate the divorce? On me.

- Archie https://msdirection.com/ The code is SUGAR4BABY

Archibald was a fuck-wit and a menace. Had been since college. But Emmrich was notorious for skipping things ever since Manfred - really, ever since Johanna - and he wasn’t gonna go to the gala, seriously, but then he had a glass, then another, then Myrna called his private landline and there he was, cocktail in hand, counting the minutes until his alarm would indicate it’s time to vaporize into the night. As he’s nursing his manhattan and ignoring eye contact with the dean, he spots a woman, satin and sleek, a pampered panther in a sea of slippery sea beasts. She’s not a believer, he can tell, but the way she’s looking at him - she sees him for what he is and slinks his way before he could protest. They shake hands and she speaks eight languages and compliments his watch. Says she likes men who appreciate the real deal. He laughed in that breathless way he does when he’s shocked and on edge, watching her blunt hair frame her jaw in a way that made her attention all the more cutting and examining. Like a surgeon assessing their canvas. When he learned she was on the arm of Sloppy Archie-berg, he was a bit stunned. With Archibald’s signature ham-fisted tie, hoggish way of holding himself - Emmrich was pretty sure he didn’t even own conditioner. It was only once his date excused herself, though, that he’d revealed her secret. That Miss Mimi was a creature of the night. A call-girl , he called her, and Emmrich could tell Archie felt naughty even saying it. Like a child admitting they’d eaten sugar before bed. When Mimi returns and kisses Archibald’s cheek, Emmrich aches. Not for her, but for God. For the light of eternal delight to shine on his lips once again. He used to consider Johanna’s mouth the kingdom of heaven, and wonders, for the first time, if he’s been a misled fool.

He couldn’t remember a time when he ever found Archibald charming, but when Save-the-Dates went out for the big Volkarin-Hezenkoss wedding, he was the only one to respond with condolences. Emmrich decides to email back a yes to drinks and notably forgets all about Mimi and her company until the postcard from Antiva arrives in his mailbox.

Dear E,

Fuck you. I miss you. I’m moving back to the area. Say hi to the little guy for me.

Rot in hell,

There’s a verse he thinks of, about how the armor of God will protect you from the devil’s wiles, and maybe, he considers, God’s armor could be purchased through a subscription to Ms. Direction’s. It has to be. Because, for once, here are women who want it. Who want him. A man willing to tithe. This is for the Real Deal, he thinks. Not pussy-footing, quick-fuck, cheap-date juveniles. He’s dizzy as he locks the study door, Manfred in bed, all the lights out, and stares at his laptop as if it will begin whispering a beckoning call. Emmrich, come quick, come now, come enter your credit card information.

He does.

In a manner almost chaste and sweet, the website is basic. Bare-bones. He appreciates it. The way the black background and red font make it clear you’re here for sex. It’s been years since he’s let his eyes roam over others, and, for a quick moment, he thinks it’s a bad idea. Shallow biographies. Stupid usernames. Feet? Maybe he’s too old. Maybe he’s too tired. He’s on page four, wind wiped out, he doesn’t investigate why he thought Ms. Direction would have a slew of Nice Girls waiting, hands outstretched. If that hand were holding a crop, however. He crosses his legs and continues perusing the digital classifieds, willing himself to focus. Eventually, that leads to work-brain. He reminds himself these women aren’t in danger. They’re not minors. This isn’t illegal. His eyes gloss over in boredom.

MARIANNE, 19 Looking for a stud to treat me like a princess.

JULIA, 29 Just a naughty girl who needs to be punished.

RAVEN, 25 Let me treat you like filth-

He actually does click on her profile. But as he looks through her photos, sees her bedroom, the clothing on the floor and vat of lube - he wishes her well and leaves with a feeling of murky disgust.

It’s as he’s exiting her profile, deciding to exit the site altogether and possibly consider asking for a refund that he spots her.

Her.

It’s straightforward. A photo of her face. She calls herself Rook. Doesn’t explain why. She needs money for rent and is hoping to spend time with someone interesting. He can be interesting. If he tries. In that moment, he’s twenty again, looking purposefully at a girl’s mouth, then in her eyes, asking if she believes in the afterlife. Of hauntings. Of spirits and the occult and drawing little symbols on her palm that, according to legend, will connect her more deeply with the beyond.

He types a message.

Dear Rook,

You seem pretty interesting, yourself. I’m, certainly, interested in learning more. Would coffee be of interest?

For fuck’s sake, stop using the word interesting. You’re a doctor. Be eloquent. Fuck.

Dear Rook,

Coffee?

Too chaste. This is a stranger.

Rook,

No.

Darling Rook,

God.

Dear Rook,

I’m interested. Wanna get coffee?

Emmrich

He clicks send and feels the air rush out of chest as if sucked up by some phantasmal vacuum. He shuts off the laptop, tosses it on his desk and quickly paces up the stairs to his bedroom, working a knot into his robe. This is about as daring as he’s been since signing up for the gym membership, and we all know how that went.

The next morning passes quickly. Daycare then a morning class on elementary forensics then a quick lap on the track at the academy. He’s catching his breath, gulping down an icy reprieve when an email comes in.

SUBJECT: Re: Message to rookie24

His phone slips out of his hand, falling face down onto the grass. A student looks his way. He waves a hello, beginning to itch all over. His fingers shake as he opens the message.

Hi handsome,

Coffee sounds good. I’ll be at Crossroads by Fade Ave at noon this Saturday. Hope to see you there.

Rook x

He knows that means a kiss. He feels it, too. Standing there, sweaty and pulsing, he feels his heart rate quicken even more at the promise of something over the weekend. A date. A cheap miracle.

–

“You have got to be KIDDING ME,” she yells, ignoring the passerbyers and scared parents, beginning to grip their children tighter. She’s not one for making a scene, especially on the train, but this is the final straw.

Her medical bill is thousands. For an IV and aspirin and sitting in a cot. Look, hindsight, twenty-twenty, blah blah blah, point is she thought maybe fighting people for money could be a good way to get the bills paid. Taash said so, themself. And Lucanis and Davrin taught her how to properly throw a shank into someone’s side. And she wasn’t even that hurt, ultimately, but she did black out after Rowdy Regina Rockhouse (stupid name) got her in the back of Bellara’s Suburu and icing herself in the ER until 3am. She’s made a list on her fridge of sure-fire ways to get money without signing up for a third job or selling body parts. But after crossing out Underground Fight Club , she writes in gently, small, at the bottom ask Neve about selling body parts. Thankfully, she has lunch with Bell before giving Neve a call.

“I’m, like, poor. For a while, I thought I was poor, now I realize I wasn’t. This is it. And shut the fuck up, I know you’re gonna say some shit about rock bottom, going up and whatever, I don’t wanna hear it.”

Bellara is sympathetic in a way that’s not suffocating. Rook loves her for it. Trusts her for the life she’s lived that should’ve made her jaded, but didn’t. Maybe it’s that trust that has her not totally dismissing Bellara and calling her immediately crazy for her suggestion.

“You could always join a dating site.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She twirls a stick of honey in her tea, looking at the patrons surrounding them. “Check out that couple. That guy just bought her a pastry and latte. They look so happy. Maybe, oh, I don’t know, maybe meeting someone nice could help distract from all the ugliness?”

“You want me to whore myself for pastries.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I’m gonna have to beg Mauricio to not evict me for the third month in a row and you think pastries and dick will fix that.”

“I’m not trying to minimize your issues, Rook, I mean, I can help with your bills for a little, or you could come stay with me, maybe, you know I don’t mind,”

“I don’t want you like that, Bel. You have a great ass, don’t get me wrong,”

“Rook,”

“But if I’m gonna be giving out the sugar, I’m gonna need some considerable sugar to make up for it. Oodles of sugar. Like, piles.”

“I don’t know how to talk with you when you’re like this.”

“You’re a genius, Bel.” She kisses her on the forehead and steals her apple turnover, taking a chomping bite as she makes her way to the exit. “Sugar for sugar, Belly baby.”

It takes about a half hour of careful research before she finds the perfect site. It even looks sexy. Catered towards brats and babies to be worshipped. She snorts. She’ll bite. She’ll fashion herself the nymphette of some old guy’s fantasy if it means paying off a credit card, or two. Hell, she’s fucked uglier men for less benefits. She tells herself this will be a cake walk.

She tries taking photos. Lacy edits of her with big eyes and red lips, but the thought of attracting anyone with it makes her nauseous. She figures her face will do. They’ll be looking at it a lot, probably, may as well see it for all it’s worth. She chooses one where she’s smiling and not still bruised from Raging Re-bitch-a-zilla Rockfart and calls it a day. No one will message her. She’ll forget she made the account. She will show up on Lucanis’ doorstep and promise him her firstborn in exchange for a roof over her head and possible bodyguard duties, because Mauricio will threaten her life in a week. It’s two in the morning and she’s almost finished with the final episode of Love is Kind when she gets a message. He doesn’t have a profile photo. He’s messaging potential cash-sluts past midnight. All signs say Do Not Interact. Which is why she brings it to Neve.

“Jesus, Rook, is it really that bad?”

