#but it’s also intriguing to me that the old slightly fucked up in the head Daniel peaks through from time to time

[ebodebo]

minors beware!

shameless smut w simon in... (age-gap shit also)

three…

two…

one…

“Too old for you,” Simon remarks as you approach him, mask hiked above his nose. He takes a swig of his bourbon, his disinterest evident.

"So you’ve said," you reply, rolling your eyes slightly before grinning and settling into the stool next to him at the empty bar.

He stares intently at the television in front of him, locked onto a local news channel.

But it’s clear he’s not watching to catch the latest on the new pizza place opening this Sunday or to hear the heartwarming story of the little boy who saved his dog from choking.

It was to avoid you.

"I know you're avoiding me, Simon," you simply say, eyes glazing over his hands that twitch slightly around his cold glass.

"What gave it away?" His tone is dry.

It would have made you run with your tail between your legs at his apparent disinterest if you didn’t know he was interested in you.

Even if he's pretending not to be.

You remember how hard he had gotten when you'd barely even touched him, manicured nails running across his shirt to get a piece of fuzz off, about had him bursting through his cargo pants.

Or when he practically whimpered your name to get him to come.

His issue lies more within himself.

More specifically, his age.

Thinks you should be with someone more your age and not some 'old brute' such as himself.

He basically lectured you all while he was on the verge of release while you were bouncing on his cock.

You laughed in his face.

He came hard.

After that, he left, leaving a note about how he thought it'd be best for you two to stop seeing each other so you could find someone more...what did he say?

"Age-appropriate."

You rolled your eyes at the note because you couldn't care less about how old he was.

You just wanted him.

And so, by God, you'll have him.

"Funny," you remark with a sarcastic tone, narrowing your eyes at his avoidance of eye contact.

He takes another swig of his drink, eyes still laser focused on the news station.

“Why won’t you look at me?” You ask, your frustration growing with each passing moment.

“Afraid you’ll claw my eyes out,” he says in a casual tone.

“I wouldn’t claw your eyes out,” you say matter-of-factly, resting your chin in your palm. “I’d do something more practical like…” You let your eyes scan the bar before lighting up as you spot a metal shaker.

Your eyes move to face him. “…hit the side of your head with that metal shaker,” you tip your head to the shaker behind the bar.

You’re sure you see his eyes crinkle from laughter.

"Ah, very practical," he says with a hint of humor.  

"I told you so," you reply with a smile, chuckling at the sheer absurdity of it all.  

Simon lets out a gravelly laugh, clearly amused by your delight.  

This entire situation is utterly ridiculous, and you both know it.  

Yet, instead of feeling uncomfortable, you find it all downright hilarious.  

"Simon," you manage to say between fits of laughter, your fingers reaching up to wipe a tear of joy from your cheek.  

"Mhm," he responds, briefly glancing at you before returning his attention to the television. 

"I want you to fuck me," you say earnestly, shifting from playful to serious in an instant.

Your expression remains straight-faced.

Simon's head snaps around to meet your gaze, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"What?" He replies, his tone straddling the line between astonishment and intrigue.

You narrow your eyes. "You heard me."

His eyes stay fixed on yours, his lip quipping a bit.

"You want me to fuck you?" His voice is low and grumbly, almost arrogant.

"Wouldn't be the first time," you remark, teeth coming out to chew on your bottom lip.

He carefully assesses you for a moment, eyes lazily moving to watch your teeth chew on your lip. "I'm old," he lazily says.

As if that was supposed to deter you.

"And?" You prompt, hand coming to skim his knee over his cargo pants.

He lets out a ragged breath, fingers tightening around his glass of bourbon. 

"Better be careful, sweetheart," he mutters through his tight throat.

Your hand moves up to brush against his thigh. "Why's that?"

"You're gonna start somethin' you can't finish," his eyes lock onto yours, dark and desperate.

You lean in closer, your tongue flicking out to moisten your lips, leaving a glistening sheen behind.

"Who says I can’t finish?" You tease, your hand inching nearer where Simon aches.

His breath is unsteady, and his pupils are dilated.

"You should know," you begin, wet lips hovering only inches away from his ear. "I always finish."

And that was it.

The straw that broke the camel's back.

Simon’s undoing, if you will.

His hands moved faster than you could speak as he grasped your wrist, throwing a twenty on the counter before leading you out of the bar and into the parking lot toward his truck waiting nearby.

He opened the passenger door, urging you to get in while he hurried to the driver’s side. With an impatient tug, he yanked the door open and slid into the seat.

“Take your pants off,” he mumbles as he throws the truck into gear to peel out of the parking lot.

“Where are we going?” You ask, your voice brimming with excitement rather than nervousness, as you eagerly slide your pants down and let them drop to the mat on the floor.

“You want me to fuck you,” his voice is gruff as he white knuckles the steering wheel seeing you in your pretty lace panties, easing towards a nearby empty lot. “I’ll fuck you.”

Oh, shit.  

Your eyes widen at his straightforwardness, but it’s not from fear; it’s pure desire.  

A flutter spreads in your stomach, and heat washes over your body.  

“Come here,” he murmurs, shifting his seat back slightly to make room for you.  

Without a word, you swing your legs over the middle console to straddle him as your hands reach his shoulders.

"You wear these for me?" He mutters as he snaps the elastic band of your panties back onto your sensitive skin, lips coming to skim against your shoulder blade.

You release a small moan at the sensation, fingers gliding through his hair with ease, a sense of familiarity within the touch. "Yeah," your voice is breathy as your eyes bore into his, awaiting his approval.

"Still so good for me," he breathes against your skin, scooting himself impossibly closer to you.

You can feel him straining through his cargo pants.

Your fingers fumbled from his hair to delicately unzip his zipper, slipping his pants and boxers down to reveal his, as you expected, very erect cock, already leaking pre-come.

"So wet, sweetheart," he gruffs as his finger trails to gently push aside your soaked panties.

Your body jerks forward at the feeling of his rough, cold finger spreading you to accommodate his cock.

"Grab my shoulders," he advises, as he brushes the head against your aching clit before pushing himself into you, your cunt swallowing him whole.

You let out a deep moan at the feeling of him in you while he rips his mask off before leaning forward and capturing your lips in a rough, deep kiss.

His fingers find your waist, digging deep into the fat as he helps you find a good pace.

You're losing your mind, already feeling euphoric.

His grunts merge with your whines, slipping out of both your mouths, sloppily swapping spit and nips from your teeth.

You grip his shoulders tighter as you speed up your pace, grinding and bouncing on him with intention, trying to get the knot in your stomach to finally unravel. 

He can't even think straight; all his words are reduced to guttural grunts or quiet curses spilling for his tongue and into your mouth.

"I could be your father," he hisses, a hint of disgust creeping into his voice just as he's about to come.

You don't even focus on what he's saying as you feel yourself edging closer and closer to release, just a little more.

"Please, please," he chokes out, voice shaky.

He's begging, no pleading for you to squeeze him dry.

Drain him for every last drop he has to offer.

And so you do.

You wail as you come, as he throws his head back on the headrest, shaking with relief. 

You're still coming down from your highs before Simon mutters a strained, 'Should we go again?'

You let out a breathy laugh, hissing as his cock moves against you. "You sure do have a high libido for an old man," you tease, voice hoarse.

His eyes meet yours instantly, a lazy smirk growing on his lips. 

