#and instead of backing straight back towards me.... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itelya · 2 days ago

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tumblr girl. boyfriend! Sukuna x fem! black reader

synopsis: your bf fuck you on the couch.

warning: NSFW (MDNI), dirty names, creampie, quick foreplay, a little rough, fingering, creampie, think it’s all (emphasis on black reader but accessible for everyone!) /!\ old work and not proofread so if there are errors srry not srry.

words: 1696.

You’re lying on the couch, on your stomach, your phone in your hands as you scroll through Tumblr. Fanart of your favorite characters parades before your eyes, some so sexy and captivating that they make you smile. But, let’s be honest, none of them match your boyfriend, Sukuna.

Sure, he was a self-important jerk most of the time, but he had this tender and caring side that only you knew. He took care of you when you weren’t feeling well, with such gentle gestures and a look so protective that he made you forget all his annoying habits. Sukuna could be adorable… but only to you.

As your mind wanders, Sukuna comes out of the bathroom, shuffling his feet to the living room. A simple towel is tied around his hips, revealing his muscular torso, while his still wet hair falls messily over his face.

His gaze falls on you, lying on the couch. He could have said that he found you beautiful, with your freshly done braids framing your face, or the softness of your features shining under the dim light. But instead, he prefers to admire your big black ass barely covered by your little red shorts.

He gets all excited and feels his cock rise against the fabric of the towel. Shit, just seeing you like that is enough to make him hard. He moves closer to you and decides to slap your ass. You moan in surprise and pleasure.

"Sukuna..?", you turn around to put yourself on your back and your elbows but he gets between your legs quickly. He places his hands on your waist and carries you as if you weighed a feather then puts you on him.

"Fucking slut.. does it turn you on to dress like this to turn me on?", he looks into your eyes excitedly and his gaze drops to your big full breasts stuck in your little black tank top. You feel his cock throbbing against you.

"I didn't dress like this to-", he spanks your ass and forces you to look at him. "Are you sure baby? You shouldn't lie to me.", his voice becomes deep and low. You start to get wet, he's so sexy when he's turned on like this.

"I-... sorry." You look at his dick and put your hand on it. "How can I make up for it?" , you go up to his ear and you’re whispering sensually. You hear a slight grunt in his throat. "You’re such a slut."

He takes your hand and takes both of your wrists and places them behind your back." Do you really think I’m going to let you touch my cock so easily, honey?" he smiles viciously. He puts two fingers in front of your mouth. Open up baby." You open up straight away and suck those fingers and drool on them.

After he is satisfied, do not even take the time to remove your short and your panties that he pulls them on the side to reveal your little pussy wet that throbbing just thinking of the way he will fuck you. He smiles viciously and kisses you brutally.

"Are you already excited about me fucking you?", you whisper a weak ‘yes’ and look at him impactingly. He looks at you and pushes one of his thick and long fingers into your tight and wet little hole. His finger gets swallowed by your hungry walls.

He pulls you towards him and kisses you roughly as he slides a second finger in and pushes it deeper into you. You moan, your lips parting beneath his. Your back arches, your legs wrapping around him to pull him closer to you.

"Suku- sukuna mmhf…", you moan as you feel his fingers spread your wet walls and then suddenly he pulls his fingers out and puts them in his mouth. "You taste so good princess. I want to fuck you now." His eyes darken with desire.

"Please baby..", you whisper and look at him so excited. Shit, how could he hold back when you look at him like that, drunk on him when he just fucked you with his fingers. So what would it be like with his cock?

He releases your wrists and places his thumb on your needy clit and like little circles on it, enough to make you arch and moan. Then he pins you down and lies on top of you. You watch his cock hard against the towel that is soon to come undone.

“See how fucking hard you make me?” His voice is deep and low, husky with the desire to possess you. He looks at you and a small smile forms on his face. You’re so sexy and cute. You’ll be his downfall.

His hands remove your tank top and your full breasts come into contact with the slightly cold air of the room. Your black nipples harden immediately, they are so appetizing but now he just wants to fuck you.

Sukuna removes his towel completely and throws it into the room. His big horny cock finds place on your soaking wet pussy and stomach. His dick is so thick and long that during your first time you thought you were going to die.

"You want this dick baby?"

You nod, unable to answer. You want him inside you so bad. He smiles even more in satisfaction and a low laugh escapes. He could go crazy because of you. "Use your words babe.. do that or I won't fuck you. That would be a shame, wouldn't it?"

His gaze is stern and serious but you know he won't be able to pull back from fucking you. But you prefer to play along. "I want your dick so bad.. suku please??" Your tone is almost tearful and preachy. How can he resist you when you're like this?

“Good girl.” He leans down and kisses you roughly. His tongue forces its way into your mouth and dances with yours. You feel his cock rubbing against your wet folds. You can’t help but throb in anticipation. He pulls away from your lips and stands up.

He spits on his hand then goes back and forth on it to lubricate it. The tip of his length rubs and voluntarily tickles your little swollen clitoris which makes you moan then a semi-hard slap smacks your pussy which makes you scream in surprise.

“Suku-!” Small tears run down your cheeks. You feel his thick mouthful entering your velvety walls. Low grunts escape Sukuna’s throat. The feeling of your tight pussy is heaven to him.

"Fuck baby… your pussy is the heaven." His cock slides even deeper into you. You moan his name and incoherent things, the feeling is bliss. The tip of his dick hits your cervix making you whimper.

“You’re too deep..-” your words jumbled together, you already didn’t know where to turn. You got cock drunk so soon? He didn’t even start. “I.. Ican’t- can’t take it!” A small laugh escaped Sukuna’s lips. How ridiculous.

"Every time I fucked you you took my dick like a good girl, you took it, didn't you? Don't disappoint me baby-." He doesn't move while you get used to it and slides his hand over your warm skin to your chest. His fingers start to play with one of your sensitive nipples.

Small moans come out of your mouth. It feels so good. You lift your arms to put them on Sukuna's shoulders and pull him towards you. "You can move ‘kuna." He smiles then kisses you, his tongue invading your mouth and starting to move.

"Feeling good baby?" You don't even have time to answer that he places his hands on your hips and begins to thrust deep into you. Your eyes roll back on themselves and your nails dig into Sukuna's skin.

Your pussy tightens instinctively as his cock hits your cervix. One of his hands slides into your hair and pulls it back to kiss you full on the mouth, making you suffocate.

His other hand moves to your swollen little clit. His thumb teases your sensitive bud and presses on it making you moan and your back arch. Your legs shake under Sukuna's intensity. He's fast, rough and goes so deep inside you.

"You take me so fucking well, doll... you just wanted attention earlier when you said you couldn't take it, huh?" You shake your head, you meant it. He's so big sometimes- He laughs and smiles at you. "What should I do with you?"

"Kuna-" you moan and wrap your legs around his thick waist. He moves even closer to you and kisses from your ear to your collarbone. His hands cup your legs and place them on his broad shoulders.

His movements become more significant and deeper, making you lose your mind. Small tears leak from the stimulation. The couch begins to creak under his harsh blows.

"Sukuna, you’ree going to break the couuuch!" He doesn't answer and continues. He goes back to playing with your sensitive clit and spits on it. Fingers slip into your mouth and fuck your hot, wet mouth with them. All your holes are filled with Sukuna.

…

You're almost on the verge of cumming with Sukuna. Your pussy is getting tighter and tighter, throbbing even more. Sukuna's movements are becoming erratic; he's about to cum too. The couch creaks even more beneath you.

"I should break this couch once and for all." He sneers, saying this more to himself than to you. Your legs tremble on his large shoulders and your toes curl in on themselves.

"M’gonna cum!" You moan and scream his name. You're so close. You feel his veiny cock pulsing and pushing into you. The wet sounds of your squirting and his cream turn him on even more. It's so pretty to see.

"Cum for me babe." You cum and moan his name and Sukuna unloads his creamy load inside you and whispers your name like a prayer.

IM SO LAZY TO FINISH PROPELY SRRRYYY😭🙏

masterlist

requests: OPEN.

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bunnyinvanilla · 2 days ago

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hi angel!! dbf!price when a silly little boy comes to take us out for a date? would love to see it xx

dadsbf!john price doesn’t behave like he somehow owns the place, but he definitely behaves like he owns you, his best friend’s too young and sweet daughter. a raised brow and a questioning look are shot towards the main door when he hears someone knocking, piercing through the poor wooden door like one of his sharp rifles.

your sweet voice chirps from upstairs, yelling a “please get the door!” poor thing you’re still putting your shoes on, spraying perfume and wishing you were going on a date with john instead, your father’s too old best friend. so he stands up, lazily walks towards the door, like a mountain brown bear that strolls with outmost confidence of his surrounding,

his expression completely shifts, darkens even, when he opens the door to find a young, plain college boy at the front. he doesnt like him straight away. he looks too full of himself, too boring, too useless.

he narrows both of his brows now, frowning down at that frat kid, and though he was definitely too old and mature to be glaring down at a kid, he appeared very skeptical and menacing.

“wrong house,” he says it with a fake, almost sardonic smile, unapologetically. he shifts his position, crossing his arms and laying against the doorframe, expecting him to disappear right away. he looks scary, intimidating, with his huge, buff body and thick, dark facial hair. exuding confidence and outmost control.

the poor guy can only look up at him with a confused expression, trying to glance past those board shoulders that were blocking his view. “she gave me this address though,”

no manners, no greetings — john only chuckles, his mustache twitching, barely able to contain a wolfish grin. this guys definitely doesn’t have a chance with you. he’s tempted to tell him that you’re not even here. “not interested, kid.”

but the light tapping of your pink converse echoed behind his back, signaling you were walking down the stairs, quickly, like a jumping little rabbit, until you stopped to stand right next to him. “hi, sorry for making you wait,” you smile at the guy, a sweet and gentle smile, yet not taking enough space on your cheeks. john has seen you smile brighter, everyday you smiled like the sun itself. but now, it appears more polite that anything.

the guy only shrugs, giving you a charming smile that’s doesn’t make you blush. “it’s alright, your dad opened the door,”

at that, john’s jaw clenches, tilting his head in a not amused manner. his hand tickles with the need of punching his face, but he has to remain composed, as a soldier, as a captain, he’s used to facing the most difficult and challenging situations with calmness and composure.

“he’s not my dad,” you quickly reply, sensing john’s body growing stiffer — you smile again, turning towards john, glossed lips and strawberry perfume, adjusting your purse on your shoulder. your big eyes practically silently telling him how that guy was only a substitute for a date you couldn’t have with him. “see you later then, sir?”

“where are you going, doll?” not even acknowledging the guy in front of you, he takes a moment to admire your outfit, warm eyes tracing every inch of you.

“he just, wants to take me to the new ice cream place that has recently opened..”

now he glances at the guy, clearly unimpressed, suspicious and definitely not happy “does your dad know?” his voice sounds rougher than usual, deep and sharp. gruffness slipping from every word.

“yes, sir, it’s just ice cream” you reassure him, though your cheeks are already growing red, warm and flushed at his questions. why doesn’t he take you out then, since he doesn’t like the idea of you going out with a guy?

“i’ll get the car,” the latter says, casually humming and walking down the front porch, jingling his keys as he strolls towards a typical car college parking lots are filled with.

you mentally sigh, trying to remain optimistic about this date. you can’t help by feel nervous, your cheeks are a bright, flaming red and you’re gripping the strap of your purse tighter, somehow embarrassed about john seeing you going out on a date.

“uhm, w-well then i-“ but before you can open your mouth to say anything else, you feel your hand being taken and lifted towards john’s lips, who’s pressing a formal kiss on your palm. your heart flutters, like it always does whenever he kisses your hand, an habit he’s grown accustomed to since meeting you for the first time.

“be careful, doll, call old john if you need anything, or if you wanna get rid of him, ‘aight little one?” he grins against your hand, knowing well that if he can’t jeopardize your little date, he can make sure you’ll be thinking about him the entire time. he knows you need a real man, you need him.

he might not be able to indulge into you like he wants to, but you’re still his little girl nonetheless. he’s never been generous with his possessions, and since the first shy smile, you’ve belonged to him.

#john price #john price x f!reader #john price x female reader #john price cod #price x female reader #captain price x female reader #john price imagine #dads best friend #dadsbf john price #cod imagine #call of duty imagine

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sapphiccup · 3 days ago

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Lap dancing on Sevika.

Credits: @honeyboo-1 for the edited pics, @strangergraphics for dividers!

CONTENTWARNING: MDNI!!! Men dni, NSFW AHEAD! Sevika x reader quick drabble I think?, dominant/switch reader, switch Sevika, MAYBE doing the do with feelings maybe toys… the anality kind. Lots of smacking, back talk, more, if miss anything so be it. I DID NOT PROOF READ THIS! I genuinely just typed this in here and like I don’t even want to risk to deleting a paragraph on accident. Orange highlights are the lyrics from the songs. Okay enjoy.

Summary: Reader just felt like entertaining her girlfriend to a song she absolutely loves. Sevika tries her best to resist from turning into something else but does she fail? Idk, lets find out.

Song: Lowkey by Teyana Taylor ft, Erykah Badu💌🎼

Slipping your heel on, checking yourself out in the mirror, knowing fully well. Sevika is going to lose her shit, when she sees me in this. You were so excited, had to calm down though, or you’ll ruin your little plan. Which Isn’t really a plan just some mind game that you know your lover is fond of. And what other way to play that game, by your own rules, right? Why not do something unexpected for once? You saunter out of the master bedroom and straight towards Vika in the living area, where she sat in her comfortable chair, getting a moment to relax after one of her long missions. A certain mission that she would have no choice to take, that separates you both for a bit. Which both of you loathe to be away from each other for too long, yes space is needed in a relationship, but you both have that in your comfortable and safe house. A house that is most well kept, build with hard work, and love poured through the walls to make the perfect place that you both own, and proud of it too. The sound of your heels catches her attention, raising a brow at your sudden interest in her. Before, you were in the bedroom claiming to read, instead you come out in this lacey lingerie, a 3 separate piece of clothing that accentuates your breast, dresses your abdomen, see-through designed fishnets that could make crowds stop in unison just to get a peak of your legs, top it all off with some alluring panties that she is definitely not familiar with because let’s face it. She figured she seen them all with how energetic you’ve been with her, (Being with each other for 2 years, she’s noticed a pattern, ovulation weeks really has you both on edge, except that’s not the case.) She’s genuinely caught off guard by this black silked, lacey, curve astonishing getup you have on. Especially that it’s not ovulation week, something is suspicious, you want something, that had to be it, or…? Was this an apology for cussing out her boss on the phone and not letting her handle it? Or.. maybe Sevika is just confused on why you suddenly feel.. intrigued, to just simply— entertain her. You usually need a drink to calm your nerves around her. You still feel shy at times with her, because hello? You’re girlfriend IS FINE, and she doesn’t get it.. She’s oblivious to why you are still acting like you have crush on her, you are both are wa—-y past the crush stage, you were as if it’s the very first day that you both exchanged words again. Mind you, she also feels somewhat the same way being shy about some things you do, nonetheless she’s been around for so long that she couldn’t imagine you not being next to her at this point. So long that it is RARE that you catch her off guard. She opens her mouth, ‘bout to conjure up the words to ask for an explanation for this, she’s not mad just, extremely confused, she hates being confused. However, this is not that bad for once. You shush her before she even gets the chance to ask. She squints at you, as if you hard to see because, what the fuck you mean shush? She’s already complying though, man-spreading her legs a bit, watching you, ‘cause you are obviously up to something. You turn on your heels, walking away from her, drinking in the those clicks and clacks sounds that your heels makes, her heart beating double seeing you bend over, catching something shine in between your supple ass. Now she’s really confused, baffled even. When the fuck did you have the time to sneak around and-

A familiar song comes on, one of your favorites, you instantly are in a mood by the way your hips are moving in such a way reminds her of how much she loves how smooth you roll them, how you pick up the song so quickly into your personal rhythm that entrances her with ease. The lyrics spoke through your body, every swing, every step, your soul was definitely absorbing the vibe. You turn your head towards Sevika, giving her your famous sly smile, that prompts her to lean back in her chair, already knowing what exactly you want from her. Her silver eyes map around your desirable body, no your body of sweet remedy mixing so effortlessly with the sound of this woman’s hypnotic voice, that you love so much.

Ambling your sexy ass over to her, hands on hips, eyes that are hungry, comanding, telling Vika, that you want her to drink you in, as if you were the last drops of wine she’ll ever get, to sip you slowly, and carefully to let a single drop to waste, to savor every bit of you. Because no one, not one person on this earth has the luxury to enjoy you fully as she does. You got close enough for her to touch you, and she reaches her hand to pull you in. Yet, you smacked her hand away.