She squints at her, knocking back a shot of bourbon and ignoring the way her throat widens up into a retch. “Was the direness of my situation not clear when I joined Taash’s fucking fight club? Or did that nude modeling bullshit? Or that outward-bound type camping gig where I slugged tents and crap for Lace?”

“It was very sweet of you to help those kids.”

“Yeah, well, now I need help.” She twirls the bottom of her glass against Neve’s desk. It’s ten in the morning but Neve doesn’t mind. She never does. Rook doesn’t know if it makes her feel better or worse. “Besides, some of those kids might be my competition now for cradle-robber-cock.”

“I don’t think your new friend will want you to call him, or it , that. Besides, he seems to like your profile. I say just go for it.” Rook shifts in her seat. “What’s stopping you?”

Nothing. Everything. This would be another person to disappoint. Another crutch. Another life she ruins. Neve is a mind-reader. “Stop being melodramatic, Rook.” She takes her hand, offering her quintessential, moody smile. “Whoever this Emmrich is, I’m sure he’s a big boy who can handle the likes of you.”

She messages him back.

–

Saturday arrives and a pile of clothes sits on Emmrich’s bed, vests and trousers splayed as he stands in the mirror, posing.

I look like hot, wet shit.

He grabs at his hair, pulling, eyes closed and breath slowing. This is fine. He’s fine. It’s just coffee. Something he drinks often.

This is meant to be pleasurable.

He holds that to his chest as he begins the ritual of preparing to leave the house. Lotions. Colognes. Hair gel and face creams. Would she like the way he smells? Does she hate facial hair? Or neckties? Or kids?

Saturday arrives and a pile of clothes sits on Rook’s floor. Is this the kind of guy who would want her in a dress? Should she wear black? Or something bright? Is this an interview? Should she shave? She calls Bellara and Davrin, hoping for a balanced review. They can’t agree on an outfit. She feels like hot, wet shit. Then comes the text from Lace. I’m stranded in the middle of Arlathan but Bell’s at work and I know you live close to the lab so I was wondering if maybe you’d possibly rescue me? Also Bellara’s agreed and Taash is here, too.

Rook is used to playing the hero. It’s the role she’s been cast in for years. But in this moment, she hates Lace Harding. She hopes her and Taash get stampeded. Or that they drown. These images provide comfort as she begins the trek to Bellara’s 2011 chariot. She’s never been a romantic. But for once, she feels truly hopeless.

#yeah I know the prose ain't shit #I just wanted to lay the groundwork and get it out for the weekend #yk. tryna do less gothic freak shit and be a little more open and fluffy? but if you want more gothic freak shit i am ALWAYS happy to oblig #yeah? anyway #I love you! thank you for reading!#rook x emmrich #emmrook #emmrich volkarin #rook #dragon age the veilguard #datv

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holylulusworld · 7 months ago

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Aahp (6) - Revenge served cold

Summary: You end up being a pawn.

Pairing: Mobster!Andy Barber x fem!Reader, Mobster!Nick Fowler x fem!Reader, Mobster!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader, Mobster!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Characters: Jake Jensen, Lloyd Hansen

Warnings: angst, mentions of character’s death, mafia business, a lil fluff, Lloyd being Lloyd

Angel and her protectors masterlist

Catch up here: Part 5

Pookie. A term of endearment and affection. Sometimes a euphemism to describe something cute. A pet name for your significant other.

Is that what you are to them? Their significant other, or just a brand-new toy they find fascinating and cute.

You’re like a kitten in a lion’s den, unsure about your next step. Nick and the others made sure that you could not leave their place. It’s not a house, not even a mansion. Their home is a fortress.

It took some time for you to fathom why four grown men would live together on free terms. This place is huge, yes. But sometimes you want to have your peace and quit.

They live together out of necessity, and maybe to avoid making the same mistakes they made in the past.

Jensen, the charming guy they hired to fake evidence and mess with Ransom’s life was rather talkative. He told you about the tragic losses Steve, Bucky, and Andy had to endure.

United they stand since then. Four powerful men against the world.

“Pookie, what are you doing here?” Nick walks inside the room, confused as you are engrossed in reading the files Jensen gave to you. He’s a nice guy. Jensen wanted you to know what you’re getting yourself into.

“Research,” you lift your eyes from the laptop you borrowed from Jensen. “If you don’t let me go, I need to know what kind of people you truly are.”

“What did you find out?” He hops onto the table next to the laptop. “Anything exciting yet?”

“They all lost their…wives,” you murmur. “Is that the reason you do not want me to go? Do you fear I’ll end up dead like their wives?”

“Andy and the others didn’t know about you. I asked Jake to find out more about you. I knew that Ransom broke your heart and that you were all alone. I had to do something.”

“You knew before you all that before you grabbed me?” You watch Nick with curiosity. “Why would you do that? You didn’t know me, Nick. Not at all. All you knew was that Ransom left me for some other girl.”

“Pookie, I knew you the moment I laid eyes on you. Bucky and the others couldn’t see it at first, but I did. You’re an angel and came into our lives to save our rotten souls.”

“Nick, I’m not an angel. Maybe a little clueless, and stupid enough to fall for a man like Ransom, but no angel.” You shake your head. “I don’t know what you want from me, except the obvious.”

“Oh, Pookie,” he grins wolfishly, “we want so much more than to worship your body. Bucky, Steve, and Andy will have to wait, of course. I saw my sweet angel first.”

You laugh at the seriousness in his voice. The whole situation you are in still feels surreal. How can four men want you after Ransom kicked you out of his life like you meant nothing to him?

Glass shatters. A bullet finds its target. Blood drops to the ground, just like the body that got hit. Men yell, and gunshots pierce through the air, missing their target by an inch.

Out of reach for the angry thugs wasting their ammunition, a man curses under his breath. Lloyd Hansen hates wasting a bullet for a non-deadly shot.

“If only they allowed me to blow his head,” he hums while disassembling the sniper rifle. “Well, my job here’s done. Maybe next time they have the guts to hire me to kill someone.”

Lloyd takes his time. He likes his routine and doing things his way. There is no hurry. He’s sitting on the rooftop of a building far away from his target’s home. No one will find him here. – Not if they want to stay alive.

It’s a week later that Lloyd came to collect for a job well done. Pierce got shot in the shoulder, but survived, just as planned.

“All done,” Lloyd brags while eying you sit next to Nick. He licks his lips, wondering if you are a special thank you for doing his job. “So, do we invite pretty girls now?”

“Lloyd don’t even start,” Steve warns. He’s still not a fan of Hansen and his behavior. “She’s off-limits. No discussion.”

“Her loss,” he shrugs and grabs the envelope filled with money. “Cash is king,” Lloyd smirks when you look his way. Nick wouldn’t tell you what the man did to earn so much money, and you didn’t want to know.

“Can you stay in town for a little longer?” Andy asks. “It’s possible that we will need your assistance again.”

“If you got more of this,” Lloyd lifts the envelope to sniff at it. “You have my guns and charming company.”

“What do you think, Bucky?” Nick looks at his brother, waiting for his approval. “Buck?”

“We should check if Pierce will take the bait. If not, Hansen is as useless as a wart on my ass,” Bucky grumbles. He doesn’t like to sit and wait. “If only you allowed me to end their lives.”

“If we kill Piece and Drysdale, we will start a war. If they kill each other,” Andy shrugs. “We officially had nothing to do with their downfall. Their allies cannot blame us.”

“You’re a sly fox, Mr. Barber,” Hansen chuckles darkly. “I like how you think. Fucking others over is my jam too.”

“As long as you do not fuck us over,” Nick glares at Hansen. Just like Steve, he’s not a fan of Lloyd’s methods. “I hope you remember to not bite the hand that’s feeding you well for years.”

“I’m loyal to my customers, sunshine,” Lloyd flashes Nick a smile. “Betrayal is bad for business, my friend. As long as you pay me well, we have no problem.”

“Guys!” Jake stops the men from getting into a fight. “Activities detected. Someone tries to find the fake bank account I created to transfer money from Ransom’s account.”

“Pierce?” Andy asks.

“I don’t know yet,” Jake types away on the keyboard to trace the person. “Give me a bit of time and we’ll know if Pierce fell for our trap.”

“Sounds like the fun just started,” Lloyd snickers. “I guess I’ll stick around for a little while…”

Part 6

Tags in reblog.

#nick fowler #bucky barnes #steve rogers #andy barber #mafia au #Aahp (6) - Revenge served cold #nick fowler x reader #x reader #female reader

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biowhore · 1 year ago

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Ours

Halsin x Astarion x f!Tav

Content: blood, biting, voyeurism, cuckold, oral(both), begging, PIV sex, porn with feelings, porn without the plot, one-shot,

This bite was one of so many, but it was the only one that would not heal. The only one that marked her as many things to many people, but to him... she would be everything.

Word count: 5.3K

Fic List, AO3

It had been a long, long day.

So much new information, enemies multiplying, and more problems to solve. It seemed that everyone wanted a piece of Tav or someone in her camp. She felt as if she was being pulled in at least 10 different directions, and the bustle of the city certainly wasn’t helping her make rational decisions. It wasn’t as if the stakes were high or anything.

She had decided that tonight would be a special treat for her and her men. She’d worship them as they deserved and have her mind a bit scrambled in the bargain as a welcome reprieve from having to figure out how to save the world.