"You have no fuckin' idea."

author’s note: been having sm fun writing these little drabbles...i have SO many more thoughts. just you wait! also, feel free to send me cute little asks on more scenerios you would like to see hehe

wanna join my taglist?

divider by @/saradika-graphics

[lucidfairies]

science class [e.w]

pairing: loser!ellie x cheerleader!reader

summary: when a new cheerleader arrives at ellie's college, face all dolled up and skirt-clad hips swaying, she all but wants to die.

warnings: smut, 18+ mdni, poc friendly, smoking, bottom!ellie, dom!fem!reader, tribbing, cunnilingus, nipple play, sorta thigh riding, overstim ‼️, ellie comes like five times

wc: 3.6k

top notes: I like accidentally made ellie sort of autistic but it's not my fault okay. also when I was writing this I was thinking abt how if this was a novel the reader would be black but I'm white so idk if I can like write that without like getting something wrong but sorry anyway

sometimes ellie wished she was blind. she wished that she couldn't see pretty girls, because maybe then she wouldn't fall in love with everybody. especially you.

she was two weeks into her sophomore year of college when you showed up. immediately blinded by your beauty, she almost tripped down the hallway as you walked past, in a short little skirt, and a white shirt. your ponytail flicked as you walked by, meeting up with someone you knew already.

she knew she was fucked.

when she arrived at her class, she was astounded to see that you were sitting in the seat next to hers, chewing gum and typing on your computer with cute blue light glasses on. like it was nothing. like her world wasn't crashing down in front of her.

standing in the corner of the lecture room, she debated moving seats. there were plenty of open ones, but you chose the one next to her? how was she supposed to survive this class with a pretty girl next to her, observing everything she does?

the answer is, she wasn't going to.

she was simply going to perish from the sight of you, from being in your presence, because she certainly didn't deserve to be and-

"ellie, would you please sit down? you're creeping me out." her teacher said, and she shifted nervously, then sped to her seat with her gaze trained at the floor. "okay, let's dive in, shall we?"

and the lecture continued. like you weren't right there. she couldn't understand why everyone in the world wasn't looking at you right now, absolutely entrancing, the way you took cute aesthetic notes and reapplied your shiny clear lip gloss.

"ellie?" you said, hoping she truly answered to that. she turned, meeting your eyes with a nervous smile and rosey red cheeks. "hi. I'm y/n. I just wanted to tell you that I like your sweatshirt."

it was a ratty old thing that joel had given her years ago, with a faded queens logo and a hole in the armpit that she had to sew back together every time she washed the poor hoodie.

"it's nice to meet you," she said quietly, tucking back a piece of hair that had fallen into her face. she realized how strange she must've looked and stopped quickly, "my dad gave it to me when I was like 11. I've had it forever."

you giggled. you just fucking.. giggled. "you aren't one of those people who just wears it because it's cool though, right?" ellie shook her head violently.

"no, I love their music. I wish I was born in the eightees so I could've listened to them live and.. yeah. I really like them." she turned away from you ever so slightly, nervously over talking and terrified that she was embarrassing herself.

"hey, you're good. I wish I was too. my favorite song is probably back chat, but keep yourself alive is a close second. how about you?" and you let this loser girl next to you talk. and talk. and talk.

ellie didn't know that you were intrigued by her demeanor in every way. from the stickers on her lap top to the patches on her backpack, every detail about her you noticed. you observed the way she warmed up to people and let you strike up a conversation with her about anything once you knew her. and it was... cute. really fucking adorable.

ellie's life only got a million times harder after that. to add to her series of neverending death sentences, she now had to see you in your perfect makeup and effortless outfits everyday. instead of just showing up to class, you insisted on talking to ellie. about everything. cheer, your friends, some dude that was hitting on you.

and on top of that? she saw you in the hallways, or on campus and you smiled. waved, even. some days you even talked to her. in public. you weren't afraid to be friends with her. and though she had jesse and dina, she still had very little social experience, and you were like a breath of fresh air.

on a chilly wednesday afternoon, ellie was walking to the building that your class had been in, and caught a glance of some other lesbian couple on campus. that settled it. she was going to ask for your number today, it wasn't like she was proposing marriage. just something simple. easy.

"can I have your number?" she interrupted you mid-sentence. and you smiled. of course you fucking smiled. she prepared herself for the notorious rejection, after hearing rumors of you rejecting everyone that came up to you and asked for your socials we. she wasn't just anyone, though.

"duh, you only took forever to ask." ellie was frozen in place. had you wanted her to ask? couldn't you have asked for hers? but before she could overthink too much, you were shoving your phone in her face and ellie was putting her number in. "anyway, as I was saying.."

ellie tuned out what you were saying, purely by accident. there were too many big events going on in her life for her poor brain to handle. the love of her life just agreed to give her their number, and she was plotting her route to dina's dorm as quickly as possible to tell her everything.

"holy shit dina," she huffed, running her hands through her hair. "I asked for her number so she gave it to me, and we talked! dina, we talked. about things. I already have our life planned out. we're gonna have two kids and a dog, she'll be a stay at home mom, because I'll do everything for her. I would kill for this girl, dina." dina was unimpressed.

"you are such a loser, els. has anyone told you that before?" she wasn't a loser, she was just incredibly and obsessively in love with you. ellie rolled her eyes. "I say make a move. you never know what could come of it."

"I can't," she sighed, trying to find words. "I can't just make a move, what if she doesn't like me? what if she thinks I'm weird?" she frowned.

"you are weird. if she doesn't like you like that, then fuck her. maybe start with being friends?" ellie nodded. she thought you guys were already friends, but technically you never hung out outside of class, and you hadn't really texted that much (she got your number today, but that hardly mattered).

"should I invite her to jesse's on friday?" dina rubbed the back of her neck. jesse was in a frat, one of the largest on campus that had absolutely wild parties on the weekends, which weren't exactly the best place for first dates. but to ellie... smoking and drinking around hot people in a random basement? amazing.

"if you think she's into that, I'm not gonna stop you." ellie was up and out of dina's apartment quickly, biking back to the dorms and planning out everything that was going to happen on friday.

- - -

in ellie's defense, she overslept. she wasn't thinking much about grabbing a jacket when she was already going to be ten minutes late, so when she stopped outside and the cool air hit her like a brick, she was less than prepared. but it hardly mattered. today was the day she was going to invite you to jesse's party, so her stupid jacket was like a blip on her radar.

"ellie, you're turning blue." you said, once ellie stumbled into her seat next to you. she was in nothing but a loose fitting tee-shirt and jeans, nothing to protect her petite figure. you hadn't noticed before how toned her arms were, but you certainly did now.

"I'm fine, it-it-it's not that cold." her teeth chattered as she stealthy tried to rub her hands over her arms to create friction.

"ellie, baby, I have an extra sweatshirt," you giggled when her eyes widened, grabbing the sweatshirt and handing it to her. "wash it and return it to me whenever." it was a bland black sweatshirt, but it matched your outfit, and you were more than happy to give it to ellie.

ellie who was most definitely going to pass out. she was probably just cold. it wasn't because she could smell your perfume on your hoodie that you just handed her. like it was nothing. she was going to fall out of her chair, onto the floor, and die.

"thanks," she pulled it over her head and sunk into it. "I'll give it back next class- what are you doing on friday?" she tried to get her thoughts straight while you looked at her with an adorable smile.

"I'm actually packing up and leaving, I dropped out," ellie's face fell, "oh ellie you're face," you laughed hard, and her expression softened. "but I'm not doing anything. why? wanna ask me out?" ellie was definitely blushing hard.