“Rude, why-“

“Be quiet, I’m in control now.” You respond voice coming out sultry and divine, the way her eyes slowly widened, you have never spoken to her like this, and she’s.. not conflicted, if anything she complied almost immediately hearing you talk like that. You got closer to her, and closer, raising a leg to each of her sides, straddling yourself on her lap, grinding your self on her, holding her shoulders with your freshly manicured hands, leaning back to the point where she could see the veins of your neck, your begging collar bone, that desperately wants to be licked, suck, and printed upon. Your breast almost pooling out of this gift wrap of a bra that Sevika needs to touch, feeling your soft pillowed tits, her ears were aching to hear that moan of yours. You rocked your hips to the womans voice, enticing Vika in a way that she’d punish you deliciously for.

‘This shit got me confused now, ‘fused now, ‘fused’

Your hips rocked to that lyric, lifting yourself back into her face, your eyes stuck on her silver ones, Sevika starring at you, watching you, feeling starved for you, and you were just relishing it. You leaned into her neck, blowing your air on her nerves, causing her to let out a low grunt. You were tempted to lick her neck so bad, but even you were holding back, trying your best to make sure you kept up with your promising energy, the kind of energy that you love that lingers in your blood stream. The power you hold with your words, your body, your entire. You loved it, and you love how much Sevika is responding to it. Instead of giving in to her desire you gave her a peck to her jawline. A stifled moan came out of her, you could tell she tried to not let it but it still had no choice, no choice to water your ego.

You took your time getting off of her, making sure your warmth was remembered with each slide of your plushed body, her body buzzing with white hot passion with every move you’d make. You didn’t leave for long though, sitting right back on her, back facing her, your ass against her crotch, gods she needed to pin you to a wall right now, and lick you all over with the way how your sugary sticky self was leaving permanent memories to her drooling particles. Her hands in fists, refraining for grabbing a full piece of your ass, the way it would feel so good against her palms, barely being able to grab your entire cheek, the way she could see your flesh still be able to peek in between through her fingers. Oh how she even tried her best not rut against your warm pussy that was so close to hers.

But, you just kept going…

‘Know you wanna eat it, but I can’t let you do that, ice cold ice cold’

‘See it all in your eye, know you want to vibe babe, but it’s too late. Sweet just like a starburst, make the start bust with toothache’

The beat to the song and her perfect words syncing up to way you’d make your ass twitch, making it move like water, dipin’ your self toward the floor, making your arch shine in Sevikas vision, you grabbed her hand to only grip slightly into your inner thigh, holding you with glass like care, making sure you don’t fall.

‘In the mornin’ like “Ooh, yeah” in the afternoon, “Ooh, yeah” Ima see you soo~on’

And you slid off her as if you like a snake, slithering off, downward to the floor, orbs focused in on you like prey, though you’re the one that’s easing your meal, getting her into the most feral, to enrich yourself for a great reward, prepared that she’s going to rip into you like a piece of candy, tasting your syrupped frenzy. Satisfyingly steady movement that you get into this cobra like yoga pose, gradually winding yourself back to face her, while splitting your legs open like scissors, her eyes following your heel land right next to her ankle. Sevikas captured rounds, traveling up to your face, catching your teeth latching onto your bottom lip, if only she could just pick you up, ravaging you, your lips, she’s caught herself being a bit jealous of you being able to bite yourself, but not her? You little vixen. Being this much of a tease wrapping her lust, coating it with your electrifying actions, definitely left an indelible mark on her brain. Slopping over to even get a bit closer to you.

‘Now what am I supposed to do? (youuu)’

Your fingers gravitated towards your mound, guiding it to slightly touch your lips, moving that same hand past it, never leaving your skin, your girlfriend anticipating your next move, as your finger went past your sternum, kissing your nipple, a slight moan coming out of you, you are still watching her watch you not daring to look away. Getting back up, but not off the floor, crawling towards her, kissing her clothed thick thigh, to her inner. Her breath becoming less normal and more rigid, your lips kissed her stomach, going higher to almost reaching her breast, before you even touched it, your eyes slit to hers.

“You want me?”

“Y-Yes”

You kept starring into her eyes to find any kind of doubt, none was there, you opened her button up, only bit to show her cleavage, kiss her tit, dragging your tongue on her warm curve. Low grunts, heavy breaths, making you feel drunk. You stopped. A pout coming from her, you rise from your knees, picking her chin up up.

‘But, dammit, you’re so fine. So, take me tonight. Now hold me(hold me).’

Pulling her to your waist, she barely could contain herself, you nodded, mouth agape, in synch with her spilling desire. She kissed it, savoring you, as the song ended

But crazy enough, that wasn’t it, it wasn’t done. She figured you only were going to do one song and another one played, her favorite song, now you’ve done it.

Song: The Beach by Giveon 📌🧸

“Yeah fuck that, I’m not going through that again, come here” she got up from her chair, picking you up, wrapping your legs around her waist, kissing you roughly, biting, and pulling your bottom lip, hungry for you, starved for you, longing for you. Carrying you with ease and kicking in the bedroom door. Pulling away from the kiss dropping you onto the bed, stripping her top off, throwing to gods know where, doesn’t matter she’s frustrated, and ready to take all of you in. Flipping you over so she can see all of your posterior.

‘But she doesn't run from right here. Lust, guns, drugs, violence. Lust, guns, drugs, violence, ooh’

“Do you have any idea, what you do to me, hm?”

Ahh, she dove right into you pussy, regardless of it being caged by these slutty clothes of yours, taking a rough yet soft bite of your lip, making you whimper with delight, this is exactly what you wanted to see, this side of her that playing with every atom of your being, gods could she get any more sexy?

“Mmf.. fuck! I knew—ah.. I knew you’d like this”

“Play with my head? No, I do that, you know that I.. do that. Since when you picked up on my schemes?, and to do it so..”

She rips the lingerie, revealing your wet, practically drenched lips, that were so eager for her, fuck she wanted to just grab her strap and go at it, but she would never put you through something that rough… unless.. you’d ask her. She took a long look at your twitching pussy, sopping wet from so much well spent time riling her up, pissing her off in the most stimulating ways.

“Infuriatingly.”

“Do you not do it, infuriatingly?”

“Smart ass” She said as she slap your juicy cunt, earning a loud drawn out moan, you gripped the sheets, smiling to yourself gnashing your teeth, if only she could see your face.. mmf.

“You ruined my clothes, bitch”

She slapped your ass this time. It was like you were asking for her to decorate your body with tempting bruises, that you were oh so pleading for, more as your dirty mind, and pussy were dying to have.

‘Oh, won't let you go, go, go (Ooh-ooh-ooh)

Won't let you go, go, go (Ooh-ooh-ooh)

Go, oh-oh, ooh (Ooh)’

“You must be out of your wits today, hm?”

“Am I?”

You backed up, grabbing her by your strong thighs and flipping her onto the bed instead, turning yourself over, straddling her lap. A dance of who will be on top today. Who will be, the one who loses this game of toss and turn.

Sevika breath was caught in her throat, it happened so fast that she didn’t know that you had already pinned her hands above her head.

“Or am I just that good at it? Better even.”

‘Whatever you want I'ma get it for you (Get it for you)’

She was almost proud of you with how you just took her under like that, obviously her cunt was whining too, ferociously in fact. Needing you to satisfy her importunate flooding appetite, strongly wishing you’d just fill her with your tongue already, clenching her walls on the squishy flesh, or even used her mouth, fuck she needs that so bad. Why the fuck are you not giving it to her already?

Why not? Why not play with your food, play with this infamous woman known for her tricks, her strong stature, her mind of a woman who knows how to read people so well it’s scary. Smart, in way that people doubt just because she doesn’t give them enough information for them to use against her, smart enough to know to always be strategic with the next, after the next… Why not take your time with someone who obviously has time enough to know better of so much?

‘Ooh, ooh, ooh, made me like this

Ooh, ooh, ooh, made me who I am

Say, ooh, ooh, ooh, 24th street

Ooh, ooh, ooh, made me who I am’

Because, why not? It’s tempting no? Give in to that temptation of what you really want. Tease her, stretch out her ball of heat that is flooding to the brim, undo her slowly like she’s never been undone before. Make her horny until she just loses all of her senses and guide her, guide this fierce woman to go at you like the lion she is. Bring it out of her.

“Admit it, Vika. You hate control.”

You ran a lazy finger down her well kept figure, your finger smoothing over every hard bump of her abs, reaching her happy trail, that you absolutely love riding your slick on, can’t get enough of your clit being stimulated over such a knee buckling sight, you sighed longingly remember how good it felt, your finger still taking its time to be satisfied at her contracting muscles, keeping eye contact well and locked, you were well versed of how much she enjoys your thirst for her.

“Oh yeah definitely I hate it so much, to have more chaos in my life I welcome it.”

She said rolling her eyes, yet her hitches of her breath are not fake.

“Baby, I think you’ve got me all wrong” your grip on her hands become loose for just a moment, she spots it then takes the opportunity, snatching it by the throat, as she usually does with any opening. Her hand rest on your hip, digging her digits in your skin. Pulling you rough towards her, slightly jerking you, to shake those tits of yours. Sevika bit her lip but only for a moment, watching your body react to her is a gift indeed.

‘Your mom told you about this side. It can get ugly’

“I love control.”

You already knew that though, you just want her to really get into it. To control more of your body, more of yourself, push you to the edge at her mercy.

“Oh? Then show me.”

Without sharing another word, she grabs you by your throat bring you down to her face, kissing you with rejuvenating energy, pour down her lust, her yearning for you, down your throat, like spiked liquids making there way down your lungs, taking in everything she has to offer.

‘Oh, won't let you go, go, go. Won't let you go, go, go. Go, oh, ooh…’

“Mmf, take me, take— ah, me right now.” You’d say between the kisses, this lights something deep within her that was already burning, not some little fire by a match, no a conflagration of urge of doing exactly what you just demanded of her.

“Fuck it.”

She lets out, shifting herself to get up to be at eye level, holding you close as she sits on the bed, finally, finally, she gets to play with your tits the way she’s been wanting, though she has a long way to to go with unclasping your corset, she still find her self licking, biting at the pooling flesh that desperately wanted out of this contraption, damn this contraption keeping Sevika away from your tits. She left hickeys on your breast as protest, soothing it with a lap of her tongue. Getting to the last clasp, and pop it goes, throwing it off the floor only to be met with a lacey bra.

She deadpans at it. Fucking evil.. evil clasps.

“You like torturing me, sweets?”

“Maybe? You like being tortured?”

She rolls her eyes not answering that, her smirk fails her though, already knowing that you immediately got her answer, cursing at her self in her head, and outloud a huff through her nose. Another round of clasp off of you throwing that bra across the room. Not wasting any time, she lapped at your perky nipples, rewarding herself hearing your pants, and whimpers. Kneading your other breast with her free hand, playing with your nipples were a ecstasy all on its own. Carefully touching the center, the part where it really turns you on, squirming in her lap, you rutting, and grinding her again, aching for her as she was for you in the living area. Taking both of her hands, smushing them together so she hungrily suck both at the same time, gods was she good at that, her silver eyes never leaving yours, yours not wanting to spare a glance at anything else, so in tune with each other, your pussy clenching at nothing as she sucked and licked at your pretty nipples, she couldn’t get enough of them. Never enough of you. Not ever. No matter how many times she tries to satisfy herself with you, it is never enough, she rather go at it for days. Enraptured by you and your stunning self, more than just your beauty, that brain of yours that just ticks her just right, asking her the right questions not the annoying ones, being dumb to make her laugh, cooking for her, and with her even though you argue sometimes over the silliest of things, ending up kissing over it, or taking over the kitchen while the other hugs from behind.

She stops, giving you this look.

“Mm.. Vika.. why’d y-“ you pouted but stopped looking at how serious she’s starring at you, your heart speeding up, your chest rising and falling.

“Yes, love?” You ask her to get her to say something, anything, you can’t help but let this heat that started with your ear, fully encapsulating your face completely, you scrunched your nose when you were in embarrassment, and there goes her toothy gapped smile.

“I love you.” She spoked

“I was going to say more, but you look so damn cute like that”

“Oh fuck you.”

“Fuck me then.” Your eyes widen, you hated how she can just switch just like that good gods it made you some stupidly inlove with her, your thoughts just stop all together, and she knows it! She fucking knows it and still does it, like a run on fucking gag. Gods she was so freaking-

Kissing you again, tenderly, slowly, you opening your mouth for her to access to, her long tongue wrapping itself against yours, wresting against each other, wrapping your arms around her neck, desperately trying to get closer to her as if your atoms were never truly touching.

Tenderly turning back to animalistic, grunting, and gripping, scratching her exposed back, you both dizzy for it, urging both of you to just break everything, Vika taking her hand, slowly down your abdomen, your skin prickling at her touch.

“Please touch me, I’m dying here.”

“So whiney”

“Hmph”

Her fingers find their way to your folds, gathering up your continuous bliss.

“All this for me? How sweet.”

You can’t even reply, the way she’s rubbing her digits against you, making you float, even before she inserted anything, just her voice, and those thick fingers of hers are enough. She was chasing those moans with little effort, gluttonous for em’ making your heat stir in ardor. Circling slow motions over your bundle of nerves, dedicating each swirl to make sure it feels perfect for your pulsating kindle.

“Vika I need your mouth please.”

“Hm… After all that teasing you think I should just-“

Lapping at your rouse, her skillful tongue putting in the work, you tussling her hair, messing it up, she doesn’t care though, mess it up all you like, she’s been down there for hours, enjoying every moan, mewl, pant, orgasm, especially your addicting arousal, drinking every bit, and unending leaks.

“Ah! N-need you, please.”

“Use—.. *lap* your words”

“Stick those fucking fingers in me.” She stopped, slapping your pussy once more, almost making you work up another orgasm.

“Please stick your.. thick fiingers in me..”

Before doing that she rolled you over on your stomach, wrapping her bicep around your neck, pulling you up with her, rocking both of your hips in rhythmic motion, fingers lacing with your dripping cunt.

“Thats more like it, now, mind telling me why the fuck you keep talking to me like that? Like I won’t punish you.”

“Is this really— nngh, punishment if I’m enjoying it?”

“Eh, pain is punishment enough, I don’t have it in me to..”

She inserts a finger into your weeping hole. Gasping from her sudden filling, gnashing your teeth, drool coming down your chin with each thrust. Your eyes feeling themselves roll behind your head, these thrust were rough and so filling, touching spaces that can’t feel the same if it were you. Hell, before Sevika came into your life you figured you’d always hate being fingered, be it yourself or someone else, but damn how she changed your mind forever. As long as it’s her.

“-Punish myself by lingering a begging touch that you’d enjoy. Your pleasure, is my pleasure, torturing myself would just be a waste of time, baby”

You found yourself clenching around her fingers already.

“Cumming already? Again?”

“Ah-, I can’t-.. I can’t help it Vika..”

She kisses your neck, cooing in your ear helping you arrive to your last orgasm for the hour, (and yes I mean hour, Sevika is definitely going to be getting her payback for your tease earlier, consensually of course. She knows when its too much for you and stops immediately. Every. Single. Time.)

An.) should I make a pt2? To finish what they started that is.

#sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika #sevika x reader fanfiction #sevika x reader smut #sevika x you #sevika x y/n #sevika headcanon #sevika drabble #little did she know I’m a nasty dog #didn’t expect to make this so long 🤷🏽‍♀️#sapphicscorner

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multific · 3 days ago

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Little Light in the Dark

Emperor Caracalla x Reader

Requested by: Anonymus

Summary: On a day when Caracalla’s demons weigh too heavily upon him, he unintentionally frightens his little girl.

It starts with a bad day.

The weight of the empire, the voices in his head, the ghosts of his past claw at Caracalla, dragging him into the depths of his own mind.

When the storm brews inside him, when the walls of his mind grow too tight, there is nowhere to run.

Today, it is too much.

The doors to your chambers slam open. Too loud. Too sharp.

Your daughter, a girl of four summers, startles from where she sits on the floor, clutching the wooden horse Caracalla made for her.

"Daddy?"

Her voice is small. Sweet. The kind of sound that should pull him from the storm, should anchor him.

But today, the storm is too strong.

"Where is my sword?" Caracalla growls, running a hand through his hair, pacing like a lion caged. "By the gods, must I do everything myself? I asked for it hours ago!"

His voice is thunder, shaking the walls, rattling the air. He knocks a vase down, allowing it to shatter on the floor.

