#I know I’ll find something eventually and there’s more opportunities

[lidiasloca]

hi! could you do an azriel fic where he gets really angry/upset and reader is the only one who can help him calm down and open up?

you calm azriel when he is upset

azriel x reader

fluff

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You walk to the balcony, not even bothering to grab a jacket to ward off the night's chill. You had arrived about two minutes ago, and Rhys had told you immediately what had happened. 

It was a vague explanation, probably because you had stopped listening the second he said the mission had gone wrong. A mission Azriel was in. You cut him off, asking where Az was. If he was fine. If he-

“He’s fine, Y/N. Calm down. He’s at the balcony.” And that was all you needed. You turned to go and find him outside. But Rhys stopped you. “Wait,” he starts, running a hand over his face in worry. “He’s - he doesn’t want to see anyone. He’s in a very bad mood. The mission… it’s affected him.”

“I’ll try.”

“Y/N. Don’t make him regret later about how he treats you now. He’ll hate himself for it.”

“I can take a few unkind words, Rhys. Especially if I know he won’t mean any.” Especially if it’s him, but you didn’t dare confess that. “Let my try,” you asked instead. 

He gave you a tight nod in answer. 

And now you are here. Taking careful steps towards the male, his back turned. You can sense something is off. Maybe Rhysand was right. Maybe it’s better to leave him alone. 

But your feet keep moving. And then, it’s too late.  

“Get inside, Y/N” he commands. 

You try to sidetrack him. “How did you know it was me?”

But he’s silent, so you command your feet to walk closer enough so you can take a look at his face. 

When you are next to him, he moves his face to look away. You don’t try getting closer, moving your gaze to the sight in front of you. The night was beautiful, very cold, but beautiful. 

Your eyes follow a line of stars, going down and down until your eyes meet Azriel’s, who observes you without expression. 

You can still see the glints of anger in his eyes, frustration painting his tense body. But the silence has made him calmer, so you seize the opportunity. “How are you?”

“Fine.”

Guess this is not going to be easy. You decide to go all in. 

“Rhys has told me the mission didn’t go well.”

He lets out a loud sigh. “Will you get inside,” he says exasperated. “I don’t want you here” You try not to flinch at his rudeness. 

“I know you don’t. But… I didn’t want you to be alone.”

He is silent, but at least he is looking at you. There is a more neutral expression in his face that gives you hope. 

“You… I hate that you always see me like this. Why do you always come when - never mind.”

Now you are the one quiet. Silent for the vulnerably lacing his words. 

“Because I care for you, Azriel,” you reply, your voice soft as a whisper. As if you were sharing secrets. The way his eyes regard you intently, intensifies the intimate feeling. 

He doesn’t have any words for a reply. So you continue. “Az, you don’t have to tell me what happened today. Not if you don’t want to. But please don’t close in yourself completely. Let me try to help you.”

He has never been a worldly male, yet his prolonged silence is killing you tonight. 

But you don’t feel like pushing him further. 

Eventually, as if he had been giving thought to your proposition, he replies, “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes. Help me,” he says, and you see the effort he puts in giving you a weak smile. “Please.”

You suddenly hype up. Joy filing your lungs as you say, “Thank you, Az. You won’t regret it. Now,” you say, smiling broadly. “I think this will make you better: Board games with Cassian!”

He shakes his head, still smiling. “I think I am already regretting this,” he tells you, but the bright in his eyes tells you he is much better than a minute ago. And that is all you need. 

“Well - how about,” you start, too exited about your brilliant idea. “I convince Nesta to play with us.”

“Mmmm, that is a good offer. You know how I love watching Nesta destroy him in a game.”

“I know well.”

He pretends to think about it, and you feel eternally thankful that he is putting in an effort to make this work. That he is letting himself think that he can unburden himself from his demons. To let himself have fun with you. 

“I think it’s a deal,” he says, cocking his head in interest when he takes in your broad grin, your overjoyed look. 

You extend your hand, waiting his to seal the stupid deal.

He is hesitant for a second, a flash of sadness in his eyes. But he extends it at last, shaking yours in a gentle movement.

“Thank you, Az.”

He responds to you without words, moving his hand in a caress, going from your hand to your arm, and up, up. He has his hand on your cheek when he whispers, “Thank you.”

-Characters by Sarah J Maas

HEY! IF YOU LIKED THIS, YOU CAN CHECK OUT MY AZRIEL MASTERLIST HERE <3

and you can also request any fic idea you have through my inbox so i can write it down :)) i much appreciate requests for azriel and other acotar characters

[innerfare]

A Lucky Injury - Law

Summary: Your Captain, whom you've been crushing on since you joined the Heart Pirates, was injured in a fight, and his wound is in a place he just can't reach, forcing him to ask you for help bandaging it. Features pining (reader is down bad).

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Gn!Reader

Genre: Angst, Eventual Fluff

CW: SFW // Slight Mention of Blood and Injury (no real gory details though)

Word Count: 643

———

It was a lucky injury. You were a bad person for thinking it, a horrible person for gleaning any amount of pleasure from your Captain’s pain, but it was a lucky injury. Somewhere between mild and moderate on the scale, closer to moderate though Law claimed it was mild, the gash on his shoulder blade was just out of reach. For him, at least. The gash was well within your reach. It was also serious enough to warrant medical attention, but not so serious that you had to worry about his future health. 

It was a lucky injury. 

“Take off your shirt,” you ordered him, doing your utmost to act normal as he sighed and went to pull his hoodie off. To your sick pleasure, he flinched a little when he did, allowing you to step in and pull it the rest of the way off. You caught the lingering scent of his soap and that special laundry detergent he used for his sensitive skin mixed with his sweat, and you had to stop yourself from pulling the garment to your face and inhaling like some sort of lunatic. 

“Y/n-ah, I can do it myself.” His voice sounded lower than usual, similar to when he was tired or battling a cold he insisted he didn’t have. It was gravelly, like it might give out at any moment. 

“Just like you could fight those guys yourself?” You set the hoodie beside him on the exam table and assessed his wound, drying some of the blood from his tanned skin. You took extra care not to look at his bare chest, knowing full well those heart tattoos and lithe muscles would make it too difficult to concentrate on your work. 

“I did fight them myself,” he said. “And I beat them myself, too, so don’t-” He hissed as you dabbed his wound with antiseptic. 

“Yeah, you’re a real tough guy.” 

“I’m a Warlord,” he reminded you. 

“And the most terrifying one, to boot.” You continued cleaning his wound, a little bit too aware of the way his jaw clenched as you worked. Oh, and the sinewy line of his shoulder. You knew your captain was a nerd, but he certainly didn’t have the body of a guy who spent much of his time hunched over a desk. 

It was a lucky injury. 

“Why are you taking so long?” He asked. “It’s clean by now, just bandage me up.” 

“Doctors make the worst patients,” you tutted, giving his wound one more pass with the antiseptic. It was for his own good, not because you wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to touch him. 

“If you’re dragging this out to punish me for going in by myself-” 

“I would never prolong your suffering,” you interrupted, reaching for a bandage. “That would be unethical.” 

“Yeah,” he muttered, “a pirate would never do something unethical.” 

“Is the Warlord going to lecture me now on ethics?” 

“Maybe.” He cleared his throat, and you realized there was a slight pink flush to his cheeks, though you had no idea why. You could only imagine he was embarrassed to be caught in a position where he needed help. 

You considered messing up the bandage so you had to redo it, now not even so enamored by his naked upper half as you were enjoying the way he squirmed, for once not in a position of power, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Of course, you regretted it as soon as he grabbed his dirty hoodie and tugged it back on. 

“I’ll need to change that in a few hours,” you told him as he stood up. “Come find me after dinner.” 

“Thanks,” was all he said before slipping out, leaving you with the fresh memory of his shirtless form and warm skin. 

It was a lucky injury. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[justaz]

post magic reveal arthur is like “:/ mmm i’ll open up communications with the druids but idk about repealing the ban :/“ and merlin is like “??? why??” and arthur’s like “well magic is evil, that’s all i’ve been taught and all i know. i know you’re not evil but idk about other sorcerers, i can’t just let them free.” and merlin’s like “what’ll get you to consider it” and arthur’s like “well you say that magic isn’t something you chose, it choses you. alright, but people still chose to use it.” and merlin who has never followed this train of thought before is like,,, “you wanna test it? experiment? i can stop using my magic and we’ll see what happens” and arthur who has been playing his father’s lessons on magic through his head for the past like month since he found out and has been trying to figure out a way to get merlin to stop corrupting his soul jumps on the opportunity and is like “great idea :] nothing could go wrong :] you stop corrupting yourself and i don’t have to set magic free :]”

merlin stops using his magic for everything. he makes a conscious effort to force it all down and away and the first few days pass by fine. then he starts to get a little dizzy and then he gets spacey and distracted but not rambly, just staring off into space. then he’s just like. not there anymore. druids come to camelot to speak with arthur but can’t stop staring at merlin and eventually cut the conversation off to point at merlin and ask whats wrong with him

when they find out whats been going on they go all “oh shit” and urge everyone to stand still and not make a move. arthur inquires and they answer. magic has built up within him. magics natural state is free, it wishes to be used and to fly free, to be cooped up within someone is like caging a wild stallion. it bucks and kicks at the gate, bites at its handlers, and fights like hell to be set free. the magic thats been trapped within merlin for a couple of weeks is practically tearing him apart from the inside trying to set itself free. but! they can’t just tell him to use magic here. even the smallest use of magic would be a crack in a dam that would crumble like ash and set all the magic free. and with all that magic - all of emrys’s magic? he could very well flatten the city.

they cautiously, EXTREMELY cautiously, guide merlin out of the room, out of the castle, and into the middle of the woods. they urged everyone (who followed which is like arthur and his knights) back and out of the forest. then from a distance, the eldest druid mentally reached out to merlin and instructed him to let his magic loose. within seconds a blast of pure golden light shoots forth and flattens the entire forest, the druids casting a large shield to protect themselves, arthur, and his men.

merlin staggers to his feet in the distance and the eldest druid reaches out again, for safe measure, and tells him to let loose once more. merlin obeys and reaches down into the ground and pulls all the trees back up and imbues them with life so they thrive once more. the druids claim the forest as their own, sacred by order of emrys. arthur allows it. and then goes home to draft up a magic ban repeal. and an apology to merlin.

[cressidagrey]

Lightning in the Bottle - Chapter 9

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was actually pretty much useless. The only thing she wanted was to be somebody's first choice for once in her life.

Also known as: Azriel's shadows decide that if he doesn't treat his mate right... they'll just do it for him.

Warnings: 

Elain Bashing, Rhys is trying to be a supportive big brother, This is officially the penultimate chapter of this story, but the series will eventually go on!

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

“When was I supposed to tell you?” Eira asked Feyre calmly. “You said you were busy with more important things. You were busy with running this court.”

She didn’t give her sister the fault for that, but…

“I would have…” Feyre protested but then cut herself off. “No, I wouldn’t have,” she sighed. “That’s on me. I gave you no opportunity to come to me, no reason why you should ever trust me again…” Feyre said softly, trailing off, staring at Eira with wide blue eyes. “I am sorry.”

“For what? Saying what you were thinking?” Eira asked her sister, her eyebrows furrowing. “You are allowed to do that, Feyre. Even if I don’t like to hear it.”

Even when she didn’t want to hear it…even then.

“Talking to you like this,” Feyre pointed out, reaching out for her hand.  “When I told you that I had more important things to do when you were only trying to be nice to me…or when I put my nose into what happened between Azriel and you.”

Eira swallowed at that. 

“Don’t be,” Eira assured her sister, forcing a smile on her face.  “It was time for me to…to realise that he’s completely uninterested and that any hope of him changing his mind is a fever dream.” Azriel wasn’t interested and he never would be. It would be better for everybody if Eira just accepted that. 

She would get over him. Find somebody else…maybe somebody that she wouldn’t annoy… maybe some long-suffering male… who was willing to take pity on her.  “You don’t need to worry about it anymore, Feyre. I won’t try and talk to him again,” she promised her sister. 

Feyre had enough other things to worry about. Eira’s feelings weren’t going to inconvenience anyone any more. 

“No!” Feyre exclaimed and she stared at her sister. 

What? 

This was what Feyre had wanted, wasn’t it?

“No?” she repeated questioningly, a hand still gently running over Nyx's back that was happily cuddling with her, playing with her fingers. 

“What Feyre means is that…you have every right to…handle your relationships as you see fit,” Nesta hurried to add. 

Her relationships?

“There is no relationship. There never will be a relationship. I’ll get over myself,” Eira promised. Eventually. “You don’t need to worry about it. I won’t annoy him any longer or inconvenience you.”

You’ve never annoyed Master, the shadows hissed at her, suddenly appearing and wrapping themselves around her hand. 

“It’s very sweet of you to say that, but we both know it is a lie,“ she said quietly, blinking back the tears that threatened to run over her face. It was so sweet. So sweet of them to do that…but it was useless. 

Don’t worry, I’ll find somebody else,” she said with a confidence she didn’t feel. Somebody that…somebody that maybe wanted her…somebody that she wouldn’t annoy…somebody that… “Is everything alright with Elain’s wedding planning?“ she asked, changing the topic. Eira hoped everything was alright with that, otherwise poor Elain would be so stressed once again and…

“Eira, forget that fucking wedding for a moment,” Nesta snapped and she flinched, worriedly looking at Nyx that didn’t seem to care one way or another about Nesta’s cursing. What was wrong with the wedding? Had something gone amiss? Was it her fault? Was it something that Eira had done?! “Look at me,” her older sister said with a sigh. She did. Eira’s eyes met Nesta’s, silver and grey, so similar. “I am sorry,” Nesta told her earnestly. 

“Why are you apologising?” Eira asked. What was…

“Because I threw everything I could think of at your head when I…during those weeks and you still came to visit me every week. You wouldn’t have needed to do that but you still did,” Nesta said quietly. 

“You’re my sister. Of course, I came to visit you,” Eira said fiercely. Of course, she had come to visit Nesta. She would have…otherwise, she wouldn’t have been able to live with herself. ”You don’t need to apologise,” Eira assured her. It was fine. Nesta had…had a really bad time and…

“Yes, I do,” Nesta snapped. “You should be angry with me!”

Furious…Angry…But then Eira had never really been angry quickly. She had never…And even when she had gotten angry, it had never held for very long…even her anger at Elain had gone away in a few hours. 

It sparked and then it went out again.

“You should be furious with me! For belittling you, for telling you that all the dresses you make are ugly, for behaving like I did!”

She repeated the words, and something deep inside Eira curled together once she heard them again, even when Nesta was sorry about all she had said. 

It was fine. Nesta could… her dresses weren’t as perfect as some that one could buy maybe…maybe Nesta was right. Maybe she should keep to hemming them and shortening sleeves and alterations and stop making things from scratch…maybe she should…“You are entitled to your own opinion,” she said softly. 

“Not when I use it to hurt you on purpose!” Nesta yowled. “You never told me you made me a wedding dress,” she said, her voice dropping, sounding weak. 

How did she…

For just a moment it felt like Eira’s heart was stopping. Then she swallowed, and she looked down at Nyx, still cuddled up to her, as she answered.  “You wouldn’t have wanted to wear it, so what did it matter? It’s ugly.”

Not good enough. Not pretty enough. Worthless.

“It’s beautiful,” Nesta responded, her voice splintering. 

Eira just closed her eyes. 

She couldn’t stand it. She could deal with the harsh words but she could not deal with the outright lying. She could not… “You don’t need to tell me that to spare my feelings, Nesta. I understand,” Eira said weakly. She did understand it. 

It was alright. It was…

“I am not lying to you!” Nesta snapped.” “Be angry at us. Scream at us. Throw us out, Eira. But don’t just…accept it. Don’t just turn the other cheek. Don’t just…”

What good could that possibly do?

“So I am angry and then what, Nesta?” Eira finally asked, for the first time feeling so utterly tired. “Is screaming at you supposed to make me feel better or you?” she asked, for the life of her not understanding what Nesta wanted from her. “I love you, but I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I think it may be better if you all take a break,” a voice came from the doorway and she looked up to see Rhysand there. 

Gods, couldn’t she at least be spared that? 

At least…

“I am not…” Nesta started, but Rhys cut her off quietly. 

“Nesta. Please.” She had never heard the two of them talk to each other like that. 

Never. 

But now they did. And to Eira’s shock, her older sister listened. 