"my friend jesse is having a party at his frat on friday, do you.. do you maybe wanna go?" you tilted your head and looked away, as if you actually needed to think about it.

"hm, I guess I can fit that into my schedule." ellie released the breath she was holding and looked down at her hands for a moment before meeting your eyes again.

"uh that's great. it's kappa alpha, at nine. I would pick you up but I don't have a car,"

"how about I pick you up? what's your dorm number?" ellie texted you all the details, and it was settled. you were going on a date. together. in two days, and you were driving. ellie was on cloud nine- not even, cloud fucking ten.

- - -

"hey els," you giggled as she opened her dorm door. "oh, you look so cute! I'm definitely stealing this from you." you pushed a piece of hair behind her ear and messed with the corner of her collar, attached to a red flannel.

"oh thanks... it's yours if you want it." you knew if you asked she wouldn't ever have you give it back, maybe even give it to you right now. she stepped out of her room and shut the door, then followed you down the hallway.

"so who's this jesse kid? I hear a lot about him." you asked, turning on the engine and pulling out of the parking lot. the frat was on the other side of campus and ellie planned on walking? laughable.

"I really don't know him that well, he's dating my friend dina. he's a big stoner, but he's not super into the party scene. just goes 'cause the frat does." her eyes were trained out the window, not because she didn't want to listen to you, but because she was insatiably nervous.

"nice, nice." you paused for a moment. "are we gonna dance together or what? gonna save me a slow dance?" the tips of ellie's ears turned red.

"because I have such a roster." she joked, rolling her eyes. she would save every dance for you.

"perfect. is jesse's weed good?" she shrugged.

"it's okay. not as good as mine, and his plug is kinda shitty. whatever, it works. we're here." you pulled the car to a stop against the curb, in awe at how many people were coming in and out of the house.

ellie desperately needed to get high. maybe then she could talk to you like a normal person, not like she was trying to brush you off. when she found jesse, he was talking to dina and brushed her off. with a groan, she turned to find some other seller.

you were talking to someone, pretending not to pay attention to ellie skittering around the house talking to people she knew. maybe she wasn't as much of a loser as you thought, or maybe she was just a stoner. one of them. either way, she kept disappearing, but when you finally found her again, she was sitting on a couch, joint hanging from her lips as she talked with some friends.

"els," you fell next to her, taking the joint out of her mouth and taking a hit. "we should play beer pong." you suggested, smiling at her the way she liked.

"we were just talking about that," dina cut in, "me and jesse will play with you guys, won't we jes?" he turned back towards the three of you, dazed and a little confused. "that's a yes." ellie was burning lasers into dina, who was standing.

one of the tables was empty, and the group immediately moved to occupy it. you took your place next to ellie, teaming up with dina who was smirking at the end of the table. "you go first," you handed ellie the small white ball.

ellie was skilled, that's for sure. she made almost every single point, which had jesse drinking until he couldn't see straight. she was trying so hard not to focus on the way your bicep brushed against hers, and the way you giggled whenever you made a point. it just wasn't fair. none of this was fair.

"I definitely won." ellie said, as you made your way back inside. "you had, like, two drinks, max. I had jesse drinking for miles." you could tell she was on something now, the way she grinned and made eye contact and jokes were far from her usual character.

"don't you owe me a dance?" your hand locked with hers as you gently pulled her in the direction of where most people were dancing. you lifted her arm and spun her, pulling her back against your front by her hips.

ellie surely wasn't breathing. she was sure that she had died from alcohol consumption, or maybe someone stabbed her, and she was dead, in heaven. or a fever dream in a coma. there was no way in hell -in hell- that you were swaying your hips against her ass, cunt so fucking close to where she desperately needed you.

"this is fun, don'tcha think, ellie?" you whispered, voice low as you guided her hips with yours. her head fell back against your shoulder, alcohol wearing off as you ground her hips against your front. "I asked you a question, darlin."

"so fun," she muttered, eyes closed as she let you bring her hips back and forth with yours to the beat of the music. "wanna go upstairs?"

"ellie williams inviting me upstairs on the first date? dirty." you giggled, pulling away from her body. she was flushed, her boxers were already wet, and she had no clue what going upstairs entailed. but she needed you regardless. "lead the way, confident." she ran her sweaty hands down the front of her jeans and led you upstairs, to an empty bedroom. it was jesse's, and he wouldn't ever know.. right?

you were pulling her face against yours before she even got a chance to tell you that she didn't know what to do. you were definitely taking the lead on this one - not that ellie objected in any sense.

you nicked her bottom lip, eliciting blood at how chapped they were. you pushed your tongue into her mouth, smiling when she moaned and pulled you in by your waist. your hands traveled, brushing against her tits from beneath her tee shirt. obviously she didn't wear a bra, she was too cool and masc for that.

"you're desperate els," you sneered when you pulled away, pulling your crop top up and over your head. "take off your shirt and pants and lay down." ellie had no thoughts in her head; just you. you telling her to strip. this definitely wasn't a fever dream.

she quickly lost her shirt and pants, leaving lanky limbs and embarrassing boxers. her nipples were perked up, waiting to be sucked and slapped, and her face was red with a never ending blush.

when she laid down, you got on top of her, pushing her legs up around your waist as you sucked hickey after hickey into her neck. she was writhing and whining, begging for you to touch her further than just your hands still placed on her thighs. just from making out and hickies she was pushing her hips into you, clit hitting the fabric of your skirt as you moved to push your thigh between her legs.

"need you so bad," she whimpered when you finally diverted your attention from her neck down her chest. you left soft kisses between her tits and around them, before taking her nipple in your mouth and harshly sucking. like a false sense of security.

her hips were coming down hard and fast against your knee as you continued to mess with her tits, pulling her nipples between your fingers and grazing them with your teeth. she was just so fucking sensitive, and she barely even smoked anything.

knowing she was getting close, you moved your knee and kissed down her sternum, leaving a trail of shiny gloss as you got to the waistband of her boxers. "oh, poor baby, you've been waiting for this, haven't you?" you ran your thumb over the wet patch of her underwear.

"nghh- for so long," she moaned as her hips rutted into your palm. "I think about y- fuck- think about you when I..when I come," her eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment, knowing she was sharing far more than she needed to.

"do you now?" you teased, pulling her boxers down her pale legs. you added them to the pile of clothes and admired how absolutely drenched she was, practically leaking onto the sheets. "what do you think about, princess?" you were bringing her legs over your shoulders, looking at her expectantly.

"think about you- mh- about this," she was immediately distracted by the way you kissed her clit. "about c-cuming on your- shit shit fuck," you pressed your tongue against her clit and licked, before sucking it into your mouth and painting patterns with your tongue.

after keeping your attention directly on her clit for a few minutes, you circled her entrance with your middle finger, lubing it up before pushing it in to the first knuckle and fuck, she was tight, holding onto your finger to the point you could hardly thrust.

"ellie, you gotta relax. we can stop if you want to." she shook her head violently, unclenching her eyes and trying to breathe. her body released its tension, which made everything less tense, allowing you to push your finger the rest of the way in.

and... she came. just like that, barely a finger deep her cunt, barely doing anything.

"jesus ellie," you laughed to yourself. you didn't wait for her to finish before you started fucking your finger into her. she whined and thrashed to get away from your hand, but you added another finger and pressed down on her hip to steady her. you curled your fingers up just enough to hit that sweet spot inside of her and she almost black out.