The only one she could rely on not to need anything from her was Halsin. The bear provided a calming, grounding presence that she sorely needed now that they had made it to the Gate. And, now that the shadow curse was lifted, he gave much more than he took – and those gifts were generous. Within his big arms, nothing could reach her. She could spend hours upon hours with him, not talking, just lying and listening to the world go on around them. But even he was not unaffected by the tangled web they all found themselves in. The past few days in the city, Tav had seen how he tensed, how he lost focus sometimes, as if trying to sort through the cacophony, how his face fell around the refugees when he thought no one could see. He needed Tav just as much as she needed him, though he would not admit it.

But first, she would check in with her lovely Astarion. Tav found him bent over his boots, painstakingly cleaning the dust from the leather and every grommet. One cannot sneak up on a vampire, but she made a good impression on her light feet. His head turned slightly into her as she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around him from behind.

She placed a quick peck just underneath his ear and murmured, “Hello my love. Is this to be nightly chore for you?”

“Well,” he huffed, “You know what they say about cleanliness and godliness and all that.” Still focused on his work, he went on, “Wouldn’t want my siblings to find the prodigal son looking anything less than perfect.”

“Ah, the necessities for brutally murdering a vampire lord.”

“Delicious.”

She sighed at that, weighed down by the multiple looming threats over their heads, “The taste has gone bitter lately.”

Astarion looked over his shoulder at her, quirking up an eyebrow, “Something the matter?”

Tav should her head, “Nothing.” She turned her head away in a subconscious effort to deflect from what was weighing down her heart, “I’ll be with Halsin tonight. But after, maybe we could spend time together?”

A bark of laughter escaped him, “Gods, that man has been so tense since we entered the city, creaking like a tree in a storm. You’ll do him some good.”

She smiled, glad to know he’d noticed Halsin’s troubles as well. It warmed her heart to see that he cared for Halsin in his own way. She had worried at first how he would handle their arrangement, but their relationship hadn’t changed. If anything, Astarion had been more casually affectionate.

He interjected on her thoughts, “As for after, I’ll see you sooner than you think.”

The pause and low tone of his reply made Tav quirk her lips, wondering what he was up to. He could simply mean he’d join the two of them, but she doubted that was his intention. Still, she gave a playful, gentle nip to the tip of his long ear as she stood to leave, a silent invitation for him to indeed join if he felt up to it. It was the unspoken signal between them on her nights with Halsin. Mostly, he abstained, but a few times since she and Halsin and started their relationship he had quietly watched. The first time was from the shadows; Tav sensed his eyes tracking Halsin’s large fingers as they encircled her neck, lifting her off the grass. He brought her to his mouth as he pistoned into her, their panting breaths mixing and clouding above their bodies in the cool night air. Astarion’s eyes roved all over them both. It was almost as if he were studying them, trying to perceive and understand the connection between them beneath the lust, the something more. The first time he watched openly, he sat silently on a tree stump, not speaking or touching but burning Tav with his gaze. No jealousy or sense of possession lay in those eyes, only curiosity and study. Like he was reacquainting himself with how two people could truly enjoy each other. He watched their hands, their eyes, their lips, the way Tav’s hips met Halsin’s, and how they lay together afterward. Tav was happy to let him be a part of their relationship in whatever way he wished, and she would welcome him tonight as well.

But tonight, Astarion had other plans that simply watching. He knew Tav was hanging by a thread as she tried to lead this merry band of weirdos to their impending doom, or preferably, their salvation. She deserved something more.

***

In the late hours, Astarion found Tav and Halsin already indulging in each other, Tav on her knees with the bear’s beautiful cock in her mouth. It was an inviting scene, the two of them beneath a thick canopy of weeping wisteria, the ground beneath their knees a plush mix of grass and tiny clovers. The blooms created a space that felt like their own secret hideaway, just for the two (or three) of them. The sun was nearly set, the last few rays peeking through the blooms to stripe their skin in orange and red.

The gooseflesh rising along Tav’s naked spine signaled Astarion’s arrival, but her eyes were locked on her bear’s face as she swallowed him deeply. His eyes were heavy-lidded, breaths coming in soft pants. She had ambushed him immediately after entering the thicket, rounding on him to take his mouth with hers, her fingers deftly untying the laces of his trousers. He only chuckled, letting her take the lead. Now, she reached his thick base and held there for a moment, squeezing with her throat, her hands digging into the globes of his ass. A soft, hoarse croak left him, and she felt his fingers gently tug at the roots of her hair, coaxing her off his length. As she released him and licked her lips, he dropped down onto his knees, hunching over and forcing Tav to bend back, taking her mouth in a fierce kiss. His tongue danced with hers as he chased his flavor in her mouth.

“You are ravenous tonight, my heart,” he growled into her throat.

Tav’s hand continued to pump him as she caught her breath. With a nip at his lower lip she managed, “Too much?” before he was back at her mouth again.

“I fear I could never have too much of you.” He hunched down further and griped the back of her thighs, poised to lift her, “I must taste you.”

Tav nodded eagerly, wrapping her arms around his neck as he hoisted her up to his chest easily. He gently set her down on the soft grass, his mouth immediately roving across her skin, moving south with determination. He wasted no time situating himself between her legs, pulling her to his mouth with a quick yank on her thighs, her back arching with the pleasure of his forcefulness and how his mouth absolutely devoured her sex. A playful smile crossed her cheeks. Tav loved how he handled her, as if she weighed nothing. Her fingers dug into his scalp as his tongue followed a long line from her folds to her clit, circling it slowly in the way he knew made her squirm, then sucking firmly. Gods, if he thought she was ravenous – Tav gasped as he teased her entrance with the tip of his tongue, then repeated his earlier pattern, sucking on her clit a bit harder this time. He rumbled against her mound as she writhed in his hold, but he pinned her hips down with a bruising grip, determined in his task. That wicked tongue kept teasing her, circling, probing, then thrusting inside suddenly.

“Gods, Halsin!” she shouted, gripping his hair harder as her hips tried to start up a rhythm on his tongue, the need for more nearly overwhelming her. To make matters worse, his tongue withdrew again and swirled around her clit, making her whimper with the sudden change in sensation.

He slowed, and she felt two of his thick fingers slip inside her dripping wet cunt as his mouth pulled away to rasp, “I don’t think I will ever tire of this taste.”

She propped herself up on an elbow as she watched his fingers pull out and up to his mouth, that damned tongue licking away her slick. She bit her lip and tried to meet his mouth with hers, but his big hand planted her firmly back on the grass, his eyes locked on hers with a feral shine as he lowered himself back down to her aching sex, fluttering and aching for more. This time his mouth focused on her clit while his fingers thrust back inside, starting a slow rhythm that had her panting and whining. He sucked and laved at her clit in time with his fingers, pushing and pulling, and she was just about to lose her mind with his teasing until she heard soft footsteps coming closer.

“Give her what she needs, bear. I have more plans for her,” that silky voice lit up her heart and she whipped her head in Astarion’s direction, reaching out to him.

“You’re here,” her breathy whine sounded embarrassingly needy in her ears, but he had never come this close, never spoken let alone suggested his involvement. His ‘plans’ for her sent an anticipatory thrill up her spine, adding deliciously to Halsin’s still-thrusting fingers.

Halsin glanced up at Astarion and gave a small smile and nod, some understanding passing between them that had Tav perking up out of her lusty delirium. What were they up to? She sensed that perhaps her idea of how this night was to transpire was about to shift dramatically.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Halsin’s fingers crooking into her to rub just right on her front wall, sending her back into an arch as his lips returned to her clit and his tongue flicked steadily. Heat and ecstasy flooded her body, flushing her skin; she squeezed her eyes shut to the onslaught of pleasure from Halsin’s practiced tongue and fingers. Her orgasm thundered to the surface, bursting with a firm swipe of his tongue across her sensitive nub, her muscles contracting with the force of it, bowing her up and wrenching a long, high moan from her throat.

“That’s it,” Astarion whispered somewhere above her.

He had kneeled and cradled the back of her head, his thumbs brushed against her cheeks as Halsin’s fingers continued a languid rhythm, leading her back down from her high, relaxing her muscles. Tav’s head lowered onto Astarion’s knees, eyes drooping, panting to catch her breath.

“Don’t give out now, darling. We have yet to truly begin,” he said with a sinful croon.

“Just give me a second,” she replied hazily.

She was vaguely aware of Halsin moving over her, licking her slick from his fingers again. The sight was so lewd that it sobered her immediately, especially with the sound of his slurping as his hand pulled away from his mouth. A new flush rushed up her neck and she squirmed beneath him, eliciting a short, deep, humorous rumble from him as he rested his elbows on either side of her shoulders, hovering his face over hers.

“She is ready for more,” He smirked before he took her lips in a drugging kiss.

In no time at all Tav’s body was ready for them again. Her arms gripped around Halsin’s shoulders as her chest arched up to meet his. Her lips chased his greedily, turning the kiss into a feverish grapple, the breaths between them loud in the quiet of the night, with only the wisteria to hear.

Halsin’s left hand trailed down to seize Tav’s squirming hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh at the base of her spine. He pulled away for air and latched himself to her neck, sucking and nipping down to her collarbones.