“Fine,” she agreed with a sigh, as Feyre scooped up Nyx, who gave her a toothy smile as she waved at him. 

Both Feyre and Nesta left the room, leaving her alone with Rhys. 

“If this is about my ill-hidden puppy crush on your spymaster, you don’t need to worry about that,” she told him, trying to make her voice seem frosty and probably failing horribly. “I promise I’ll do whatever you want so that he’s not uncomfortable.”

Maybe then she would get out of needing to have a conversation about it with Rhys…maybe then he wouldn’t start making fun of her or laughing at it…

God, it must be utterly ridiculous to a man who was over 500 years old. She probably was just…

The last thing she had expected was for him to watch her with his dark violet eyes and then say three words: “I am sorry.”

Why was everybody insisting on apologising to her today?

And why was Rhys of all people apologising to her? Was it because of him looking into her mind? Seeing her deepest darkest secrets? Stripping her mind naked for him to see and gawk at? 

Was it that?

“About taking a peek into my mind? Weren’t you trying to keep my pain at bay?” she asked, crossing her arms, ignoring the pain that appeared again in her ribs. 

“I was,” Rhys agreed. “But I should have known better. I was arrogant and not careful enough. You have a right to privacy, Eira, and I violated that. And then I violated it further when I told everybody what you felt when they were talking to you.”

Oh great. It just got worse and worse. 

“It’s fine,” she said, waving him off meekly. She didn’t have the strength to argue with him right now. 

“It’s not,” Rhys disagreed with a sigh. “And that’s not the only thing that I am sorry about either. I am sorry about the role I played in making you feel like you have no place here in Velaris,” he continued and her head snapped up to him. 

How…of course. He had seen everything. 

 “Like you are worthless…that you don’t matter,” Rhys continued softly. “I should have never talked to you like that, and I should have realised that we have taken you for granted a very long time ago,” Rhys said. “Even now you are wondering why Feyre and Nesta even bother to apologise to you. Eira, it wasn’t right how we treated you. When I finally got to pull myself from your mind, I threw up, because I was so utterly disgusted with what members of our family said to you. And I am counting myself onto that list as well.”

She didn’t even know what to say to that. 

She didn’t…

It was everything she had ever wished anybody would tell her…Everything right there offered to her on a silver platter. 

She could feel the tears burn into her eyes because she was…”What do you want?” Eira finally choked out. “What do you want, Rhysand? You wouldn’t say that if you didn’t want something. So what is it?”

What did he want that…

But she hadn’t expected him to reach out, one warm broad hand settling on her shoulder. 

“Oh, little one,” he breathed. “I don’t…I don’t want anything from you. This isn’t me manipulating you into giving up even more of yourself. The only thing I want is for you to be happy. I want you to know that we love you. I want you to know that none of us took for granted what you did…that you took this knife for Nyx. You were willing to give your own life for my son, Eira.” 

She had. 

“I am sorry for the role I played. I am not expecting you to forgive me now, but I would…hope that you may let me earn your forgiveness. May let all of us work for it.”

She had no idea what to think of that, didn’t know what to say about any of that, as the tears ran over her cheeks and he handed her a handkerchief from nowhere, his magic easily answering his call. 

“Think about it?” he requested softly. “If you don’t think you can ever forgive us…we’ll figure out somewhere else for you to stay…you won't ever need to worry about money or anything else…but if you were willing to give us a second chance…I know that Feyre and Nesta would be so happy to have you here.”

She didn’t want to go anywhere else. She was too connected to her family for that, she loved them too much that she thought that she could be happy anywhere further away from them. Maybe a smarter person would have taken Rhys’ offer with both hands, would have made herself a nice little life somewhere near the Summer Court maybe…but…

So finally she just nodded. 

She would give them a chance to fix things. She could try. 

And if it didn’t work out…maybe she would find herself somewhere else then. 

“There is…something else, I need to show you, if that’s alright, though,” Rhys continued quietly. “And it’s not..going to be…nice,” he warned her. “Elain had a vision.”

A vision? A bad one? “When?” Eira asked tonelessly. Were they in danger? 

“Close to two years ago,” Rhys answered gently. “Soon after you were made…and since then Elain has…manipulated circumstances so that it wouldn’t come to fruition. She didn’t tell anybody about it.”

This didn’t sound well. This didn’t sound like her sister either. 

“Is she alright?” Eira demanded and Rhys nodded. 

“She’s fine,” he promised her, his voice even. “I think it’s better if you see it if you’ll let me show you.” 

She nodded her agreement, swallowing…steeling herself for death and destruction and then getting…neither. 

Actually, that vision was…the softest, sweetest thing she had ever seen. 

It was…It was everything she had ever wanted. 

A little girl with her caramel brown hair…dark eyes…hazel and green…and wings. She had wings? Illyrian wings?

Eira watched herself with the little girl…watched them pull the carrots out of the ground…watched the little girl grin at her, gap-toothed and beautiful…everything she had ever wanted. 

And then…then she saw these violently scarred hands that had only ever touched her with so much gentleness…scoop up the little girl, her daughter…her mud-sprinkled dress decorated with little floral embroidery and settled her on his hip in a move that looked like he had done it hundreds and thousands of time. 

It was…

Azriel. 

What? How…why…the wings. It was his child? Her child? His child? Their child?!

He lifted up the basket that they kept their harvest in and then helped up her…the touch gentle and…intimate in a way that spoke of their…that…

One hand was pressed against the swell of her belly…another child slumbering inside her. 

A baby. 

Her babies. 

Their babies. 

No, this…this…

Her blood rushed in her ears, her breathing rapid as her vision cleared and Rhys looked at her quietly…nearly pitying. 

“The mating bond snapped for Azriel during dinner a few days ago,” he told her, his voice quiet. 

No. No. No. 

“This isn’t funny.” She wasn’t even sure how she forced these words out of her mouth. She wasn’t sure how she did that…How she…

“It’s not a joke,” Rhys assured her quietly. “It’s the truth, Eira. Elain saw that and decided to stop it from happening.

No. 

Not Elain. Not her twin sister. Not…

Azriel. Azriel?

At least I found two males in my life willing to marry me. The one you have your ridiculous puppy crush on is never even going to look at you!”

But you do need to realise, Eira, that that is never going to go anywhere. 

Azriel is completely disinterested. And it would be better for you if you finally realised that.

I want you to be happy. And thirsting after a male that will never return your affections you won’t do that. He’s not going to change his mind, Eira.

You should just stop your pathetic attempts to flirt with him. All you manage is to make him uncomfortable. 

There are plenty of fish in the sea… You’ll find somebody else one day.

It’s still never going to go anywhere!

He’s completely disinterested.

Her breathing came in sharp gasps. Blood rushed in her ears. 

Elain had said all of that. Elain. 

Elain, who had known that Eira had fallen in love. Who had seen this vision…who had seen her…her children. Her babies. 

Azriel’s children. These perfect babies? 

And Elain had tried to make sure that they never would exist?!

Her babies…

The first sob that broke out of her chest, the first fat tears that spilt over her face as she buried her face in her hands…as she cried. 

“I know. I know, little one,” Rhys whispered quietly. 

“Why did she do this?” Eira forced out, forcing a deep lungful of air into her constricting lungs. Why would she do this? Why had she…Why had Elain seen this and then…then behaved like this…why had she…Why…

“Shhhhh,” Rhys shushed her softly, gently brushing a hand over her hair, smoothing it over “It’s alright. It’s alright.” 

It wasn’t alright. None of this was alright.

And she couldn’t stop the tears or the sob that shook her…even as she didn’t know how long it took until Nesta crawled into bed with her, hauling her against her body and holding her tightly. Even as Feyre curled up next to her, holding her hand…until it was the three of them, just as it had been in that cottage…lacking one sister. 

[gloomwitchwrites]

I wish to see how each of the 141 boys respond to their ex, reader, calling them for emotional support bc readers newest bf was toxic af

bonus points if 141 boys are still possessive over reader, but doesn't do anything besides telling reader to leave her toxic bf. OR ORRR he's possessive bc him and reader have been together for so long, who would know how to treat her better than him? He knows every little detail she cares about, every little action that makes her fall head over heels in an instant. Her toxic bf? He doesn't care to learn about those types of things, even if reader outright says it

EVEN MORE BONUS POINTS for smut to show reader what a quick fuck of satisfaction looks like vs genuine sex / love making

Apologies, Anon. This has been sitting in my inbox for…a while, but I’ve been thinking about it off and on since you’ve sent it in.

I’ll drop some HC’s about how this would go down but I absolutely want to explore this further as part of the Imagines & What If Series.

I'll tackle these separately and make them individual one-shots (with much more detail) once I wrap up the By the Belt prompt. But for now...enjoy my HC's (if you will) on what I think would go down in this scenario.

The official masterlist for the extended fics can be found HERE.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Content & Warnings: suggestive themes (it's vague), brief mentions of protective/possessive behavior, canon-typical swearing

John Price

Breakup status: Strained (at first), but settled into friendship.

Absolutely hates texting, and you know if you need to reach him immediately, you have to call. Price isn’t an old man, he’s just the old man of the group, and would absolutely be tech literate but also super picky on how he communicates with people personally. It’s Price’s job to be calm, to be a leader, and pick up on things others don’t necessarily notice. So, Price would know you’re upset with your current boyfriend without you even having to spell it out. Besides, Price hates the guy, and knows he’s not worth even a lob of spit.

Plus, Price has been wanting to get back with you for ages. Now that the two of you are friends and have repaired whatever it is that separated the two of you in the first place, Price is looking to find a way to move in again, to slowly (or quickly) win you back, and now he has the opportunity.

Price insists on talking in person, and the moment the two of you are together, he makes the effort he knows you’re needing—because he wants you back, but also because he knows you better than your current boyfriend. Price doesn’t understand why you even gave the guy a chance, but he’ll do everything to get you back.

He would start with subtle indications eventually moving the conversation into past memories, reminiscing on happier times when you were his woman, and how that felt. It slowly devolves until you’re admitting first that you still miss him, and Price goes in for the kill, stating clearly that he still has feelings for you.

The final act is passionate, rough, and intense. Like an atom splitting, it is explosive.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Breakup status: mutual (away all the time; hard to make it work)

When you call, on the verge of tears, needing to talk to someone, Gaz immediately knows something is wrong the moment he picks up. (Sorta like Price but more attuned emotionally to the situation).

I can see Gaz not being a fan of chatting for long periods on the phone, so you don’t even need to ask, Gaz will drop everything and come to you without you having to suggest it. In fact, Gaz picks up, realizes your upset, and immediately says he’s coming over.

When he arrives, it’s like the two of you have never been apart. It’s almost routine, completely natural the way the two of you come together. Gaz is very much about physical affection. He’s constantly touching you, comforting you, and saying sweet things that always make you melt.

Totally knows you need a distraction, and while you’re upset, you’re having a difficult time expressing yourself. When this happens, Gaz just shuts it down, guiding you toward distraction to help you calm down and ease your mind before probing to see if you want to return to the topic.

Once that happens, game over for boyfriend. He’s lost you to Gaz.

The reunification is absolutely passionate and soft. I will die on that hill.

John “Soap” MacTavish

Breakup status: Messy. (You cannot tell me Soap isn’t a hot mess. Our boy is a little too high energy at times.)

While the breakup between the two of you is messy, Soap has always been a “safe” person for you. So, when you call him to vent, you don’t realize that Soap immediately starts heading in your direction until he knocks on your door and the two of you stand there staring at each other, phones held up to your ears. It’s an impulsive decision on his end to come to you, but you don’t turn him away.

Like Simon, Soap would be forward in the way he addresses your concern and the issues—which is your shitty boyfriend who deserves to only be known as your ex. However, where Simon is more of a blunt “these are the facts” kind of communicator, Soap will go for the jugular, using harsher language about this “boyfriend.” He won’t be critical of you, but he will be overly critical of him, listing all the ways this idiot doesn’t deserve you. He might even grow a bit heated in tone and pitch, becoming creative with his slang, and his accent might thicken slightly especially if he’s going off.

But ultimately, Soap is defending you, and reiterates the need for you to stand up for yourself and get rid of this loser.

I don’t think anything passionate would happen in that moment. But I could also see Soap in the middle of him criticizing your toxic boyfriend, you shutting him up with a kiss. Now…that could easily go sideways with someone like Soap. He’s very much impulsive at times, and I think that would win out. Soap would totally kiss you back and not allow you to pull away from him again until you’re…satisfied.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Breakup status: Tumultuous, eventually mellowing to mutual understanding afterward.

Would listen to you rant without interrupting. He would not ask any clarifying or follow up questions.

When you have it all out of your system, his response is simple: break up with him. Simon is direct—could even say blunt depending on the situation, and he would absolutely be that way in this scenario.

He makes it clear that you’re obviously not happy and that the relationship is making you miserable. He might even lay it out plainly, stating only the facts, sliding into that mindset when he’s in the field, thinking about all scenarios and problem-solving while doing so.

Internally, he’s absolutely ecstatic that your current boyfriend is a garbage heap of a human being. He will see this as an opportunity to slip right back into your life if he plays this right. Sure, the two of you aren’t together anymore, but he’s not over it. Simon is possessive and territorial to the core. Totally still considers you his.

Will absolutely make up a reason to come over, and it will likely fall under the “I’m looking out for you” or “trying to protect you from him” insisting that your boyfriend could escalate and he won’t allow you to potentially be in harm’s way.

When he arrives, Simon immediately turns soft and attentive in just the way you like. He gives you his full attention, doesn’t lecture, and offers plenty of physical touch.

The physical touches turn…well, I’ll save that for the full fic. But it is a reminder of how you’ve always been his and you just need to realize it.

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[secretlyobito]

Bedtime fluff with the jjk men

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Featuring Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru and Nanami kento.

Contains: lots and lots of fluff, sugar, spice and everything nice

Satoru

You sighed as you pushed through your front door, trudging your tired body across the foyer into the living room. Work was tough today and you wanted nothing more than to hop into bed right now, preferably with your cuddly boyfriend, Satoru.

“Evening baby, what took you so long?” Satoru asks from his spot on the living room couch, his six eyes notifying him of your presence before you even stepped into the house. “Work was shit today, plus the bus was 15 minutes late” Satoru sighs, tugging you to sit on the couch before pulling you into his arms. You basically melt into his touch, his comforting warmth making the stress dissipate from your body like melting snow.

“You know, my offer to pick you up from work everyday still stands” Satoru hums as he rests his chin on the top of your head. His statement causes you to scrunch up your face, “you already have a lot on your plate Toru, I wouldn’t want to burden you” “nonsense! It would be fun, it’ll be like carpooling.” He explains animatedly, already excited about the idea. “oh and Suguru can come too!” “I’m pretty sure Suguru would rather die Satoru, but sure” you chuckle at his enthusiasm before patting his paintbrush like hair.

“Great! Let’s get you to bed then” He announces, scooping you up as he strides to the bedroom with his long limbs. “Gosh Satoru! A little warning would be nice first” you playfully glare at him as you clutch his clothes for dear life, your heart beating from his sudden actions. He merely laughs at you as he reaches the bedroom, setting you down and heading into his closet to find you something to wear to sleep. You use the opportunity to freshen up in the bathroom, emerging a few minutes later wrapped in a fluffy towel. “thanks toru” you mumble as you change into the shirt he laid out for you, giggling when you catch him sneaking peeks at you as you change. “stop staring perv” “hey! You can’t do that in front of me and expect me not to look” he scoffs as he grabs your arm and tugs you onto the bed, wrapping his long limbs around you like a snake. You try to shove him away a little but eventually give up when he only tightens his hold in response. “sleep princess, I’ll be here when you wake up” he whispers uncharacteristically softly, that was all the charge you needed to doze off into dreamland, Satoru following after you not long after.

Suguru

“Just try it” “no” “please sugu!” “no Y/N” he mocks your whiny tone as he chuckles, watching you hold out a face mask you’ve been begging him to try on with you for the past eight minutes. “I thought you loved me” you scoff, folding your arms. “you’re going to question my love for you over a face mask?” “yes! Because if you truly loved me then you would do it” he rolls his eyes before grabbing the face mask from you hands and examining it skeptically “fine but no pictures” “aw but you look so cute in face masks” he scoffs and moves to drop the facemask back but you laugh and quickly grab his hands “ok ok deal”.