"fuck- s'too much.. s'too much," she slurred, drunk on your fingers. the bed shook lightly against the wall at the harshness of your thrusts.

"is it really, baby?" you grinned, before taking her clit in your mouth again. her moans were practically louder than the music downstairs, and her back was arching. she attempted to get away from you, pulling her hips away, but it was no use.

tears welled in her eyes as her stomach tightened. her pussy clenched around your fingers, sucking them in deep. you pressed against her spot as she came, making her let out a broken shriek.

ellie was definitely crying now. especially when you didn't stop... again. you just kept pounding your fingers into her, adding a third. just thinking about how hard she would cum on a strap instead of your fingers had you dizzy.

her second orgasm morphed into her third before you pulled your fingers out. they were drenched in cum, which was dripping down your arm and the sheets. ellie's cheeks were puffy from crying, hips twitching as she tried to breath.

"oh sweet girl, we're not done yet." you wiped your hand on the bed and climbed off of her, stripping yourself of your remaining clothes and coming back over her, kneeling between her legs.

you pushed her leg up, straddling her for a moment. her lips were parted, breathing heavily as she waited for you to drop against her. your lips quirked up into a smirk as you pressed your cunt against hers, head falling back as your clits met.

ellie's pussy was wet, covered in cum, ready to be fucked until she couldn't say any name but yours. you thrust your hips against hers, and she was crying again, pulling and flicking her own nipples as she listened to you moan and reveled at how phenomenal your pussy felt.

she pushed her hips into yours, so you held them down, forcing her to take whatever you gave her. you came down against her pelvis hard, almost to the point where it hurt, but ellie was living for it, sobbing out your name like it was God's.

"can't come again- I can't- fuck, nnghh," you forced two fingers into ellie's mouth and she shut up, sucking them like a slut.

"yes you can." your voice changed, something deeper and more dominant ripped out of you as you got close to your orgasm. a rock in your stomach dropped, and you could feel ellie getting close as you picked up the pace, moaning at how her cunt felt.

you came at the same time, cum mixing and smearing all over both of you. ellie was still crying, back arched as she moaned over and over. you kissed her ankle softly as you came down for your high, climbing off of her after a moment and laying next to her.

"I want you to be my girlfriend," ellie croaked, voice still hoarse for all the crying. you giggled, looking over at her with a grin.

"I think I can do that."

bottom notes: this is the longest fic I've written and I actually thought I wouldn't be able to get more than 2k words.. anyway sorry about the abrupt ending I kinda wanted to be done

[pedrosyouknowwhat]

Catching fireflies

Trilogy masterlist

Pairings: Dark! Joel Miller x Fem! Reader

Chapter warnings: Dead dove do not eat, dubcon borders noncon, coercion, manipulation, age gap (reader is 19-20 and Joel is 56), unprotected p in v, alcohol consumption, pussy slapping, mention of blood, virginity loss, creampie, inexperienced reader

You slouched over the bar, giggled resonating with the loud, thumping music.

"Aw come on Jerry, you know me since I was a kid!" You pushed, fingers brushing against the worn wood, sticky with years of spilled whiskey; the old bartender chuckle hoarsely. The banter was playful, a brief respite the people of Jackson allowed themselves in the ruckus of the Apocalypse, some glee.

"The world may be fucked up, but you are still underage." He answered, cheeks tinted both from the laughing and the unforgiving summer heat.

Another drunken citizen chirped in, telling the man to give you a drink. Although you knew his intentions were far from kind, you allowed him to fuel the laughter. You hid your uneasiness deep down as you tugged your flowy skirt down your thighs.

The door bell clinked open, but before you could turn around and see, a cup of lemonade was placed in front of you. You inspected the drink with feigned offense.

"Come on Jerry, just one beer." You pleaded, doing your best puppy dog eyes.

"You want Maria to kill me?" He excused, and you rolled your eyes at the excuse you have heard a thousand times.

Like when you asked a boy to be your boyfriend, or when you ask for Tommy to bring you a pretty dress. It all resorted to your mother, well adopted mother; she had taken care of you after your mother died in the outbreak, but it also meant the community held you as some kind of baby Jesus. Always no, always strict.

"Well, Maria can't kill me." You heard a deep seated, growly chuckle behind you, and you peeked over your shoulder.

A man with dark pepper and salt hair, broad shoulder and big, brown eyes. He held a smirk, adorned by a thick, well trimmed, beard that matched his hair. It clicked a tad too late, the resemblance.

"Joel Miller, what are you doing here?" Jerry greeted with a laugh, making the man's gaze lift from you.

"Decided to stick to one place at a time." He explained, nearing the counter. He nudged towards you with his head. "Give her something, on my tab, come on."

Jerry's smile turn into a scowl as he added cheap vodka to your lemonade, and you squealed in excitement, muttering a chant of thank you's to him. You almost forgot about Joel beside you as you sipped the straw.

"So you are, Maria's girl?" He asked, and your eyes shot to him, as a child caught stealing candy.

"Well yes," you sputtered. "Adopted." You added, but it felt weird to clarify.

"Well I'm lucky you are not my niece."

You giggled slightly, was that a compliment?

"Or else you wouldn't be buying me drinks?" you said, and it came out flirtier than you thought. He hummed in response, and the way his shoulders rose sent a tingle through your body.

He's like twice my age. You thought, and that was enough to slip you right out of your giddy trance. You started thinking of excuses to ditch him and head back to your friends, fumbling with the fear of coming off as rude. But the way his eyes lingered on your white lacey dress beneath the thick denim jacket made you unease.

He asked Jerry for a beer, turning to you with a sip. "Wanna go outside?"

Your lips fell apart but words didn't spill, and you head just nodded. Okay, I'll go outside and then tell him I need to go back to my friends. But as you felt lingering stares into the summer night, Joel maimed you with conversation.

He was intriguing to say the least, speaking in short, concise sentences that kept stringing questions into your mind. He spread against a bench as you sat on the edge of the seat, interrogating him in his many adventures.

"There are some things a young thing like you can't hear." He excused, lighting a cigarette between his thick chapped lips. You whined, catching his attention.

Soon enough you were laying your head on your hand against the bench, eyes fluttering as you mustered to keep asking him, keep him talking. His accent was thick, similar to Tommy's.

"Someone's getting tired?" You heard once your eyes were shut, you hummed in response. "Let me take you home."

You questioned if Maria or Tommy would get mad as you walked up the cobblestone, then you laughed at yourself. It was Tommy's brother, the one you have heard stories almost all your life, although having met him randomly, you doubted they'll get mad if they saw him walking you up to your door.

Still, you peeked to the house beside you, checking that the lights were off before turning to face him.

"Well thank you, Joel?" You smiled curtly, waiting for him to leave before opening the door.

"Nice thing you got here, gonna let me in?"

The question felt weird, suggestive.

"You need something?" You asked, a bit more abruptly than you wanted it to come off, but tiredness seeped into you.

Joel blinked, his brows drawing together. "I must be doin’ somethin’ wrong. Pretty girls usually don’t leave me out in the cold." He explained, perhaps way to bitterly. You feel your cheeks warm up as you look around, seeing no one. "but I guess you are too young for that, right?"

You felt yourself cringe at how dumb you felt, young felt almost like an insult. Your gaze fell to your feet, seeing his rugged leather boots.

"it's okay baby," He sighed, and the word slipped out of his tongue effortlessly. "everyone got a first time."

The slight relief that had washed over you dissipated, as if burnt by the heat of his gaze, and everything that had been told of men poured into your mind.