And then, a small, frightened whimper.

Caracalla stills and turns.

His daughter is frozen where she stands, wide eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Her small fingers clutch the wooden horse tighter as if it could protect her from the storm wearing her father’s face.

The sight is a dagger to his chest.

He sees it all at once, the fear in her eyes, the way she flinched at his voice.

The same way he once flinched at his father.

His hands tremble. His mouth opens, but no words come.

He has done many things.

But never has he felt as much of a failure as he does in this moment.

"Sweetheart-" His voice is hoarse. Broken. But the damage is already done.

Before he can take a step toward her, she runs.

Straight into your arms.

---

You find Caracalla hours later, sitting in the dark.

His fingers tangled in his hair. He looks like a man cursed, haunted.

You know that look well.

You kneel beside him, voice soft. "She isn’t afraid of you."

He cannot hear you. "Did you not see the way she looked at me?" His jaw clenches. "I made my own daughter afraid."

You reach for his hand, threading your fingers through his.

"She’s just little, My Love. She doesn’t understand your... storms."

He exhales, long and shaky. "Then tell me, how do I make her understand?"

You smile softly, brushing your fingers along his cheek. "You don’t need to. She loves you, Calla. Love will always be stronger than her fear."

---

"Is Daddy sad?"

Your daughter’s voice is small, her little hands fiddling with your dress as she sits on your lap.

"Yes, Little One. Daddy’s heart is hurting today."

She frowns. Thinks hard.

And then, a small smile blooms across her face. "Then I will fix it!"

Before you can ask her what she means, she scrambles off your lap and runs.

Caracalla does not hear her coming.

Tiny footsteps patter across the floor.

"Daddy!"

A soft weight collides with him. Small arms wrap around his leg, squeezing as tight as they can.

His daughter clings to him, her little face pressing into his tunic. "I’m not scared. I love you, Daddy."

Caracalla stops breathing.

Slowly, he kneels. His heart pounds as he reaches for her, hands hesitant, as if afraid she might still flinch.

She doesn’t.

Instead, she laughs, climbing into his lap like she always has, little arms wrapping around his neck.

His arms tighten around her.

"I’m sorry, Little Love," he murmurs against her hair. "I never meant to scare you."

She pulls back, placing her tiny hands on his cheeks, squishing his face.

"Silly Daddy." She giggles, the sound so sweet it breaks something inside him. "You just had a bad day. But I love you lots and lots!"

And just like that, the storm inside him quiets. His eyes were clearer than ever.

His throat tightens.

He presses a kiss to her forehead, lingering.

"And I love you," he whispers, his voice raw and honest. "More than anything in this world."

His daughter beams, satisfied. "Then you should smile more, Daddy."

And when she boops his nose, both of them laugh.

That night, Caracalla does not sit alone in the dark.

Instead, he sits with you and his daughter, letting her cover his face in tiny kisses, letting himself be loved.

And for the first time in a long, long while, the voices quiet. His illness might not be healed, but with the two of you by his side, he is the happiest.

Tonight, there is only love.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

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v-eee · 2 days ago

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── jungkook x you

scenario: you and Jungkook used to be best friend until new female staff came into his workplace, Jieun. He has introduced you to her. Jungkook starts getting busy with his work and often cancel the usual food hunting night with you because he needs to work overtime with Jieun. You know Jieun doesn't like you because she has come to your cafe a few times and told you to stop texting Jungkook during his work hour. when you told him about that, he didn't believe you. Starting that day your friendship is not like it used to be.

(xi)

It was late in the evening when Jungkook finally pulled up near your café, like he always did after work. Three hours on the road just to see you—not once did he question it. But today, as he stepped inside, his stomach twisted at the sight in front of him.

You.

Laughing.

With some random guy.

The guy was tall, well-dressed, and had one of those annoyingly charming smiles. Tch. I’m more handsome anyway, Jungkook thought, crossing his arms.

But then, the guy leaned in slightly as he spoke to you, and you smiled—that smile. The one that used to be just for him.

Jungkook clenched his jaw and immediately turned to leave.

You noticed him and waved. “Jungkook! When did you—” But he was already heading for the door.

The evening air was colder than usual, the kind of chill that made people zip up their jackets and shove their hands into their pockets. Jungkook, however, couldn’t be bothered. He was too pissed to feel the cold.

Hands stuffed in his pockets, jaw clenched, he walked straight to his car.

Just as he reached for the door handle, he heard hurried footsteps behind him.

“Jungkook! Wait—where are you going?”

“Home.”

You blinked. “Wait, what? You just got here.”

He turned around, frowning as you rushed toward him.

In just a T-shirt, jeans, and your barista apron.

Jungkook immediately forgot he was supposed to be sulking. “Are you crazy? It’s freezing, and you’re running around like it’s summer.”

You huffed, rubbing your arms. “You were about to leave without saying anything!”

“That’s not a good excuse to catch a cold.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered, shivering slightly.

With an exasperated sigh, Jungkook shrugged off his jacket and threw it over your shoulders. You blinked as he pulled the collar up to cover your neck.

“Seriously, Y/N. Think before you run out into the cold,” he grumbled. “What if you get sick?”

You ignored his concern and instead asked, “Why were you leaving?”

He pouted. “Well… you don’t need me anymore. You’ve got Mr. Handsome over there.”

Your brows furrowed. “...What?”

“Nothing.” He turned back to open the car door, but you grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“Okay, what is wrong with you?” you asked, searching his face.

“Nothing.”

“You’re sulking.”

“I never sulk.”

You crossed your arms. “You literally sulked when I gave your ramen a three-star rating last time.”

He looked away.

You sighed, glancing back at the café. “Who even is this ‘Mr. Handsome’ you’re talking about?”

Jungkook let out a frustrated groan. “The guy you were just talking to!”

You blinked. “Him? Oh, he’s—”

“I don’t wanna know,” Jungkook cut you off, crossing his arms. “Look, if you’re happy with him, fine. I’ll just stop bothering you.”

Now you were really confused. “Bothering me? Jungkook, what are you talking about?”

He exhaled sharply, then blurted, “I’m jealous, okay?!”

Silence.

You just stared at him, processing.

Jungkook, on the other hand, looked like he immediately regretted his outburst. He ran a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze. “I didn’t wanna say it, but you’re so oblivious sometimes, Y/N.”

Your lips parted slightly. “You’re… jealous?”

“Yes.” He sighed. “Because I don’t like seeing you close with other guys. Because I like you, you idiot.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“…Oh.”

Jungkook finally looked at you, eyes searching your face. “That’s all you’re gonna say? ‘Oh’?”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous. “I just… I didn’t think you felt that way.”

He scoffed. “Seriously? I drive hours just to see you, stay in whatever random Airbnb you pick, and show up with medicine like the dramatic lead in those cheesy romance dramas you force me to watch—what did you think this was?”

“…I thought you were just really clingy?”

Jungkook groaned. “Oh my god.”

You giggled, and for the first time that night, his shoulders relaxed.

Then, with a small smile, you tugged on the sleeve of the jacket he had wrapped around you. “So… are you still gonna leave, or should I go inside and tell Mr. Handsome I’m taken?”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “Taken?”

You shrugged, smirking. “Well, you are acting like a jealous boyfriend. Might as well make it official.”

He scoffed, but the tips of his ears turned red. “Tch. Depends. How exactly are you planning to reject him?”

You grinned. “I could walk up to him and say, ‘Sorry, but I already have an overprotective, jealous guy who drives five hours just to see me.’”

Jungkook groaned, rubbing his face. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

You laughed. “So? What’s your answer?”

He sighed dramatically before giving you a lopsided grin. “Fine. I’ll stay. But only because I don’t trust your rejection skills.”

You rolled your eyes. “Right, because that’s the reason.”

He smirked. “Exactly.”

And just like that, sulky, jealous Jeon Jungkook was gone—replaced by the playful, annoying one you knew best.

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #fanfic #jungkook scenario #scenario #jungkook fanfic

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xaer1s · 1 day ago

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ㅤㅤ ─── pay the price ⸝⸝

[ 박성화 ] ─── COLLEGE AU!PARK SEONGHWA x FEM!READERㅤ·ㅤSYNOPSIS it started as a regular study session, where he studied and you didn’t, except it ended with being kicked out of the libraryㅤ·ㅤWORD COUNT 2.7kㅤ·ㅤWARNINGS nsfw!!, oral (m receiving), dom!hwa, est. relationship, pet names, hwa is mean, voyeurism (and yeah they’re caught. in the library), dirty talk, cursing, cum eating, fingering, hwa is a pusher!!, hwa is kinda using reader, not really proofread, lmk if missed anything & sorry for possible mistakes!! / ARCHiVE

금 hi sweeties, I wanted to try pushing myself with the word count now. imo the way i write now is just screams that i don't have patience. So this time i took the effort to not actually delete the draft once i didnt work on it and i just waited for motivation. i kinda rushed it and its just a bunch of everything but i hope you like it! I also know this is VERY not seonghwa but the original plan was about him anyways so i dediced to keep him! / check out NAViGATiON ・・・・・; ✉︎ message me on: @smnxi ; please reblog and follow if you like my posts! do not spam likes, or you'll be blocked, sorry! ♡

if you'd like to be a part of my taglist, fill out this form, dm me or comment on ONLY the rules post! / requests open!

You sat in the library, yet again, hunched over a really thick science book. The lines and words blur together, making it difficult to even keep your eyes open. You rested your head in your palms to prevent it from slumping onto the wooden table with a loud bang. A frustrated sigh escaped your lips as your feet bounced up and down, shaking the table vigorously without you realizing it.

As the warm sun dipped below the horizon, the small corner where you had retreated became undeniably uncomfortable. Your head spun from all the information you were eager to absorb in just a few hours, leaving your tired brain overwhelmed.

In any other setting, you would’ve found it endearing and beautiful to just gaze out the window at sunset, having its rays warm up your face and skin, coating you too in the gentle goldish color. Instead, squirming on a worn-out padded chair that was probably as old as you, your back aching and eyes burning while you scanned the pages.

Your index and thumb fingers fidgeted with the corner of the book, wishing deep in your heart you could just rip it straight out, crumple it up, and have it land in the trash bin. With great effort, you managed to turn the page instead, thinking twice if you really wanted to continue for the day or rest with the possibility of the failing your test.

Seonghwa, on the other hand unfortunately for you was nearing the end of his patience.

You both agreed on a small, shared study session, agreeing to help you out at the price of just enjoying your company while going through books. Your boyfriend sent frustrated glares and glances towards you which flew over your head like air.

“You should’ve said no.” His nose is buried in the books, not even sparing a single glance at you. When you don’t answer because the confusion blocks your brain, he continues, “To come with me to the library. Especially if you’re not gonna do anything useful.” Seonghwa placed his chin on his palm, his eyes judging you as one of his eyebrows arched up.

“You’re on the page you were like.. 23 minutes ago.” He said matter of factly and you were indeed.

“Yeah, because you said you’d help.” You quibbled further. “And I’m currently, waiting for that, help, Seonghwa.” He responded with a long, drawn-out "oh," clearly laced with sarcasm.

“Let’s see it then,” he said suddenly, a determined glint in his eye. He quickly adjusted his soft silver hair, tucking it behind his ear before encroaching on your personal space.

His gentle lashes fluttered prettily, seeming almost majestic under the rough white lamps. Deep brown orbs shone as he caught up on your topic, for the sake of tutoring you.

Out of the blue, his gentle voice called out, so caring and soothing but with a certain firmness. “You’re staring, sweetheart.” Two long fingers grazed the side of your face, barely even touching when a sudden sharp feeling of discomfort shot through you.

As his fingers grazed the side of your face in a fleeting touch, a sharp discomfort jolted through you as he playfully pinched your plush cheeks, tugging your head slightly to the side. A groan escaped your lips and your eyes snapped shut.

“What a shame that those beautiful orbs are not staring at the sheets.” A small peck soothed the stinging red spot on your skin, his hand straying over you in a faint caress. “Should we search for another book to keep my baby’s interest up, hm?”

And that did the work for you to follow him. Giving him the faintest attitude was quickly melted away every time tenderness crept into his tone. Practicing the greatest patience in your company was a challenge but with devotion, he learned how to control you just the right way.

Your eyes brushed over the titled edge of the books, but in reality, they did not show care even for the descriptions. Getting to the end of the scientific section at an incredibly fast pace. You rushed forward while the boy just sauntered behind you, pocketing his hands.

He was paying attention to you, knowing you couldn’t care less about finding a better book to study from.

“Nothing much here…” you mused, feigning a disappointed sigh. But in truth, you couldn’t be happier—this meant you might finally escape the confines of your study session, right?

However, the moment you turned your head to leave, you were met with dark eyes locking onto yours, the warmth of his breath fanning against your skin, igniting a blush that crept up your cheeks. Startled, you jumped slightly before quickly recomposing yourself, a faint chuckle escaping your lips in an attempt to mask the sudden rush of emotions.

“What?

“Keep this nonchalant attitude up and you’re walking out on that door..” He paused, nodding towards the brown, wooden exit door at the other side all while keeping the stern eye contact. “With your throat fucked raw.”

He wasn’t shy about his words apparently since there wasn’t a soul near you so what could even hold back his filthy tongue?

“I didn’t work for shit. For you to laze your ass around after I lectured you, hm?” Seonghwa asked with a small tilt of his head, just when you were about to pat him on the shoulder for his great pun and let out a good cackle together. “Now knock your sense into your small brain.. or I will.” He warns. “But there won’t be much thanks in it.”

This side of him is rare for to let it seep through his always collected, warm, and charming façade. You just stared into his eyes dumbly for a long enough period for you to feel his words sink in and their seriousness this time.

A nervous laugh made itself out of you, your attention darting around behind him -anything- to avoid his staring. The atmosphere felt intimidating now but mostly embarrassing, he didn’t do anything to force you to look at him, knowing you’d have to do it yourself in the end.

“You think I’m joking, do you?”

“Joking- haha… You’re not?..” the small, forced giggle halted down into an embarrassing silence, you sucked a breath through your teeth to ground yourself with a nod. “I knew that.”

“You did, my sweet, sweet smart girl?..” The outside voices faded away when he put a hand on top of your head, rubbing your hair just a bit to ruffle it before letting it rest on the back of your neck, urging you to close the remaining gap by yourself.

“Just like any sane person.. I charge for my services, too.” Added against your lips, breathing the same air, he pulled you into a rough kiss. His tongue darted out to lick at the seam of your mouth demanding entry which you gladly provided not showing an ounce of resistance.

“So be good and work hard for those grades, just like I work to tutor you.” By placing pressing on your shoulders with his arms, your knees buckled to the floor.

Little to no use with your resistance, there you were, kneeling right in front of his bulging crotch. “Hwa-”

“Shh.. do you see that?” He questioned, cooing while his own eyes took a look at his straining erection. “Yeah, that’s what you’ll take care of.”

“In the library-”

“In the fucking library, y/n.” He made you bite back on the remaining words of your sentence. Right hand fisting in your hair, the other roughly working to get rid of his annoying piece of clothing, pushing his pants just below his waist in the company of his boxers.

“Hurry.” He instructed, not-so-patiently waiting for you to take hold of him, stroking him to life. You looked unsure about your actions, almost as if you’d stop at any moment which you would’ve loved to, except the man’s hold on you didn’t let you budge. With small licks up the underside of his shaft with the flat of your tongue, you felt a twitch, his member finally growing in size.

Your hair held back in a makeshift ponytail, for some reason your muscles just seemed to resist at all cost. Seonghwa’s hold was a lot stronger, digits pulling on your roots and digging into your scalp, while his other hand held a firm grip on his heavy, pulsing cock.

“C’mon now.. we agreed, be a good girl already..” he tutted, intently watching as he smeared the white droplets oozing from his tip across your plump, parted lips.

Your heart hammered in your ears wildly, what if someone heard you or worse -saw you-. Seonghwa didn’t even bother to drag you to the restrooms, choosing a perfect spot behind the bookshelves. Still, passersby people could clearly take out to scene before them if they even catch a glimpse of what happening through the cracks between the books arranged carefully, yet messy enough to reveal everything-.

The man looked down at you like you were some kind of doll, exclusively for his pleasure. His actions and words are not gentle in any kind of way. Still, gazing into his orbs, his warmth embracing your body just made your cunt clench and weep under the confinement of your clothes.

His gentle fingers now holding your locks with anything but mercy, the more you try to pull away the more he’s pushing.

Paranoid, taking a swift look around, accidentally making eye contact with someone.