“how long do we have to keep it on” Suguru asks exasperatedly, his fingers prodding at the itchy mask as you two now sit on the bed tangled in each other’s limbs. You swat at his fingers to prevent him from messing up the mask which earns you a warning glare. “Just a couple more hours” “WHAT” “I’m only kidding Sugu, just thirty minutes more” “like that’s any better” he mumbles throwing his head back onto the pillow dramatically. A few minutes go by and while you’ve been mindlessly scrolling through your phone, Suguru has been tossing and turning dramatically, hoping to get your attention and make you feel bad for putting him in this predicament. “Stop being such a baby suguru” you roll your eyes as you watch him turn childishly for the umpteenth time. “wow that’s your response to your husband being in pain?” “he’s not in pain” you dismiss him, dropping your phone and untangling yourself from him to head to the bathroom. Suguru sits up and watches you curiously “where are you going Y/N” “To get something to take your mind of the mask” your muffled voice replies as you emerge a few seconds with his hair oiling kit. You sit on the bed once more, your back resting against the headboard “sit” you tell him gesturing to between your legs. He grins as he happily obliges “now this is what I’m talking about” you chuckle at his insistent hate for the face mask as you watch him settle between your legs, his head resting against your torso and his palms gripping your thighs. You begin oiling and massaging his scalp causing him to let out little hums and noises of satisfaction, not even minutes later the noises stop and his body grows slack. You chuckle as you lean over his head to see him fast asleep, you wait a couple minutes more before pulling the facemask off his face and gently dislodging yourself to lie beside him. You hold him in your arms as you reach over to turn the bedside lamp off, kissing his forehead as you bid him goodnight in an unheard whisper.

Kento

You lay sprawled out on Nanami’s body, your chin propped up on his chest as you observed him read his book which was his usual night time routine. Occasionally, Kento would glance at you and reach his hand out to stroke your cheek softly, his little way of making sure you weren’t bored. He did this even though you assured him multiple times that his handsome face was more than enough to entertain you.

“Ken” “Yes my love?” “I just realized….” Kento raises his eyebrows as you trail off, dropping his book to give you his undivided attention. “you realized what sweetheart?” “I just realized you’re a blondie” you muse, your hands reaching up to feel his soft blonde hair. He stares at you for a few seconds before shaking his head, laughing softly “that’s not a bad thing is it love?” “absolutely not, its adorable” he hums, his fingers reaching out to stroke your soft cheek again “well as long as you find it redeeming then I’m more than happy to be a ‘blondie’” You chuckle as your fingers begin to card through his hair in a rhythm now, stroking the soft locks that are usually pushed back during the day “we should get you pink hairclips to match the aesthetic” “of course sweetheart, you can use my card”. You huff out a laughter as you retract your hands from his hair, resting your cheek against his chest now as your exhaustion began to catch up on you. “that easily?” kento pats your head before putting a bookmark in the page he was reading, deciding he was done for the night “there isn’t a lot I wouldn’t do for you my love” he whispers softly as he pulls you closer, his hands moving down to draw gentle patterns on your back. Your eyes flutter open as you quickly respond sleepily “I would do a lot for you too ken” He chuckles at your barely coherent sleep laced sentence, his hands moving to slip under your shirt to enable him skin to skin contact. You hum appreciatively as you fall more and more asleep, his hands always knowing exactly what to do to lull you to sleep. He places a soft kiss in your hair before reaching over to turn off the light. “Goodnight sweetheart”.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Am I the only one that loves reading fluff bedtime scenarios before I go to bed? Anyways, here is some jjk bedtime fluff while I write part two of my Itachi arranged marriage series. I will definitely do more scenarios in the future with more characters, the next one might be angst like an argument because I'm addicted to hurt to comfort, please send help.

[sixosix]

LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO | LYNEY

notes wc 3.9k lyney pov back again babyyy (and he’s acting a little crazy) 🫶 enjoy the chapter!

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Lyney hasn't uttered a single word on the way back to their house. Not a single word, but he doesn’t need to. It shows, anyway—the skip on his steps, the ever-present smile seemingly stuck on his face, and a glow in his eyes that no one has seen before.

Lynette must have caught it, too. She keeps glancing at him, suspicious.

Damage control wasn’t all that difficult when you’re well-loved by the people of Fontaine. They were out searching for Lyney, demanding refunds if they were going to discontinue, but they were appeased eventually. Lyney and Lynette resumed the show, apologized for the emergency, and the audience was won back by their enthusiasm and charm (and lies).

Still, Lynette pushes on with her stern words.

“That was careless, Lyney.” She locks the door. “Everyone was watching.”

Lyney prepares two cups of tea, dancing around the kitchen to boil water. “You know exactly why I did it.”

Lynette sits on a chair and watches him. Her gaze expresses more than her face sometimes. “I know. But I won’t let you escape from dealing with the backlash.”

Lyney smiles. “If anything, I should be saying that to you.”

His dear sister huffs, turning away. “So it was them I saw by the alley… I recognized the Traveler right away, but I found it strange that there was a familiar figure pressed up close against him.”

Lyney makes a face. He doesn’t want to imagine that—he might break something, and Freminet is an expert, but not when it comes to teacups.

Lyney breathed in deeply, letting the muffled cheers from the other side of the curtain fill his ears. His sister settled beside him, her expression troubled.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Do you not feel like performing today?”

“No,” Lynette said. “I thought I saw something strange on the way here.”

That was alright. That meant Lynette wasn’t too nervous if she was letting her mind wander.

“Oh?” he said. Lyney looked for his hat, finding it underneath the stool he was on. Ah, Rosseland must have crawled in and put it there.

“I thought I saw the Traveler,” Lynette said, “in an alley doing something…” 

Oh my, Lyney mused in his head.

“With Y/N,” Lynette continued.

All at once, the noise became like streaming water. He didn’t hear Lynette calling for him. He didn’t hear her say she was most likely mistaken. His mind was blank the moment he heard your name.

It was a touchy subject.

She tapped his shoulder. “Lyney.”

“Haha,” Lyney said, choking on his own lies. “Have your eyes finally deceived you, dear sister?”

Lynette looked at him worriedly.

“And with the Traveler, really?” Lyney scoffed, moving his hat to his head. “I’m afraid it might’ve just been lookalikes getting handsy and couldn’t wait to get home.”

But the thought of it… Lyney scowled and looked at himself in the mirror, finding his own expression terrifying. He really needed to work on that.

Lynette has a ghost of a smile on her lips as Lyney spaced out, the devil.

“Y/N told us not to tell ‘Father’,” she recalls, casually, as if that isn’t the biggest source of Lyney’s headache at the moment. “What will you do?”

Lyney pauses, his hands hovering over a jar of sugar cubes, his back turned to his sister. “We’ve yet to hear news from ‘Father’, right?”

Lynette won’t be able to tell the expression he’s making, but she knows him well enough to figure out what he’s thinking. “Yes.”

Lyney hums, grinning. “I’ll be taking this opportunity.”

His sister has that same look backstage. Her eyes flicker to him, then return back to the table as if unsure of voicing her thoughts. Instead, she says, “What if Y/N doesn’t want to stay?”

“I’ll just clear up misunderstandings, at least! Maybe then, she’ll want to stay.” Lyney presses his palms against the table, looking at Lynette with a gleam in his eye. “I’ll tell her that I never wanted to be the next king. I’ll tell her the truth.”

Lynette’s brows furrow. “It wouldn’t be that simple.”

The water simmers. Lyney’s face is terrifyingly blank, not like the spitfire of his words as he says, “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Lynette leans back, still frowning. She looks mildly startled. Lyney must have been making a scary face again. He clears his expression and forces a smile.

A tuneful beat on the door cuts through the tension rising in the room. It swings open and reveals a frazzled blond.

“Freminet!” Lyney greets, his shoulders loosening. “Let me also prepare tea for you.”

“How was it?” Lynette asks as their brother nearly sinks to the seat as if prepared to melt against it.

Freminet sighs heavily, world-weary. “I didn’t really hear anyone talking about anything else about your show. They were all chattering about your last trick. The one outside the Epiclese—with the fireworks?”

“Good,” Lyney resists the urge to pat himself on the back. “It seems the diversion has worked. Though, we still have to be perfectly sure.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Lynette mutters.

“Why the sudden notice, anyway?” Freminet mumbles, pressing his face against the glass table. “Did something happen?”

“Y/N was at the show.”

The only sound that fills the room is the whistling kettle. Lyney wordlessly pours it into the three cups and hands them to his siblings, one already preparing her tea and the other looking like he hasn’t quite taken in what Lyney said. 

“What!” Freminet stands up from his chair, utterly gobsmacked. “Where? I thought—”

Lyney stares at the cup of boiling water that nearly spilled over from Freminet’s outburst. “Careful, now. That will burn you,” he chides, yet his expression is serene.

Lyney doesn’t even need tea. It looks like the tea would do nothing when he’s already acting like the Sevens have blessed him personally.

Lynette prepares Freminet’s tea for him as Freminet continues, “At—at the show? Is that why you were asking if anyone was talking about it?”

Lynette slides Freminet’s tea over to him. “Mhm. We were making sure no one would harm Y/N while she was in Fontaine. Lyney already made up an excuse, but some people might not believe it.”

“While in Fontaine?” Freminet falters, sipping on his tea. “Y/N’s not staying?”

“Afraid not,” Lyney says bitterly. “She’s working under Master Childe now, and he never stays in one place too long. It’s a miracle he took a pit stop here.”

“It’s strange,” Lynette wonders thoughtfully. “I thought I heard Master Childe is here for something personal.”

“Maybe Y/N became Master Childe’s personal recruit,” Freminet supplies. “Y/N’s really strong.”

Lyney’s face scrunches up. He changes the subject swiftly. “Freminet, do you want to meet up with Y/N? You were her first friend, right?”

“With whom?” Freminet asks suspiciously.

“With me!” Lyney beams, a flourish with his gesture. “I invited Y/N over to spar with me outside the city. Just like old times, no?”

“No thanks.” Freminet’s expression turns haunted. “I don’t want to be alone with you and Y/N. I always feel like I’m intruding.”

“He just gets too handsy and can’t wait to get home, doesn’t he?” Lynette chimes in. “That's why I don't watch, either.”

Freminet doesn’t understand it, but Lyney’s face explodes in a blush.

“Hey!” Lyney huffs. “Suit yourself. I’ll tell Y/N you skipped out on a reunion.”

Freminet smiles. “Tell Y/N I missed her a lot, and she should come visit us.”

Lyney sighs, because he can never even pretend to be furious when Freminet is simply too sweet. He ruffles Freminet’s hair, toppling over his beret. “Alright,” he says fondly, “I’ll pass the message.”

Lynette waves. “Don’t have too much fun, now.”

THEN

Things became a lot more tense when you left.

Freminet and Lynette were devastated when Lyney told them that you stormed off. His arm felt as numb as what he was feeling at the time, and to think that it was all you left for him. He didn’t tell anyone else anything, but the rest of them got the gist of it when you didn’t appear the next day or the day after that.

Most of the orphans didn’t care; in fact, some had the gall to look relieved when rumors of your transfer began floating around. When Lyney heard one about how you must’ve died sneaking off to another mission, he snapped. He yelled and told them that they didn’t know anything—they never bothered to know who you were. They didn’t have the right to talk if they were only there to stain your name.

Lyney bore the brunt of it. Anyone could tell he was hurt by it the most.

Once, after Lyney was told off for mouthing off, Lynette found him in the far corner of the training room, his knees tucked to his chest and his eyes stormy.

Lynette sat down beside him and stared ahead. She nudged his shoulder with hers. “Don’t be too harsh on yourself, Lyney.”

Lyney glared at the floor. “I’m not mad at myself. I’m not the one who left.”

Lynette turned to him, surprised. “You’re mad at Y/N?”

He sat up straight and exhaled sharply. “She got a Vision. That’s what she always wanted, to become ‘Father’s successor. Now that she can have it, she runs.”

“Maybe that's not what she really wanted.”

“That's what she hated me for,” Lyney clarified.

“You don’t really hate her, do you? Did you think it was only right for you to hate her because she did to you? I can tell when you’re lying straight through your teeth, Lyney.”

Lyney didn’t say anything in reply because he knew everything that would come out would just be a lie. But when it came to Lynette, his silence was louder than words.

“Y/N will be back. This is her home, too.” Lynette said softly. “Come on, wipe that look off your face.”

Lyney blinked, desperately wiping away whatever expression he didn’t even know he was making.

“I didn’t think it was true,” Lynette said offhandedly. What a turn of events, to have Lynette talk more than Lyney. At his impatient frown, she clarified, “I noticed that you can never control your expressions well when it comes to Y/N.”

Lyney wasn’t sure if Lynette pointed it out to rub on Lyney’s face that what he felt was real, or to remind him that fragile things like emotions in their line of work are a weakness. Maybe it was both. It was his first mistake to be curious and end up falling face-forward for you—and now he ended up like this, furious for reasons he couldn’t understand.

It didn’t take long before ‘Father’ stopped mentioning you, before the orphans acted like you never existed, and before your existence felt like just a secret shared between the three.

It took a year for them to realize that this was no longer your home. You never returned.

Lyney speeds past fields of grass. He had taken the long route, circling around; he didn’t want to deal with anyone recognizing him—he was already running a little late. When he sees your figure, standing still underneath the bridge for Aquabuses overhead, he feels his chest glow.

You’ve shed off the large skirt and now wore a simple dress, smeared with dirt on the edges. Lyney wants to reach out and dust it off, to fix it for you. But Lyney is also getting a feeling that he shouldn’t ruin the picture you’ve made for yourself.

“Hey,” Lyney says, and he was fully expecting it when your arm lashed out and aimed right at his face. He grins at your stunned expression. “I still just want to talk first.”

“Sorry,” you say, flinching away. “I was in deep thought.”

Lyney settles beside you, hoping to ease you into his presence. There is nothing special about the view. It was just water for miles, architecture that stretched over to the next island, and the sunset. He much prefers it when he looks at you.

“What were you thinking about?”

“Lyney, listen.” You fidget nervously. “About Lord Tartaglia… I didn’t actually know where he was. I was just—I didn’t—”

“That makes sense.” Lyney nods thoughtfully. He thinks back to all the rumors he’s heard before about the man. “I've heard that Master Childe likes doing things on his own. And I'm glad you were just taken to another faction.”

“Oh.” A beat. “Yeah, right.”

“Wait, don’t tell me,” Lyney gasps. Your shoulders stiffen, and Lyney just knew he hit the jackpot. “Master Childe doesn’t even know you’re following him! Why are you following him?”

Were you actually his personal subordinate? Was Freminet right?

“Why am I—” Your jaw goes slack, perhaps in awe of his deduction skills. “You know what, never mind. Let’s stop talking about Lord Tartaglia.” And that title, too. Did Master Childe make his subordinates call his Lordship that? “What did you call me here for, Lyney?”

“I just wanted to catch up, like what we’re doing now.”

“Great.” You clap your hands. “We’ve caught up. I’ve got other things to do, you know.”

Lyney smiles instead. “Would you like to spar?”

Your gaze is intense, yet far away. “If you want,” you cede, which isn’t a blatant yes, but Lyney knows it’s one.

“It is an honor,” he says.

You frown. “Are you trying to do something?”

“Can’t the reason just be that I missed this? That I missed doing this with you?”

“...Fine.”

Your gaze sharpens, and you charge straightaway. Lyney moves his arm just in time; it still stings, just as he remembers. but it doesn’t hurt as bad now. In the same breath, you swipe again, your polearm spinning in that same hypnotizing circle as you strike at him. Lyney swerves aside or blocks it off each time, unaware of the crazed grin on his face.

He shoots off three different arrows, waiting for the perfect moment while you’re deflecting them. As always, you move with ease, flowing through your movements like Lyney would be wrong to disrupt it.

As a kid, he could watch in awe as you get to do cool moves, but now, Lyney just appreciates the way your piercing gaze cuts through him and how you nearly beckon him with your body. Try, if you dare.

Lyney doesn’t want to show off; he wants to catch you off guard. He performs the same trick as last time—he disappears and materializes from thin air to your back. It doesn’t work, as he expected, but you’re now wary of his weapon.

Lyney blows a little air to your ear; you yelp and flutter away from him. Lyney uses this opportunity to hold your polearm down with his free arm. He flicks his hand and traps your back onto his chest with an arrow to your neck.

“What the hell?” You breathe sharply, your throat brushing against the shaft of his arrow, “I don’t think this is how you use an arrow.”