"I-I am not that type of girl." You spluttered, and instantly cursed to yourself.

Joel sniggered, and you felt small in front of his thick, broad body. damn, you had to crane your neck to look at his face.

"Oh I know baby," He drawled, and his hand slowly came up to your face, tucking a strand behind your ear. The word rolled out, sending shivers down your spine. "Just wanted to know you got onto bed safely, and you don't, you know, sleep in the couch- you look so tired."

You nodded, biting your lip. Hastily, you opened the door and turn on the lights. It was pretty small, but it worked; Tommy and Maria wanted you to have your own house, being perhaps to crowded in theirs, but they still wanted to keep you close.

"There's juice on the fridge," You offered timidly, looking how his big figure looked almost comical in your house. "I'm going to change, um, I think I'm good now."

He didn't answer, boots thumping against the floor boards as he observed the pictures over the fireplace. You shrugged to yourself, slipping into your bedroom.

You wondered if he was still there as you changed into your pijama set, something that was sewn for you by Maria, and layered a hoodie on top to check is he was still there.

To no one's surprise, he was, leaning over the wall as is waiting for you.

"I'm going to sleep now," You laugh dryly, pointing to your bedroom as if clarifying you weren't sleeping on the couch.

He looked pretty, and you felt weird for thinking that of a man so much older. He stalled, looking at your for a bit longer.

"Come here," He commanded, and you felt yourself freeze. he saw you, your doe eyed look as you stared at him, pleadingly. "come here baby, I don't bite."

He's Tommy's brother, I know Tommy since I was ten, come on.

You walked over to him, bare feet almost tripping over each other. You stopped a feet away from him, looking expectantly. He rose from the wall, closing the distance between the two of you.

"You are a pretty girl, you know that right?" He told you, and you felt yourself blush as you nodded, weakly. "words, baby."

"Yes, Joel." You answered; a smile tugged once again at his lips, pleased.

"And I'm telling you this for you to take care of yourself, okay?"

You repeated the answer, seeing his chest slightly swell at your obedience.

"You can't let men enter your house like this." He explained, and your brows knitted together in confusion. "They can get... wrong ideas, alright baby?"

"I'm sorry." You said, although you weren't; you were confused.

"Sweet innocent thing," He drawled, and his hand rose to cradle your cheek, forcing you to look into his deep, dark eyes. They looked almost black in the dim lighting. "Have you ever had your first kiss?"

The question struck you, and you felt shame; his touch felt deceiving. As if he was mocking. You shook your head, and he tutted.

"No, Joel." You mumbled, questioning why you kept repeating his name after each answer.

His smile turn into a grin, hand now cupping your jaw.

"Gonna help you with that, just so you-wake up, a bit-darling, alright?"

Before you could even wonder what he meant, his grip became tighter as he pulled you closer, lips clashing into yours. You gasped, and he slipped his tongue into your mouth, as if searching for yours. His free hand coiled around your waist, pushing you closer and your hands felt onto his chest. His finger trailed closer to your neck, keeping you in place as he ravaged your mouth.

He let go, leaving your breathless, chest heaving as you gazed up to him in shock. His mouth was twisted into a hungry snarl as he came down to whisper in your ear. "Don't tell them about this, baby."

You woke up the next day believing it was a dream, a twisted and weird dream or perhaps that one glass you had drunk, but when Maria told you to come over for dinner, to celebrate Joel's welcome into the community, and you felt his piercing stare on yours, you knew you hadn't dreamed it. You were quiet at dinner, letting them speak and catch up; Joel was more talkative than you remembered.

You wanted to isolate the incident at your house, to think it was just him genuinely teaching you something, but a fire rose through you each time you were captive to those big, puppy dog eyes. You hadn't kiss anyone since him, and the feeling lingered in your lips. You found yourself thinking about him, about his thick body.

He wasn't teasing as usual around the others, perhaps grumpier with them. He flashed you small smiles and pats in the back, and he supplied all your drinks from the bar, telling you to "go get lost kid" each time he saw you begging by the counter. His change of demeanor made you wonder, if you weren't good enough or mature enough; you had never thought that, not until Joel Miller appeared in your life.

The doubt had crept over you for too long before you gathered your bravery and decided to sneak out to see him; his house stayed on the farther side of town, the one were less people were around. You slipped through back yards and trees the way day, questioning what exactly you were planning until you came face to face with him, sitting in his porch with a guitar on his hand.

"Hi." You greeted, breathless.

"Baby, what are you doing here?" He asked, and hearing the nickname once again made you gush. He looked around, perhaps worried, as he beckoned you to come closer.

"I-I wanted to see you." You confessed, shamefully, and before you sat down he stood up, nudging to the house.

"Come in, can't have you out here."

You followed him inside, jumping when he neared you as soon as the door slam shut. His hands made their way to your hips, impatiently; you got whiff of his cologne, leather and eucalyptus. You wide-eyedly looked up at him, hands pressing into his flannel. You liked his hair that way, slicked back, fresh from the shower.

"Why did you kiss me the other night?" You muttered.

You saw him hesitate with words, struggle, bite his lip as if he was trying to keep his words in. You suddenly felt overly conscious of the way your jacket draped over your body, of the way your jean shorts clung around your thighs and the low cut of your tank top; perhaps you didn't look as good as you expected.

"Baby, don't do this to me." He pleaded, although it sounder more like a demand.

"Please." You begged, fingers latching on tighter.

"It's wrong baby, so wrong." he growled, eyes dipping to your lips. You almost whined at the tone.

Your head cocked to the side, tears brimming in your eyes; what was wrong with you? He just kissed you.

"But why?" You whined; his grip tightened around you.

"Tommy would kill me." He grunted, head turning to look around, evading your eyes, evading you; still his grip persisted, as if holding you in place. "If he found out that- that I like you this much-"

"You like me?" You implore, lips tugging into a small, goofy smile.

He looked at you like a man starved, a man punished. "Oh baby," He panted, pressing your body to his. "I really like you, but Tommy would-"

Each time he repeated his name it irked you, like a scratched record. You cut him short. "Tommy won't know."

His tortured eyes soften, a glint of... hope? ignited. You battled the guilt setting in the back of your brain, the promise you had made despite everything Tommy and Maria had given you.

"You wouldn't tell him?" He questioned, voice as soft as silk.

"No," You spoke quickly, scared he might slip from your grasp. "I-I like you too, Joel."

He let out a small chuckle, and you felt lighter. You allowed yourself to chuckle too, and he called your name softly, you hummed in response.

"No one can know baby, alright?" He told you, hand cupping your cheek. You wanted to savor the tenderness of the moment, but his lips were on yours quickly.

It wasn't your first kiss now, and it was frankly more expected than the other; you attempted to keep up with his demanding pace, lips barely parting to allow his tongue to slip in and taste you. His mouth "o"ed against yours, hungrily as your felt his grip on the nape of your neck.

Suddenly his body was pushing you, your feet stumbling as he guided you. Against a wall? the table? your mind buzzed, attempting to find an answer to what he was doing before your knees buckled into the couch, the stripey green fabric cushioning your fall.

His body fell onto you, settling his thick torso between your legs as he pulled away briefly; his hair had messed up a bit, his lips pink from his assault, and his eyes furrowed like some animal; everything about his gaze felt predatory.

He fixed himself in his forearms, rubbing the zipper of his dark jeans into your clothed core, sending a gaspy whine out of you.