Crap, if they didn’t know before, they must know now. Hurriedly, you tapped on his waist, abruptly shaking your head and pleading for Seonghwa to let you up. He didn’t.

“Did they notice us?..” He drawled, voice strained with pleasure. You blushed, a mix of arousal and embarrassment flushing your cheeks. “You need that help, hm?” You did indeed, agree with a subtle nod. “Then just shut up..” He tipped his head back with a quiet snicker, the next groan higher with a few pitches. They didn’t just notice, they heard now.

Seonghwa didn’t care less if you couldn’t visit this library because of your dirty acts as it results in you being banned or just not going back anymore and the burning shame of being seen.

The delicate locks framing his face now swayed with every thrust his hips slammed into your used mouth. Throat aching and your lips pulsing. Feeling the salty droplets on your tongue, you knew he was close, he looked back down at your kneeling form. His hand which wasn’t occupied with moving your head, cupped the side of your face, the thumb gently brushing over your heavily squeezed down eyelids, encouraging you to open them.

“Look at me, doll..” Hwa called out as you weren’t able to comprehend the hint. Your ears ringing and your brain is a complete mush. When you locked gazes, a devilish grin stretched on his face at the exquisite sight of you so fucked out, salty tears stung the corner of your eyes, throat contracting around his invading member, eliciting a muffled cough.

Pearly white droplets dripped on your chin, creating a hardly audible thud sound as it came into contact with the black carpeted floor underneath. Gulping down the generous load, swiftly wiping away the excess.

“They caught-”

“Like I give a single fuck..” Tucking himself back in no time, sweeping his clothes with his palms across his body, he was ready to go, not like you. You, who still sat on your knees, your throat sore, body flushed hot.

Letting out a drained sigh, he gave a small tap under your chin with his middle and index finger. “Collect yourself.” You seemed so shameful, embarrassment filling your veins, your hands and legs trembling just the right amount.

The fire you saw a few seconds ago completely dissipated into thin air, two hands hooked under your arms to roughly make you stand back on your own two legs.

“Seonghwa- we- we really should go..” You stammered, head turning left and right, leaning to peek past the shelves if the person was still around. There was no one, yet you couldn’t shake off the feeling of what if they came back and you’d get into trouble?

“No.” He responded curtly. “Not until I say we do. Now turn.”

“What-”

“Just turn the fuck around.” And before you could even do as he said, he handled you himself, your face coming into contact with the wall, keeping yourself on your palm. “Is my baby this dumb? She doesn’t even understand the basics.. poor little girl..” Leaning in right next to your ear, blowing a warm stream of breath on your nape, having goosebumps rise all over you.

He soothed the rough action of his left hand on the back of your head, gripping your hair to push forward, making you squeeze your face against the cold surface, a whined out disagreement leaving you.

“Either you gonna stay quiet or everyone in here will know what we’re up to, your choice.” Stay quiet? What for? What is he gonna-

A strangled gasp escaped you, his right hand shoving itself inside your pants, cupping your sex through your underwear. The heel of his palm and fingers rubbing insistently as the heat between your legs slowly.

“You want to go? Like this? What a whore. You’d enjoy making a mess of your goddamn panties in the streets, huh?” His index finger pulled the soft cotton away to the side, three pads of his digits easily gliding through your folds, your slick helping the slide.

He snickered at your pleasured expression, cheeks dancing in deep red and your brain unable to form a coherent sentence at this point, —so he pushed you further— his soft pads wrote down shapes on your clit gently before delivering a small pinch to the sensitive bud, making you purposefully moan out just a bit louder, mingling with your barely audible pants.

Feeling the pulsing grow between your legs, he sneakily pushed two fingers inside your sopping hole, while his thumb continued the maddening circling.

“So pretty.. do you think others hear you too?” Just the simple thought of what he said was true, had you clench around him and causing him to let out a low groan at the feeling. “Does this make you excited?”

There was no point in denying it to him; you gave Seonghwa a small nod as his left hand moved to encircle your waist the moment he sensed your hips twitch and struggle. His thrusts quickened, the silence between the white walls was so loud, the squelches hearable like screams, yet you didn’t care. You hopelessly chased your orgasm, which Seonghwa eagerly pushed you towards, having your knees trembling.

“You’re doing so good, darling.” Pumping faster and eliciting higher-pitched sounds from you: his biggest concern was now you. Free hand pressing on your mouth in a futile attempt to keep your moans at bay, eyes rolled back and closing to embrace the pleasure. Your walls clenched and fluttered around his fast pumping fingers.

“So close, baby.. let go for me..” He encouraged in faint whispers between nibbles on your neck, curling his fingers just right and hitting the spot, sending you hurtling over the edge, making you shake apart in his arms as he worked you through your high steadily.

When the intense waves of pleasure faded, he was quick to free his hand from your panties, digits prodding at your mouth.

“C’mon, clean it.” Before you could protest, he simply pushed in his fingers, waiting to have your tongue swirl around them but seeing him not letting up, you did what he asked for.

Now, after he made an even bigger mess in your underwear, calming yourself by taking a few, deep breaths to steady out your panting, Seonghwa quickly dragged you back to the table you carelessly left minutes ago, gathering both of your stuff and throwing his bag over his shoulder while carrying yours. Your heads hung low, feeling a few pairs of eyes on you burning holes in your back.

In a few strides, you stepped through the door, shutting it close behind him before exchanging a glance of not coming back to this place, ever.

plagiarism is strictly forbidden, do not translate my works, copy them or publish them on another site ; @xaer1s

#aeris writes ❀ ˚. ᵎᵎ #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez smut #ateez x reader #park seonghwa #seonghwa smut #ateez scenarios #ateez seonghwa #park seonghwa fanfic #park seonghwa x reader #ateez park seonghwa #park seonghwa scenarios #ateez seonghwa smut #ateez seonghwa x reader #ateez smut oneshot #ateez seonghwa oneshot

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lostintrost · 3 days ago

Text

Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy

masterlist | kinktober m.list

characters: cowboy jean kirstein x female!reader

summary: the bonfire at your family ranch gets interesting when one of your dad’s cowboys, jean kirstein, decides to join the group after work. with a little liquid courage, your decide it’s time to make your move on him - and hope that nobody catches you.

contains: omg uhm where do i start? cowboy jean (HOOOOOT AS FUCK), the word darlin’ maybe a lil too much, oral sex (female receiving), jean on his knees (hope my screaming didn’t bother you), fingering, jean and another character with southern drawls, they obviously get caught doing the deed, the use of good girl at least once, that’s all i can think of at the moment ENJOY <3

wc: 7.4k

ao3 | wattpad

The fire crackles low and lazy, its amber glow dancing off the weathered faces of family and friends scattered around the bonfire. It's tradition—every summer, the ranch opens its arms to neighbors, cowboys, and anyone passing through with a good story to share. Tonight, the air's heavy with the scent of mesquite smoke and charred meat, laughter rolling into the star-punched sky like it has every year.

You're nursing your bottle of whiskey, letting it's heat settle low in your stomach as conversations and laughter roll around you. The bonfire's crackle blends with the chatter of voices, but it's all just background noise until you hear that familiar drawl.

"Sorry I'm late, y'all."

The words cut through the night, smooth and unhurried, and you can't help but turn toward the sound.

Jean's sauntering over from the stables with that tired, satisfied slouch of a man who's spent the whole day working the land.

His button-up shirt, a faded denim blue, clings to his toned chest, the fabric stretched just enough to hint at the muscle beneath. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, exposing forearms corded with strength and dusted with golden tan. His jeans are smeared with dirt and worn from hard work, but it's the way his Wranglers hug his legs, all snug over his thighs and hips, that really holds your attention. The hint of sweat at his collarbone only adds to the rugged, effortless appeal that's been driving you crazy for months.

He gives your dad a polite nod, murmurs something low you can't quite catch, but it's the way his gaze sweeps over the group before landing on you that makes your breath catch.

Instead of joining the group, he settles himself on a log just outside the main circle, far enough away to keep his distance but close enough to watch everything. You can't help but notice the way he stretches his legs out, leaning back on his hands like he's trying to take up as much space as possible. He's too damn comfortable for his own good. Or maybe yours.

A little liquid courage burns warm in your veins. It's enough to push you to your feet and make your way over, cheeks flushed more from nerves than the heat.

"You finally decided to join us," you say, sinking down beside him on the log. Close enough for your knee to brush his. Close enough to see the glint of curiosity that flares in his gaze.

"Couldn't leave you all to have fun without me," he drawls, voice like gravel dipped in honey. "Figured I'd at least get a drink out of it."

"Well, you've missed most of the beer, but there's whiskey left. If you can handle it." You tilt your head, watching his expression shift—half-amused, half-challenged.

"Oh, I can handle a lot more than whiskey, darlin'."

The words settle low in your stomach, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him, searching for a hint of teasing. Jean's gaze doesn't waver, and there's a spark of something dangerous in it. Something that tells you this might be the night you've been waiting for.

From the way his gaze lingers a little too long on your mouth, you think he's been waiting for it, too.

You're not sure if it's the whiskey or the way Jean's gaze feels like it's burning straight through you, but you don't look away. Instead, you let the corners of your mouth curve up, just enough to hint that you're playing along.

"Guess you'll have to prove it," you say lightly, tossing the challenge back at him.

Jean huffs a laugh, low and rough, but his eyes are locked on yours like you've got his full attention. Around you, the others are wrapped up in their own conversations, their voices drifting like background music. Nothing but noise.

Wordlessly, you hold out your whiskey bottle, the glass cool against your palm. His gaze flickers to it, then back to you, something curious and hungry sparking in his eyes.

He takes the bottle from your hand, his fingers brushing yours for just a second before he lifts it to his mouth. His throat works as he takes a long, slow swig, the motion somehow just as captivating as the way his eyes never leaves yours.

"Smooth," he says, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, his eyes still on you. "Not bad. But I think you're the one who's got something to prove."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"That you can keep up."

The words are casual, but the glint in his eye is anything but. And damn if you're not ready to rise to the challenge.

"Think you've got me figured out, huh?" you say, voice low enough that only he can hear. You lean in just a little, the warmth of the fire mixing with the heat radiating off him.

"Maybe," he says, his drawl thickening like he's letting his guard slip, bit by bit. "Maybe not. But I reckon I'm startin' to."

He looks at you like he's daring you to push him further. Like he's hoping you will.

You reach for the bottle still in his hand and take a swig. It burns down your throat, but you barely feel it over your pulse thudding hot and heavy beneath your skin.

"Maybe I'll let you figure me out then." The words fall easy from your lips, but they hang there between you, challenging him to do something about them.

Jean's smile is a slow, wicked thing. "Careful now, darlin'. A line like that might get you into trouble."

"Maybe I like trouble."

And there it is—the truth you've been dancing around for months now, finally laid bare between the crackle of the fire and the low hum of voices just feet away. You can feel the shift between you, something that leaves your mouth dry and your skin buzzing.

Jean glances up at the other's, a quick, instinctual check to make sure nobody's paying attention. The others are lost in their own worlds, oblivious to the game you and Jean are playing.

His hand drops to your knee, casual enough to look innocent if someone happens to glance over, but the weight of it feels anything but. His thumb traces a slow, lazy circle over your jeans, like he's testing the waters.

"Still feelin' brave?" he murmurs, his voice pitched low and dangerous.

"I guess that depends," you breathe. "Are you finally going to do something about it?"

Jean's eyes darken, his fingers tightening just slightly against your leg. "Maybe we oughta take a little walk. Unless you're too chicken to be alone with me."

You're on your feet before he's even finished talking.

"Come on, cowboy," you toss over your shoulder, catching the flicker of surprise in his gaze before it turns into something more eager. "Let's see if you can keep up."

You lead him away from the bonfire, his footsteps crunching softly over the dry grass as you wind your way toward the edge of the property. The glow of the fire shrinks to a faint orange flicker behind you, the noise and laughter fading to nothing but a distant hum.

Your destination is one of the old barns, a relic left to weather and rot, mostly forgotten and unused. You know the ranch hands sneak off here sometimes when they want to drink in peace or play cards out of your dad's watchful eye — and tonight, it's exactly the kind of quiet, out-of-the-way spot you're looking for.

One of Jean's hands finds the small of your back, his touch light but steady, guiding you along like he's already made up his mind about how this night is going to end. The warmth of his fingers against you sends a shiver straight through your skin, anticipation curling hot and restless in your belly.

When you slip inside of the barn, the night's suddenly quieter, the air cooler, and the only sound you can hear is Jean's steady, deliberate breathing. And your own, a little faster now.

"Looks like I've got you alone, after all." he says, his voice a low rumble that curls down your spine.

You lean back against the rough wooden planks, cool against your flushed skin, and Jean's standing just a breath away, eyes locked on yours with a look that's almost predatory. Not harsh—more like he's savoring this moment, drawing it out just to watch you squirm.

"You sure you know what you're askin' for, darlin'?" he murmurs, his voice as smooth as the whiskey still lingering on your tongue. "Because once I start, I'm not gonna be easy to stop."

"Who said I wanted you to stop?" you fire back, but your voice trembles just enough to make his grin widen. That slow, knowing smile of his sends another rush of heat rolling through you.

"Bold. I like that." His hand rises, knuckles grazing your cheek with a touch so gentle it feels almost reverent. But there's nothing innocent about the way his thumb skims over your bottom lip, dragging it down just enough to make your breath catch. "Been thinkin' about this, you know. About you."

The confession steals your words, leaves you staring at him like you're trying to read every filthy little thought he's had about you. Because God, you've had more than a few about him.

"Funny," you manage, your voice softer now. "I've been thinking about you, too."

He hums, like he's pleased with your honesty. "Then I guess we're done with all that thinkin', huh?"

Before you can answer, his mouth is on yours. Not rough, not desperate. Just thorough. Like he's been dying to take his time with you and he's damn well going to enjoy every second.

His lips are warm and teasing, coaxing rather than demanding, and it makes your head swim. Your fingers tangle in his shirt, pulling him closer until his body presses against yours, solid and unyielding. The smell of leather, sweat, and something distinctly Jean fills your senses, leaves you feeling heady and reckless.

He kisses you until your knees feel weak, until you're arching up against him just to get a little more. And when he finally pulls back, you're both breathing harder, the space between you gone but still not enough.

"Just like I thought," he says, his voice roughened by desire. "You taste even better than you look."

The compliment makes heat flare in your belly, but it's his hands that really do you in. One slips around your waist, tugging your hips against his. The other wanders lower, fingers tracing the waistband of your jeans with a touch that's far too casual for what it's doing to you.

"Been wonderin' what you'd feel like," he continues, his breath hot against your ear. "How sweet you'd sound when I finally got my hands on you."

You swallow hard, your pulse thrumming in your throat. "Guess you should find out, then."

He chuckles, the sound rich and pleased. "Guess I should."

His hand slips beneath your tank top, calloused fingers gliding over bare skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You gasp at the contact, and his mouth is right there again, swallowing the sound with another slow, devastating kiss.

His hands slide up, taking the hem of your shirt with them, his touch firm but unhurried. He breaks the kiss just long enough to tug the tank top over your head and toss it aside, leaving you standing there in jeans and bra.

"Damn," Jean breathes, his gaze raking over you with such blatant appreciation it leaves your skin burning. His hands find your waist, then slide up to your ribs, his thumbs brushing along the underside of your breasts like he's testing your reaction. "You're fuckin' gorgeous, you know that?"

You barely have time to catch your breath before his mouth is back on you, lips tracing down your neck, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin. He trails kisses lower, his mouth finding the tops of your breasts, his hands sliding up to cup them through your bra.

"Been wantin' to get my hands on you like this for so damn long," he admits, his voice muffled against your skin. "Feels even better than I thought it would."

His thumbs drag over your nipples, slow and deliberate, the friction just enough to make you whimper. The wicked smirk that curves his lips says he knows exactly what he's doing. And when he tugs the cups of your bra down, baring you completely, his mouth is on you in an instant.

"Jean—" His name spills from your lips as his tongue flicks over one nipple, then the other, his mouth hot and greedy as he sucks and nips, alternating between gentle and rough until your chest is heaving and your nails are scraping over his shoulders.

"Sweet as honey," he rasps, his lips brushing over the curve of your breast before his mouth crashes back to yours, all heat and hunger. His hands roam over your body like he's trying to memorize every inch of you, fingers tracing over your bare skin and leaving sparks of pleasure in their wake.

"Been dreamin' about this," he murmurs against your mouth, his voice thick and low. "Touchin' you. Takin' my time with you."