“How am I supposed to win without a little bend to the rules?”

You frown at him, your face upside down in his view. “That was unfair.”

“I have to be if I want to beat you.”

You laugh. Lyney feels the shake of your body pressed against him, and he’s entranced. He wants this, over and over again—you could numb him until he can’t breathe, and still, he wouldn’t let this go.

You’re glowing. This is exactly what Lyney wanted to see. If you were still keeping a wall up, then he would have to keep talking your language.

You tap his arm twice. Lyney loosens his grip and tries to calm himself. If you turn to look at him, you’d laugh for an entirely different reason—his face is too red. He decides to pick your weapon up instead but pauses at the sight of it. It looks old. It’s to the point where it shouldn’t even be used.

Lyney realizes it looks strangely familiar. “Is this the same one from the House?”

You stretch your arms. “Oh, that? Yeah, I still use it.”

“That’s dangerous.” Lyney grabs your hand and studies the red scratches on your palm. It’s littered with scars.

You tug your hand away. “That’s just because I was handling flowers—some of them have nasty thorns, you know.“

Lyney lifts an eyebrow. “Really, now? I’m getting you a new one.”

“What— It was actually from flowers! And I don’t want to owe you anything.”

“That’s sweet,” Lyney says breezily, mentally filing through connections he might have to gift you the perfect weapon—so perfect that you couldn’t resist. “I’ll get you a new one. Does Master Childe not provide equipment for his recruits?”

“Fine, suit yourself. It’s your money.”

Lyney grins. “That’s what I like to hear.”

“But let me keep it,” you say, reaching for it. “That polearm still means a lot to me.”

“Of course.” Lyney smiles and tosses it back to you. “So you work for Master Childe? Is that why you and the Traveler are close?”

Your face scrunches in confusion. “You ask too many questions. Mind your own Harbinger, will you?”

“That was your ‘Father’, too.”

The atmosphere goes a little cold. “Did she send you to this? To talk to me?”

“No, of course not,” Lyney says. “And if ‘Father’ sent me, I wouldn’t have gone. This is all out of my own will.”

It seems you’re strangely keen on avoiding the topic of ‘Father’. And Aether, too, unfortunately. At least Lyney could tell that there was truth to your confession about pride. If he were in your shoes, he would’ve felt the same.

“You know, I never wanted to be her successor,” Lyney says. Your shoulder stiffens. You turn to him, watching his expression closely. Lyney continues, allowing for his expression to be open. “Our fight was just a misunderstanding—I never intended to take anything from you.”

“Right,” you say quietly. You sound wounded.

“I’m sorry,” Lyney says.

“Don’t be sorry. None of it was you,” you sigh. “I told you, didn’t I?” Your eyes then narrow on his lips. “Are you hiding something? I don’t like the look on your face.”

“What?” Lyney chuckles, unsure. “I’m just smiling?”

“Yeah. It looks fake. You look weird smiling like that.”

Lyney feels his heart drop. He feels as if he was charged over by a strike of lightning. And then he laughs, because of course, if he knew you better than anyone, you’d also do to him.

“You make me swoon,” he says dreamily, tugging on your gown as if pawing for it like a cat.

“You haven’t changed much,” you tell him, glancing down at his arms as they curve around you, like before. Like they’ve made a home for themselves there.

“You’ve changed in some ways,” Lyney hums appreciatively, eyeing you.

“Gross!” You slap his arm in hopes of freeing you, but he doesn’t budge. “What are you doing? Let go.”

He grins brightly, and his cheeks ache faintly. He has missed this so, so much. “Still both bark and bite, though.”

“Is this why most of your audience were women? Is this how your shows are always sold out?” you ask, gesturing to how there are no inches between your clothes.

Lyney smiles, less softer, more suggestive. “What? You think I sweet-talk them into buying tickets like this? You think that’d work?”

He curls his arms tighter and draws nearer, your breath on his face. He knows he won when he hears and feels it audibly hitching. Your eyes narrow, hands moving to his arms as if prepared to push him off if he moves any closer.

Lyney bursts out laughing. “Well, I won’t lie and tell you that some of our loyal fans are those who fell for my charm, but, chérie, did you already forget my whole speech about loyalty? I’m hurt.”

“You can’t expect me to believe that,” you huff. Lyney doesn’t mind how he feels it gust against his skin. It makes this all the more real: you, in his arms, living and breathing, and thankfully not pulling away. “You magicians and your fabricated lies.”

“No faith in me whatsoever,” Lyney sighs, but deep down, he’s thoroughly enjoying how you’re acting like his jealous girlfriend. You’re so cute.

“You would know if I was lying to your face, trust me,” he says.

He doesn’t know why, but it took your soft expression, your palms on his chest, your skin brushing against his, to understand that Lynette was right: he could never hate you. He hated how you disappeared without a trace and came back without warning. He hated how you were still as closed off and wary of him as you were on the first day he met you. But this all led you back to him—how could he ever not be grateful for it?

Lyney pulls back, and as much as it pains him to do so, that sad look on your face hurts him even more. He scans his surroundings and brightens.

“Lyney?” you ask, watching as he scrambles over to a bush growing by a pillar.

He plucks a beautiful flower from it and hands them to you. It’s a Marcotte, bright and beautiful. No theatrical tricks. You watched it happen.

“You’re trying too hard to win me back,” you murmur. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“Did you have to do anything? I just want to do it,” Lyney says, his voice equally quiet.

It’s just the two of you outside of the city, with the wind whipping through the grass, the world falling hushed enough for Lyney to pick up the faint beat of your heart. You’re silent, thinking deeply, Lyney can tell. He doesn’t want to interrupt, content with figuring out the complicated expressions on your face as you stare at the flower.

“Idiot,” you say, pushing a finger to the space between his brows. “You’re too soft for your line of work. Hey, tell me, what has the House been up to anyway?”

Lyney pauses. “You’re not aware of it already?”

“Well, no, not really,” you say nervously. “I haven’t been paying too close attention. And I haven’t heard anything about the House in years.”

He smiles. “Don’t worry. We’re not up to anything right now.”

It wasn’t a total lie, at least.

By the time Lyney returns home, the lights inside are switched off. The curtains haven’t been drawn, allowing for the moonlight to pour in and illuminate Lynette sitting on the couch, her eyes snapping to him instantly.

“She’s hiding something,” Lyney says, locking the door with a troubled expression. “I just don’t know what. I can’t start looking into it if I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

“I suppose there would’ve been something up,” Lynette sighs, crossing her legs. “Have you asked why she’s close with the Traveler?”

“I didn’t get a good answer.” Lyney flings his hat aside. “Have you found anything good?”

“Garrick knew something.” Garrick is one of their magic crew, helping Lyney perform seamlessly. “He told me that he recognized Y/N milling about—but it wasn’t just recently. He told me that he swore he’d seen her before, just in Fontaine City, months before the show.”

“Interesting,” Lyney murmurs, his brows drawn together. He’ll have to think about that later.

Lynette looks at her brother, her eyes carefully blank. “Are you sure doing this won’t drive her away again?”

Behind Lyney, the moonlight scatters all over. It is a little hard to tell what face he’s making. “I’m doing this exactly because I’m trying not to drive her away.”

YAAAAAYYY NEW CHAPTER!!!!!!! more lyney and reader interactions!!!!!!!!!1 more of the siblings ! !! <333 TYSM FOR READING, and, as always, lmk what u think <3

but before you go!! once again we are blessed with fanart but this time with emanami too!

look at her little doodles of this chapter its so CUTE

AND OF COURSE. AKAGI'S LYNEY!!! check this out he looks so fine

TAGLIST.

@thenyxsky @aeferkssr @1mewo1 @lacrimae-lotos @meigalaxy @hyacinth-daze @miwafei @popochakku @svasilios @heyhazelnut101 @kruinka @waveto-earth @superstar-ethereal @mxplesyrvp @achilleas-dream @episodecete @jellifizz @auranny @motherscrustytoenailclippings @lovelyevil @iawaaaaaaa @rionah @esmetrees @cherryig @kzhwaif @mystiquemare @unknownlololol @sanluvssu @blvdmrcnry @kascar-chronicle @idontevenknow129 @tarathecogsci @lunavixia @beaniedoodz @wendolrea @avalordream @egoistars @rains-mae @magnificentfireball @poemzcheng

[mysticfalls01]

Princesa

(FC Barcelona x reader)

Ona moved to Manchester United to get more minutes and to learn a new style of playing to eventually seek the opportunity to join Barcelona back.

On her first day after the diplomatic signing protocol, it was time to meet her new teammates.

Her new teammates were still in the pitch after having finished their training session. While she was greeting and getting to know everyone the academy players starting training. Immediately her eyes went to the academy’s player with the number 12, y/n l/n. She saw the smile on your face and your natural skills for the game, even if it was only a practice session she could see your talent.

The academy trained after the first team so every day she saw you training, she knew that Manchester’s playing style wouldn’t let your skills develop to their full potential and she knew that she had to do something about it.

After three months in MU, and after doubting if she should do it, she sent her national teammate, Alexia Putellas a text in which she talked about you, your skills, your playing style and about how your true potential wouldn’t be reached if you stayed in Manchester.

When Alexia received that message, she knew that you must be special, she knew that Ona wouldn’t have risked sending her that text if you weren’t. She asked Ona to find out the academy’s calendar so a Barcelona scout could go to see you play.

You loved playing football and you wanted to train even more time than the scheduled time with the academy so after asking for permission you were able to join the first team training sessions thrice a week.

As soon as you met Ona the click happened. She took you under her wing. As time passed, she subtly started teaching you some Spanish phrases.

Barcelona’s scouting team were delighted with you after seeing some of your games, they realized that what Ona told Alexia was true.

When your season with the academy ended, they contacted your parents as you didn’t formally have an agent. When you learned about their proposal you immediately knew who had “recommended” you.

The next time you saw Ona, you asked her about it and all she said with a smile was “Well nena, I might have sent someone a text.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

After MU accepted Barcelona’s offer for you you asked Ona travel with you during the summer to Barcelona so you could settle down.

After helping you to settle down in your new apartment she presented you to her family as her new “hermanita”. Her family immediately saw why Ona had “fallen” for you and told you that if you ever needed help with anything to contact them.

Before Ona had to leave Barcelona to full fill the second year of her contract, she gave you Alexia’s number. “Hermanita, if you need help with anything make sure to contact Ale. She already knows that I’m giving you her number so don’t worry about it.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Moving to a new apartment and in a new city with only 17 was scary so when the first day of training with your new team finally arrived you sent Alexia a text.

“Hola Alexia it’s y/n, Ona gave me your number. I was wondering if you could pick me up to take me to the training session.” “Hola y/n! No problem, Ona gave me your direction, so I’ll be there in 15 minutes”

When Alexia met you, she felt the need to protect you, to guide you.

She gave you a tour of the clubs’ installations, gave you tips and helped you in any way possible. If anyone for any reason was rude to you, they were quickly met with Alexia’s glare, everyone realized that you were under her protection.

The team loved you, when they learned about you joining them, they were a bit skeptical about it but after seeing some of your highlights with MU academy they realized why you were joining them.

Bruna, Jana and you quickly became the chaotic trio. Patri and Claudia became your annoying older sisters. Mapi, Leila, Jenni and Mariona your crazy/cool aunts while Frido and Ingrid became your sane aunts. Aitana became your best friend even with the age gap and Alexia your team mom.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Being homesick was the worst feeling ever. Alexia quickly noticed that you were feeling down and she took matters in her hands.

Alexia invited you over to her and Olga’s apartment. She asked Olga to buy some fish and chips for dinner.

After training Alexia took you to her apartment, shyly you greeted Olga and the dinner started. You realized that you were going to eat fish and chips, you knew that it was Alexia’s way to comfort you even if it was with the most stereotypical British dish her intentions really warmed your heart.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

A few months later the fans gave you the nickname of “La Princesa” not only because of your skills but also because someone did compilation video of moments between you and your teammates where Alexia babied you, Mapi got angry with a defender who had tackled you too hard, Frido was rubbing her sunscreen on your face before practice, a video where you asked for Ingrid’s help for your math’s homework and many other moments. Obviously, the video went viral, and you gained a new nickname.

You still FaceTimed Ona every day and in each talk, you told her about your every day in Barcelona. You couldn’t wait for her to join back the team.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

After a team bonding session at a restaurant, you were exhausted so Ale and Olga took you back to your apartment. Olga waited in the car while Ale carried to your apartment and used her spare key to open the door.

She changed you into your pijamas and tucked you into your bed. Before she left and closed the door, she gave you a kiss on your forehead and you sleepily mumbled “Bona nit mama”

When Ale heard those words, she couldn’t help but to grin and said “Bona nit filla” (good night daughter)

When she arrived back to her car she told Olga. “Amor, y/n just called me mama”

“How wonderful Ale, I know that you already see her as your daughter and took her under your wing. It seems that after all y/nn really is la princesa de Barcelona” Olga said before giving Ale a soft kiss.

"Amor, please remind to send Ona a thank you text"

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Part 2

[ts1m1kas]

Original Ask: Could you do Jenson Button with wife reader? He was interviewing for Sky Sports with Danica Patrick. He was fed up with her and he always made that face whenever he was around her which was amusing to his wife. She was having a field day when one day she was at his interview. Just something fluff and cute. You decide how it goes. Tag me later!! Thanks!! :)) ( @pear-1206 )

Word Count: 645 words

(author's note: i hope you enjoy love !! i enjoyed writing this quite alot 🫶 )

If there was one thing Jenson hated about working with Sky Sports, it was Danica Patrick. He couldn't stand to listen to her outlandish and disrespectful takes on races and drivers, especially her opinions about Logan Sargeant.

During his time in the Williams garage, Jenson became very close to Logan, and the pair developed a father-and-son relationship over the years. This only furthered when Jenson’s wife, Y/N, met Logan. She absolutely adored him and quickly became his biggest supporter alongside her husband.

So, when Y/N was invited to participate in a post-race discussion with Jenson, Danica and some other regular Sky Sports figures, she jumped at the opportunity. Jenson however, was not as keen as his dear wife.

The group stood in the paddock, each one of them holding a microphone. Y/N was smiling from ear to ear, so excited for the opportunity. Her husband watched her intently, realising that he took his job for granted far too often. However, once the interview began it wasn’t long before Jenson remembered why he disliked Danica so much.

“I just don’t think that Sargeant has the skill required to drive at this level. He can’t keep up with the car or the fast pace of the races which is reflected in his poor results. In my opinion, Williams should start looking for a new driver.” Danica said critically.

Some of the other interviewers nodded, but before she could begin talking again, Jenson cut in, “I disagree fully. Logan is a talented driver and we’ve seen just how well he can perform under pressure. I simply believe that this is just a slight rough patch in his career and that it won’t be long until he’s back on track and in the points.”

“I agree with Jenson,” Y/N stated while smiling at her husband, “I’ve spent a lot of time speaking with Logan and he puts far too much pressure on himself. He isn’t happy with how he’s driving at the moment but I don’t think the amount of criticism he receives isn't fair at all.”

Admiration and pride shone in Jenson’s eyes as he listened to his wife talk. He knew Logan would feel the same way too, but more appreciative that she had defended him.

Danica pretty much accepted their statements and moved on to discussing the race and giving even more unwarranted criticisms. Towards the end of the interview, Jenson was finding it harder and harder to suppress his eye rolls and sighs at Danica’s words.

Y/N on the other hand, was finding her husband’s behaviour hysterical. She knew very well that Jenson did not like Danica but watching his reactions made her struggle not to laugh.

Eventually, the interview ended and Jenson and Y/N walked off towards the Williams garage.

“You’re hilarious you know that right?” Y/N said to Jenson as they strolled along hand in hand.

“What do you mean my darling?”

“The way you react to Danica is unbelievable. I could barely stop myself from laughing when you rolled your eyes at her.”

Jenson snorted with laughter, “Sometimes what she comes out with is so ridiculous that I can’t help myself. Especially when it’s about Logan. I nearly kissed you on the spot when you started defending him.”

“Jenson!” Y/N said slapping his arm “You would’ve gotten us into so much trouble! But I’ll always defend Logan, he’s so talented! I don’t see why anyone would question his ability to drive.”

“God I love you,” Jenson said looking down at his wife.

“I’d hope so Jense,” Y/N replied.

The pair continued their walk to the Williams garage, still laughing every so often at Jenson’s previous antics. Other people might see him as rude, but Y/N wouldn’t have her husband any other way.