"J-Joel?" You muttered as his face hid in the crook of your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses against your blazing skin. He grunted in response, a paw sliding up your thighs; panic brewed in you. "Joel I don't-um-"

He unslotted himself from you, face mere inches away as he looked at you. Joel looked angry, but he couldn't possibly be, right?

"I'm not ready for that." You admitted, like a sinner repenting.

His gaze left you, looking at the empty table, huffing. You felt tears kiss the brim of your eyes, scared to have offended him once again.

"It's fine baby," He grunted, but it felt like it wasn't. He slightly shifted, inches away from you.

"I'm sorry," You choked, doubting to confess further. "I have never done t-that."

You caught his gaze, a small grin on his lips. "It's fine baby," He repeated, and his eyes lighted a bit. "just promise me somethin', alright?"

"Yes, yes." You nodded, fearing he was going to ask you something you won't like. Like forgetting him.

"Promise me I'll be your first."

A month had passed since you sealed your fate, like some sacrificial lamb. You felt as if you were being prepared for it too, Joel slipping into your home late at night, after a long day of practically ignoring you, and kissing your breathless against your walls, your couch and your bed. His hand had wondered over your clothed core a handful of times, hushing your worry by telling you he "Just wanted to see something".

An event that burn into your mind was one night where he was particularly agitated, grasping you roughly as usual. As his hips rutted into the mattress, he whispered something into your ear that sent shivers down your spine.

"Let me see her." He panted, seeing how your eyes narrowed as if you were wincing in doubt. "Please, baby."

His pleads were answered with a small nod that could be mistaken as anything else; you allowed him to bend you over the bed, as you allowed him to touch in places Maria had told you not to allow anyone to touch you. His calloused finger tips pulled down your pijama pants along with your white, sodden panties.

"For a girl that tells me she isn't ready, you are soaking wet baby." He commented, hand splaying in your ass. You felt your core clench at his words.

The light buzz of the zipper woke you up from your trance, and his name bubbled in your throat. "Relax baby, ain't gonna put it in."

You felt the wooden frame of the bed dig at your hips as the dim moonlight casted shadows around the room. You waited, silently, until you heard low, familiar groans behind you. You didn't want to look behind your back, his tightening grip on your ass sending cold sweet along your skin.

His grunts were vivid in your ear against the silence of the night, and you closed your eyes until it was over, despite not knowing for how long he could go. You were on the edge of falling asleep, the only thing keeping you away was the burning pinch on your skin. He became louder, you begged he would just shut up. Something ran across your mind, if it was even appropriate to ask him when was it over.

As a horrible wish you felt hot ropes lather against your backside, slipping through crevices, leaving a sticky trail. He let go of you, panting as his knees cracked, floorboards accompanying the sound.

You didn't want to move, in fear that his waste would dirty things up. You failed to hear him leave and come back, the cooling sensation of a wet rag cleaning the flaky stickiness on your skin being a strange delight.

"You are so good for me, baby." He praised, and your heart swelled. You flashed him a small smile as the waistband snapped back in place. "Gonna take you to a date tomorrow, you'd like that baby?"

You spent every waking hour thinking about that; he told Tommy he needed help running some errands, a bit of hunting here and there, something like that. You were almost sure Tommy only said yes because of how your face lit up at the mention of leaving the fortress of Jackson for a few hours.

A gentle breeze stroked your cheek, warmed by the setting sand as Joel took your delicate hands in his tanned, calloused ones. His figure was darkened by the rays that blinded you. Your cow girl boots padded on the uneasy ground, long grass stroking your legs as the cherry print sundress flowed.

"Where are you taking me, Mr Miller?" You asked with a sly chuckle, slightly unsettled by the normalcy of it all; it felt almost like before the outbreak. The nickname rolled down your tongue teasingly.

"Just a date," He answered shortly, leading you into a emptier valley. You gasped at the sight. "over here."

Sure, the blanket was the usual he kept at the back of his truck, and there wasn't a champagne bottle, or flowers or food, just a half empty bottle of whiskey. But the effort overwhelmed you.

You had expected more when he told you to wait in the car, but it was enough to make you jump into his thick arms.

"Oh thank you," You almost sobbed, chest heaving. You separated yourself to look into his eyes, but the dark browns skimmed down your neckline as he stepped back into the blanket. "You are so sweet, I-"

He landed with a slight thud into the ruddy blanket, and pulled you on top of him.

"Anything for my baby." he mumbled, propping you on top of him. A hand tangling into your hair as he pushed your lips into his, tongue slipping into your mouth as he grabbed a fistful of your ass. You yelped, pulling away.

His expression soured, eyebrows knitting together as you let out a slight giggle, attempting to dissipate the tension.

"Are we going to watch the sunset?" You asked eagerly as you slipped out of his lap, and he fisted the whiskey bottle. Haphazardly, he opened it and took a swig before nudging it into your arm. "Oh, I have never drank whiskey-"

"Come on baby, it won't kill you." He cut you short. You allowed it to burn it's way into you, perhaps scared of displeasing him.

Soon you were even more giggly as you draped yourself over the blanket. Joel's scowl had dissipated, and he was once again singing sweet things into your ear.

"You are so pretty," He mumbled against your neck, placing tender, testing kisses. "Such a pity you are so young."

You grunted at his words, playfully glaring at him. "What do you mean?"

Because what could he mean? You were basically dating, if you knew anything about that; he took you on dates away from Jackson, preaching about privacy, and he visited you late at night, through the backdoor.

He let out a dry laugh as he took one glance into the sky, now painted a light blue as the sun cast it's last goodbyes. You propped yourself in your elbows, getting a better look on his pepper and salt hair and thick beard.

"You are too young for me," he repeated, and you felt nervous by the way he evaded your eyes. "too innocent-"

"I'm not innocent." You almost barked, hand slapping against your lips as you realized how quickly you had said it. "I mean-I don't see how that is a problem."

He finally looked at you with a down turned smile, as if assessing you.

"Come on baby," He nagged, stroking your cheek. "a man like me has, I don't know how to say this, but needs."

You knew what he meant, and it scared you. He had tried a month ago, when you have started dating, and you panicked. He had taken you home for the bar, and perhaps you understood it; that was what people usually do, at least he had told you that. And he was respectful about it too, any time his hand would slip up your thigh, you just had to give him a tight lipped smile for him to stop.

But he was right. Men had needs. Everyone told you about it, most of the time it was a warning, to not be so naive, because men could do and would do bad things to you, just because of these needs.

But Joel wasn't like those men, he was good, he was nice, he even brought you gifts every time he went out for munitions, like what looked like really expensive underwear.

"I know," You spoke slowly, slurred by the amount of whiskey you had taken. "I-I can do it."

A smile appeared on his lips, and once again he looked so sweet when happy.

"You sure baby?" He asked, but his body was already falling on top of yours. The rough fabric of his jeans slide through your thighs, and you felt his zipper line up against your core. "You'll make me the happiest man alive."

It felt sudden, but you had literally told him you were willing to do it, you thought.

He had jumped over you like a coyote over his pray, placing open mouthed kisses over you as his hand palmed over you. He pulled your panties to the side, fingers playing with the slickness you had deprived him off for so long.

His finger prints traced over your fleshy bit, the button that stood at the top of your slit, the one that throbbed when he pressed himself to you. You whined, his ministrations a bit too rough, too intense as you felt as if you were being electrocuted.

You gasped when his thick finger broke into you, a sting following its path. "So tight baby," He mumbled by your shoulder, your eyelids shooting close in pain. "have to open you up for my cock."