He palms your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples with that same slow, teasing precision that's got your breath stuttering. The way he watches you, like he's savoring every little reaction, has your pulse pounding even harder.

"God, Jean," you gasp, your back arching as his mouth dips lower again, teeth grazing over sensitive skin before he soothes it with his tongue.

"Easy now," he says with a crooked grin, his breath warm against your chest. "Ain't no need to rush. I'm plannin' on enjoyin' this."

His mouth stays right where it is, trailing over the soft skin of your breasts with maddening precision. His lips brush over the curve of one, then the other, his tongue flicking over your nipple before sucking it into his mouth with a slow, deliberate pull.

You whimper, your back arching into him, and Jean's hands tighten on your hips, steadying you as he keeps working you over with that same, unhurried determination. His thumbs continue to tease your nipples, rolling them between his fingers until pleasure curls low and hot in your belly.

"God, you're sensitive," he murmurs, his voice thick and hungry as his mouth moves from one breast to the other, paying each equal, devastating attention. "Could stay right here all night."

His hands never stop moving, fingers tracing down your sides, over the curve of your hips, and back up again to cup your breasts like he can't get enough of touching you. The way he's looking at you, like he's memorizing every little reaction, has your head spinning.

"Jean, please..." you manage, your voice wrecked and pleading.

"Patience, darlin'," he drawls, though his own voice sounds strained. "I wanna take my time with you."

Even as he says it, his hands start drifting lower, fingers trailing down your stomach before finding the button of your jeans and popping it open with a casual ease that leaves your breath hitching.

"Still feelin' brave?" he asks, the challenge clear in his voice.

"Brave enough to make you hurry up," you bite back, even if your voice is embarrassingly shaky.

Jean just chuckles. A low, delicious rumble that makes your stomach twist. "Now, now. Patience." His fingers hook in the waistband of your jeans, dragging them down just enough to make you shiver. "Good things come to those who wait."

You can feel his smile against your neck, that teasing confidence of his like a dare you're desperate to take. And when his hand finally slips between your thighs, his touch firm and knowing, you nearly lose your damn mind.

"Yeah," he drawls, his voice thick and low as your body arches into his touch. "Just as soft as I thought. So damn perfect."

Jean's fingers work between your thighs with a skill that leaves you trembling. He's not just touching you—he's learning you, testing what makes you gasp, what makes your hips twitch against his hand like you're trying to get closer, trying to pull him deeper.

"Easy there," he chuckles, voice thick and honey-smooth. "Didn't think you'd be this needy already. What's got you so worked up, darlin'? Just me?"

You bite your lip, trying to smother a whimper as his fingers press more insistently against you, slipping beneath the fabric with a confidence that leaves your head spinning. "You're such an ass," you manage, but the breathlessness of your voice ruins the bite.

"Maybe," he murmurs, lips brushing your ear as his fingers find the wet heat waiting for him. "But you like me like this, don't you?"

Your only answer is a strangled moan when he slides one finger along your slick cunt, the teasing touch driving you out of your mind. He's grinning—damn him—because he knows exactly what he's doing.

"God, you're already so wet," he says, like it's the best compliment he could ever give you. "All for me?"

"Jean..." His name is a plea, low and desperate, and he clearly loves the way it sounds falling from your lips.

"Shh, I got you," he soothes, his voice all honeyed drawl and dangerous intent. "Just let me take my time, darlin'. Been thinkin' about this for too damn long to rush it."

You want to argue, to tell him that if he drags this out any longer, you're going to lose your mind. But then he's sliding a finger inside you, slow and deliberate, and every coherent thought scatters like leaves in the wind.

"Fuck," you gasp, your back arching against the barn wall. The rough wood scrapes against your shoulders, but you can barely feel it over the way Jean's touch makes your whole body thrum.

"Just like that," he murmurs, his eyes locked on your face like he's cataloging every little reaction. "You feel so damn good. You know that?"

"Jean—"

"Yeah, darlin'?" His voice is all smug satisfaction, his thumb circling over your clit with just enough pressure to make your knees go weak.

"You're—" The words stick in your throat when he adds a second finger, stretching you with that same slow, relentless thoroughness that's making you crazy. "You're such a tease."

He chuckles, the sound rumbling against your neck where his lips are grazing over your skin. "Maybe. But from the way you're fallin' apart on my hand, I'd say you don't mind too much."

He's not wrong. You can't even pretend to argue when he starts pumping his fingers in and out, each stroke sending ripples of pleasure curling through your body. His thumb never stops its lazy, devastating circles, and it's enough to have you grinding your hips against his hand, chasing the friction he's giving so generously.

"Look at you," he whispers, his voice gone rougher now, strained like he's barely holding himself back. "So damn pretty when you're like this. Could watch you fall apart all night."

You're already on the edge, trembling and panting, his words only making it worse. Better. Both.

"Jean, please—"

Your voice is nothing but a broken plea, and Jean's eyes flick up to meet yours, that wicked smirk spreading over his lips.

"Could listen to you beg all night," he murmurs, but then he's sinking to his knees in front of you, his hands gripping your hips to hold you steady.

Before you can catch your breath, his mouth is on you, his tongue gliding over your slick folds with a hunger that leaves your head spinning. The first hot, greedy swipe over your clit has your fingers tangling in his hair, tugging hard enough to drag a groan from his throat.

The vibration only makes the pleasure coil tighter, your hips jerking against his face as he works you over with that same maddening precision. His tongue circles your clit, flicking and sucking until your thighs are trembling around his head.

"Fuck, Jean—" you gasp, your voice wrecked and desperate.

His fingers keep pumping into you, slow and relentless, matching the rhythm of his mouth as his tongue plays with your clit, teasing and stroking until you're damn near sobbing.

"Look at you," he growls between kisses, his voice thick and smug. "Fallin' apart on my tongue. Tastes even better than I imagined."

You can't think, can't even breathe properly. All you can do is cling to him, your nails scraping over his scalp as he drags you closer and closer to that breaking point.

Your fingers stay buried in his hair, tugging every time his tongue circles your clit just right. And judging by the low, greedy sounds rumbling from his throat, he fucking loves it.

"Shit," you gasp, your voice splintered and breathless. "So fucking good."

He groans against you, the vibration sending another shock of pleasure straight through your core. His fingers curl inside you, finding that perfect spot that has your hips jerking forward, your knees damn near giving out.

"Yeah, that's it," he murmurs, his voice thick and wrecked between his filthy kisses. "Knew you'd be sweet, but fuck—you're somethin' else."

His tongue drags over your clit again, flicking and sucking in a way that's downright obscene. His pace picks up, his fingers pumping into you harder now, matching the desperate rhythm of his mouth. It's relentless, overwhelming, and exactly what you need.

Your body's already coiling tight, every nerve stretched to the breaking point. The sounds you're making are shameless, echoing in the quiet night air, but you can't bring yourself to care. Not when he's dragging you closer and closer to the edge.

"Jean, I—fuck, I'm gonna—"

"Do it," he growls, his breath hot and desperate against your cunt. "Come for me, darlin'."

His mouth seals over your clit, his fingers driving into you with just the right amount of roughness, and that's all it takes. Pleasure crashes through you, ripping a ragged cry from your throat as your body clenches tight around his fingers. Your thighs tremble around his head, your fingers tugging hard at his hair, but Jean doesn't let up.

He keeps working you through it, his mouth and hands dragging every last drop of pleasure out of you until you're nothing but a shaking, breathless mess slumped against the barn wall.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice a low, satisfied rumble as he finally pulls back. His chin's glistening, eyes dark and hungry as he looks up at you. "Fuckin' beautiful."

He rises to his feet slowly, his body pressing against yours again, and his mouth crashes over yours in a kiss that's all heat and desperation. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and somehow, it only makes you want him more.

A broken whimper slips from your throat, the sound raw and needy, and Jean's eyes darken like he can feel your desperation pouring off you.

"What do you need, darlin'?" he murmurs, his voice low and taunting, like he's enjoying drawing this out just to watch you squirm.

"I need you," you gasp, your fingers clutching at his shoulders like you can't stand another second of waiting. "Inside me. Now."

His eyes flash with hunger, his smirk turning wicked. "Good girl."

His fingers slide free of you, and he's already pushing your jeans and underwear down your legs, his hands trembling just enough to make you smirk. He kneels to tug off your boots one at a time, his touch almost careful before he sets them aside. Then your jeans and underwear are gone in one swift motion, and he tosses them on top of your boots without a second thought.

"Who's the needy one now?" you manage, voice all ragged edges.

"Maybe I've been a little desperate myself," he admits, his voice gruff as he yanks his belt open. "Thinkin' about this. About you."

Your hands slide up his chest, fingers tracing the lines of muscle through his shirt before reaching for the buttons. You fumble with them, a little too eager, but Jean just smirks, his hands dropping to your waist to give you space to work.

"You're killin' me here," he mutters, but he doesn't stop you. Just watches, eyes hooded and hungry, as you work each button free, exposing more of his sun-bronzed skin. You push the fabric off his shoulders, letting it slide down his arms, and your hands are back on him before the shirt even hits the ground.

His skin is warm under your palms, firm and a little rough from days spent working under the sun. You trail your fingers down his stomach, tracing the faint line of hair that disappears beneath his waistband. Jean hisses a breath through his teeth, his hips giving a little twitch against yours.

"Goddamn," he breathes, and that's all the warning you get before he's shoving his jeans and briefs low enough to free his cock, thick and already aching.

You reach for him, wrapping your hand around him and giving a slow, deliberate stroke that makes his breath stutter.

"Fuck, darlin'," he groans, eyes fluttering shut for half a second before they're back on you, burning hot. "If you keep doin' that, I ain't gonna last."

"Then you better hurry up, cowboy."

A strained, breathless sound escapes him, but there's a flicker of hesitation tangled up with all that hunger. "Shit. Just one problem, darlin'. I ain't got a condom on me."

The admission sends a jolt of surprise through you, but it only makes your pulse pound harder.

"I don't care," you say, the words slipping out before you can second-guess them. "I need you. Now."

"Fuck," Jean breathes, his voice gone rough and desperate. "You sure?"

"Yes." Your fingers curl into his bare shoulders, your eyes locked on his. "Please."

A shaky breath leaves him, his gaze burning as he reaches down to grab his discarded shirt from the dirt. Without a word, he drapes it over your shoulders, the worn fabric shielding your back from the rough wood.

"Can't have you gettin' all scraped up, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice still rough and wrecked. "Ain't lettin' some splinters ruin this."

Before you can even respond, his hands are on you, grabbing your thighs and hoisting you up against the barn wall with a strength that leaves you gasping. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, the heat of his body pressing into yours as his gaze locks on yours.

"You ready for me?" he asks, and there's a softness beneath the heat—like he needs to be sure.

"Yes," you breathe.

He pushes into you slowly, inch by torturous inch, like he's savoring the feeling of you stretching around him. And the stretch burns in the best way, your body clinging to him, desperate to take him deeper.

"Goddamn," he groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. "You feel so fuckin' good."

You clutch at his shoulders, nails digging in as he starts to move, pulling back only to thrust in again, a little harder this time.

The worn fabric of his shirt presses between your skin and the barn wall, but all you can feel is him—filling you, dragging pleasure out of you until you're panting against his neck.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice breaking on a groan when you clench around him. "Take me, gorgeous. Just like that."

He starts a steady rhythm, his hips rolling into yours with a precision that leaves you gasping, the pleasure building sharp and heavy in your core. And just when you think you might break apart, he adjusts his angle, hitting something inside you that sends a shockwave of heat tearing through your veins.

"Jean, fuck—"

"Yeah?" His voice is all gravel and honey, and you can tell he's barely holding on himself. "Fuck, darlin'."

His name falls from your lips like a prayer, your fingers digging into his shoulders, clinging to him as his rhythm drives you higher and higher. The world's narrowed down to just this—his hands gripping your thighs, his body pressing you into the wall, the way he fills you so perfectly you feel like you might shatter.

"That's it," he rasps, his breath hot against your neck. "Just like that. Take me. You feel so fuckin' good, you know that?"

His words send another rush of heat through you, your body clenching tight around him as you chase that burning, aching pleasure building inside you. Jean's pace stutters for a second, a choked groan spilling from his lips when he feels you clench around him.

"Shit—don't do that or I'm gonna—"

"Then do it," you gasp, your own pleasure teetering on the edge. "Fuck. Don't stop, Jean."

The way you say his name does something to him. You see it in the way his jaw clenches, his eyes squeezing shut for a split second before his thrusts turn rougher, harder, driving into you with a desperation that leaves you reeling.

You're so close it's maddening, your whole body tensing, every nerve set on fire as he hits that perfect spot over and over again.

"Come on, beautiful," he growls, his voice all rough desperation. "Need to feel you cum on my cock. Fuck, you're squeezin' me so good—drivin' me outta my damn mind."

Then the pleasure slams into you, your release crashing over you in a wave so powerful your vision whites out for a second.

"Jean—" The cry tears from your throat, half his name, half a broken sob of pleasure as your body spasms around him. The intensity of your orgasm leaves you trembling, your walls clenching tight around his cock in a way that makes him groan, his hips faltering for just a moment before he finds his rhythm again.

"Fuck, darlin'," he rasps, his voice wrecked and filthy as he keeps driving into you, dragging out every last bit of your pleasure. "Takin' me so damn well. So fuckin' good—watching you come apart like this."

He leans in, his mouth brushing hot against your ear, his words nothing but a rough, breathless whisper. "You feel so goddamn good. Makin' me lose my fuckin' mind."

He's still fucking you, his thrusts steady and unrelenting, his breathing ragged as he chases the pleasure building between you. His hands grip your hips like he can't get enough, like he's determined to push you over the edge all over again.

"Hey! Jean, you out here?"

The voice snaps through the haze like ice water to the face.

Connie. One of your dad's other ranch hands. One of Jean's best friends.

Fuck.

Panic surges through you, but Jean's body is still pressed tight against yours, his cock still buried deep as his head jerks up, eyes wide with shock.

"Shit," Jean mutters under his breath, his gaze darting to the corner of the barn where the footsteps are approaching. "Connie, uh—now's not really a good time, man."

There's a beat of silence, like maybe Connie's about to turn around and walk away. Instead, you hear him laugh. "What the hell are you talkin' about? Just needed to—"

Connie's voice cuts off as he rounds the corner and sees you both. His eyes go wide, his mouth hanging open like he's just been hit over the head with a shovel.

"Oh. Oh, shit."

You can feel the heat flood your face, embarrassment slamming into you even harder than the lingering pleasure. But Jean's body stays braced against yours, his arms tightening instinctively around you, almost like he's making sure you're covered—even if he's still very much inside you.

"Fucking christ, Connie, ever heard of givin' a man some damn privacy?" Jean snaps, though there's still a hitch in his voice, like his body hasn't fully recovered from what just happened.

"I—shit, sorry, man, I didn't—" Connie's stumbling over his words, eyes flickering between your flustered face and the way Jean's body is still pressed tight against yours. His throat works as he swallows, and you can practically see the moment his shock turns into something else.

"Well... fuck. Didn't expect to walk in on you two like this," Connie says, voice lowering, his gaze dragging over the two of you with a curiosity that borders on fascination. And maybe something even dirtier. "Guess I was interruptin' somethin' real good, huh?"

"Just—turn around and walk away, asshole," Jean growls, but his tone lacks its usual sharpness. Probably because he's still buried deep inside you, his own arousal clearly not fading as quickly as it should be.

Connie doesn't move. Instead, he leans against the barn wall, eyes glinting with something you can't quite place. "Didn't know you had it in you, Jean. Or you, for that matter," he adds, his gaze flicking to you, and the way his attention lingers on your half-bare body sends a shiver through you.

It should feel humiliating. And it does, a little. But there's something else there, too. Something that makes your skin prickle and your thighs clench around Jean's hips.

"Come on, man," Jean snaps, his voice rough. "Ain't you got better things to do?"

Connie's smirk is downright filthy now as he crosses his arms over his chest, settling in like he's got all the time in the world. "Maybe. But hell, I wasn't expectin' a show when I came out here." His gaze drops, and his tongue flicks over his lower lip. "Sure looks like you two were havin' a good time."

"Connie..." Jean's voice holds a warning, but you can feel the way his body reacts against yours, that slight twitch of his cock still buried inside you.

Connie notices it, too. His eyes gleam, his curiosity turning wicked. "Huh. Guess you're not quite done, are you?"

Your own breath catches at the implication, your body traitorously heating up all over again. Jean's gaze flicks back to you, searching your face like he's trying to gauge your reaction.