[unreliablesnake]

Tough choice (Simon Riley x reader)

Summary: After a successful mission, you get a lot of job offers. But there's one that gets your attention.

Note: We lost a hero, it's hard to fill his shoes. / This will probably get another part where Simon confesses his feelings. And tells the reader about what he thought of them during the first meeting.

Warnings: character death mentioned

Ever since that mission last year, people have been extremely interested in getting you on their side. You were swimming in options, going from briefing to briefing to find that one job which managed to pique your interest. The CIA wanted you higher up the ladder, giving you more responsibilities, while some PMC’s sniffed out what happened and were now trying to sweep you off your feet. Shadow Company offered a fortune for your services, but even Phillip Graves’s charm wasn’t enough to convince you.

And now Laswell brought you an opportunity that made you think. Task force 141. “Ask Alex for reference,” was all she said before handing you the number of Captain John Price. 

It took days to get a hold of your friend, but once you did, he spoke highly of the team he helped out every now and then. “I think they need you to fill some big shoes. A sergeant was KIA and now Ghost needs a partner on the field,” he explained.

“Ghost?”

“Mhm. Man’s a mystery, but he’s damn good at what he does. If I were you, I would go for it.”

So you called Price and organized a meeting with him. This was the first round of the interview process, the opportunity to learn more about your possible future boss, the team, and, of course, how they operate. The captain works with a sergeant called Gaz, while Ghost had worked with Soap, another sergeant who had been KIA. That latter you already knew from Alex. 

Price told you to visit the base the next time they're all there, and you gladly accepted the invitation. The team’s mystery man, the one you would have to work with, grabbed your attention. His superior spoke highly of him, and the fact Alex also emphasized that he was excellent at what he did made you curious. He certainly lived up to his call sign by keeping his identity so hidden. You didn’t know his name, you didn’t know his age, you didn’t know what he looked like. All you knew is that he was a Brit, just like Price and Gaz. 

It took your schedules to align almost four weeks, but eventually you made it to their location and were greeted by the captain as if you were already a member of their team. His warm smile brought one to your lips too, and you soon found yourselves deep in a conversation about Kate and Alex. He liked working with them, and despite Alex being labeled a deserter, the team often crossed paths with him. That was good. Meeting him every once in a while would be nice.

“Ghost is waiting for us in my office,” Price began to say, only to pause for a brief moment when he stopped in front of a door. “But I think I’ll give you two the chance to talk alone. I already told him about you, even mentioned that I want you to work with us, but he has to be the one to finalize our decision.”

Nodding, you waited for him to open the door, then stepped inside the dimly lit room. The window shades were pulled down and the only source of light came from the small lamp on the desk. Ghost was sitting in the swivel chair behind it, his eyes scanning a file that you assumed was yours.

You opened your mouth to say something, but Ghost interrupted you right away. “I want you on my team,” he stated sternly as if it was an order, then threw the file on the top of several other documents. 

Despite your best efforts to keep things professional, a snort coming from you filled the room upon hearing his words. “So does everybody else,” you informed him, slowly folding your arms over your chest. “I already turned down several offers. Convince me; why should I pick this team?”

The lieutenant stood up and walked over to you, finally letting you realize just how much bigger he was. He was intimidating, yes, but that didn’t stop you from keeping eye contact with him. “You know Laswell. If you trust her, you can trust us,” he said.

“It’s not a matter of trust.”

“Then what do you want to hear?”

A sigh left your lips. It wasn’t about the money. If it was, you would be working for Shadow Company now. To be honest, you didn’t even know what you wanted from the job. But there was one question that bugged you since you first heard about this guy. “Are you a good person?” you asked him seriously.

Since you could only see a small part of his face, you almost missed that surprised glint in his eyes. “No,” came his answer. 

For a few moments you just watched him, thinking about his response. He was honest, that you truly appreciated, but you could hear something in his voice that you couldn’t quite place yet. Regret? Pain? Doubt? Self-hate? Whatever it was, it made him sound and look human. Without realizing what you were doing, you took a step closer to him, making this giant man lean his hips against the desk to build back some distance. 

“When can I start?” 

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed the way his large fingers tightly gripped the edge of the desk at your words, as if he was trying to ground himself. Was he thinking about the sergeant he had lost? If it was you, your mind would always return to the person who died under your command. What if this one dies too? You would be asking yourself this over and over again. So you didn’t want to rush him, you just stood there and waited for him to pull himself together. 

And then, after several minutes of deafening silence, he finally spoke up. “Good decision. Price will tell you the details,” Ghost informed you before moving past you to rush out the door.

[marvelous-slut]

Call Back - Chibs Telford x Reader

YALL!! I can’t lie, I am a hoe for this troupe if you can’t tell from my other works. Like the close friends daughter? Idk it makes me feral. I swear to god I don’t have daddy issues, like I have the best dad ever so idk why I’m like this but here’s this work that has been stuck in my drafts for weeks.

MINORS DNI. 18+ ONLY! Age gaps & smut.

You watched the club members make their way into the club house as you puffed on the joint that rested between your fingers. Chucky had kept you company while you waited for them to come back from a run. As much as you wanted to slap the shit out of Chibs when he come through the door, you held back. Knowing you couldn’t risk Clay finding out that one of his most trusted members had been with his daughter right under his nose. Even if through all the rage you felt right now toward him, you’d never want him to get hurt.

While the MC was on a run, you’d realized you’d forgot many of your things at Chibs house the night before they left. He told you were the extra key was through text for you to get them back, a part of you wished you’d never went in. You found your things and as you did, the phone rung. Before you shut the door to leave, you heard a voice mail being recorded and decided to stay and listen. Sure, maybe it was a little bit of an invasion of privacy but you wanted to know who else needed to talk to him besides the club and you.

“It’s Fi. Fillip, I want our family back. Jimmy is gone, hasn’t been here for months. Haven’t heard from him either. There’s no sense in us stayin’ apart now. Let me know when you get this, please.” Family? What family? The only family you’d known Chibs to have was the MC. You cursed yourself for not listening to Clay and Gemma more when they’d talk about the members and their lives. You’d think the feelings you’d had for Chibs through the years of being around the club would have made your ears perk up when they’d chat about him. Maybe it was a detail you’d heard and didn’t care about, as you’d never met or seen him with a woman, thinking it was an old fling. Chucky filled you in once you brought it up, telling you how Chibs had been married before with a daughter. He didn’t know much more besides that.

“You gotta go home, no need for you to be here.” Clay says, throwing his bag on the pool table. “And put that shit out, this place reeks of pot cause of you.” He walks past you, just like you were a stranger in the house. You didn’t know what happened on the run, but it had to be something tough. Clay typically treated you and Gemma both like dirt on his shoes when a run went bad or an issue come up with the club. It didn’t make the coldness he came off with sting any less. The hurt was plastered on your face, you put your joint out in the ash tray and ran out of the club house in tears. Pushing past Chibs as you did. Jax looks at him, confused as to what happened.

“Think it’s somethin’ with Clay. I’ll go make sure she’s okay.” He says, Jax nods his head and follows the rest into the house. Jax cared about you, sometimes both of you thought he cared more about you than Clay but right now he had to fill his role as VP.

“Love,” He begins to say. You turn around, laughing as you did. Between the new found information of him being married and your fathers cold demeanor toward you, something snapped inside of you.

“Shut up!” You yell at him, he’s confused and shocked as you’d never talked to anyone this way before in your whole life. Even if you had Gemma for a step mom you weren’t quick to yell out in anger or use your fists to resolve issues like her, even sometimes being like a dog that keeps getting beat down makes anyone eventually explode. “Don’t you have a fucking wife to get back to?” You ask, Chibs eyes widen. He’s speechless and you take the opportunity to get in your car and drive off from the club. Wanting to be anywhere but here.

_____

You laid on your bed looking up at the ceiling, unable to think of anything other than Chibs. Even your father snapping at you today didn’t hurt like this did. That you were used to, being lied to by someone you trusted deeply wasn’t. It was 12:42AM, not a word from Chibs or Clay. You were shocked that Gemma hadn’t been crawling up your ass to find out where you were. Typically you’d go over to visit before heading to your house but today you just wanted to be alone. Trying to sleep hadn’t worked out in your favor and you’re forced to lay in bed with only your many racing thoughts. Before anything else can cross your mind, you hear a knock at the door. You grab your pistol, not knowing who would be here at this time of night. When you look through the peep hole, you’re somewhat shocked at who you see.

“What do you want?” You ask, opening the door. A part of you was excited that he was here so the two of you could talk, but the anger in you didn’t want to see him at all.

“I want to talk.” He says, pushing past you into the house. You couldn’t lie, it was kind of hot that he asserted himself like this. It was always sexy when he did it, one of the many reasons you liked him. He sits down on the couch and you sit on the other end, looking at him. He was looking at you, almost like he was waiting on an explanation. You chuckled, slapping your hands on your thighs as you did.

“What?” You ask sharply, he leans back into the cushions, placing his hands on the top of his head.

“I listened to the voicemail that you heard, and deleted it as soon as it was done playin’. I married Fi when I was in Ireland and younger, a man named Jimmy O got me kicked out of the IRA and married Fi. Raised my daughter, Kerrianne.” This was a lot to process right now, your head still swimmy from the tears youd shed through the day. “Also, did this to ma face.” He says, pointing at the scars that ran over his cheeks. You sit, listening to everything he’s saying. It sounds like some kind of TV show, how the hell do you get kicked out of a country unless you’re a terrorist?

“Listen lass, I should have told you about Fi and my Kerrianne, but it just wasn’t something I thought about bringin’ up to ya. You make me forget all the bad shit in my life, when I’m with ya I don’t have to think about any of it.” He moves over to sit beside you, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. “Fi hasn’t had a hold on me since the day you decided to spill ya drink on me.” You smiled at him and laughed. It was your first night back in Charming after moving away for college, Chibs only faintly remembered you when you were younger but you’d made an impression on him your first night back. Being drunk out of your mind, staggering everywhere and eventually bumping into him and your drink flying all over him. You sigh deeply, looking away from him as you attempt to hold anymore tears from coming out. He turns your head back to him, resting his forehead onto yours.

“I know it’s wrong and I know Clay would put a bullet in ma head if he knew about this, but I love you lass. I can’t help it.” He says, at this moment you don’t need to hear anything else he has to say. You lay your lips onto his and he returns the favor. You feel his rough and calloused hands run up your leg, shivering as the coldness from his rings hits your skin. You let out a soft whimper as you’d missed this familiar feeling of his hands on your body.

“How I’ve missed that noise.” He breathes out, breaking the kiss. You stand up, adjusting your clothes. You don’t know why you did, sooner rather than later they’d be scattered across the floor anyways. You reach a hand out and he accepts, following you to your bedroom. Once the two of you are in, he sheds his kutte and lays it on the desk that sits in your corner. The familiar scent of whiskey and cigarette smoke takes over your senses as he places his lips to your neck, kissing gently and carefully not to leave a mark on your precious skin. Before you knew it, your shorts and underwear were scattered on the ground along with his clothes. You lay down on the bed as he hovers over you, typically you got things rolling by landing on your knees for him but he felt like he needed to make this about you. The beads that hang from his neck are hanging in-front of your face, a sight you’ll never get tired of seeing. You feel his hand sliding to your dripping cunt, he slides in two fingers and you arch your back in pleasure. He would have started off with one, but he knew you’d immediately tell him to add another just like you always did.

“So beautiful.” He says as he’s kissing the inside of your thighs. “So wet.” The kisses, how his fingers curl inside of you, hitting your spot just right it was all enough to send your head spinning. His fingers are buried deep in you, but he’s moving them at such an agonizing pace. Knowing you were going insane and silently begging him to spend up his movements. He leans down to you, placing his lips onto yours. This time it’s messy, almost sloppy but you don’t mind.

“Always takin’ my fingers so well, can you still take this cock just as good love?” It had been a few weeks since the two of you had sex due to him being on the run and you’d longed for this moment since the day he left with the MC for Tacoma. You nodded your head yes, knowing if you tried to speak you’d just embarrass yourself by stammering around. He slides himself into you, your hands tighten around his arms as you feel yourself stretch around him. Once he’s buried himself into you and sees the pleasure across your face, he starts to thrust into you slowly trying to set his pace.

“Fuck.” You manage to moan out, he moves the hair from your face so he can take in your beauty. To the both of you, the sex you had was like a drug. Once never being enough. The first time it happened, he insisted it would be the last as well. The minute he slid himself inside of you, seeing your face and feeling you clench around him he knew he’d made himself a liar. Every-time was sensual, even when it was a quick fuck it was always meaningful.

“You always take me so well, love. Almost like this pussy was made just for me.” He lets out as the grip on your hips tightens. You feel your stomach begin to tighten, your face burning and you know you’re there. He knows it too, pumping into you steadily but harsher. “Be a good girl and let go all over me aye?” The words sent you over the edge, bucking your hips against him to intensify the experience. It sends him over the edge, watching you like you can’t get enough of him and he releases into you. Not worrying wether there was a condom on or not. He pulls himself out, grabbing a towel to help you clean up and get himself situated. You wrap yourself up in a silk robe as you watch him dress, knowing the worst moment of him leaving was coming.

“You know you can stay right? Dad shouldn’t be down this way anytime soon.” You tried your best, hoping he’d give in. He sighs, tightening his belt. He walks over to you, kissing your forehead.

“I’ll see you tomorrow love. I have some things to take care of tonight.”

Chibs rides home, it’s almost 3AM and he’s feeling it as his eye lids become heavier and heavier. He silently thanks God when he makes it inside that he didn’t crash his bike into a semi on his way here from the fatigue. He sits on the couch, staring at the phone. He listens to the voicemail from Fiona once more, thinking of her and the life they had. How they had a shot of getting that back. His mind then went to you, he loved you and he couldn’t shake the feeling. He hated to lie to you, but at this moment he didn’t know which path to go down. Telling you the voicemail and feelings for his wife were gone was better than saying “I don’t really know what to do”. He couldn’t bare the thought of hurting you as he’d already seen how that went earlier in the day at the club house.

He didn’t fear anyone, but he knew it would be tricky with you due to Clay. He knew he’d never be able to boast or call you his old lady. Things would be a secret till the day Clay died, and Chibs didn’t like keeping those. He picked up the phone and dialed the familiar number, praying he’d get the mailbox before he had anymore time to think.

“Hey Fi. It’s Fillip. Just wanted to see if you still wanted to talk.”

[bea-ce]

asking your boyfriend to take a bath with you!

characters: alhaitham, childe, diluc, kaeya and kaveh!

genre: fluff

summary: in which you ask your boyfriend if he’d like to take a bath with you!

notes: i’m extremely biased and you might be able to tell, hehe whoops anyways i thought i might give some fluff before i drop some angst that i have in my drafts! (none of you are safe from my angst writing.)

warnings: slightly suggestive in childes and kaeyas part, but other than that it should be safe!

Al Haitham

You’d either have to drag him by his cloak into the bathroom and push him into the bathtub with force to get him to take a bath with you or be lucky enough that he deliberately wants to take a bath with you. He’ll be extremely reluctant the first times you ask to take a bath with him. Not because he’s shy, but just because he doesn’t see the point of it. Eventually he warms up to the idea and it becomes another thing the two of you do together amongst many other things.

“You’re so filthy, you should take a bath. Come now, I’ll take one with you. What? I have to make sure you get properly cleaned off.”

Childe

He’d have a smirk plastered across his face the first time you suggest taking a bath with him and he’d be damned if he didn’t take the opportunity to tease you to the point you’re left with no more retorts to throw straight back at him. He’ll make suggestive comments while you undress and get into the bathtub that’s filled with lukewarm water. You can only smack him as he settles down in front of you. Despite the impure praise he’ll bestow on you while washing your hair, you can sense how much he cares about you and loves you from his actions alone.

“Turn around so I can wash your hair for you, unless you like getting soap into your eyes. Have to make sure you’re well taken care of, right? Can’t have people think I’m not taking proper care of you.”

Diluc

Poor man, he was rendered speechless and defeated from your suggestion alone the first time you had proposed the idea of taking a bath together. The way he blankly stared at you with no response being rendered any time soon had you wave your hands reassuringly that he didn’t have to if the idea made him uncomfortable, you’d be lying though if you were to say that his reaction wasn’t a little bit disappointing for you. Diluc is quick to compose himself as you wave your hands and assures you that he’d love to.