“More,” she gasped into the air, pleading toward Astarion above her, to both of them, for anything they could give her. Tav’s emotions were beginning to swell just beneath the surface of her control, threatening to overwhelm her. Having them both so close was unexpectedly sweet, and she wanted to savor every moment, not worry over their futures on this journey for once.

Halsin reached her breasts, and she felt a nipple being tugged into his mouth while another was flicked gently by his thick fingers.

“More!” she pleaded again, a more obvious undertone of desperation in her voice as her breath rasped against the top of Halsin’s head.

“Don’t fret, love. We’re just getting started,” Astarion crooned to her, petting her cheek with the back of his hand, a cool contrast to her flushed skin.

He rose and stepped back, “All right bear, on your knees. Take her and face her to me.” He stood just to the side, waiting patiently but with a predatory glint in his eyes, his lips twisted up into that practiced smirk.

Halsin hoisted Tav up off the ground into his arms, kneeling and placing her bottom on his thighs.

“Are you ready?” He whispered onto her lips, caressing her inner thighs with his palm.

“Yes. Please.”

He guided her to straddle him in reverse, holding her weight in his hands as she notched his thick cock against her slit. Tav guided him in gently, sinking down at her own pace, lying her head back on his shoulder as they both sighed at the feeling of being joined.

As she seated herself fully, Halsin squeezed her hips reassuringly, “Whatever you need of me,” he rumbled next to her ear, kissing her shoulder.

Tav turned her head to kiss his cheek, but her chin was grasped firmly in cold fingers, wrenched forward to stare into dark crimson eyes that stole her attention entirely.

“Start slow,” Astarion directed Halsin, keeping her gaze locked to his. “Let's hear her beg again.”

She felt Halsin’s hips start to move, his cock sliding slowly in and out of her as she was held fast by two sets of hands. The glide of Halsin’s cock against her puffy slick walls was just enough friction to ignite an inferno in her, but not enough to push her over the edge. The intensity of Astarion’s stare had her biting her lip. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of begging so soon, but she was so sensitive after her earlier hard orgasm. She rocked her hips, partly to move in rhythm with Halsin, but also with a need for more; more friction, more sensation, more anything.

Astarion’s thumb gently parted her lips to dip inside her mouth briefly, dragging it across her lips, wetting them with her spit. A whimper escaped her as his hand retreated, her tongue flicking out to chase the taste of him.

“That’s it, love. Beg,” he coaxed.

She shook her head as much as his hold on her chin would allow, but Halsin’s slow and steady thrusting continued to drive up the pressure with no release in sight. Her control was fading fast, and she whined Astarion’s name before she could clamp down on her lips. His hand at her chin slipped to the back of her head in a tight grip in her hair, angling her head back slightly as his mouth crashed into hers. His kiss was almost enough to send her over that edge she was dancing on, and every breath had her whimpering as he devoured her. His sweet, slightly coppery taste focused her senses on him for the moment, a small feeling of surprise at his unleashed passion registering in the back of her mind amidst the haze of lust. His tongue dominated, swiping and curling in her mouth, like he was trying to catch the sound of her voice and take it for himself.

“My name has never sounded as good as it has from your mouth just now,” He mumbled against her lips as he finally pulled back. “Ask, pet. Beg me. Tell me what you want.”

Tav groaned in frustration as her hips attempted to pick up the pace for Halsin, beginning to bounce on his cock to relieve the growing ache in her core. Halsin’s hands on her hips slowed her somewhat as they gripped harder, but his panting breaths at her ear only spurred her on.

She knew what she wanted, what she wanted to ask if they wanted to make her, but this night was supposed to be for them. But their attentions touched her heart in a way she’d not thought possible until then. She needed them, she realized. More than physically. She loved them. She needed them closer, needed them safe, and the threats against them in addition to trying to resolve their tadpoles had weighed on her more than she wanted to let them see. Tonight, just for tonight, maybe she could open the lid on those emotions a little.

She shuddered and moaned as one of Halsin’s big hands enveloped her breast, kneading the soft flesh but purposely avoiding the nipple. He wouldn’t pinch and flick like he knew she loved, helping Astarion tease her to get her to beg. His breath puffed against the back of her neck, and she felt his warm, wet tongue slide up from her shoulder to the base of her skull, underneath Astarion’s hand in her hair.

He grazed his teeth there as he growled in her ear, “Whatever you need, my heart. You have only to say it,” He gave her breast a firm squeeze for good measure, and she moaned softly in his hold.

On her other side, Astarion licked along her jugular vein, following from her clavicle to the hinge of her jaw, tightening his hold in her hair slightly. His mouth moved to her ear, and she could feel the wicked smile on his face as he rasped, “You want him hammering into this needy cunt, don’t you? He’s been a good bear, holding back so well, just waiting for you to say the words.”

Her resistance melted at his goading, torn through easily like the fragile barrier that it was.

“Yes, yes, yes, please. Fuck me, please.”

Astarion chuckled, “Good girl,” and released her hair after a quick peck to her lips.

Halsin immediately adjusted their positions, releasing his hold on her hips to grip her knees and hold them wide as he began pounding into her. He groaned lowly into her ear, panting breaths tickling the shell of it. This angle and his powerful thrusts created an intensity she had no hope of withstanding. High-pitched whines left her with every slap of Halsin’s hips against hers. She could hear and feel how wet she was by the noise of his cock sliding in and out of her with ease.

“Gods, you’re both such a sight,” Astarion praised. “You’re dripping, love, and you take his cock so well.” His eyes were riveted between Tav’s thighs where Halsin crashed into her.

“Come for us,” he purred.

All it took was the lightest brush of Astarion’s fingers against her clit for her to shatter, a long high moan of relief bursting from her throat. It was cut short by Halsin twisting her head to him and swallowing it like a starved man. His hand splayed over her throat, fingertips gently set at her jaw to keep her turned into him. They groaned into each other as he continued to slam into her, slower now but with greater force, keeping her stoked for more pleasure. Her mind was lost to him for a moment, clouded with his woodsy scent, his salty taste, the scorching heat of his body, the tickle of his hair as it escaped its leather restraint. Her bear, hers. Tav’s cunt fluttered, her body shivered and shook with his deep thrusts; it was all she could do to turn her head just enough to gasp for air.

“He’s losing himself in you, pet,” Astarion said softly. “I think you can give one more for us before we let him have you, though. What do you think?”

He moved closer and reached out to her. His finger trailed across her jaw where Halsin’s fingers lay, touching them both at once.

Tave broke away from Halsin to take in great gulps of air. This vampire and his wicked words. He was Tav’s too. He was hers to protect.

A flash of possessive energy took over her. Turning her head away from Halsin, she grabbed the collar of Astarion’s shirt, bringing him inches from her face, “Mine,” she rasped, then more clearly, “You are mine. I won’t let him have you, Astarion. I swear it.”

Surprise burst over Astarion’s face, rendering him speechless. Tav’s other hand reached back to grip Halsin’s hair as she leaned her head back toward him, “Both of you,” she panted, “You are mine. No one will take you from me.”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash of golden light from Halsin’s eyes, his previously low growl rising in his throat as he continued to slowly drive his hips into hers. She squeezed her eyes shut and rested the weight of her head on his shoulder, reveling in this chaotic high. That lid on her emotions broke wide open, her control falling away entirely. They were hers, yet she wanted to be theirs as well. She realized she wanted to hear them say it, but never had the courage to ask, to let herself be claimed in that way. She had not had a moment to fall apart since the nautiloid, and she could feel herself crumbling. At the back of her mind, she had been wishing that she could have someone pick her back up for a change. Tav needed them both to help keep her together, but more than anything she wanted to know that they wanted her just as much she wanted them.

Tears shone in her lashes as she whimpered, “I am yours, right?”

Astarion’s surprise finally cleared, and a soft knowing look took its place. He pulled her head forward gently, a hand at the back of her neck.

“That’s what you need, isn’t it? You need to hear it from us. You need to be claimed.”

She only whined in response, not able to form the words.

A hardness entered his gaze, locked with hers, his grip firm in her hair, “I believe you, you know. That you won’t let him take me.” His next words came slow, and deliberate, “You are mine.” He dipped to lick along her jugular vein again, “This blood is mine. He won’t have you either, I swear it.”

Halsin groaned in her ear, “My heart, I am yours.” He turned his head, his nose rubbing against her cheek as he spoke lowly, “I had thought my feelings were clear when we began, and through our actions,” he nipped at her cheek at the last, “But I will speak it plainly for you.” Growling deeply, punctuating each word with a thrust of his hips he spoke, “I am yours,” and that beautiful golden light flashed again, “and you are mine.”

His hips stuttered, picking up speed momentarily, but he held himself back.

“Go on, bear,” Astarion sneered, stepping back.

With that permission, Halsin unleashed himself, pushing them both forward until Tav’s chest was cushioned against the soft grass, his chest flush against her bowed back. One hand gripped her hip firmly against him as he rutted wildly into her, the other fisting the grass above her head. She was forced forward slightly with every hammer of his hips against hers, the blades of grass against her breast crumbling beneath her. His light seeped from between his half-lidded eyes as he lost himself in his lust. Through her erratic whimpers and whines Tav could hear him mumbling “mine” to himself. It was everything she wanted, everything she needed. The crude slap of their passion and the promise of delicious soreness in the morning drove her screaming to her final climax. Distantly she registered Halsin roaring above her, her head being pushed into the earth, the stringent smell of crushed grass in her nose, and a sharp pain in her shoulder. She knew that pain, the pain of teeth.