"Sorry, darlin'," he mutters, his lips brushing against your ear. "I'll get him to leave if you want me to. Just say the word."

The way his hips are still pressing into yours, his cock still twitching inside you, tells you he's not entirely against the idea of Connie watching — and to your surprise, neither are you.

Connie's eyes haven't left the two of you, his gaze trailing over where Jean's hips are still locked against yours, his cock still buried deep inside you. The weight of Connie's attention is almost unbearable, your skin prickling with heat as you cling to Jean's shoulders.

"Connie, I swear to God..." Jean growls, but the way his voice shakes just makes Connie's smirk widen.

"Relax, man. I ain't tryin' to jump in or nothin'." Connie's voice is lazy, low, like he's settling in to enjoy the view. "But fuck, you two are really somethin'. Never would've guessed you'd be out here fuckin' against the barn like a couple'a animals."

His words send a rush of embarrassment through you, but it's tangled up with something dirtier, something that makes your body clench around Jean in a way that leaves him groaning.

"Shit—" Jean hisses, his fingers tightening on your hips. "You like that, huh?" he breathes, his eyes searching your face. "Him watchin' us like this?"

You should be horrified. Mortified. But the way Jean's voice turns ragged when he realizes just how much this is turning you on is almost as thrilling as the fact that Connie's still standing there, openly staring.

"I—" Your voice breaks when Jean rolls his hips against yours, grinding deep enough to make your breath hitch. "Jean, please."

"Please, what?" His teasing drawl is back, but now it's threaded with hunger, his gaze flicking over your shoulder to where Connie's still watching. "You wanna put on a show for him, darlin'? Let him see how good I make you feel?"

"Fuck," Connie mutters from behind Jean, and the roughness of his voice makes you realize just how affected he is. "This is so fucked up..."

He doesn't leave. No, he stays rooted in place, his eyes devouring every filthy detail of you and Jean tangled together. And when you dare to glance over Jean's shoulder, your gaze locks on the way Connie's hand has drifted to the front of his jeans, palming himself through the fabric.

The sight sends a fresh rush of heat flooding your veins, your pulse thudding so loudly you're sure they can both hear it. From the way Jean's breathing speeds up, his hips pressing harder against yours, you know he's more than aware of what's happening.

"Guess you're not as shy as you act, huh?" Jean rasps, his mouth brushing over your neck, his teeth grazing over your skin in a way that leaves you shivering. "Gettin' all hot and bothered just knowin' he's watchin' us?"

"Jean..." It's not even a real word anymore, just a broken, pleading sound as he starts moving again, his cock dragging slow and deep inside you, like he's determined to make this last even with Connie's attention burning over you both.

"Damn," Connie murmurs, his voice gone hoarse.

You catch a glimpse of him, eyes hooded and dark, his hand now shoved down the front of his jeans. His arm moves in a slow, steady rhythm, matching the lazy roll of Jean's hips as he fucks into you with that same teasing intensity.

"You like that?" Jean asks, his voice nothing but gravel and heat.

"Knowing he's gettin' off to the way I'm fuckin' you?"

You can't even pretend to deny it, your body tightening around him in a way that has him groaning, his hips jerking against yours. And from the way Connie's eyes widen, you can tell he noticed it, too.

"Fuck, Jean..." you gasp, nails raking over his shoulders as he drives into you harder now, like he's giving in to the filthiness of it all. Like he wants Connie to see exactly how well he's ruining you.

"Yeah, that's it," Jean growls, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that's all teeth and heat, his hips pistoning into you now with a force that leaves you whimpering. "Show him how good you take me. How much you love this."

You can barely breathe, every thrust dragging another broken sound from your throat as Jean fucks you against the barn like he's desperate to leave you a wrecked, trembling mess. And the worst part? Knowing Connie's standing there, stroking himself to the sight of it.

"Oh, fuck—" Connie groans, his hand moving faster, his eyes glued to the place where Jean's body keeps slamming into yours. "You two... fuck, that's hot."

The filthy praise sends a fresh jolt of arousal straight through you, and Jean must feel it, because his thrusts turn even rougher, his rhythm crumbling into something frantic and punishing.

"Gonna come for me again, darlin'?" Jean rasps, his voice cracking under the strain of holding himself together. "Let him watch you come all over my cock."

Somehow, the idea of it—of coming with Connie watching, knowing he's jerking himself off to the sight—has you spiraling over the edge before you can even brace yourself. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your whole body convulsing around Jean's cock as you choke out a desperate, shattered moan.

"Goddamn," Connie chokes out, and when you manage to drag your gaze back to him, you see him shudder, his hand jerking hard and fast as he watches you fall apart. The way his jaw clenches, his eyes squeezing shut—it's obvious he's coming, spilling into his own hand with a broken, muffled groan.

The sight is so filthy it almost sends you tumbling over the edge all over again. And from the sound Jean makes—half-growl, half-whimper—you know he's just as affected. His thrusts turn frantic, his hips slamming into yours like he's barely holding himself together.

"Fuck—darlin'," he rasps, his voice splintered and wrecked. "Where do you want me? Tell me where you want me to cum."

The question tears through you, sending a fresh wave of heat crashing over your already trembling body. His desperation is painted all over his face, eyes locked on yours like your answer is the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

"Inside me," you gasp, your own voice shaking. "I want you to cum inside me."

Jean's jaw clenches, a ragged groan ripping from his throat as he slams into you one last time, burying himself deep with a guttural, desperate sound. His head falls into the crook of your neck, his breath hot and uneven against your skin as his whole body trembles through the force of his release.

For a moment, everything's hazy. All you can feel is Jean's chest heaving against yours, the heat of his breath still fanning over your neck, and the sticky, shameful satisfaction of knowing Connie got off to the sight of you both.

"Fuck..." Connie finally breathes, his voice ragged. "Didn't mean to interrupt, but... damn."

You can't even bring yourself to answer, your limbs still trembling as Jean slowly pulls out of you, his eyes locked on your face like he's making sure you're okay.

"Shit," Jean mutters, a breathless, dazed grin tugging at his lips.

Jean's arms are still braced around you, his breathing heavy and uneven as his forehead presses against yours. His eyes search your face with a softness that feels almost surreal after everything you just did.

"You good, darlin'?" he murmurs, his voice still rough from the pleasure he's only just come down from.

"Yeah," you whisper back, a breathless, giddy laugh bubbling out of you. "Better than good."

"Good." His lips brush over yours, a gentle, lazy kiss that feels worlds away from the desperate way he was fucking you just moments ago. "Wasn't exactly plannin' on givin' the poor bastard a free show, though."

You snicker, your legs still trembling as you lower them from around his waist, your feet unsteady on the ground. "I dunno. He didn't seem too mad about it."

"Yeah, no shit." Jean huffs a laugh, glancing over his shoulder to where Connie's wiping his hand off on a rag he pulled from his back pocket. The bastard's smirking, his gaze still shamelessly lingering over the two of you.

"Well, damn. Gotta say, you two sure know how to put on a hell of a show," Connie drawls, his grin pure, unfiltered mischief. "Wasn't expectin' my night to end like this, but I sure as hell ain't complainin'."

Jean's groan is more exasperated than anything else. "Connie, you got five seconds to fuck off before I start throwin' punches."

Connie raises his hands, but the grin never leaves his face. "Alright, alright. I'll leave you two lovebirds alone."

He turns to walk away, but pauses just before disappearing around the corner. His gaze flicks between you and Jean, his eyes gleaming with shameless curiosity and that signature cocky swagger.

"Just sayin'," Connie calls over his shoulder, voice all easy confidence. "Maybe next time, send me an invite?"

Jean's shoulders tense, his eyes narrowing as he growls, "Get lost, Connie."

Connie's laugh echoes through the night, carefree and completely unbothered as he strolls back toward the bonfire, leaving you and Jean standing there in the cooling darkness.

"Fucking bastard," Jean mutters, though his lips are twitching like he's fighting back a smile.

"You really think he meant that?" you ask, breathless and still a little dazed.

Jean's hands find your hips again, pulling you closer as he presses a kiss to your forehead. "Don't care," he says. "Ain't nobody touchin' you but me."

The possessiveness in his voice sends a shiver down your spine, the heat stirring low in your belly all over again.

"Good," you say, your voice softer now, the lingering thrill making you grin. "Because I wasn't exactly planning on letting anyone else."

He smiles then, full and genuine, his gaze warm as he looks at you. "Guess we better head back before someone else comes lookin'."

"Yeah." You're both a mess, your clothes still tangled and your skin still buzzing with the aftershocks. But for once, you don't care.

Because the way Jean's looking at you? It's more than worth the risk.

#jean kirsten smut #jean kirschtein x you #jeanxreader #jean x reader #jean aot #jeankirschtein #jean smut #jean kirstein #aot fanfiction #attack on titan #ao3 fanfic #aotfanfic #wattpad #attackontitanau #aot fandom #fanfiction #kinktober2024 #aot smut

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tenessee-walker · 2 days ago

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hiii!! i absolutely love your writing🥺

could i request some hcs about arthur making a harmless joke/prank towards the reader and them taking it personally and crying/feeling hurt? kinda angsty sorry😔

awwww THANK YOUUUUUU

I have to admit 😞 I’ve done that before 🙈 like I’ve cried over a joke but hey 👋 I cry a lot so 🤷‍♀️

joker!arthur who’s always got a sarcastic quip or joke to crack, and sometimes—sometimes—he doesn’t know when to stop. he thinks it’s funny, thinks it’s harmless, but every so often, he crosses a line without even realizing it.

joker!arthur who’s sitting around the campfire, trying to get everyone laughing after a rough day of work, but when he sees you leaning against a tree, looking tired, he can’t help himself. “hey, y/n,” he says with that usual grin, “you know, if you worked half as hard as you complained, you might actually get something done around here. must be exhausting being so good at whining.”

joker!arthur who, in that moment, doesn’t see how the light in your eyes flickers, how your smile fades. he thinks it’s a joke—a harmless tease—but he doesn’t realize how cruel it sounds. “what’s the matter? did i strike a nerve? it’s just a joke, y/n,” he says, shrugging, already moving on to the next joke, because that’s what he does.

joker!arthur who doesn’t see the way your expression crumbles. “you think i’m just complaining, arthur?” you say quietly, too quietly, and he pauses. he notices then, for the first time, that you’re not smiling. your face is pale, your eyes distant.

joker!arthur who immediately realizes he’s fucked up. but instead of stopping, he just digs deeper, thinking maybe if he jokes some more, it’ll ease the tension. “oh come on, y/n, i was just messin’ with ya. lighten up, huh?” but his words sound more and more hollow as he sees the pain on your face.

joker!arthur who can’t believe what he’s just done when you stand up abruptly, pushing your chair back, and walk awaywithout a word. and then it hits him—oh shit, that was bad. his grin fades, replaced by that pit in his stomach he tries so hard to ignore.

joker!arthur who calls after you, but you don’t stop, and he’s frozen in place, watching you walk away. “hey—y/n, wait, come on. i didn’t mean it like that—” but you don’t turn around. his voice cracks. “y/n!”

joker!arthur who starts to panic. “what the hell did i just say?” he starts pacing around camp, talking to himself, “it was just a joke. it was supposed to be funny… it’s just a damn joke, morgan!” he knows the words are a stupid excuse, but in his head, it’s all he can come up with.

joker!arthur who spends the rest of the night with nervous energy, watching the fire crackle, wishing you would come back, wishing you would just laugh at him again like you used to. but there’s nothing. just the echo of his own mistake bouncing around in his head.

joker!arthur who finally can’t take it anymore and goes looking for you, his heart in his throat, finding you sitting by the edge of the river, your back to him. the silence between you two is deafening.

joker!arthur who tries to apologize but his words are clumsy, unsure, like he can’t even get his thoughts straight. “look… i—I didn’t mean it, y/n. i was just… i was just trying to make people laugh. hell, i didn’t mean to hurt you.” he’s practically stumbling over his words, trying to make you understand, “please… just, please don’t be mad at me. i didn’t—”

joker!arthur who finally sees you cry. the tears slipping down your face, and that’s when it hits him how far he went. how he just obliterated the one person he cared about without even realizing it. his stomach churns. “please, y/n… don’t cry. i never meant to make you cry. i swear to you, i—”

joker!arthur who, for the first time, doesn’t have a joke. doesn’t have anything funny to say to make it better. just stands there, staring at you, hating himself for being the one to cause your tears. he wants to fix it, but he doesn’t know how.

joker!arthur who desperately wants to make things right, but in the pit of his stomach, he feels like he’s lost you—lost the one person who could love him, and now all he’s left with is his stupid fucking joke.

joker!arthur who’s never felt this way before, unsure of how to even begin making things right. he can’t stand seeing you cry, but more than that, he can’t stand knowing he caused it. and the guilt? it’s eating him alive. he can’t just let it go. he can’t pretend everything’s fine. not this time.

joker!arthur who’s now so careful with his words, it’s like he’s walking on thin ice. he approaches you slowly, almost timid, like he doesn’t want to scare you away even more. his usual cocky swagger is gone, replaced by an almost fragile softness. he kneels in front of you, his knees sinking into the dirt, eyes never leaving your face. “y/n, i… i’m so sorry. please, just…” he stops, unable to find the words, and his voice cracks.

joker!arthur who reaches for your hand, but his touch is so gentle, like you might break if he holds on too tight. “i didn’t mean it. i didn’t mean to hurt you. please, y/n… i need you to believe me.” his voice is softer now, almost vulnerable, like a man who’s been stripped of all his bravado.

joker!arthur who never looks away, his eyes filled with nothing but regret. “i don’t know what’s wrong with me sometimes, but i swear to you, i never meant for my words to… hurt you like that.” he’s so careful with every syllable, as though your feelings are fragile glass he doesn’t want to shatter.

joker!arthur who, after a long silence, gently brushes a tear off your cheek with his thumb, his touch so light it’s almost like he’s afraid of you pulling away. “please… don’t cry. i don’t know what i’d do if i lost you.” he whispers it like it’s the most sacred truth, his voice tight with emotion.

joker!arthur who, even when you don’t respond immediately, doesn’t give up. he stays right there, his face inches from yours, and he makes sure every word he says is filled with the depth of his sincerity. “i know i messed up, i know… but please, y/n, don’t shut me out. i can’t take it. i’m nothing without you.”

joker!arthur who’s just so tender with you now, holding you gently, letting you cry against his chest. his arms wrap around you, and he doesn’t care if it’s messy or if his words come out all wrong. he just needs you to know that he’ll never hurt you again. “you’re everything to me, y/n. don’t you forget that.”

joker!arthur who stays by your side, holding you like you’re the most fragile thing in the world, offering you the softest apologies in the hopes that eventually, you’ll see just how much he loves you. “i don’t deserve your forgiveness… but i swear, i’ll spend every damn day making it up to you.”

#arthur morgan smut #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 javier #rdr2 #rdr1 #rdr

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sophie-hatter-jenkins · 3 days ago

Text

Part 12: Tranquility

A March 2025 Hinny Microfic for @ginnystrophyhusband using Prompt 19

558 words (so close to actually being micro)

All the March prompts that I write will be set in the same universe as, and form a prequel to, this fic. Hopefully they'll all stand alone, but they'll also form a little story of their own, which is why they're numbered.

Fair warning - it's going to be fluffy!

It's also occurred to me that the more I write, the more actual story there is, and there are definitely some references here that won't make sense if you haven't read the rest, so you might want to...

Read them all from the beginning on AO3

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

“Thank you, Harry, love, I wouldn’t have managed without you,” says Molly, as they arrive back at Ty Môr.

They’re each carrying a huge basket of freshly baked Cornish pasties, still warm from the oven. It’s enough to feed an army—even one composed mostly of Weasleys.

“I didn’t do much,” he protests, and it’s true; just made them a cup of tea while Molly loaded them into the oven, then helped transfer them between the cooling racks and the baskets. Molly wouldn’t even let him carry both baskets.

“Nonsense! An extra pair of hands is always appreciated,” she tells him firmly.

“Well, I’m always happy to help.”

She beams at him. “I know, love. You’re a treasure. I couldn’t have hoped for a lovelier young man for Ginny, and I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve said that to Arthur.”

Harry doesn’t quite know what to say to that, so he settles for a broad smile, and hopes he hasn’t gone too pink; compliments still make him feel a bit weird. He feels the buzz of the wards against his skin as they approach the gate, but as he opens the latch, Molly stops dead.

“Oh, drat and blast!” she exclaims. “I made a batch of cherry flapjack for dessert, it’s all packed up ready to go, and I clean forgot to pick it up.”