“Is that what you really want? Alright then, sure. I can’t see why I wouldn’t take up on such offer, especially if it’s with you.”

Kaeya

He’s extremely smug about it and won’t stop teasing you by leaving lingering touches and words that only insinuates that he’s out to make you flustered and embarrassed. Despite that he’s quick to agree and get to it by being the one dragging you to the bathroom along with him instead of the other way around like you had intended to. 

“Oh my, is that really a proposition? Do you have any other plans while we are taking a bath together? Relax, I’m just kidding. Unless you really want to.”

Kaveh

Ugh, he’s all shy about it- hesitant and tripping over his words at the suggestion of taking a bath with you. He’s quick to agree once he finds himself composed again and checks in every 2 minutes to see if you’re still alright with the idea of taking a bath with him. Of course you are, and a part Kaveh knows that too. But he wants to be sure and leave no space for doubt that you might’ve regretted the proposition. Kaveh is sweet while the two of you take a bath, letting you sit in front of him with your back pressed against his chest as he washes both of your hairs together with one of his products.

“Are you sure that you’re alright with this? Okay, okay, I’m just checking. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I’d never want to do something you didn’t want to do. I love you too much to do something like that.”

[aclockmaker]

Part 2 now here

Okay to expand on this I just think: Steve who’s been in a couple of tv shows and is having a moment, famous offscreen for his hair and his charm and onscreen for his ability to find chemistry with anyone (and also, again, his hair).

And Eddie who is a complete unknown; he’s been in some stage productions and had the tiniest bit parts on TV but nobody’s ever, like, recognized him on the street.

Eddie auditions for a new HBO show. When his agent tells him that Steve Harrington is already attached Eddie is like cool, I’ll never get this part but the audition will be good practice so why not. They’re never gonna cast him. He’s sure he’s playing it too weird, and he hasn’t cut his hair (but he will when a part needs him to) but then he gets a callback. Twice.

And then he’s getting called in to do a chemistry test with some of the other actors. The show is like a modern Freaks and Geeks but with a slow burn murder mystery, and Eddie’s actually dead in the main timeline but about half the show is told in flashbacks so it’s a big part. When he meets Steve he doesn’t know what he’s expecting from the paparazzi darling but the guy is super genuine, makes Eddie feel way more comfortable than he has so far. They do their read together and Eddie is just thinking to himself like… damn, this guy really is good, because that felt crazy. He’s acted opposite some insanely talented people but it’s never been that easy. That must just be what it’s like working with Steve.

And now it’s dangerous because he really wants the part. He wants to stop bartending to make rent. He wants to be on this show, because the pages he’s seen are good, and he thinks he could really bring something to it. And because he wants to work with Steve. And even the rest of the cast, too, but—

The day Eddie gets the part he gets a text from a number he doesn't know. Hey man, really looking forward to working with you. And then, a few minutes later, It's Steve btw. He's smiling down at his phone so much that his agent, whose office he's in, is like "What, did you just score another life-changing opportunity I don't know about?" And Eddie is like "Nope, just the one, uh—it's just my uncle saying congrats. Anyway—"

They don't make him cut his hair. They don't tell him to stop playing it so weird. Everything goes so well that it feels fucking hard to believe, in fact, like he's just waiting for the other shoe to drop. There's one group of them playing seniors in high school, the main foursome of which is Eddie, Steve, and their two girl costars, Nancy and Robin. And then there's a younger group playing freshmen whose story intersects with theirs.

His and Steve's characters are set up as opposites, almost rivals, and at least at first, you're presumably supposed to wonder if it's Steve's rich, popular guy who's killed Eddie's character. Nobody in the cast knows the truth yet; the scripts get revealed to them as they're shooting them and they've been told the murderer won't even be revealed in the first season (so here's hoping they get renewed, because Eddie would really like to know who killed him—and he'd also like to keep making HBO money).

Their scenes are some of Eddie's favorites to film (although he also has a soft spot for the kids—especially Dustin who plays a hilarious and awesome nerd who does D&D with Eddie's DM). Eddie hopes his and Steve's stuff is working on whatever level they ultimately need it to work on—sometimes they do get notes that tell them to pull back or dig into something, to emphasize something else, so he has to trust that they're doing the right things.

They often film out of order so when they eventually film the scene where Eddie and Steve's characters have their first run-in at school, it's far from the first time they've shot together. They get all up in each other's faces in the scene, and they've run the lines, done a table read, but acting it out at full intensity is. A lot. Steve's character is mad because he thinks Eddie's character is trying to steal his girlfriend (really she was just buying drugs from him). The way Steve plays it is all simmering intensity, the threat of violence just under the surface, and this is where Eddie doesn't know if he's reading something into it that isn't there. Because for him, there's also another kind of tension between them. And he doesn't know if it's his real life bleeding into the character; if it's just how Steve can't help being with everyone; or if it's a legitimate part of the scripts that they're supposed to be picking up on and exploring. He doesn't even know if anybody else sees what he does. But they do their takes; nobody tells him he's doing something wrong. And after the director calls cut the first time, Steve winks at him. Just to cut the tension, Eddie thinks, maybe to make him smile, which it does. It's fun watching Steve work, watching him slip into and out of character. He's really easy to work with.

Sometimes they get together to run lines or talk motivation or whatever. “It's crazy, you know," Eddie tells Steve in his trailer one night. Steve's is bigger so all of them usually hang out here. They've been making each other laugh, shooting the shit about increasingly funny backstories for their characters, and Eddie feels high with it. "I mean, you know this is my first real show. It's like—" he gestures between them, trying to encompass everything that happens on-camera and all the fun of working on that off-camera. "I didn't know it would be like this."

"Oh—yeah, man," Steve says and laughs a little self-deprecatingly, running a hand through his hair. "But, I mean, for me, I've done a couple and, with our stuff—it’s never been like this with anyone else, either.”

It's going to be so hard, Eddie thinks, looking back at him, to not read into that more than he should.

[verxsyon]

·:*¨༺ ❝ 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐓? ❞

wriothesley always wins his bets against you. for this round, the stakes are getting much higher. how long will it take for the captain of the gardes to admit their feelings to the duke? will this be the moment you’ll finally come out victorious, even though you have to pretend that your feelings toward him are in denial?

✧ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. wriothesley x gn!reader

✧ 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭. drabble ; 0.6k

✧ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞. coworkers to lovers au ; fluff

✧ 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚. no way, it's almost been a year since i wrote a drabble and for genshin too. wrote this during class today, so it looks pretty rushed lol. this man’s the death of me. he can choke slam me like he did with douchier dougier in his story quest. and no, i’m not sorry for saying that.

A defeated sigh escapes your lips as your cards rain down from your fingers onto Wriothesley’s desk. “Unbelievable. A first-time TCG player beat me in all three rounds. So, what do you want your prize to be? A tea company from the surface?”

“Haha. Your suggestions are becoming more adventurous, captain.” Wriothesley kicks back on his chair with a great idea in mind from the smug smile on his face. “Meet me there at night. You’ll help me sneak in, and I’ll rob its entire collection.”

You narrow his eyes at his sarcasm, and he surrenders. “Alright. I'll settle with a tea cup set. The cups in my current one are broken and the teapot has some cracks, so it’ll be nice to have a new one.”

“Okay, I’ll place an order from the surface and ship it here.” You get up from your seat. “I must head back. The guards could be slacking off as we speak. Excuse me, your grace.” 

“Ah, actually.” You hear the chair scrape the floor and turn to face him, who’s now leaning against the front of his desk. “Before you go, there’s something I need you to investigate.”

“Of course. what is it?” He stops you from coming back to your seat by his hand on your shoulder, making you flinch. His expression’s gone rather ominous, and it stays that way when he leans closer to your ear.

“How long will it take for the captain of the gardes to admit their feelings for the duke?”

You cough violently and push yourself out of his hold. Despite his claims of not being omnipotent, his eyes and ears are everywhere within and beyond the fortress. But why are you still surprised that he’ll find out your feelings toward him eventually?

“Don’t tell me you believe those rumors, your grace?” You boldly deny, but deep inside you already know he totally won’t buy your facade based on your immediate reaction. “I’m assuming that’s what you want me to investigate, so again, please excuse me—”

“You didn’t answer my question, captain.” His fingers glide to your shoulder, akin to caressing it, and the temperature in your cheeks suddenly skyrockets. “So, how long will it take for the captain of the gardes to—?”

“I heard you the first time, your grace,” you say dismissively, screaming at him in your head to let you go back to your station and never talk about this matter ever again. ���With all due respect, what’s the meaning of this?”

“Come on. Don’t tell me you already forgot,” he laughs as he goes back to his seat, hands folded on top of his desk. “Wanna bet?”

“This again?” you huff, more worn out from his ludicrous habits since you were stationed at the fortress as its security team. However, this could be an opportunity for you to finally win against him. If he decides to play the game this way, then might as well follow along to ensure your own victory. “Fine, I’ll say never.”

“Oh? No faith in the duke’s capabilities to charm them?” He seems confident with the answer he has come up with. “I’ll say within the next hour or two.”

“Ha! Overestimating the captain’s willpower to not fall for his charms, I see,” you counter, showing off your determination to win. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Alright then, it’s settled.” He shakes hands with you to solidify the agreement. “Oh, and captain? No need for your suggestions for this one. I know what I want as my prize.”

“Oh? And what would that be, your grace?”

Wriothesley just chuckles and tells you the most unpredictable thing that you never imagine being your fate as a loser. “How about a date with the captain themselves?”

[mwahsturns]

📝 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 - MATT STURNⵊOLO

professor!matt sturniolo x student!reader

Contains: HEAVY smut/oral (female receiving)/fingering/p in v/creampie/swearing/A lot of praise/teasing/flirting/pet names/ unprotected sex/aftercare/fluff. Semi-proof read! And I think that’s it let me know if there’s more.

Synopsis: you’re an 18 year old freshman in college and you’ve always been in love with writing, your whole life you’ve always been hiding behind your books and your writing. You decided you wanted to go to college because you knew you wanted to become something with your writing, you’ve always had big dreams about your work and you knew you could do it. But one day you find out your regular professor had quit his job because of an injury and you were getting a new teacher. What happens when the new professor offers to get you a head making sure you make it where you need to be?, and you end up fucking your new professor.. Mr sturniolo.

Author’s note: i’m doing a collab with @iluvmattsbeard! go check out her version of the reader being the professor! this is my version where Matt is being the professor! i’m so so excited I had the opportunity of working on this with her. she is so so sweet and absolutely talented. i want everyone to show her some love and support because she deserves it! And please enjoy. 💗

* *:･ﾟ✧🏩*:･ﾟ✧

Today has been interesting to say the least, our regular teacher professor Charles quit due to an injury in his knee causing him to have surgery and he probably won’t be able to walk again. I as I walked into the classroom I see I’m the only student here, as I’m putting my stuff down I hear someone walk in.

I swear I felt my heartbeat when I looked behind me, there he was professor sturniolo I only know his name because it’s on his desk but not the point. God he looked so fucking sexy his hair wasn’t messy but it looked so effortlessly fluffy and he had these black glasses that framed his face perfectly, he also had a little blue ish button up shirt but it was slightly opened to where you could see his gold chain. He had some rings on and a watch on his right hand, his beige pants perfectly showed his cock just looking made my mouth water.

Fuck his beard too god this man was a whole walking sex object, I was quickly snapped out of my thoughts by his voice. ‘Hey your early” he says smiling ‘yea I’m always early’ I place my bag on my chair and sit on top of my desk with my leg placed on to of the other one. I noticed him look me up and down and I looked and saw my skirt has lifted a little bit. I was wearing a black and white long sleeve shirt, my cleavage Showing as my necklace sits perfectly on my chest. My skirt was short and plaid with some short sorta see through white socks and some black buckled heals.

‘Cute outfit” he winks and goes to write the agenda on the board, I smile and turn on my heels and sit on my desk and nibble on my pen smirking as I watched him. Eventually everyone started walking into the class and my best friend heather ran over to me and sitting next to me, ‘dude the new professor is so sexy!’ She smiles and as takes her books out, ‘I know we talked this morning’ I smirk as I take a sip of my water. ‘No wonder you’re in the front of the class’ we laugh as we hear professor sturniolo start to speak.

‘Okay guys so as you know professor Charles is out so I’m your new teacher, I’m Mr sturniolo and today’s assessment should be easy you need to write a short story about anything you’d like and share it to the class.’ He smiles and writes it on the board, ‘you guys have the next hour to write it then I’ll have all of you share yours with the class’ oh I got this in the bag I thought as I started writing.

————

The hour is up and he stands in front of the class as he gets ready to announce who goes first, I feel him starting at me as he starts to smirk. ‘You first’ he smirks as he tilts his head looking deeply into my eyes, ‘’me?’ I say confused. ‘Your names Y/n isn’t it?’ He says sassily, ‘yes sir it is’ I say with the same amount of sas ‘well then the floors yours’ he smiles and sits at his desk. I grab my paper and walk the the front of the class flatting my shirt as I begin to read, ‘We shall start with a secret couple, their names is professor Lucas, and a student named Sophia. The two are secretly in love but has yet to expose it to the world so let’s dive deep into their life styles before things get intimate…’ I say smiling as I continue to read.‘Sofia is a very pretty girl, amazing personality, great style, she is a phenomenal actress and she has a great judge of Character and if we need to speak about her body we can say that she has some amazing ideal curve and her face sits perfectly.

‘Professor Lucas is a great guy with amazing humor and he does a phenomenal job at teaching, (that’s what turns Sophia on) he cares for his class and he truly is the person you couldn’t hate even if you tried. Jumping in Sophia walks into lecture hall, looking a little bit more Expensive or extravagant, she is wearing her Golden necklace that says her name in a cursive writing a white button up long sleeve crop top tied at the bottom with a tripled white skirt and some white heals. (she truly loves the color white, she feel it enhances her look more) as sophia Is carrying her books, Professor Lucas takes notice and says ‘ah Ms Raven, please have a seat in the front for me.’ He says pointing out the seat closes to him smiling. Sophia walks down to take a seat and sets her notebooks down and gets her Mac-book out of her bag to place it elegantly on her desk.

Professor looked down and said ‘good morning sweetheart, why are you late?’ As Sophia looks up into his amazing beautiful emerald eyes and smiled saying ‘I woke up late sir’ she knows calling him Sir makes him feel respected and satisfied, ‘hmm see me after class young lady…’ as he continues the lecture. As the day goes on classes come to an end, which reminds Sophia to go meet with professor. As she arrived she placed a firm knock on the door and patiently waited for him to come and answer, in less than a minute the professor answered the door and said ‘Ms raven please come in’ as he smiled looked outside the door before closing it too lock it. He looked at her with a romantic expression. ‘I want us to get intimate, we’ve been kissing secretly hanging out for a while but now, I want to show you that I’m ready for another step and that is showing you that I want to dominate you and show you how much I love you in a different way’ ‘I’d figure you’d get the hook’ the professor looks confused when she says that and says ‘what do you mean?’ As he steps a little closer toward her, ‘I mean I’ve been wearing the slutty things to lure you in or to make you want to fuck me, I wanted to show you that I’m ready for the next step but I was just to afraid to ask.’

The professor steps closer to her them almost touching noses as he says ‘Mama you don’t gotta be nervous or afraid, if you want me to give it to you just ask me. I won’t even hesitate’ professor says as he slowly cuffed her Chin and pulled her into an intimate kiss inhaling deeply as it escalated.

Sophia continues the kiss for a few more moments before breaking it wrapping her hand in his tie, ‘I want you’ sounding a little breathless turning the professor on more. ‘I know you do baby’ the professor said gently brushing his hand down the side of her face, ‘lay down, and open your legs for me’ Sophia proceeds to do so as the professor smiled and watched, As she finished doing what he asked he then spoke ‘good girl’ as he then walked closer to her then sliding his fingers up her inner thigh to tease her already wet pussy. he rubbed his thumb around her clitoris teasing even more before gently sliding off her white see through lingerie panties. He took off his shirt revealing his soft skin and muscular chest.

sniffing the panties and throwing them to the side, he licked his middle and ring finger before rubbing her clitoris once again before loosing his belt and took of his cargo baggy black jeans revealing his huge cock print in his underwear. he took her hand and rubbed it around his print moaning and groaning a little. And just know you aren’t going nowhere….’ As I finished reading this class started clapping, I look at Matt to see him smirking arms crossed god he looks perfect.