Halsin’s teeth sank into her flesh as his hips shuddered and stilled. Tav felt his cock throb in time with the heartbeat in her wound, her blood leaking down her chest in a thin line as he spent himself inside her. For a time, there was only this, the heat and blood and beating between them. Their breaths gusted out of their chests, their muscles unlocking from chasing pleasure, and some semblance of thought re-entering Halsin’s mind. His teeth slowly retracted from her shoulder, shock blooming at the back of his mind as the taste of her blood flooded his senses. What had he done?

Tav felt coolness at her back as Halsin lifted himself away, “Oh my heart, how I’ve wounded you.”

Tav rolled to her back, still catching her breath and reveling in a haze of bliss. She was lucid enough, however, to catch Astarion moving to grip Halsin’s jaw. He pulled the druid into him and licked her blood away from his lips, not leaving anything behind.

“Waste not, want not,” he murmured. “I also recall claiming her blood as mine, bear.” he quirked his brow as he released Halsin, “But I suppose we can share this as well.” Halsin appeared caught between the shock of Astarion initiating contact with him like this and what he had just done to Tav.

“You marked me,” Tav slurred.

“I lost control, I-”

“I liked it.”

Halsin turned away from Astarion and reached out to Tav to sit her upright, his eyes fixed to the broken semi-circle of angry red marks he’d left in the muscle between her neck and shoulder. His hand hovered over it, emitting a warm glow and stifling the comfortable sting she felt from his wound.

“Don’t,” she murmured, covering his hand with hers, “I want it.”

Halsin searched her eyes before removing his hand and pulling her into his lap. Absently, he brushed away her hair from her face, appearing to consider the creature in his arms in a new light.

“Don’t be ashamed of it, because I am not,” Tav insisted. She could see his mind working, that he would look at this scar and be ashamed of its origin, of his lack of control. “I love the idea of being marked by you; even more that it is your bite.”

“And we all know how much you like biting,” Astarion added.

Halsin chuckled, a bit apprehensively, “If this is what you want, I will cherish it with you. I only regret the way it happened.”

“I don’t,” Tav smiled, “I rather like when you lose yourself.”

“She is right. You are exquisite,”Astarion agreed, a small teasing smile on his lips as he met the druid’s eyes. They both held there a moment, perhaps considering each other with fresh eyes after this night.

Tav smiled inwardly at this new development. She was eager to begin stealthily pushing the two together, but she had one more indulgence in mind for tonight.

“Will you add yours, Astarion?”

“Hm? My what?”

“Your mark.”

Astarion’s considering gaze shifted to his lover’s, his crimson eyes asking the question of her again. Truly? She would ask this of him?

“Yes, Astarion,” she whispered, as if she could hear the same dark whispers of his mind, “I want your mark.”

He had no words for her, they all seemed inadequate. He only nodded and reached for her cheek, leaning in and taking a gentle kiss for himself. His mouth lowered to her collarbone, where remnants of her blood had trailed. His tongue licked her clean, tracing up to Halsin’s bite and feeling his wounds, the tip of his wicked tongue dipping inside the shallow pools, seeking more of her there. More of this impossible creature, more of this feeling he didn’t think he deserved. He moved to her other side, kissing up her throat to the sweet song of her pulsing vein. Before he struck, he breathed onto her skin, “Thank you,” and drank deeply, savoring the slide of his fangs inside her flesh anew. This bite was one of so many, but it was the only one that would not heal. The only one that marked her as many things to many people, but to him... she would be everything.

***

Tav awoke slowly, registering all of her limbs one by one, blinking away clouds from her eyes. A wall of heat was at her back; she burrowed into it further, a large arm snaking up between her breasts to secure her there. Halsin’s other arm cushioned her head as they lay in the grass on their sides. She hovered there in the warmth, her eyes closed, her breaths even, a sense of calm she had not felt in months settling over her.

Cold lips met her fingertips. She opened her eyes to see Astarion lounging in front of her. A soft smile bloomed across her face – she couldn’t imagine a happier awakening. Her bear and her villain surrounding her and safe.

“Did we ruin you?” Astarion whispered.

“Destroyed,” she answered back, raising her eyebrows playfully.

“Was it fun?”

“I think it was a little more than that,” her playful expression turned somber, contemplative. “Was it fun for you?”

“You know... it rather was.”

Astarion considered for a moment, his gaze passing over her shoulder across Halsin’s relaxed form. His eyes were closed though he did not sleep, perhaps giving them both a moment alone. Beyond Halsin the wisteria swayed in the night breeze, the sun having long abandoned them. The moon was full, he noticed, shining through the petals. That was some sort of sign, wasn’t it? If he were the sort to believe in those things.

He turned back to Tav, setting those thoughts aside, “You’ll have to be more careful, now,” he nodded toward her neck.

“I don’t care,” Tav replied firmly, “Let them think what they want, say what they want. We’re about to save the world, among a whole host of other things. I think I can handle a little prejudice.”

He snorted at that, finally releasing her hand to reach out and tuck back a stray lock of hair.

“You are astonishing,” he said, exasperated and fond all at once. “You can ask us for anything, love. Don’t hold back again.”

“No promises, but I will try,” she nodded.

“Good. Now, shall we have Halsin carry you back?”

She shook her head, closed her eyes, and settled into the heat at her back and the sound of Astarion’s voice, “Not yet... I want to stay a little longer.”

“Anything for you,” Halsin mumbled at her back, tightening his hold on her, “Rest now.”

Astarion ran his fingers through her hair, “Rest, pet. We’ll be here for you.” He bent down to place a gentle kiss at her temple and whispered, “Ours.”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #halsin #halsin x astarion x tav #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 smut #halsin/astarion/tav

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vickyvicarious · 8 months ago

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I feel sorry, really and truly sorry, for two of the poor fellows. Oh, Mina, I am so happy that I don't know what to do with myself. [...] You and I, Mina dear, who are engaged and are going to settle down soon soberly into old married women, can despise vanity. Well, I must tell you about the three, but you must keep it a secret, dear, from every one, except, of course, Jonathan. You will tell him, because I would, if I were in your place, certainly tell Arthur. [...] Arthur has just gone, and I feel in better spirits than when I left off, so I can go on telling you about the day. [...] It seems that a man always does find a girl alone. No, he doesn't, for Arthur tried twice to make a chance, and I helping him all I could; I am not ashamed to say it now. [...] I do not know myself if I shall ever speak slang; I do not know if Arthur likes it, as I have never heard him use any as yet. [...] Oh, why must a man like that be made unhappy when there are lots of girls about who would worship the very ground he trod on? I know I would if I were free—only I don't want to be free. My dear, this quite upset me, and I feel I cannot write of happiness just at once, after telling you of it; and I don't wish to tell of the number three until it can be all happy.

Lucy and Arthur are super cute together collection. It's clear throughout her letter that she wants to tell Mina everything in order, and give proper due to the two men whose proposals she rejected. But throughout, her excitement at having Arthur's feelings for her confirmed keeps bubbling up. She's at her most playful at the start of the letter, jokingly superior about how she and Mina are practically old married women above such things already. She comes back multiple times to the idea of her married life with Arthur, when she will tell him everything, when she'll learn if he likes slang (continuity error there, but she's anticipating using the same kind of language as him). Later on she emphasizes that she doesn't want to be free, has been trying her best to help Arthur get a chance to propose, she doesn't want to talk about him until she can do so with all her focus on how happy she is with him.

When she stops the letter for a while, she mentions Arthur has just left. This gives us a couple options. First: he's been there since his proposal, just hanging out. This is super cute because it suggest that he wants to spend as much time with her as he can right away. Also super cute because it means Lucy was so excited to share her news with Mina that she started writing the letter while he was still there (perhaps once he got pulled into a conversation with her mother?). And then she felt she needed to go through it all in the proper order, and when she got caught up in her sadness about Seward, Arthur returned to cheer her up again enough that she was ready to continue the letter when he finally had to leave. Adorable. Second: Arthur left after his successful proposal, and Lucy began writing to Mina. But then he was so happy that he came back again to spend more time with her. Maybe even this time was an anticipated/official visit that her mother knew about, and he snuck in first to propose because he'd been trying and kept missing his chance. Either way it's so so cute. Imagine him showing up for a formal visit and just constantly looking to Lucy so excitedly before he drops the news that he has asked for and been granted her hand. Or she's writing her letter, gets sad, takes a break, then gets surprised with another unexpected visitor - but it's Arthur again, too giddy to stay away for long. And then he sees she is upset and helps her to feel better before he has to leave again. Adorable.

And, of course, the pinnacle:

P.S.—Oh, about number Three—I needn't tell you of number Three, need I? Besides, it was all so confused; it seemed only a moment from his coming into the room till both his arms were round me, and he was kissing me. I am very, very happy, and I don't know what I have done to deserve it. I must only try in the future to show that I am not ungrateful to God for all His goodness to me in sending to me such a lover, such a husband, and such a friend.