“I can go and get it,” offers Harry.

“No, no,” she insists, instead handing over her basket of pasties. “I expect you’re just as hungry as the rest of them. Take these in, and I’ll be back before you know it.”

Harry watches as she steps back towards the dunes and disapparates neatly and almost silently, a tiny reminder of just how formidable of a witch his surrogate mother is.

The baskets are heavy, and the pasties smell divine, so Harry knows he really ought to head straight back up to the house before the troops start to riot, but he can’t resist posing for a moment, enjoying the tranquility.

It’s impossible to avoid comparing Ty Môr to Grimmauld Place, and he thinks again how happy he is to swap the hard pavement and an endless stream of cars and buses for sand beneath his feet and the expanse of the sea on his doorstep. Buying the house was a spur of the moment decision (Harry? Impulsive? Surely not!), but he already knows he won’t regret it.

The gate squeaks behind him, and he whirls around to see Ginny standing there. She takes a moment to glare at the stubbornly noisy hinges, then beams at him. “You’re back!”

“I am. Bearing gifts.” He brandishes the baskets.

“Oh, thank god!” declares Ginny. “If we don’t feed Ron in the next five minutes, I think he might start eating his own fingers.”

“And you won’t?” he asks, grinning at her.

“God no!” She shudders, theatrically. “Imagine where Ron’s fingers have been.”

Harry laughs, and hands Ginny one of the baskets. “No, good point. So whose fingers would you have eaten?”

“Luckily, you’ll never have to find out,” she tells him, taking one of the baskets, but pauses looking at him curiously. “What were you doing loitering out here, anyway? Everything okay?”

Harry looks back towards the horizon and takes a deep breath, letting the clean, sea air fill his lungs. “Yeah. Never better.”

#harry potter #ginny weasley #hinny #harry x ginny #ginnystrophyhusband

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joaosnovia · 1 day ago

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OMG This Gavi x tennis reader fic was so good could you do a part two or maybe a series out of it. It would be soo cool

❦ - love && war part 2.

summary:: after ages of long distance due to matches and opens, you two are finally reunited, for good. ALSO YOU CAN READ THIS AS A ONE SHOT IF YOU WISH.

warnings:: none

writers note:: first of yall do yg want a part 3 and if so lmk! and usually i have sm to say but i js dont?

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @cherryloveshs @nngkay @universefcb

gavi hated this.

hated watching your matches through a screen. hated missing the moments that mattered. hated that you were miles away while he was stuck in barcelona, playing game after game without you in the stands.

he had tried to act normal. tried to focus on training, on his own matches, but it was impossible when his mind kept drifting back to you.

you were playing one of the biggest tournaments of your career, and he wasn’t there. instead, he was sitting in the team bus, watching the live stream on his phone with his airpods in, barely listening as his teammates talked around him.

pedri nudged him. ‘what’s the score?’

‘she won the first set. second set’s tied.’ gavi’s voice was tight, his grip on his phone firm.

his heart was racing. he could see the way you moved, the way you fought for every point. he knew that look on your face, the one that meant you weren’t giving up.

when the bus arrived at the hotel, gavi didn’t move. he just sat there, eyes locked on his screen.

ferran laughed. ‘bro, are you coming?’

‘go without me,’ gavi muttered, waving them off.

pedri sighed but didn’t argue. ‘don’t stay up all night, man. you have a game tomorrow.’

gavi didn’t even acknowledge him. he was too busy watching you chase down a drop shot, too busy whispering curses under his breath when you missed, too busy fist pumping when you won the next point.

then came match point.

he held his breath.

you tossed the ball into the air, racket swinging effortlessly, the sharp sound of the ball meeting strings filling the speakers. your opponent barely got a return in before you sent a forehand straight down the line, untouched.

game, set, match.

gavi exhaled loudly, running a hand through his hair as he watched you drop your racket, hands flying to your face in disbelief before pure joy took over. the crowd erupted, commentators shouting excitedly, but all gavi could focus on was you.

he needed to call you. now.

he stepped off the bus, walking toward the hotel entrance as he pulled up your contact. it barely rang twice before you picked up, breathless.

‘pablo!’

he grinned. ‘felicidades, mi amor. joder, you were incredible.’

you let out a shaky laugh, still overwhelmed. ‘you watched?’

‘of course i watched,’ he scoffed. ‘you think i’d miss that?’

‘you have a game tomorrow.’

‘i don’t care. i needed to see you win.’

there was a pause, your breathing still heavy from the match.

‘i wish you were here.’

his chest tightened. ‘me too.’

and he meant it. more than anything.

you sighed softly. ‘i’m flying back in two days.’

‘two days is too long.’

‘pablo.’

‘what if i come to you instead?’

you groaned. ‘you have training. a match. be serious.’

‘no quiero ser serio,’ he muttered. ‘quiero verte.’

you laughed, tired but full of love. ‘dos días, amor. i’ll be home soon.’

he sighed, kicking at the ground. ‘fine. but the second you land, i’m kidnapping you.’

‘deal.’

he smiled, finally making his way inside. two days. he just had to survive two more days.

gavi had never been this impatient in his life.

he was at the airport two hours early, pacing near the arrivals gate like a madman. pedri had made fun of him for it, called him dramatic, told him to just wait at home like a normal person, but gavi didn’t care. he had waited long enough.

his arms were crossed, jaw tight, sneakers tapping anxiously against the polished floor as he checked the flight tracker for what had to be the hundredth time. landed. you were here. finally.

his heart was pounding, fingers tapping against his thigh as he watched passengers filter through the doors. every time someone who vaguely resembled you walked out, he straightened up, only to sigh when it wasn’t you.

then he saw you.

hair slightly messy from the flight, suitcase dragging behind you, eyes scanning the crowd. and the second your gaze landed on him, everything else disappeared.

he didn’t think. he just moved.

one second, he was standing still. the next, he was pushing through people, reaching for you, grabbing your face and kissing you like he was scared you’d disappear again.

you barely had time to react before you melted into him, hands gripping his hoodie as he held you close, like he needed to feel every inch of you to believe you were really here.

when he finally pulled back, you were breathless, blinking up at him in surprise.

‘hola to you too,’ you teased.

he ignored you, pressing his forehead against yours. ‘you’re never leaving for that long again.’

you laughed softly, fingers brushing through his hair. ‘i can’t promise that, pablo.’

‘then i’ll come with you.’

‘you have a job, remember?’

he frowned. ‘it’s a stupid job.’

you grinned. ‘says the guy who loves football more than anything.’

‘not more than you,’ he muttered, arms still locked around you.

you sighed, shaking your head. ‘you’re impossible.’

‘you love it.’

you did. you really did.

he grabbed your suitcase, throwing an arm over your shoulder as he started leading you toward the exit.

‘come on, we’re going home. and i’m not letting you out of my sight for at least a week.’

you smiled, leaning into him. ‘fine by me.’

the drive back to his place was quiet, but it wasn’t awkward. it was the kind of comfortable silence that only came from knowing someone so deeply that words weren’t always necessary. gavi had one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh, thumb brushing absently over your skin.

you watched him in the dim light of the car, his face focused, jaw tight like he was still processing the fact that you were finally here.

‘you okay?’ you asked softly.

he glanced at you, squeezing your leg before turning back to the road. ‘yeah. just… missed you.’

you smiled, threading your fingers through his. ‘i missed you too.’

he let out a small breath, like he had been holding it in for weeks.

‘you’re really not leaving for a while, right?’

you bit your lip. ‘well—’

his head snapped toward you so fast you thought he might give himself whiplash. ‘no. no way. you just got back.’

you laughed. ‘pablo, relax. i meant i have a few interviews and press stuff, but i don’t have to travel again for at least a month.’

he exhaled dramatically. ‘okay. that’s fine. i can work with a month.’

you rolled your eyes, leaning over to kiss his cheek. ‘you’re so dramatic.’

he just hummed, tightening his grip on your hand like he was scared you’d slip away.

when you finally reached his apartment, he barely gave you time to take off your shoes before he was pulling you onto the couch, dragging you into his lap.

‘pablo,’ you giggled. ‘let me breathe.’

‘no.’

you shook your head, running your fingers through his hair. ‘you’re like a clingy puppy.’

he just buried his face in your neck, mumbling something you couldn’t quite hear.

‘what was that?’

he sighed, voice muffled against your skin. ‘i hated not being there.’

you softened, tilting his chin up so he was looking at you. his eyes were darker than usual, serious.

‘you support me, pablo. even from miles away. i always feel you with me.’

he swallowed, looking down for a second before meeting your gaze again. ‘i wanted to be in the stands. wanted to run down to the court and pick you up when you won. wanted to kiss you in front of everyone so they knew you were mine.’

your heart ached.

‘pablo—’

‘i know your career is important. i’d never want you to give that up. but sometimes i wish things were easier. that i could just be with you all the time.’

you sighed, resting your forehead against his.

‘me too.’

his hands slid up your back, pressing you even closer. ‘promise me something?’

‘anything.’

‘next time you win a title, i’ll be there. no matter what.’

you smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips. ‘deal.’

he grinned against your mouth, flipping you onto your back so he could hover over you.

‘good. because i don’t plan on missing another match ever again.’

you laughed, pulling him down for another kiss.

home. finally.

#football x reader #football one shot #football fluff #football x y/n #football x you #gavi x yn #gavi x you #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi x reader #gavi x reader

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theresnottimeinhopi · 2 days ago

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I thought to myself; "what if there's ever a character who parallels Ren in many aspects and who did everything in their best to help him after finding him one day again, after 'mysterious' months of being missing, with the necessities and afterwards with fateful bittersweet departure, they thought they helped him to return to normalcy in the end, without ever knowing how deep down psychologically fucked Ren truly was because he never really showed his actual self around them and did not tell them what truly happened to him throughout those months."

And also,

"what if, the said character, is also someone who isn't meek, someone who went through horrors just as well but managed differently and can and is an actual physical threat who can fight back." (realistically, I don't think a fox can withstand the sheer compact muscular and downright menace force that is an oversized jungle cat whose natural instinct is aiming straight at the back of your cranium, maybe the prefrontal cortex if feeling extra).

Genuinely, jaguars are horrifying, they have the most powerful bite force out of the rest of the big cats which can break the bones and armour of a crocodile and they bite directly through the skull of a mammalian prey between the ears to deliver a fatal blow to the brain, unlike most cats reaching for the neck. Cherry on top, superb stealth hunters, they may look steroid-ridden ridden but they're as silent as the crickets.

So of course, I had to create Renée Sereno Novo, my beautiful babe (Zach Hadel's voice), my librarian lady turned to academic librarian in a prestigious university that Derek used to enrol in (let's be real, Derek definitely did not last here long, a nepo baby after all, my original headcanon, do not steal plz) because not only do I want to make a character that is blunt and takes no bullshit yet with the perfect balance of exemplifying "my God, where were you when I was at my worst with those impeccable communication skills and emotional intelligence, babe", trust, being able to communicate your feelings is sexy, but also someone who can kick Ren's buttocks (both BTD2 + TPOF), because there times when I feel that twink needs to be humbled (affectionately). But more heavily towards Fox, I need that politician-looking clown to wear a dunce hat and have tomatoes thrown at him (affectionately).

For those who know Goodnight/Oyasumi Punpun (and I vividly imagine Ren's life after Strade's death to be the same functions that of adult Punpun, as to how he manages to become a wealthy man afterwards years later is a mystery to me, if not us, but I see suggestions of him possibly being a landlord because of constantly moving in and out and I believe it quite frankly), she is essentially a bit similar to Sachi Nanjou, and the Sachi to Ren's Punpun, especially regarding one trying to help the other get back on his feet and the troubles that transpire from it (because of course Ren, low self-esteem yet also wanting to gain control over his own life and rejecting pity).

Hm, I need to reread that manga after years, not the best option during those lockdown years but goodness gracious was I enthralled in the writing and psychology.

Now, I wonder if I can finished that WIP...

On a little note, I feel like that Beastkins, lore-wise, are so heavily underutilized and there are so many ideas and potentials you can get around them, I plan to give out my headcanons because I am afraid it will make the blog long enough as it is.

Another note is that, in my humble opinion, when making a Beastkin oc, design-wise, GO WILD, GO CRAZY, take advantage of that creative juice and try to add some traits that the animals they're based on have, because my God, it is so thrilling and really makes a proper distinction between them and humans besides the typical ears, tails and claws. For example, Renée's nose is purposefully reminiscent that of big cats as seen by her wide nose and even in the eye shape instead of the atypical upturned eyes, since big cats actually have round eyes, it's just their eyes are hooded and they have that natural kohl eyeliner that makes it seem snatched as well as their long and sharp inner eye corners, it makes a *mwah* significant effect and emphasises the feline traits, perfect example are the Navi's, obsessed with their facial anatomy.

But that is all I have, time to ponder if I will ever fully write her backstory down on paper or if I will mentally write and leave it stored in my wrinkly brain as always.

#btd #btd ren #ren hana #btd oc #tpof fox #tpof oc #ykmet oc #oc: Renée Sereno Novo #ren hana x oc #the price of flesh #tpof ren

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fluentmoviequoter · 4 hours ago

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The People You Deserve

Pairing: father figure!Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader (found family/platonic)

Summary: While training as a rookie, you have a devastating argument with your parents. Tim realizes that you need someone - someone you deserve - and sets out to become that person for you.

Warnings: familial angst, verbal/emotional abuse, fluff and comfort, Smitty

Word Count: 3.9k+ words

A/N: heyyyy @nevereclipse I finally wrote another one of your marvelous Tim ideas🤭

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

Lucy gasps as Tim wraps his hand around her arm and yanks her around a corner.

“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice raised from surprise.

“Did she tell you anything?” he demands.

Lucy’s brows raise as she exclaims, “Who?!”

“My rookie!”

Tim releases Lucy’s arm before he steps back.

“No, she hasn’t said anything. What’s going on?”

Shaking his head, Tim answers, “I don’t know. She’s off, though.”

Tim’s eyes lift, and Lucy turns to follow his line of sight. You have your bag on one shoulder, and Tim’s on the other, talking to a fellow rookie as you walk toward the shops.

“She seems fine,” Lucy says.

Tim doesn’t reply, but he’s not convinced. He knows you better than Lucy does and he can tell that something is wrong. You’re tense; your shoulders are pulled toward your ears like you’re ready to either fight or flee. That isn’t your usual state, unlike Nolan’s new rookie, who has fought and fled while on patrol. Usually, you are the calm and prepared one, ready for anything. You’re distracted today, even if no one else sees it.

“Sorry for grabbing you,” Tim tells Lucy.

“No worries,” she replies. “You’re worried about your rookie, I get it. Although, I never got worried about by TO Bradford.”

Tim returns his eyes to her face to glare at her. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

“I was trying to before hashtag grumpy cop assaulted me.”

“Keep your voice down,” Tim hisses. “I apologized.”

“And I’ll never let you forget it.”

Lucy waves over her shoulder as she walks away. Tim thinks about you while he walks to the shop. You were wringing your fingers together when he first saw you this morning, and he did not miss your nearly invisible flinch when he first spoke to you. Whatever it is you’re bottling up inside has the potential to turn explosive, and Tim doesn’t want the blowout to impact himself or you. So, despite his usual approach and reputation for being a hard, unforgiving TO, Tim climbs into the driver’s seat and prepares to talk to you.

He fails almost immediately, however. Instead of starting a conversation, he sits in the driver’s seat and stares straight ahead. You run your finger along a stitch in your uniform pants, as silent as him.

“What’s going on?” he asks as the other shop pulls forward in the garage.

“Dispatch alerted to an active alarm on Wilshire,” you answer. “The map also shows heavy congestion-”

“No,” Tim interrupts. “What’s wrong? You’re off, and we’re not going out until I know you’re stable enough to do this job.”

You shift in the passenger seat, looking at the dashboard rather than your TO. “Nothing,” you lie.

“Not gonna cut it,” he replies. “Not today, not any day you put on that uniform.”

“Sir,” you begin.

He shakes his head, and you immediately silence.

“You know what happens when cops bottle up their emotions?” he asks.

“They explode,” you answer softly. “Almost always in the wrong place and on the wrong people.”

“Right. But it also slows their reaction times, clouds their judgement. If I got shot right now, boot, would you be able to save my life and catch the shooter?”

“Yes.”

Tim scoffs. Yet, he doesn’t argue. He believes you. Despite your distracted state and the clear signs that something is bothering you, you’re a good cop.

“Look, you need to talk to someone, get some of that weight off yourself,” Tim explains. “If not me, there’s a dozen certified therapists the department will pay for.”