‘Great job mrs L/N and um can you see me after class?’ I smiled and nodded my head as I walked back to my seat.

———-

Class ended and I’m packing up my stuff as I hear heather start talking, ‘girl your paper was so good like ugh i felt the emotion and I think professor sturniolo liked it too’ she winks putting on her backpack. ‘Who knows but I’ll see you after?’ ‘Duh ofc you will’ I laugh putting on my backpack, soon everyone leaves and I walk up to the professors desk. ‘You wanted to speak with me?’ I say smiling, ‘yea I did um your writing is so excellent your a very talented young lady’ he smiled leaning forward on the desk. ‘Well it is my specialty’ I smirk ‘mmh we’ll keep up the good work’ he smiles packing up his stuff ‘Will do!’ I laugh as I leave his class.

professor Sturniolo has been here for about two weeks now and to say I’ve got him wrapped around my finger is an understatement to say the least, he’s has been favoriting me for weeks now always giving me extra credit and pushing back deadlines for me I didn’t think anything of it until now.

‘Girl he’s so into you!’ Heather says as we enter the empty class, ‘I don’t know..’ I mean if that was true god it would fuel my sexual fantasies so much. ‘I’m telling you it’s a matter of time before he fucks you’ heather and I take our seats up front as professor sturniolo walks in, ‘good morning Y/N morning heather’ he says giving me this irresistible look that makes me just want him ‘Good morning’ I smile.

As I’m writing our notes for an essay coming up in feel him walk up to my desk as he wisphers in my ear ‘see me after class’ he says as he walks back to his desk. I can’t lie that did make me aroused I know it’s wrong but it also feels right.

————

As everyone left the class I see the smirk growing on his face as the class grows empty. Once the class is completely empty he stands up from his chair and leaned his back against his desk as his arms were crossed, ‘you know you’re a very special young lady..’ ‘mmh you think’ I smirk teasing him a little. ‘I do.. very much the work you’ve turned in has been exceptional your writing style is remarkable..” he walks over to my desk and leans down to my ear. ‘And i must say you’re a very beautiful girl..”

‘Thank you, I appreciate it’ I smile as he basically towers over me, ‘so you got a boyfriend?’ He says as he runs his hand through my hair ‘no.. what about you got a girlfriend or a wife?’ I say looking up at him. ‘Oh no it’s just me’ I mentally take note of that even though it shouldn’t matter to me ‘look your very talented and happen to be very beautiful and I want you to be more than just a basic writer you can be so much more’ he says sitting on the desk next to me ‘I know I’ve always believed I can do it I just wasn’t even sure how to start’ honestly I’m lying I know exactly why he’s saying all of this but I just wanna see how far he’ll take things.

‘Well how about this .. you help me and I’ll make sure you get right where you need to be’ he smirks ‘okay but how will I help you?’ I already know what he wants I just wanna tease him a little I’ve seen way to many teacher and student movies and books to not know. ‘What if you let me teach you a few things mmh? Fuck I can’t lie that did make me a little wet ‘mmh like what?’ I tease standing in his face, next thing I know I’m picked up and placed on his desk.

‘Let me please you..’ he says kissing my neck harshly. I can’t deny as the kiss gets longer the more I’m starting to crave more. He started kissing lower down my neck placing open mouthed kisses onto my breast, i tugged on his hair as his hand slid down into my skirt. ‘Well look at that my perfect student getting all wet for her professor huh such a slut..’ he says as he pulls down my skirt and my underwear harshly.

I bite my lip as I see him spit on his fingers I don’t know what has gotten into me but right now I need him in me, he takes his fingers and slide them into my dripping pussy as he gives me no time to adjust he fingers me very rough.

‘Oh my- fuck’ I moan throwing my head back biting my lip, ‘mmh feels good doesn’t it? He looks like a kid in a candy store the way he’s looking at my vagina right now. ‘fuck yes.’ He smiles at my response and stands up pulling his pants and boxers off and holy shit he’s fucking big.

‘That’s supposed to fit in me?!’ I actually am now kinda nervous, ‘mmh I’ll make it fit’ he walks back over to the desk and pulls my legs forward and now I’m laying down on his desk legs wide open how the fuck did I get here?. He slides into me and I swear to god I saw stars fuck he felt so good, ‘fuck your so tight’ he moaned pounding into me like he was getting a fucking pay check.

‘Oh fuck sir omg..’ I moaned maybe a little too loudly, ‘fuck-please call me Matt’ he tried to say as he let out a choked groan. God his name makes this 10x hotter. ‘Fuck Matt I’m so close’ I moan, ’yea cum on this dick baby’ his thrust getting faster but more deeper.

‘Fuck I’m gonna cum!’ I screamed ‘me too baby let it out mama’ he moaned as I came all over his dick and I felt his warm cum fill me. ‘Fuck you did so good for me’ he smiled kissing my lips softly, ‘I don’t think I can walk..’ ‘it’s okay I’ll clean you up’ he walks to his desk and gets a rag and wipes both of us down. Once were cleaned up and I’m standing he walked up to me and smiled. ‘Well I guess I’ll be fucking you more often huh?’ I smiled ‘oh definitely’.

I smiled and walked out of the classroom fuck he better give me a good grade for that.

A/n: I hope you enjoyed plus Don’t hate this is my first smut ever so I’m so so sorry if it’s bad pls leave some tips in my inbox!

Taglist!

@iluvmattsbeard @m9ttsverse

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[peachesofteal]

Calculation Theme

Dead Disco masterlist / this can be read as standalone

Ghost/Soap/female reader 5.6k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Threesome - M/M/F. Explicit sex. Barebacking. Oral sex - fem receiving. Creampie. Come eating. Praise kink. Top Simon Riley. Bottom Johnny MacTavish. Feelings of anxiety, insecurity, complicated emotions. Angst. Alcohol consumption. Darling is her/your own tag/warning. Reference to pre established limits and negotiation. Reader is bad at feelings. No established relationship. The 'first time' in Dead Disco. This is pre relationship, and I think it shows. Little lore note: this is the first time you're called Darling.

Your fingers find the neck of the bottle easily enough, condensation slicking beneath your skin as you lift it your lips.

You wish the beer was a shot. Or an entire bottle of some hard liquor. Something that could stop your brain from spinning eight million miles an hour, something that could turn you off so that you could relax, so you could try to enjoy yourself more.

Your excitement for this evening is being turbulently tossed with anxiety, and it’s making your stomach hurt a little bit.

You curse yourself for not just ordering a shot. A double, even.

“Ye alright, love?” Johnny asks, light and happy but tone pulling with concern. His hand slides across the table. A lifeline. A sweet gesture.

But if you take it, you’ll look too needy. Too clingy. Too… much. 

“Yeah, I’m…” A thought occurs to you in the middle of your assurance, a rash decision that's quite rotten. “I actually have to use the bathroom; I’ll be right back?” Simon still isn’t back from when he went, and you feel bad for leaving Johnny alone at the table, but this is too perfect of an opportunity.

His eyes squint before he nods.

“Alright.”

“Can I get a double vodka please? On the rocks.” You half yell to the bartender, flashing a card. They deposit it in front of you succinctly, and just the sight of the clear liquid draws tension from your shoulders.

This will make it easier. This will keep you from second guessing every word that comes out of your mouth. This will make you more fun. This will make them like you more. 

You need all the help you can get, honestly. You’re… woefully unprepared, too excited, clumsy with your eagerness, too nervous for what was discussed earlier, and the clock ticks closer and closer to the moment when you’ll be leaving the bar as three, to go back to their place.

What if you’re not good? What if you don’t live up to their expectations? What if they don’t like you?

You’ve never done, this. Never had a threesome before. You told them, of course. Confessed it a few days ago when you all met for drinks. When Johnny pressed you against the wall of the dimly lit dive in a heated kiss, and Simon watched. When it became clear where this was all going, when Johnny told you that they’d love to have you in their bed, would love to have an opportunity to get to know you a little better, make you feel good.

You hadn’t bothered to tell them that they should be careful what they wish for. You knew they would find out eventually. It was only a matter of time.

But the alcohol will help with that. Will help with everything. Will help delay the inevitable.

And you can still have some fun, before it all comes crashing down. 

You clutch the glass greedily, lifting it to your lips to knock it down in one go. You can smell the burn of the liquor, the noxious fumes like sour tinged rubbing alcohol filling the air as you tip it back, ice cubes slotting against your lips and-

A hand wraps around your wrist with firm, insistent pressure and pulls the glass away, plucking it from your palm and placing back onto the bar top unceremoniously.

You turn in the same moment, irritated, outraged, until you’re face to chest with Simon, and he’s staring down at you, severe gaze seeking yours above the black cloth mask.

“Uh-“ you squeak. His hand returns to your wrist, and he’s stroking circles into your pulse point. “I was just, gonna have a-“ he shakes his head, releasing you to produce a note that he hands to the bartender.

All while never looking away from you.

It’s like he’s studying you, and you burn with shame, embarrassment heating through your belly and you look away, opting to study the sticky floor instead.

He looks too closely at you, all the time, and it’s unnerving. Two weeks ago, he hardly said ten words to you, but you practically crumbled under the pressure of his gaze all the same. 

The people around you can't help but stare, and you don't blame them, although you're not afraid like some of them seem to be. Your undeniable attraction to him, to Johnny, to both of them together, draws you in like a sacrificial lamb to the slaughter. Willing, and foolish. Take me. 

There is no fear of them hurting you, doing something wicked or cruel, but of something worse. You’re scared of wanting them more, and more, desiring something that is not even feasible, not within the realm of possibility. You’re afraid every time you catch Simon staring at you that he’s reading your mind, seeing down past everything you display and into the truth of who you are. You’re already afraid of the day it ends, when Johnny will shake his head with a sad smile and tell you they’re no longer interested.

You grit your teeth. You’re getting so far ahead of yourself. 

“You don’t need that.” The way he says it sounds so believable, convincing enough that you nod in stunned agreement. “We’re leaving now.” He directs, and then folds his entire hand over your collarbone to steer you through the crowd back to the little table. Johnny’s expression shifts when he sees you, flickering into curiosity and something else, something you can’t name, before it clears and he smiles at you, beautiful face changing into something brilliant that makes your knees go a little weak.

“Everything alright?” It’s asked so innocently, but he’s not looking at you, the person who’s currently being pivoted around like a doll, instead he’s looking at Simon, who rumbles a yes before jerking his head towards the door.

“Ready?”

“Aye.”

Johnny kisses you in the cab. Your back stays flush with Simon, and his hand has drifted from your shoulder to your waist, easy touch stroking up and down your ribs. Johnny kisses you, just like last time, with gentle passion. It’s soft and incredible, the feel of his mouth on yours, and you could melt into him, disappear inside of him, let him lavish you with sweet affection and dizzying kisses until you ceased to exist.

He kisses you over and over, until the cab is pulling up outside their building.

Until you’re standing on the sidewalk with the two of them, and he’s asking you that fateful question:

“Well, do ye still want to come up?”

Their bed is massive. It’s not surprising, considering their size. Johnny is not slight, and Simon makes him look of average build, so of course, their bed feels like an entire island.

It’s just so big, in this moment, when you’re lying in it alone, on your back, blinking up at the ceiling and trying desperately to not think about the fact that they excused themselves for a moment.

They’re talking about you. 

You know they are. They must be. Even though they told you to stay put, that they were just going to get a few things, you can’t not think about them out there and you in here. Why else would they have stepped out?

You’re not even undressed yet; you could easily slip out. Make a dash for the door. Run while you still can. You could give them an easy out.

You rally yourself, swinging your feet over the edge and sliding on your little ballet flats, your favorite black ones that you wear almost all the time. They feel like a second skin, and it comforts you, to have something so familiar in a moment when you feel so out of sorts.

“What’s wrong?” Johnny asks from where the door has re-opened, and you freeze. Fuck.

“I was just going to go…” you trail off. Simon’s standing behind him with a glass of water and a pitcher of more, a folded bath towel tucked under his arm.

“Ye want to leave?” His face crumples so slightly, a shadow of disappointment appearing and disappearing with a blink. Simon’s body tenses, brow furrowing, watching his partner intently before flicking back to look at you.

“I thought, I-“ you swallow a dry lump that’s building in the back of your throat, and to your horror, a burning sensation starts to tingle in your nose. The precursor to tears. No, no, no. Fuck. “It just seemed like, m-maybe you… you guys changed your mind, and I didn’t- didn’t want to be in the way, here.” You spit the words out and they burn, embarrassment circling back to incinerate your good sense.

Simon’s eyes slide shut, and he takes a deep breath.

“No.” The water and towel are dropped onto the bedside table, and then he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, gesturing for you to take the spot beside him.

When you do, he pulls your hands apart, and intertwines his fingers with yours.

“It wasn’t right of us, to leave the room like that.” The bed shifts behind you, Johnny’s chest pressing to your back, his hand squeezing your upper arm sweetly. “One of us should have stayed with you, I’m sorry.” Your eyebrows raise.

“Oh, it’s fine.” You bluster, but deep down you’re surprised. Nearly stunned that they recognize their actions as a mistake.

“It’s not. I should have known it would bother you. I used poor judgement.” What the fuck? You cannot fight the way your spine straightens, muscles solidifying beneath your skin, indignation blooming across your tongue. How would he know? What kind of assumption is that? They don’t even know you; they have no idea how you feel.

It’s a lie, and you know it. They’re both learning you, you’re making it far too easy for them. Simon already watches you like he’s anticipating your movements, your words. Johnny already reaches for you when it seems like he knows you need touch.

But it’s just fun. Just sex. 

You let out a burst of a breath, tension sagging away from your back.  

“Easy.” Johnny murmurs in your ear, warm breath tingling across your skin. He punctuates it with a kiss to your temple, and then to your cheek, and you calm even more, relaxing into him. “We wanted to discuss some things with ye, boundaries, and such.”

Oh. 

“Okay.”

“We know you haven’t done this before.” Simon pulls one of your legs onto the bed and massages your calf, nearly holding its entirety in his hand. “And we want to ensure that we’re all comfortable. Has anything changed since last week? Since we discussed testing and protection?” You shake your head. Your IUD is unchanged as ever, and your STI status being clean is still the same. 

“Nothing has changed for us either.” Johnny chimes, fingers tracing across your clavicle. It tickles, and the flutter of a giggle slips free from your lips. Simon’s eyes crease, lifting at corners, and something flips in your stomach when you realize he’s smiling. “Ticklish, love?” Johnny whispers, mischievous, flirty, and you try to shrug to play it off.

“And your limits?”

“Still the same, yeah.” You lick your lips, eyes darting over to the water. The motion seemingly pushes Simon into action, and he reaches for the glass, pressing it into your hands with a nod. “Are we…” Your face is hot with anticipation, and your question gets lost when you trip over yourself. “Are we- I mean, am I… do you want to-“  

“Not tonight. You’ll need extensive prep for that.” Simon soothes your frayed nerves. “If we all decide to see each other again, if this goes well, and you decide it’s something you want to try, we can discuss it and see how you feel.”

“Oh, okay.” You’re subtly disappointed, even though you know you shouldn’t be. They’re right, of course, and you try not to dwell on all the ‘ifs’ in Simon’s statement, about it going well, about everyone making decisions.

“Anything else?”

“The mask?”

“It stays on, unless the lights are out.” He answers quickly, and you gulp.

Most of your anxiety, your trepidation goes out the window once you get undressed. They both follow suit, and it’s thrilling, standing on the edge of something like this, with them, excitement flooding your veins, making your heartbeat faster.

They take you in slowly, hands roaming over your body, exploring you, feeling the way you curve and dip, touching your scars and marks, laying you on the bed, still clad in your underwear. Simon strokes down the back of your thigh, over your knee, and he murmurs something low, something you cannot quite make out, but whatever it is, it makes Johnny smile so big your chest hurts a little. He presses his mouth to your navel.

“We’re going to make ye feel so good, love.” He moves to drag your thong down, but Simon holds his wrist and pulls it away, shaking his head once. “We’re going to take it all away, all of the worries, everything going on in that pretty head of yours, yeah?” He whispers, and you breathe a whimper of need, of desperation.

“Please.” You’re still spread out for them, and Johnny leans over you, skin against skin. His chest, his entire body, is etched muscle, primed and perfect, and you can’t help but run a hand over his ribs, feeling the way his breath stutters. Beautiful.