The excitement, too jumbled to even talk about clearly! The deep affection and feeling so happy she doesn't know how she could deserve it. That ending, where she loves his friendship, his romantic affection, and the domestic life together she anticipates with him. The fact that she was going to leave this to another letter because she didn't want to be sad when she wrote it. But then she couldn't not gush about him at least a little and came back to add it in a PS.

They're super duper cute together, I love them.

#dracula daily #lucy/arthur #*smushes them*

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feinv · 7 months ago

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Okay but John Wick and mutual pining makes my brain go brrr. Maybe he is hesitant to act on his feelings because she is his friend's daughter and there's age difference and she is just too sweet, so he doesn't want to drag her into this whole assassin thing. And she has feelings too, but is hesitant because doesn't think she is good enough or doesn't think he's interested, so they're just pining, longing, yearning and he's slowly going crazy

anon😫 stop this madness.

dbf!john wick x fem!reader. fluff. mutual pining. legal age gap (whatever u wanna imagine).

it took him a while to realize what was happening. and when it clicked in his head that he was sweet on you, he cursed himself in the mirror for being a literal fool and letting his guard down. but you were just…so sweet and kind, and a literal goddess in his eyes. he was ready to worship the ground you walked on. you two weren’t even a thing and he was already doing exactly that.

you would think a man like him would be looking for a wife, and you are definitely not mature enough to be one, but even that wouldn’t stop you from having feelings because he is just so perfect, and always treats you like no men ever did, straight out of a romance novel. :( john would be thinking the opposite. you were so young and probably wanted to experience life and have fun, so why would you even need and old man like him.

obviously your dad doesn’t know about his affection towards you, so he always tries to find you a partner and john is like. “i did my digging on him. he is an addict,” because he simply cares for his best friends daughter in a platonic way, nothing else.

during family gatherings you would either sit next to each other, or directly in front, exchanging silent glances. when he is next to you, he would accidentally brush his fingers against your thigh, knees touching, resting his arm on your chair, behind your back. and he sees you turning into a crimson puddle. he keeps himself a little sane by excusing that you’re just a shy thing and that’s your personality, but deep down he wants knows he is the one making you feel butterflies.

after the dinner when everyone is sort of hanging out in their own way, you two would always find each others company. he used to think he wasn’t built for long conversations, but what a surprise was it to him that he just needed the right person. and it was you.

he was so mesmerized with you because not only were you the prettiest human being he has ever seen, but you were also so intelligent and well read despite your young age. he would catch himself discussing books he was convinced only he has read, but you were always so full of interesting ideas and theories he just couldn’t help but stare at you lovestruck.

there would be moments where you two would just stare at each other in a comfortable yet intimately tense silence, wanting nothing more than to just kiss one another. he couldn’t bring himself to do the first move unless he had your consent. and you definitely wouldn’t lean first and make a fool out of yourself. so you and john would share mute and desperate glances like two idiots before one of you would start up yet another random topic for a discussion.

this man would always make you giggle, laugh and smile to the point that your cheeks would be hurting, while he would feel himself slowly descending into madness with every passing day in which he couldn’t call you his.

#if my dad had a john wick looking friend life would’ve been so much better #thos two idiots in love are so cute <3 #i need more of this i fear guys…#feinv—jw #dbf!john wick #john wick x reader

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mistyhollowcottage · 1 year ago

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I just need all the teenagers following the “tradblr” “tradwife” or “homemaker” tags to stop and read this.

I have read entirely too many posts in the past few days (that I can only assume were made by pervy men in their 30s and 40s or by young women who have been groomed to think this) that you owe your husband sex and that it is a sin to deny him. Listen. You should be having sex with your husband, you should enjoy having sex with your husband, but it is very normal and very healthy for your relationship to go through “dry spells”. You will have periods of illness, you will have hard times in pregnancy, you will likely be postpartum at some point, maybe you’ll have a colicky baby, or maybe you’ll just have had a really long hard day. No man (even your husband!!) is more entitled to your body than you are. You are 100% entitled to rest and healing. You are 100% entitled to time to take care of yourself. And if you are with a man who makes you feel otherwise, he is not a good man and he’s probably addicted to porn. Normal, good, and healthy men can wait and will wait for the woman that they love to feel well (and you should be asking yourself why he wouldn’t want you to feel your best). And if you’re dating a man who “needs” to have sex every day, run as fast as you can. That is never not once a good thing and he will prioritize his desire to get laid over your well being every. Single. Time. I do not care if he worships the ground you walk on and spoils you endlessly. It will stop when the sex stops.

I know there are many Christians who would argue that when you get married his body becomes yours and vice versa. Well if it were “his” body, he should want it to be healthy, well loved, and well taken care of and allll of that should be prioritized above his desire to have sex. Sex does not trump health and well being.

Love,

A grown adult WOMAN (wife, homemaker, and mother!) who has dated plenty of not great and downright bad men and is now married to a truly good man

#personal #tradblr #tradwife #homemaker #traditional femininity

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sugarsnappeases · 10 months ago

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WHO UP LILYROSEKILLING THEMSELVES?!

if yes, i have (unedited, be nice to me) snippetty-snip ❤️

When she turns to look at them again, inevitable really, a sort of irresistible pull - she’s curious about them, fascinated for some reason, inexplicably drawn to them - they aren’t in the booth anymore. Instead, her eyes find them out on the dance floor, which has filled considerably in the couple of hours since she’s been here - she’s sure it must be after midnight by now, and the whole place is bustling. There’s still quite a bit of space on the dance floor though, despite all the people, and the two men aren’t using any of it; they exist entirely in each other’s personal space, hands everywhere, dancing, or grinding really, so close together that they almost look like one conjoined creature.

The blond has his hands in the jeans backpocket of the lanky one, who has his face buried in the blond’s neck, folded over him in a way that should look comical but is making Lily blush a little. It’s just - intimate, they’re entirely in their own world, clearly obsessed with each other, devoted, and Lily thinks that’s something that she would really quite like to experience for herself. Maybe James had been obsessed with her, the way he chased after her for years, but she thought that he had probably been more obsessed with the idea of her than who she actually was, not that she really allowed anyone to see who she actually was back then, but anyway these two, out on the dance floor, are obsessed with each other in a way that ran deeper than appearances and expectations.

They’re obsessed with each other down to the very marrow, cutting each other open and revelling in, revering, every drop of blood that spills, she thinks that they would probably let each other be messy and selfish and angry and cruel and awful and that they would look at the rot that lived inside the other, the knives, the imperfection, and still never let them go, still worship the ground they walked on. Lily didn’t actually know them, but looking at them - the blond one’s hands moving out of the jeans’ pockets and moving to slide under their waistband instead, the lanky one bringing a hand up and running it through the blond one’s hair, pulling his head back to lock their lips together - she’s sure that she’s right.

She’s also probably jealous, and projecting, and delusional.

And drunk.

It’s the last of these factors that makes her think fuck it, maybe she doesn’t need to try and forget about them, maybe she can down her drink, leave the guy who’s name she still can’t remember at the bar, and head out onto the dancefloor.

More than the alcohol, she’s also promised herself that she’s going to try new things and do what she wants without waiting for permission from some impossible higher power, and what she wants right now is to slide herself in between these two men and hope that they’ll decide to worship the ground that she walks on too.

It’s something visceral, the way she wants them, something she doesn’t think she’s ever fully felt about a person, or people, before, that kind of instinctive hungering that makes her want to dig her fingernails into their skin and never let go, makes her want to become a part of their conjoined creature, to make a monstrosity - a freak, Petunia would say, but Lily likes the sound of it this time, because she is feeling a little freaky, and maybe there’s nothing wrong with that.

She isn’t entirely sure how she manages it, what with the way they’re plastered against each other, with the way they’re dancing and kissing and clinging to each other, there shouldn’t be room for anything between the two of them. Maybe they see her coming and separate slightly, or maybe she forces them apart and works her way in herself, but either way she ends up standing between the two of them, the lanky one behind her and the blond in front of her. The top two buttons of the blond’s shirt are now undone and it’s making her feel a little weak in the knees as one set of hands settles on her hips and another wraps around her waist. He smiles at her, bright, white teeth, and his eyes, level with hers as she stands in her heels, are a piercing blue, that same curiosity mixed with something a little more feral.

“We were hoping you’d come over,” he says, and if the three of them weren’t pressed together so tightly she thinks she might have fallen over then, because that’s an entirely unfair thing to say to her. As it is, the lanky one is draping himself over her in the same way that he had been draping himself over the blond earlier and really, if they felt her sway a little in their arms she was sure she could just pretend she was dancing.

It’s a little overwhelming, how immediately connected she feels to them, in the way those blue eyes are staring into hers, and in the way there are hands holding her like she’s something precious, a treasure, and in the way there’s a chin resting on her shoulder now; the two men welcoming her into their dynamic like she was made to fit there, in between them. She thinks she could get addicted to it, obsessed with it, very easily - it might even have happened already.

She leans back against the chest of the lanky one, turning her head to try and get his face in her line of vision. His eyes are a greenish sort of hazel, glinting with that same intensity that seems to exist in everything these two do, and she smiles at him as he moves his head to look at her better.