The way he said it made you felt even more dirty, but he was he one staining you, and if he liked it that much, it couldn't be so bad, right?

His wet finger left your cunt to fiddle with his belt, you heard the clunk zip sounds along his grunts as he lowered his jeans.

"Take a look baby," He called, and you slowly peeked your eyes opened to look between his legs.

In his hand he held his cock. It's red hot tip weep sadly, veins decorating its side; it was longer than his fist, and thicker than any vegetable you have seen around. A weird comparison, but it was all you thought at the moment.

You head begun to shake, eyes shooting pleadingly at him. "Joel, it's not gonna- is it even gonna fit?"

He chuckled, proudly, as his hand continued to pump precum around it. "It's supposed to baby, your body is made for that."

You nodded, biting your lower lip; he knew better than you. You felt the urge to ask him if he had done this before, but it was probably stupid.

"Lay down baby," He ordered, and you slowly plopped back onto your back. "Spread this legs nice and wide for me."

He saw you doubt, so he forced his body between them, hands at your knees. He laughed about something, looking down between your bodies. You felt the hot tip heavy against you, against the opening. Your hands clenched the blanket beneath you, knuckles turning white, and he pushed in.

Pressure, pressure, pain.

You yelped painfully as you felt the intrusion, body jolting away on instinct. He tutted at you, hands gripping your hips tightly.

"Baby, now we gotta put it in again." He scolded, your head swag from side to side, scared of muttering the words. You fought against his grip. "Stay still."

He growled the last part, and your heart hammered against your chest. You felt searing pain once again, as he pushed in. Your lips parted and a hoarse scream came out, surprising you.

A hand that could break your neck slapped against it, keeping your head still. He met your terrified eyes, tears rolling down your temples form the pain.

"God baby you wanna get us killed?" He barked lowly. "It's going to hurt more if you keep squirming; gonna do this quickly, rip the bandage, alright baby? promise you'll like it afterwards."

He kept talking, but your mind went blank with white hot pain as you felt his hips flush against yours as the agony stilled for a second. It all came back, crushing you as you heard his deep seated moan, your thighs fought against it, shutting close against his torso.

"Take it," He groaned, unlike his usual sweet demeanor. "Take it like a good girl, my good girl."

His hand still clasped over your mouth, and through your blurry eyes you could see his face, hear him; he was happy, he liked it. The praise went straight to your cunt, allowing some ache to dull.

He was going at it for hours, the sun now long gone as all you could do was feel him; the drag of your cock in and out in quick hard motions, his wandering hands pulling down your dress to lick and suck at your neck. And you heard him too, his groans and grunts and the dirty words he shot at you, becoming dirtier and rougher with each thrust.

"Taking my cock so good, bad girl."

"Such a whore, fucking an old man like me, huh?"

"Stop fucking whining, you love it, little perfect slut."

It became too much, any pleasure his strokes could cause disappearing as he lifted your ass off the ground to fuck into you. You whined, feeling the pressure on your clit, a throbbing. A hand came down upon your sensitive skin, slapping there.

You chanted his name, feeling sweat bead against your skin as he gave you blow after blow, sending you clenching around his cock.

"Gonna cum around my cock, huh baby? as I'm slapping your little pussy?" He questioned, and you blabbered a yes.

His thumb begun revolving around your soft point, the rest of his hand pressing down on your abdomen. You allowed the foreign feeling to take over you as his cock thrust up into you, hitting a spongy spot that sent your back curling against the ground.

"J-joel!" You whined, shrieking as you came undone under him.

Any muscle that tensed came undone too, cramping against you as Joel picked up your thighs, pressing them against your chest as he gave precise fucks into you.

"Gonna cum inside of you," He growled. "Fill you nice and deep, baby."

His body weight fell on top of you, stretching your legs even further as you felt his cock twitch inside you. The wetness spilled further inside you, and you quietly listened to his staggered breaths as you came down from your high.

The blood hadn't dried off the blanket as he said it was getting late and walked you to the truck. You waddled, slight pain in your lower belly as you followed him.

"Wasn't that bad, right baby?" He asked you, the light of the truck illuminating his face in a warm glow. His hair was messy, damp with sweat, and he lit a cigarette between his lips.

"It was good." You smiled absentmindedly. "Thank you, Joel."

[lovecandyxx]

Teacher! DOFP! Logan Howlett x Student! Reader

A/N: EURGGHHh okay so this is literally the first ever fic i'm writing on here for Logan, idfk i'll just GO 4 IT... Idk whether this is out of character 4 him I did my best!!!! this basically takes place after logan 'woke up' n became a teacher, Also, english isn't my first language so I hope the grammar is right LMFAO.

contents: Implied age gap, Make out sesh, hair tugging, awk moments, is this considered knee fucking??? idk?????? obvs teacher x student!!! pet names, teasing?

Just short n' sweet tha's itttt ౨ৎ⋆ ｡⋆𐙚⋆.˚₊⊹♡

It was currently 8:30 AM, 30 minutes before class starts. I bit my lip biting back a grin and took a look at the box of cookies I held in my hands. I paced slightly in front of the classroom door trying to do it silently while also trying to steal slight glances through the small window pane of the door, knowing Logan was sat inside. Because obviously I have a Huge crush on my proffessor, Mr.Howlett. It was just the way he was always a bit more gentle with me, than he was with the other students. The light brush of our fingers when he passed back my notes and the way his eyes are already on me when I look his way, sometimes I think I can see him glimpsing under my desk, too. The one time my heart fluttered the most was probably when after class, I had asked him for extra help and he eagerly complied, I sat next to him by his desk and when I finally got it and did a few things right, he had put his hand on my thigh gently and called me a 'good girl'. GOD I could've died right then and there.

Snapping out of my thoughts, I sneakily looked inside one more time, took a deep breath and opened the door with a soft creak. I stepped in and turned to close the door before turning to face my teacher, his face turned to look at me instead of all the papers on his desk. I felt a slight heat creep into the back of my neck from the way he looked at me, he has such freaking sexy eyes. "Goodmorning, Mr.Howlett.." I pursed my lips into a thin awkward smile and walked toward his desk. "Mornin' (Y/N).." Logan glanced up at the clock hanging on the classroom wall. "You're 30 minutes early?" He said with an intrigued tone and raised eyebrow. "I know, I just uhh.. Wanted to give you these" I tell him while softly placing the box of cookies infront of him.

He looked at the cookies, then to me, then again to the cookies. "You.. made me cookies?" A faint smile appeared on his gruff face and he shook his head slightly. "Ya didn't have to bub, but thanks" He grabbed the box and swiftly put them in a drawer in his desk "I'll eat them after class, Don't like sugar in the mornings." He looked up at me again, and I swear he looks at my legs for a split second! Putting on a mini skirt was the right fucking option for today.

I grab a chair and set it down across from him, at his desk. "I understand, I mean, I'm glad you even accepted them! I was scared you wouldn't like sugary sweet things!!" I giggled and looked him in the eyes.

Logan's lips turned upward lightly, He in fact, Hates sugary foods. He only accepted them because they we're from you, If it we're any other student he probably would've scoffed in their face and kicked them out. Truth is Logan has been quite interested in (Y/N) for a while now, too. He tried to be closer to her with such small things but because he obviously, was her teacher, he could never cross any crazy line. (Y/N) is also a lot younger than him.. like a lot. And yeah everyone know's he's like 180+ years old but his appearance looks more of a 56 year old, which is still way too old considering (Y/N)'s age.