His biceps cage you between them, and a sense of security falls over you, relief to be so close to him, to be pressed against him like this. It’s like happiness, but more, more than contentment, more than bliss, more like something you cannot name, and you file away the terror that you feel over it away for when you’re alone.

“So beautiful.” He whispers into your neck. “Have I told ye that yet tonight?”

“Only like ten times.” You quip, and he glides his lips down your chest, tongue swirling around a taut peak, taking one of your nipples in his teeth with a nip that has you gasping out a moan, desire pooling between your legs.

“What’s this?” Simon asks from where he kneels on the bed beside the two of you, tracing a thumb over the slice of a scar that carries over your hip, towards your back. It’s old, but you’ll always carry it, always get this question. Johnny tips over to inspect what’s being referenced, and his brow creases in concern.

“Christ, love. That’s jagged. What happened?” You shake your head.

“It’s nothing. Was in an accident when I was younger. That’s my souvenir.” They glance at one another, and you shrink inward a bit, self-conscious. The truth is too much, too awkward, too telling, to be confessed to these two.

Simon’s thumb is replaced by warm breath, and then Johnny is kissing it, so slowly, so tenderly it makes your heart ache, makes you gasp aloud, momentarily distracted from the drifting of Simon’s hand, fingers that graze down your waist, circling where you’re currently soaking through the cotton. He skims up and down the seam of your cunt, and you moan, hips jerking towards his hand, looking for friction.

When his thumb finds your clit, you squeak, and Johnny chuckles into your skin.

“Eager.” He hums, painting a warm trail towards to your thigh with his tongue.  

“Responsive.” Simon counters, but there’s something in his voice. Something reverent. “Let’s take these off then.” He encourages you to lift your hips with a tap, pulling them free, your last scrap of clothing gone.

Johnny’s freed himself too, and your mouth pools with saliva when you see his cock, length curving outwards, flushed red with want, precome dotted at the fat tip. Your hand reaches subconsciously, and he steps forward just as eager, shuddering when you make contact, fingers curling around the satin skin of him.

“Can I?” Your mouth seeks, and they both give a resounding yes. Your tongue flicks over the head, salt and earth beading across your tastebuds, and you suck and lick in tandem with your fist, clutching him tightly, slicking him with your spit.

“Ach-“ He holds the back of your head, cradles it with gentle touch. He’s not rough with it, or demanding, and you take him as deep as you can, swallowing against where he’s lodged in your throat. You do it again and again, chasing the push of your nose into his curls, salt blurring your vision. “Shite.” He hisses, pulling away, cradling your face in his palms, and takes your mouth with his, guiding you back against the bed again, laying you flat with your legs spread wide, and you float in a hazy heat of warmth as he moves down your body, his mouth leading the way. His breath puffs over your cunt, hopeless need swelling inside of you with wild desire, your eyes round and nearly glassy, close to begging.

He looks to Simon once, and then licks a long stripe from bottom to top.

“Fuck.” You pant, his tongue pressing to your clit, your back arching with pleasure. You jolt under his touch, expert ministrations pulling noises from you that you weren’t even sure you could make. He eats like he’s starved, lavishing attention around your swollen clit, lighting your entire nervous system on fire, building the pleasure inside your body higher and higher. “J-Johnny.” He slides a finger inside of you, crooking upwards into the sweet spot that has you seeing stars, and a strangled moan punches from your chest with his attentions.

You’re floating, coming closer and closer to an orgasm, so buried beneath the mountain of pleasure that he’s giving you, that you’ve lost Simon. You don’t know where he’s gone, where he is in the room, what’s even happening until-

“Bloody hell.” Johnny enunciates into your cunt, the words vibrating against your flesh. Your eyes snap open and you crane your neck, twisting in the sheets.

Simon kneels behind Johnny, working him open slowly, hand moving between him, stretching him wide. It’s beautiful, the way he knows how to please him just right, the way they know each other’s bodies, the way Simon stares down at Johnny like he’s the universe and heaven, all rolled into one. Your breath hitches, and his eyes flick to yours, locking you in under his gaze. He holds you there, tendons in his wrist flexing, muscles in his forearm and bicep pulsing as he makes Johnny groan into you, his tongue nearly too much as you clench around his fingers. It’s so…intimate, an overflow of something settling between the three of you, the ghost of something that waits, so intense and overwhelming that you look away before you break apart.

It's too much. It’s not enough. You want more. Want to feel them both. Want to taste them like they taste each other, want to insert yourself inside their universe, soak them up, crawl inside of them, have them burrowed inside of you. You want them, need them, you-

Your orgasm smacks. It seizes all your muscles, lower belly tensing deliberately as you explode, star lit vision blasting across the backs of your eyelids. You make some sort of noise, you’re sure of it, something loud like a cry, or a scream, erupting from your shaking body, Johnny’s strength pinning your thighs wide, refusing to let your legs close, continuing to lick away at you, pulling zaps of lightning from your overstimulated clit. It’s a mixture of pleasure and more, more of the too much, more of the not enough, and you’re babbling something like ‘please, yes- more- oh god- too much’ when Simon praises you from his vantage point, watching over the breadth of Johnny’s shoulders.

“What a good girl.”

You nod on instinct.

Yes, you are good. Yes, you’ll be good. You’ll be good for them. Just for them. Only for them. 

Your mind is slipping further and further, trying to turn off, trying to slink away and leave you to this bed, to these two men who seem to already know what you need.

The mattress dips, someone shifts, and then the room is dark. There’s a little bit of light that spills from the crack of the door, enough to see some outlines, some shadows. Enough to maneuver in, but not enough to make out anything distinct.

There are no hands on you in this moment, and the room is quiet save for the sound of something- something wet and soft sliding together for a precious second. You hold your breath.

“Right here.” Johnny coos, and then he slips two fingers back inside your cunt, his entry easy, your body weeping with want.

“Alright?” It’s Simon’s voice, close. Close enough that you can hear the pitch of the gravel, the baritone low in his chest.

“Yes.” You make your approval as definite as you can, remembering something he said last week, something about making sure you’re using your words clearly.

A big hand touches your neck, tentatively, searching until his palm is cupping your jaw. The fingers are wide, thicker, and you know it’s Simon. He pets you, strokes your skin while Johnny fucks you open on his own touch, and then you feel the breath on your lips.

The breath of Simon kissing you. The taste of you, of Johnny, the taste of the three of you together. His tongue crowds your mouth, snaking between your teeth, insisting you open, and you do so, eagerly.

He kisses you deep, curling his body over yours, pressing you beneath his shoulders.

He kisses you, until Johnny is moving, until your legs are now bracketing Johnny’s thighs, and the crown of his cock is brushing your cunt. You ache for it, for him, for both, and you spasm around nothing, just the barest touch of heat to your skin. Please, please, please.

“Please.” You whimper.

“Give it to her, Johnny.” Simon urges, even though it takes none, and you wheeze out a bitten off groan when he pushes inside.

“Mmmph,” You cry when he fucks into you, not seeking all the way, taking his time with small thrusts, working deeper and deeper with each plunge. He’s drawing it out, the pleasure, your noises, everything, and Simon drifts down to circle your clit, stroking the desperate nub. You scramble, hands seeking, hips moving with him, in time with both of them, sweat slicking off your skin. Johnny pushes your knees wide, and then stuffs you as full as he can, tongue tracing a bead of salt across your chest. “Fuck, ff- you’re so deep.”

“Ye take me so well, love. So good.” You bloom for him, for his words, and he groans when you clench at the praise, spurred on by Simon pushing you further along to the edge. Johnny picks up his pace, movements more frenzied, more hurried, rutting against you. You buck in response, unable to control it, fire burning in your stomach, your thighs. You’re going to come, again, it’s explosion just on the precipice.

“Oh my god, oh-“

“That’s it.” Your spine curls forward, pushing your face into Simon’s chest and he holds you there, whispering in your ear. “Come all over his cock like a good girl. I know you can, give it to us.”

It’s like a switch. The words, the feeling of Johnny’s cock buried to the hilt, the stroke of Simon’s fingers against your clit. You come violently, breaking apart, muscles pulsing around Johnny, and voice fracturing with pleasure. There are words being said, being exalted, something like “so good, so pretty when you come-“ and “is that little pussy squeezin’ you, sweet boy?” but they all blend together, dizzying and hot, like you’re holding onto a pan straight out of the oven. Johnny sputters, trapping your hips down, fucking you wildly through your orgasm, battering through the tightness of your cunt with stuttered words in a language you don’t know. He doesn’t stop, and you don’t want him too, even when you shiver and tingle with aftershocks. You want to feel him fill you, want to feel the spread of his warmth, the pressure of him coming inside of you.

Two bodies smother you, holding you until you’re not sure who is where, only that there are fingers, and mouths, and tongues, lavishing you and separating your mind from the rest, shoving you into a cloudlike plane of existence, flying you high in the sky somewhere. It’s bliss. It’s nothing you’ve ever had, ever felt. It feels right, feels so safe, so secure that it nearly overwhelms you, happiness and contentment brightening your soul until a warm tear is sliding down your temple.

“Gon’ come.” Johnny rasps out, and Simon says something in response, but you’re gone to the words, lost in the moment. All you can do is hold on, pleading for him to fuck you harder, fill you up, give you his come. Mark you. Possess you. Ruin you for anyone else. Except him, except Simon.

Maybe then they’ll keep you. 

“Please, please- Johnny. Fill me up.” your hips chase his, his mouth pressing against yours. Now he tastes like you, and Simon, and you lap at him eagerly, breathing in his grunts.

“Ah-“ He shouts, and then slams forward, plugging deep, spilling against your cervix in waves.

Your eyes slip closed. Just for a fleeting moment. Floating. Riding high, riding away, melting into nothing. You seek them instinctively, pushing and kneading against their bodies, and they oblige you, holding you close, whispering sweet words in your ear, sweet praise that nukes you.

You’re safe here. It’s okay. 

For once, you don’t snap back at yourself for being stupid. For being a fool. You don’t remind yourself of your flaws, you don’t count down the laundry list of the things that makes others turn away.

You just exist, between them. Happy. Sated. Bones liquid, chest loosening with a huge sigh.

A big hand strokes along your ribcage.

“Good girl.”

You drift for what feels like hours, even though you know, rationally, it’s not.

Slowly, you come back to earth, eased into back into your mind by the feeling of Johnny spreading your legs, opening you wide for him while something else is happening at the same time, the sound of his pleasure and Simon’s grunts, his accent roughening as he fucks his partner, praise flowing from his lips like a river. You stare through the dark at the shadow of Simon feeding his cock into Johnny’s tight ring of muscle, making him keen and wail against you.

“Good boy.” He coos, and Johnny moans, teeth sinking into your thigh. “Gon’ give her another one? Eat your come out of her cunt?” Heat floods through you, pussy clenching around nothing, and you whimper in approval.

“Please.” Your plea is not unheard, and Simon moves with an exceptionally swift thrust, forcing Johnny forward more, until his face is pressed against your leaking hole. He fucks you with his tongue, licking through the mess of wetness, your arousal combined with his seed, a mixture that he consumes like he’s dying, all over again, tongue flicking against your clit with frightening accuracy. He’s a god, a god between your legs, a god making you come for the third time, a god that doesn’t even belong to you, but your fingers grip his shoulders like he’s always been yours. He plucks your pleasure forward so quickly it nearly hurts, and you sob against the pillow, bucking your hips against him, cunt rocking against his face.

He keeps one hand pinned to your thigh, and the other finds yours in the sheets, breaking your grip free to replace the blankets with his grasp, keeping you tied to him, to Simon, dragging you upwards through the burn of your muscles to the cliff of another orgasm.

“Darling.” He hisses, vowels long on his tongue, fingers clutching yours. The cramp of muscles in your lower belly tenses with each stroke of his tongue, your body moving in time with his, his body moving in time with Simon’s. He moans into your cunt, strung out on pleasure, the dip of his spine curving like bridge between the three of you, connecting you, pulling you into the water with them, deeper and deeper until you can’t swim anymore. Until all you can do is cling to them, beg them to give you release, crying out when Simon pounds into him, thrusting into him wildly, forcing his mouth against you harder, matching the pace of your desperate hips. You drown in your orgasm, the same way Simon drowns in his, and Johnny tethers you both, keeping you steady, his body clutching onto the cock that’s buried in him while Simon strokes him to another orgasm, come spurting forward all over your belly, and the three of you collapsing together in a heap.  

“You’re brilliant.” Johnny whispers in the dark, his chest pressed to your shoulder. “So wonderful, darling. Everything we dreamed of.” A warm washcloth sponges across your skin, wiping between your legs and over your stomach, followed by tender kisses.

“You were perfect.” Simon follows up, moving you to your side, pressing his front to your back. Johnny adjusts, and then your face is against his chest, and you’re listening to his heartbeat. “Such a good girl for us. Did so well.” You blink furiously, chasing away the overflow of emotions that are surging inside of you, clamoring to break free. Don’t fucking cry. Only a psycho, unstable nut would be crying right now. Is that who you are? The girl who cries in their bed after they’ve fucked you? No. 

You keep your mouth shut instead, opting to sink back into the affectionate warmth of their bodies, closing your eyes and soaking in their touch. The threat of tears stays constant, lurking, waiting, and you force yourself to take long, deep breaths, that spin into a web of semi-consciousness, lost and floating between two pillars.

You shudder awake when Simon gets up to go to the bathroom, low light flicking on, and you know it’s time.

“I should probably get going.” You whisper. Ask me to stay. Say you want me to stay. Keep me. Johnny blinks owlishly, confusion rippling across his face.

“We’d like it, if ye stayed.” He rubs a palm down your arm, and you smile politely. He’s just saying that. Isn’t he? Tears prick along your waterline. “Hey, look at me.” You turn your head, but close your eyes, avoiding whatever will be staring back at you, hiding your own turmoil. “What’s wrong? Was it not good?” There’s worry in his voice now, anxiety, and guilt thrashes against your heart. Get it together. You’re making him feel bad. 

“It was great. So great, you’re… you’re amazing. Both of you are. I- really enjoyed it.”

“So, stay the night. Stay with us, we can get breakfast in the morning. Ye can be breakfast in the morning.” He raises an eyebrow, and you can’t help the little smile that tugs at your lips. Fuck. God. Why is he so stunning? Why is he doing this? 

The bathroom door clicks closed.

“Si.” Johnny implores, hint of insistence. “Tell her, we want her to stay.”

Simon stands with one knee on the bed, hand cradling Johnny’s thigh possessively. He doesn’t speak right away, just stares at you, watching over the mask.

“Why are you trying to run away?” Jesus christ. What is with these two? How are they so far under your skin already? 

“I’m not. Just…” Lie. Make something up. “Just have a lot to do, in the morning is all. It will be easier if I wake up in my own bed.” Johnny huffs.

“It’s so late, darling. We want ye to stay.” He protests. Simon squeezes his knee, a firm hold, and looks down at him, something echoing across the two of them that you can’t discern.

“Let’s get her a cab.” He murmurs, and you shake your head.

“That’s alright, I can catch-“

“No.” There’s no additional, nothing further to argue. His denial is absolute, and you nod with a small smile.

“Thank you.”

The goodbye happens at the door. You’re dressed, face washed, bathroom needs attended, hair somewhat re assembled although you’ll need to properly deal with it before you fall asleep. You look halfway presentable, although if someone looked too close, they could probably tell you’d just been fucked within an inch of your life.

“Thank you, again. This was a lot of fun.” Johnny holds you in a hug, nosing against your scalp and then down, drawing you in with a languid kiss. It’s sweet, and perfect and you want to fall into him, let him take you back to bed and hold you close until the sun comes up.

“Text when ye get home safe, alright?”

“I promise.” He only releases you when Simon steps forward, and they trade places. He doesn’t say anything, just soothes a wide palm up and down your back.

Cloth covered lips press against your jaw, trailing upwards until they land at your cheekbone and then pull away.

“Call or text us, if you need anything.” He instructs, and the nod comes automatically.

“Okay.” Your fingernails press into your palm with a sting. “Well, goodnight then.”

“Goodnight, darling.” Johnny rests his head on Simon’s shoulder, the mournful look on his face nearly enough to make you throw everything out the window and crawl back into their gigantic bed.

But you can’t. They’re not for you. They’re for each other. You’re just a passerby.

“Darling.” Simon calls when you get a few meters away, and you turn to look back at the pair, still standing in the doorway, watching you leave. He tilts his head, something serious in eyes, something that scratches beneath the surface. “We’ll see you soon.”