“I kinda wanna kiss your boyfriend, if you don’t mind,” she says, smile turning into a grin, once again thinking fuck it and turning back to face the blond one before the lanky one can reply, lifting her hands to tangle them in his hair, mussing it up more, pulling his face to hers and pressing their lips together.

#ah yes. my favourite ship *checks notes* the blond one and the lanky one #this is after midnight lilyrosekiller if you couldn't tell so LOOK SUDE LOOK #literally look at me go i was starting to think they would never actually get to interact w the way lily kept making me dive into her mind #anyway this is for my lilyrosekillers out there hope you're feeling as sexy as ik that you are xoxoxo #lilyrosekiller #kara’s snippets #after midnight fic

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charlidos · 9 months ago

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"With Mr. Mortensen, Bloom "lost" himself in the New Zealand wilderness. 14 hours later they both returned to the LotR set bruised and thirsty and with a photo that's reputed to be the best ever taken of Orlando. If Mortensen would only release it."

In the myth of Viggo and Orlando's adventures in New Zealand and Middle Earth, this is my favourite legendary tale; two men getting lost and spending a night in a New Zealand rainforest, a "moonless night" 24 years ago. The leader of the pack taking the eager young pup on an adventure, Viggo the romantic renaissance man and Orlando's I'll-follow-you-on-any-adventure adoration. It is indeed the stuff of legends. And like all legends, the story changes over time.

So here's all we know, all we can guess and all we can blissfully imagine.

To begin with, the video interview is from 2004, and the info that Orlando was the "friend" accompaning him is from 2005. However, when Viggo told the same story back in 2003, he was alone, no friend mentioned.

"One time, I was in the rainforest near the west coast of the South Island. It was on a shooting break, one of those incredibly rare weekends where I actually had a Saturday off. So I just went down there for a day and a night to a place that I'd been to before. I wanted to get to the coast, so I headed into the woods, but it was a bit of a hike and it suddenly got dark. I hadn't brought a flashlight with me, which was a bit stupid, because I thought I knew the trail really well. But then I got lost. There was no moon and it was overcast, so it was just completely pitch black, especially as the vegetation was really dense and thorny. But I did have a camera with me, which had a flash, and a couple of rolls of film. So I used the flash to try and find my way out. For a second you could see everything around, so I was using the flash to try and find the trail. I kept thinking, 'It must be around here somewhere', but I never did find it. And then I ran out of film. At some point I was just getting really tired and ended up in a marshy area. I was falling down all the time, getting cut by thorns and I thought, 'This is stupid'. So, I found a piece of relatively high ground and lay down for a little while, until the moon came up. Luckily, when the moon arrived I managed to get my bearings and eventually I was able to figure out how to get back to where I started from. It was a huge relief, but when I showed up back on the set, I really alarmed everyone because it looked like I'd been through a grinder."

How come Orlando joined him on this trip into the wild? I can only speculate (it's what I'm here for, making an epic mountain of a molehill), but Orlando is famously very keen on adventure, so I'm sure he was eager to join. Moreover, he obviously worshipped the ground Viggo walked on (his "guardian angel" who has the skills to basically manage anything. Orlando probably thought "what could possibly go wrong?") and took any opportunity to follow his king. In other words, I don't think Orlando was hard pressed about coming along.

Why did Viggo ask Orlando then? Because he knew Orlando would say yes? Because he knew Orlando would appreciate it, more than the others? Because Orlando was the only other actor having a day off? Because Viggo felt a strong urge to share this beautiful and amazing place with him? Because of the chance to spend quality time with his sweet elf boy?

In Viggo's excellent plan for the hike, they'd be back soon, "in time for dinner". But instead they got lost. Maybe the prescence of the pretty elf prince distracted him? Or maybe he was being overly confident in his abilities, and perhaps wanting to show off a little? Even Viggo will want to impress people he likes, I'm sure.

Viggo brought his camera, photographer that he is. But he also brought an extra roll of film, suggesting he was planning to take a lot of pics. Maybe he wanted to photograph Orlando out in the woods; a beautiful elf in his natural element. But then he seems to quite quickly spend all the film on finding the way, running out before they were even remotely near home. Maybe he panicked a bit? Or maybe he really just wanted to get cool, impromptu photos for a book.

"When I developed the film, which was black and white, there were some really interesting images. The flash had lit up the ground, the foliage and these ferns which are typical of New Zealand. Some of them are almost like negatives because there was this fog and the flash was bouncing off them creating a really strange effect. It's quite unusual because there are these delicate ferns with their little tendrils and all the whiteness around them which makes them look like Japanese prints. I printed off four of them, which I've called Lost 1, 2, 3 and 4. You can see them on the internet."

(This is the first rendering of the tale, in 2002.)

The fact that Viggo apparently also took one - at least - photo of Orlando, suggests that Viggo either took some photos before getting lost, or he took photos of Orlando, furtively (or mistakenly?), while he was supposed to flash their way home. (But who is it who claims this photo is the best ever taken of Orlando? Orlando himself? Does he have it framed at home, as a treasured memory?)

As it got dark out with no moonlight, they started bumping into things, falling over and getting scratched by thorns and bruised by trees. They obviously didn't get seriously hurt, but maybe Viggo did start to worry for their safety. Like he said, he felt responsible for bringing Orlando out there, if he also got injured, it would have been disastrous. (Not sure if this rainforest also has dangerous animals and insects. Trampling on a deadly snake, walking into a poisonous spiderweb, getting prowled upon by a wild animal.)

The way Viggo tells it, the whole thing has an air of romantic adventure. Just picture them finding a piece of dry land for them to stay for a while. waiting for the moon and the stars to come out. (Or until the sun came up?) Imagine them lying on soft grass in a glade, talking softly, just waiting and enjoying each other's company.

Orlando can't have been used to being out in the wilderness, particularly in a foreign country, so Viggo was likely feeling protective. And I imagine Orlando keeping close to Viggo at all times, feeling safe as long as he could feel Viggo's warm body near. Trusting Viggo to keep them safe. If it was "pitch dark", how did they keep track of each other? I imagine Orlando grabbing hold of Viggo's hand, clutching it hard, his only anchor in a foreign, scary place. When they laid down in that glade, maybe they snuggled in close to each other to keep warm (since any night will most likely be a little cool). Maybe holding each other, for comfort and safety. Dirty, bruised, thirsty, completely lost and sharing a beautiful night together.

I can also see them finally seeing the first light of day, and being able to find their way back, hiking back to civilisation. Returning dishevled, exhausted yet very happy. I can see them, two crazy and adventurous nutters laughing about that night in the rainforest of NZ. And living to tell the wild tale, for years to come.

It's such a beautiful, romantic image. No matter what, I feel sure such an experience is one you keep with you for a long time. Bonding to the two together, forever. And creating a mythical legend to boot.

#viggo mortensen #orlando bloom #viggorli #lord of the rings #this is my way of writing fanfiction really #legends are there to be retold right?

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123pixieaod · 1 year ago

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'This Church is a Quiet Place'

A thousand thanks to Lily, for cheerleading and proofreading this💖 TW at the bottom 🩷🩵🤍

The church is quiet. In Max's memory, there were always sounds. Footsteps and bells and whispers, a cacophony of worship compounded in one place.

Maybe the church her mother brought her to is different from this church. Maybe her memories as a child were simply elaborated on, made big and bright and alive by the passing of time.

This church is not softened by the sounds of the living. This church is silent, still. A breath held, a heartbeat not yet formed.

Light shines through the stained glass windows, and Max walks through the tinted air. Green, blue, red, orange.

The colours are as vibrant of God's love for you, her mother used to whisper, an arm wrapped tight around her slim shoulders.

God the Father, she'd say. In the name of the Father and the Son.

Promise me you'll keep your faith Max, she also said, voice a soft murmur as they sat side by side in the pews. Max nodded. It's important to pray. God listens to our prayers Max, he's our Father.

And Max had tried, to begin with. The first weekend, she asked Jos if they could visit a local church to light a candle. Jos' nose wrinkled.

What for?

Max felt her mother's promise whisper away. She shook her head.

I don't know.

Her dad gave her a look, lips thin. Your mother's after making you too soft. You're an adult now, not some child in need of fairytales.

Max nodded. She never asked again.

Her mother knew. She must've figured it out, that she stopped asking her opinion on the weekly sermon, stopped answering her questions on her faith.

It seems strange, to think she once believed in it all. She walks softly up the aisle, her footsteps a gentle cadence reverberating through the church. There's an elderly woman at the front, head bowed as her fingers worry a Rosary. A man behind, reading the Bible. And Max. The imposter.

She doesn't have the faith anymore. It disappeared somewhere on the never- ending motorways, the Sundays spent racing instead of praying, nights spent reciting strategies in the darkness instead of the blessings her mother used to whisper. Her fingertips grew blackened, dipped in oil rather than blessed water.

Max thinks faith is like youth. Once it's gone, it's impossible to get it back.

Daniel still believes. He pretends not to, but Max knows he does. She found a rosary once in the back of his bedside drawers. The beads worn smooth, colour long flaked away. She had sat and ran her fingers over the string of knots and wooden pills, imagining the countless times he must've done the same. In secret, hidden away. Counting each prayer off, voice nothing more than a whisper.