“I don’t need a shrink,” you argue. “I’m fine.”

Tim turns in his seat, resting his left forearm on the steering wheel as he looks at you. You sigh, aware that Tim will keep you from patrolling until he knows you are okay.

“I’m just… My parents came over last night,” you explain. “It didn’t end well.”

His posture relaxes slightly, but Tim doesn’t respond or start acting like a cop again. He stays open toward you, inviting you to keep talking. On your first day at the LAPD, you never would have imagined you’d be having a heart-to-heart with Tim ‘break their spirits’ Bradford. You’ve mentioned your parents maybe twice in the time you’ve been a rookie, and every time, you could tell that Tim not only listened but that he understood.

“We were just supposed to have dinner and catch up,” you begin.

The Night Before

“Hey!” you greet, smiling as you open the door. “Come on in. It’s so good to see you both.”

“You too,” your mother replies, looking around your apartment.

“We could have met somewhere closer to home,” your father complains.

“This is my home,” you point out. Your brows pinch as you add, “And I had to work late, so I wanted to make sure I wasn’t keeping you waiting.”

“Work late writing tickets?” your mother scoffs. “Sounds like a miserable existence.”

“That’s not all I do. I really like my job.”

“Why are we here?” your father asks. “I know we didn’t just drive to this hood to hear about how great your job is. What do you need? Money?”

Your eyes widen in shock. Neither of your parents has ever been overly supportive. Still, you didn’t anticipate your invitation to have dinner together would lead to this.

“Money wouldn’t be a problem if you’d simply done as I asked,” your mother sighs, opening the fridge. She frowns and closes the door, then shudders.

“I don’t need anything,” you say. “I just wanted to have dinner, catch up, be a family.”

“You moved out, you’re an adult,” your father argues. “We don’t have to keep up this appearance.”

“Appearance?” you repeat incredulously. “I’m your daughter, we are a family. You’re supposed to come over because you love me, not because I’m an obligation to make you look like a good family man at the country club!”

“We’ve never been country club people,” your mother interjects. “Maybe if we hadn’t had a child to pay for.”

“That’s all I am to you? A bill? Something you have to pay for and travel fifteen apparently excruciating miles to see?”

“Maybe if you’d moved to Brentwood and gotten a real job,” your father begins. He trails off, leaving the insinuation hanging.

“Okay,” you murmur, clenching your hands into fists to keep them from shaking. “You don’t like my job, that’s fine. Let’s just have dinner and talk about something else.”

“Like your family?” your mother suggests. “Oh, wait.”

You swallow harshly, fighting to keep yourself from lashing out at them. “You’re right. This was a bad idea; you should just go.”

“You made us drive over here for nothing?” your father asks, his voice rising.

“You didn’t even want to come,” you point out.

“And you wonder why we’re so disappointed,” your mother muses.

“You’re disappointed because nothing makes you happy,” you defend. “You are miserable people, and you try to push it onto everyone around you!”

“We’re only miserable because of you!” your father yells.

He stands from the barstool at your kitchen island, pointing at you as you step back from him.

“You are a disgrace to our name and yet you insist on wearing it on a meaningless badge! So desperate to feel wanted that you ran to a job that takes anyone, no matter how underqualified or worthless.”

You clench your jaw, swallowing the tears threatening to spill. “Get out.”

“We’ll see who’s miserable when you don’t have our pocketbook to fall back on,” your mother says, failing to hide her smirk.

“Go,” you demand.

“Oh, yes!” your father yells as he opens the door. “Pretend to have the authority you want. Whatever makes you feel seen, just remember that sooner or later everyone will see the walking disappointment hiding beneath your façade of self-confidence.”

You slam the door behind him, pressing your hand against your stomach as your emotions fight within you.

You shrug as you conclude your story. “They left. I stayed up most of the night wondering if anything they said was true.”

Tim lets your statement hang between you for a moment. “They don’t deserve you,” he says.

You shake your head. “Not how it works.”

“It is,” Tim assures you. “You deserve more. You need people who support you, who understand you and why you do what you do. What you love– who you love matters and settling for people who don’t care enough to see that is not good for you.”

“Not good for me as a cop,” you agree, nodding. “Because my personal life affects my job performance.”

“Your parents are miserable people,” Tim says, agreeing with your point from last night. “They are terrible people who don’t deserve to be around you or see everything that you accomplish in life.”

Finally, you look up at Tim. He says it like someone who has had to cut someone off as if he has kept people from seeing him at his best because of how they treated him at his worst. You have some idea of his past, but the fact that Tim has lived through something similar makes you faster to trust him.

“And if I don’t have anybody?”

Tim shifts into Drive before he answers, “You’ll always have your TO.”

“That was stupid,” Tim chides as you return to the shop.

“He was getting away,” you reply.

“And you could have seriously injured yourself by stopping him like that.”

“But I didn’t.”

“Not this time.”

You nod and accept Tim’s correction. His teaching style has changed since he learned of your strained relationship with your parents. He still pushes you daily, teaches you in a way that works for you, and lets you apply everything he says and demonstrates, but he shows you that he supports you. His praises are few and far between, but they matter, and you never forget what he says when the praise does come.

Nearly a month after falling out with your parents, your phone chimes with a new message. It’s from your dad, and you delete it without reading it. Over the next few days, you get messages, emails, voicemails, and even a physical letter from the people who consider you a disappointment and an obligation. You ignore all of them, and because of Tim’s advice and support, you find that you don’t even care.

“You look tired,” he says after roll call.

“My phone rang around midnight and woke me up,” you admit. “Took a while to go back to sleep, but I got a few more hours.”

“Who called?”

“My dad.”

Tim tips his head to the side, and you shrug.

“I didn’t answer. I should probably just block his number, since he can’t seem to take the hint.”

“He’s called before?” Tim asks.

“He and my mom have both been trying to reach me for about a week. I don’t know why; I delete everything without looking at it. Shredded the letter they mailed… I hope there wasn’t cash in it.”

“Doubtful,” Tim replies. “Keep your phone on today.”

“Why?”

“TO’s orders.”

You roll your eyes and ignore Tim’s displeased hum. He’s become more than a TO over the last few weeks: he’s someone who supports you and understands you. Finding a father figure in Tim Bradford was the last thing you expected to happen as a rookie. The closer you get to graduation, the more thankful you are for it and for him.

After your third call of the day – a robbery gone wrong – your phone rings. Your dad's name flashes onto the screen, and Tim snatches it from your hand and answers it.

“Sergeant Tim Bradford speaking,” he says. “Yeah, she can’t talk right now… Because she doesn’t want to…”

He turns away from you so you don’t hear him say, “Stop trying to mend this bridge just to burn it again, because we both know that’s what you’re going to do. You can contact her, but if I hear one word about you stepping out of line again, I will throw you in jail, is that clear?”

Returning your phone, Tim says, “He should stop calling.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” you murmur.

“You’re right. But someone needed to remind him that you’re not alone, and he can’t walk all over you.”

“Thank you.”

Tim nods, then remembers that you’re still on duty. “Get in the shop, boot.”

“Congratulations,” Tim says, passing you an unmarked envelope. “And with the highest score.”

“I owe you most of the credit,” you reply, smiling as you hold the letter to your chest. “I couldn’t have passed my exam without you, and everything you’ve done for me.”

“Yeah, you could have.”

“Ready?” Angela asks.

“For what?” you inquire.

“We’re taking you out to celebrate,” Tim replies. “Graduating from long sleeves is a big deal, and you deserve it.”

You step toward Tim, then hesitate. He seems to understand what you’re thinking. He sighs but raises his arms anyway. You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tightly as you thank him again. Tim grunts dramatically when you collide with him, but he pats your back, and you suddenly understand what it’s like to be loved and cared about. You’re worth something, and Tim Bradford took it upon himself to show you.

“Alright, let’s go,” Angela urges, smiling at you. “If you want to invite anyone, we made reservations with extra room.”

“Can I invite my boyfriend?” you ask.

Angela looks past you to Tim, whose jaw drops. She recovers quickly and tells you they’d love to meet him, but Tim is still caught on the revelation that you have a boyfriend.

Looking over your shoulder, you ask, “Are you coming?”

Tim murmurs, “Yeah, yeah,” as he tries to think of every man you’ve ever mentioned or had an encounter with while he was nearby. “You said boyfriend?” he asks. “That’s new.”

“New-ish,” you admit.

Tim holds the door for you and Lucy, laughing together as you enter the restaurant. Your boyfriend replies with a text that he’s stuck at work and a promise to celebrate with you the following weekend.

“What’s his name?” Lucy inquires.

“Fin,” you answer.

“You’ve never mentioned him before,” Tim says, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

“Yes, I have. When we watched Lord of the Rings, I told you that the scene where Gandalf releases Theoden from Saruman’s control is his favorite.”

“Tim Bradford watched Lord of the Rings?” Angela asks. “With you?”

Pressing your lips together, you look at Tim with an apologetic grimace. He waves at you, dismissing the attention. Your movie nights aren’t a new occurrence, but they were meant to stay between you. Tim has become your family, and the time you spend with him outside work is incredibly special and dear to you. What you won’t tell Lucy or Angela, or anyone else, is that Tim is the father you always wanted. A man who can show you that you matter and you’re loved, even if it’s hard for him to express.

Over the last few months, you’ve become incredibly close with Tim, and you wouldn’t trade it for the world. He smiles at you when Aaron arrives, bearing a congratulations bouquet and a gift card to your favorite store.

“Thank you,” you whisper across the table. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Tim.”

He nods, but as your celebration continues, Tim mentally plans the following morning to include running a background check on this Fin you claim to love.

Tim exits Wade’s office with a sigh. The fugitive he’s been tasked with finding seems to be an expert at hiding. Your first week riding alone is going well, and Tim didn’t anticipate missing you quite so much.

“Timothy,” Angela calls. He looks up, and she waves him over. “I figured out why you couldn’t find your future son-in-law.”

“Excuse me?” Tim asks.

“Your rookie’s boyfriend,” she amends. “You didn’t know his full name. Fin is short for Fingon; apparently his dad also likes Lord of the Rings.”

Tim hesitates, then walks to her desk. “What’d you find?”

“He seems great,” she replies, smiling. “And get this: James knows his dad. He did some construction work around the community center a while back and they became friends. The whole family… they’re good people, Tim.”

“You know this for sure?” Tim asks.

“Nyla invited them over to dinner last night, we talked to him-"

“What?!” Tim demands.

“Kidding. But if James can vouch for the dad, and your rookie – who has great character judgement – for the son, then I’d say, yeah, they’re good people.”

Tim taps his knuckles against Angela’s desk, then sighs again. “Thanks, Lopez.”

“No problem. I hope I get to meet him first, though. If you scare away her boyfriend, you can kiss those movie nights goodbye and I for one would love an invite.”

Tim ignores Angela’s smile as he rolls his eyes. Walking away, he thinks only of you. Pulling his radio from his belt, he asks dispatch for your location.

Your boyfriend Fin knocks on Tim's door two months after meeting Tim and nearly nine months after he began dating you. You’re at your apartment, getting ready for your date, and unaware of your boyfriend’s plan or current location.

“Fin,” Tim says as he opens the door. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Fin assures him. “I’m here to talk to you, if you have a few minutes.”

Tim narrows his eyes but nods and lets him in regardless. Angela was (unfortunately) correct about Fin and his family. They are good people, and his parents treat you better than your own ever did. But not as well as Tim, you once confided in Lucy.

“Can I get you a drink or anything?” Tim asks, closing the door.

“No, thank you. I won’t take up too much of your time. I… I’m pretty old fashioned.”

Tim nods, and Fin slides his hand into his pocket. After pulling out a small, square box, he rests it on his palm and shows it to Tim.

“I want to propose,” Fin explains. “But I want your blessing. You are one of the most important people in her life; you care about her, and I do too. So, I want to know that you are okay with this before I do anything.”

Tim is a man of few words, but he’s rendered speechless by Fin’s words and the ring box before him.

“You love her?” Tim asks after a moment.

“More than anything.”

“And you know that if anything happened to her-”

“I would answer to you,” Fin finishes, beginning to smile. “Yes, sir.”

Tim sighs, then shakes his head. “Let me see the ring, since you’re proposing.”

Fin steps forward, raising his arms to hug Tim before he reconsiders. He stops and offers his hand, which Tim shakes firmly.

“I assume you have a plan to make it memorable,” Tim says. “I’d warn against boats of any kind.”

“I do have a plan. Maybe you’d be willing to spare a minute to go over it with me?”

Tim nods, welcoming Fin to have a seat. As he begins speaking, he says your name, and Kojo runs from the hallway, looking around.

“She’s not here, Kojo,” Tim calls. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Fin raises his brows as he reaches forward to pet Kojo. “I’m in the market for a ring bearer,” he tells Tim.

“I feel like half of the LAPD is out there,” you murmur, smoothing your hands over your dress.

“There’s no more than a third,” Tim says.

You smile but continue fidgeting. Tim stands, walks to your side, and pulls your hands into his.

“Breathe,” he encourages. “It’s your wedding day. It’s about you and Fin, not what Lucy or Angela or Smitty think.”

“Smitty came?” you ask, finally loosening up. “That’s amazing.”

“We all care about you. We want to see you happy.”

You open your mouth to thank Tim but instead, you wrap your arms tightly around him. He chuckles, then returns the hug, his hold warm and safe.

“It’s almost time,” Lucy says, knocking as she looks inside the door. “You ready?”

You nod. Stepping back, you loop your arm through Tim’s elbow and smile at him.

“I wouldn’t be here without you,” you confess as you walk toward the venue.

“Neither would I,” he admits. “And you look beautiful, if I forgot to say it before.”

“You did,” you reply playfully. “But Kojo told me, so it’s okay.”

Standing at the end of the aisle, you watch Kojo trot alongside Lucy. Having your friends in your wedding party, being surrounded by the people who mean the most to you – the people you deserve – is perfect. You don’t even realize your parents are absent as Tim leads you down the flower-petal-covered aisle and toward your forever.

You smile at Fin as you gently remove your arm from Tim’s. He inhales sharply when you turn toward him to thank him once more.

“Don’t,” you warn softly.

He smiles, but you can see tears welling in his eyes.

“No, no, no,” you urge. “If you cry, I’m going to lose it and nobody wants to see that.”

“I’m proud of you,” Tim says. “Everything that you’ve done, everything you’ve become, and all that you’ll accomplish in the future… You’re amazing.” He brushes his thumb under his eye, then smiles. “I never thought I’d love a boot.”

Your surprised laugh is silenced by Tim’s shoulder as you wrap your arms around him. The off-duty police officers behind you break into an excited round of applause, and you can hear Angela and Lucy yelling above everyone else.

Stepping back, you whisper, “I love you too.”

Tim looks at Fin and levels his expression. “I know where you live,” he says before he turns and takes his place on the front row.

“Are you crying?” Wesley asks under his breath.

“No,” Tim answers. “We’re outside, there’s dust.”

“Just reign in the waterworks for the first dance,” James interjects from behind Wesley.

“Shut up,” Tim says over his shoulder.

“Congratulations,” Wade says, catching you between dances at the reception. He slips you an envelope and explains, “Special delivery from your Mid-Wilshire family.”

Before you can reply, Smitty calls, “But I also got you a fondue maker, so if you’re picking favorites or a name for any future kids..,” he trails off, gesturing to himself before he returns to the dance floor.

You turn to watch him as he does the electric slide to a song that does not fit the dance, then laugh and return your attention to Wade.

“A fondue maker will be pretty hard to beat,” you muse. “Thank you. I owe so much to you. Thank you for giving me a family, and a job I love.”

“You deserve it all and more,” Wade assures you, laying his hand on your shoulder. “But Tim is glaring at me, so I’m going to go.”

You turn, but Tim is smiling when you meet his eyes.

“Your parents didn’t show,” he says.

“I didn’t invite them,” you murmur. “I sent the announcement, but not an invitation. My real family is here; you’re here.”

“Tell me they at least sent a gift.”

“A $2,000 Visa card in an unsigned Hallmark card that said Congratulations over a wedding cake.”

“Smitty can beat that,” Tim scoffs.

“He did. Fondue maker,” you reply, nodding.

“We got a fondue maker?” Fin asks, returning from a dance battle with Aaron.

You wrap your arm around him but look at Tim as you say, “We got a lot more than that.”

“You did good,” Tim responds. “Boot.”

#tim bradford x reader #father figure!Tim Bradford #tim bradford fic #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #the rookie x reader #the rookie abc #fem!reader #hanna writes✯#found family

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