Daniel crosses himself before each race. Daniel bows his head whenever a funeral parade passes on the streets. Daniel has a tiny, inked cross on his ribs. Max found it, nestled amongst the other loud and brilliant decorations he's designed into his skin. She traced it, and Daniel had started as if Max had slapped him.

This is new, Max had said. He'd laughed, roughly tugging his shirt on.

No Max, it's always been there. You just haven't been paying attention. He tossed a smile at Max, easy and in love.

She finds the candles nestled in the corner, just beneath the altar. Three rows of darkened tealights, only one offering a feeble, dying flame.

'Donations only!!!' is scribbled over a money box, and Max digs in her pockets, fishing out all her loose change.

She feels wrong being here. A fake. Like a woman who's been caught having an affair, and is now returning, head bowed and feet dragging. Kneeling, fingers clasped, repenting.

Has she no shame? Her mother would ask. The summer before the divorce, her mother's side warm against Max's as they watched TV together. These women, they always take men like that back, she tutted, reaching for the popcorn Max was holding. You won't be like that, will you Max? You'll be better than us all. You'll stand your ground if someone wrongs you.

She shook her head. I won't ever get married, she replied. It's lame.

Her mother huffed a laugh, even though Max hadn't been joking. Just wait till you fall in love Maxy, then -

I won't ever fall in love either, Max declared, watching the woman on screen embrace the man. She wrinkled her nose. She had seen what love did; she wanted no part of it. Max's mother simply laughed again, running her fingers lightly through her tawny locks.

She should phone her, it's been nearly a month since they last spoke. Sophie is always happy to hear from her, but she's preoccupied now with other things. Managing her new boyfriend's fledgling company, helping Victoria with the kids. Her life is full and Max is not really a part of it anymore. Hasn't been for decades, since she turned twelve and barely lived in the same time zone as her, let alone the same house.

Daniel's close with his parents. He calls them every second day, time zones carefully navigated around. Up early, doing yoga on the terrace as he chats to his dad about the latest news. Evening, Max already in bed, listening to him laugh softly through the walls as his mother tells him the local gossip.

What can you even have to talk about? Surely you've spoken about every possible conversation point at this stage, Max said, only half in jest. Daniel laughed, wrinkles creasing around his eyes in a way she knows he hates but she loves.

They're my parents Maxy, he replied with ease, as if that's the only answer she needs.

He's over there now. With Grace and Joe and Michelle. Max feels distant from him, from the life he must be living. On the ranch, dust gathered in the creases of his skin as he worked under the sun. Going out with childhood friends to pubs where everyone speaks how he does. His nephew and niece, adoring their overseas uncle, returned.

She lights the first candle. The flame is strong, and she feels stupid for taking such stock in the image, as if the strength of the flame is akin to the sureness of her future.

She doesn't know how to do this. Whisper? In her head? Address it all to God, like a formal letter?

She suddenly feels very young. Her mother beside her, handing her the childhood book of Bible verses she received for Christmas. Pray, Maxy, she murmured, bowing her head.

Max looks up. The light is tinted blue and white, shining in through a maritime scene created in the windows. There's a framed painting hung on the wall. The Virgin Mary with Baby Jesus. A pale woman with dark hair. Arms wrapped around a bundle of dark blankets. A baby, pale and young and smiling, looking out at the viewer. Looking at Max.

She closes her eyes and prays.

Maybe some people aren't meant to be parents Maxy, Daniel had said after the twelfth negative test. 12. A year of trying and failing. Max isn't used to failing at anything; she doesn't know how to do it.

What? She twisted on the bed, staring at him. He just continued staring at the ceiling.

Maybe some people aren't meant to be parents, he finally repeated, tone soft.

She scoffed, turning back around. It hurt. It hurt a lot, and the stinging somehow grew, like when she was a kid and she had accidentally gotten some chemicals on her hands. Corrosive. Her dad had grabbed her, dragging her to the garage's sink and scrubbed at her red hands until the burning finally abated.

She sat up and then stood quickly. Sports bra, an old Nike shirt and her leggings. Burning, burning, burning.

Max, Daniel sat up too. Wait.

I'm going for a run, she told him without looking at him.

Maxy, he tried again. I just mean maybe we should -

She slammed the bedroom door on her way out. She thought he might follow her, but he didn't, and she tugged her shoes on roughly. The burn in her chest was spreading. It's corrosive, her father had told her. She had never learned that word before, and he had had to explain the meaning as he wrapped her palms with gauze.

Outside the church, the sun is beginning to weaken. Shadows length in the carpark, and Max stands against the church's wall, taking out her phone.

She asked him to leave. She needed a break, time to figure herself out. She thought he would fight her on it, and was irrationally hurt when he had just nodded, lips thin and brow pinched.

Alright, he said. If that's what you want.

She didn't want any of it. She didn't want a body seemingly incapable of life, didn't want the 12 pregnancy tests lined neatly in her memory, didn't want the empty study room next to their own bedroom that they both refused to ever address.

"Maxy," he picks up the first ring. He sounds happy. She doesn't know if it's because it's her he's speaking to, or if he's always happy, now he's home again.

"Hey," she says. "How are you?"

"I'm good," he says, and she can tell he's meaning it. "How are - are you outside?"

She looks at the birds above in the trees, singing sweetly. Their songs are getting picked up, listened to halfway across the world. "Yes," she says softly.

"Going for a walk?" He asks, sounding like he's walking somewhere too. She can hear his slightly laboured breathing, the vague crunch of his footsteps on the dried grass.

"I went to a church, " she tells him.

"A church, " he repeats, as if she's named some alien planet. "You went to mass?" Disbelief clear.

They're not broken up. She doesn't really know what they are now. Other than in love, of course, but that was never in question. She had asked him to leave and he had left. They still text every day, call a few times each week. She doesn't know what he told his family, and she's too scared to ask him.

"No, not mass. Church. As in, I went inside a church."

"Why, a horde of vampires were chasing you?" He asks. She can hear the smile in his voice. Longing fills her chest, the ache almost visceral.

"No, this is Monaco, not Transylvania. You are the one out of the two of us who needs to be worried about that," she tells him.

"It's too hot Maxy, all potentially murderous vampires would be burnt to dust before they'd get close to tasting this sweet, sweet blood. You know, today it was almost 40 degrees? Climate change is fucking us all up, but at least it means i can take a few hours off from the ranch because it's too dangerous to work outside in this heat."

Max hums softly. There's a nest in one of the branches - that's why the two birds were singing so loudly.

"You are having a good time then?" She asks.

"Yeah. It's always good to be back here." he pauses then, as if to weigh up his words. "I'm looking forward to being home, though."

She frowns. One of the birds slips into the brown mess of twigs, and sheep's wool balanced on the branch while the other is left outside; a guardian. "Why, are you not at the ranch right now? Where are you then?"

"What? I mean," he interrupts himself with a quiet laugh. "Maxy. I meant home. Home home."

"Home home," she repeats dubiously.

"With you," he adds, voice suddenly soft and vulnerable.

She looks away from the birds. She swallows. He's quiet, waiting for her to speak. The air is cooling down, dusk creeping closer.

"I miss talking with you," she finally says.

"We still talk. We talk nearly everyday. We're talking right now " he says softly, and she supposes she deserves this, him making her say it aloud.

"I miss you," she amends. "I miss... I miss you a lot Daniel."

He laughs. Not because it's funny, but because his happiness needs an outlet, needs to be vocalised and released in some form. Laugh or cry, Maxy, he used to tell her. Gotta be one of them.

"I miss you too," he says.

"You should come home," she tells him.

"I should."

"Home home."

"Yeah, home home."

They're quiet for a bit. She looks up, her gaze caught by a flutter of movement. One of the birds darts away, the other staying by the nest. She wonders if she concentrated very hard, would she be able to hear the chirping.

"I'm sorry," Daniel blurts out. Max frowns.

"For what?"

"I..." He pauses. He's definitely walking somewhere, she can hear his footfall over the terrain.

"I was wrong," he finally says. "About us... About... About what I said. About how some people aren't meant to be parents. I was thinking and... I mean, sure I wasn't wrong about that because some people definitely shouldn't have kids, but us, me and you, we should, I mean if you still want to, because we're, we would... we would be good, or I don't know, maybe we just are good, like good people and good partners and I shouldn't have said what I said, because it's not true, we'd be the best and coolest parents and -"

"Daniel," she interrupts him. He instantly goes quiet.

"I think so too," she says. He laughs, relieved and happy and excited, all melded into one.

"Because I've been doing some research," he begins again, words rushing into each other in their hurry to be spoken. "And there's a clinic we could try, or maybe -"

Max nods, letting Daniel's chatter wash over her like water, pure and clear and blessed. The lone bird sits above, and continues to sing.

(((TW: infertility)))

#its actually my birthday today #and i have covid lol #so please enjoy this double upload #girl!max forever🩷#will i ever rid my writing of religious imagery??? never #daniel walking because he's on his own little journey of realisation too :(((#his acceptance being the Holy Water she replaced for the oil of races as a child #therefore her inner child being healed by Daniel’s love and the knowledge she will be a better parent then her parents were to her #the lone bird singing signifying her and Daniel's future baby #all pale and round and chubby with dark curls and blue eyes :)))#my fic

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