Logan put the papers on his desk aside and leaned back in his seat, "Don't you have better things to do before class, rather than giving your teacher cookies." he teased. I rolled my eyes at him playfully trying to ignore the flutters in my chest and slight blush that crept onto my face, "Well.." I crossed my arms and breathed in deeply trying to think of a sassy remark, but sighed and responded. "Not really.." I laughed softly and notice him still with a soft smile looking at me. "Jeez can't a student accompany her old lonely teacher for once!" I joked rolling my eyes trying to hide my grin and leaning back in my seat. Logan raised both eyebrows and smirked. "Did you just call me old? C'mon bub?" I laugh loudly at his response, "Lucky for you I like them older!" I responded still in a joking manner, before I noticed the look on his face and him leaning forward, elbows on his desk now, and then I realized what I had actually said to my older teacher! My face flushed red when I saw a smirk form on his face with his stupid eyebrow raise again. My breath hitched and I wanted to think of something to say. "I- I mean like, Not like, You know! But, Like-... Actually nevermind I can't save myself right now." I mumbled the last part. Feeling lightly embarrassed but also confused as to why my teacher wasn't scolding me for saying such an inappropriate thing?

I looked downwards at my hands resting on my knees, "Sorry, Mr.Howlett.." I muttered out. Then Logan let out a small stiffled laugh and I looked at him, brows furrowed in confusion. "You don't have to say sorry sweetheart, was kinda hoping you'd confess 'sum like that" he admitted. I blinked at him in confusion blushing at his rarely used nickname for me, "What.. what do you mean..?" He crossed his arms leaning back into his seat again. "I mean, I was hoping you'd admit you'd be into someone like me, bub." His eyes pierced into your own never leaving yours once, eyeing your face to maybe read any form of emotion off you.

I bit my lip harshly and rubbed my legs together nervously, "Mr.Howlett.." The confident man infront of me opened his mouth to say something to me again, but was stopped by a small group of students walking into the classroom. They greeted Logan and all gave me a weird look, I'd guessed for how I looked in that moment..

I awkwardly stood up and put the chair in it's place again, as I sat down on my own seat I glanced at Logan again, heart beating loudly in my chest. What is that man thinking right now?! What was he even going to say, or do?!

As the lesson went on my mind wandered so much that I barely paid attention, not noticing that the class had ended not too long ago. As the few last students left, I didn't quite dare to look up at Logan yet. I just slowly started packing my things, but tensed a bit as I heard footsteps approach. "(Y/N).." Logan called out softly. I didn't look up at him but responded.. It almost felt like I was gonna need to be interrogated by the fucking police. But as Logan noticed I didn't dare look up, he crouched down next to my seat, practically forcing me to look him in the eyes.

The confidence he had an hour ago had faded, especially since you avoided his eyes the whole lesson, Logan had become unsure if you really we're into him. He refused to let go of the eye contact, though. He sighed deeply and put a hand on your thigh, making your breath hitch. "Listen (Y/N), didn't mean for you to get all uncomfortable yea? Just forget about it bub, I'll forget about what you said too, if it'll make ya feel better?" ...I stayed silent for a bit, frozen in place holding the last book I was gonna put in my bag. I bit my lip again and hesitated, thinking about my next move very carefully.

I placed my book onto the table harshly and finally looked Logan in his eyes. I took a deep breath and placed my own hand on top of his on my thigh. "Listen, Logan, That's not it. Like completely not it! I do want you, I want you so bad it actually kills me. I just wasn't sure if you we're actually serious about it, too! That's why I looked nervous." I held onto his hand a little tighter holding my breath, a surge of confidence washed over me, but faded as quickly as it came. I waited anxiously for Logan to say something, but his face darkened. He still held eye contact but there was a sudden change in the way he did. Now there was a sudden, want in his eyes, a need, lust.

"Say my name again." He practically growled this under his breath, grip on your thigh tightening, I gulped softly but complied "Logan.."

Before I could comprehend what was happening his lips we're already on mine, his hand went from my thigh to holding onto the side of my face, cupping it harshly to pull me deeper into the sudden kiss. His hand worked it's way to the back of my head entangling itself within the hair on the back of my head, tugging at it softly. Which let a moan escape my lips which gave him the opportunity to let his tongue into my hot mouth.

I had my eyes shut tightly, feeling extremely overwhelmed but fucking turned on at the same time. He was suddenly so rough toward me, unlike how he was in the classes he teached.

I felt his body weight shift from down under me to on top of me, He had his knee in between my thighs inching closer towards my throbbing core. He never let go of my lips and with his one hand still intertwined with my hair, his other free hand snaked it's way from gently touching my collar bone to slowly towards my chest.

I gave him a light push on the chest, not because I didn't want this, but because I couldn't fucking breath. He let go of my lips, still staying very close to my face, both out of breath practically panting in each others face. I gripped onto his shirt, and whined softly as I felt his knee finally pushing against my cunt. I moaned quietly and let my head fall back slowly cause of the pressure between my thighs.

As our heavy breathing continued his eyes never strayed from mine, "Logan.." I whimpered softly "You okay baby?" I licked my lips at his sudden nickname for me and smiled like a lovesick fool. "You can't call your student baby!" I scolded him playfully between the thick sexual tension. He smirked at me, "Last time I checked I couldn't kiss my students either." He teased. I stayed silent and bit my lip, switching my gaze in between looking at his eyes and his lips.

"We are so gonna get caught if we keep going!" I told him sternly, "Don't ya wanna keep going, sweetheart?" That dumb smirk of him never faded, "of course I wanna keep going Logan! But imagine if someone walks in.." I mumble softly.

He gave a soft tug at your hair one more time making you moan softly, before letting go and removing himself completely from your touch. You whimpered softly, at the weird feel of sudden loss of contact, after being so intimate with your teacher.

Just as Logan straightened his clothes a bit, the next group of students walked in. A few gave weird looks, but with one look from Logan they all scurried off to their seats. I quickly grabbed the last book I had left on the table and put it in my school bag giggling softly to myself. I glanced up at Logan as I stood up to leave and mouthed a very obvious 'told you so.' grabbing his hand giving it a light squeeze, I looked down at his crotch and saw the very obvious tent in his blue jeans. "Goodluck with that and uh, see you tomorrow, Mr.Howlett" I said with a teasing tone, and left the classroom swaying my hips just a little extra more because I could feel his eyes burning into the back of me.

౨ৎ⋆｡⋆𐙚⋆.˚₊⊹♡౨ৎ⋆｡⋆𐙚⋆.˚₊⊹♡౨ৎ⋆｡⋆𐙚⋆.˚₊⊹♡

OKAYYY well that was fun, I'll see for myself if anyone reads this, AND IF YOU DID, LMK what u thought abt it,

MUCH LOVE, CANDY˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[lilyarchived]

behind closed doors [simon "ghost" riley]

a/n: URGH this idea literally came from a silly twitter picture, PLEASE SEND ASKS YOU CAN SEE HOW DESPERATE I AM FOR IDEAS!! Also thank you for the love on my first post, you guys are awesome!

warnings: gn! reader, reader has a breakdown, jealousy, cursing, angst (to fluff), 0.7k words.

summary: you overheard a conversation that included you, and it wasn't a positive talk.

"Ghost, please. leave me alone." you whimper as you walk away from your lieutenant just following behind you. “Not until you tell me why you’ve been avoiding me.” he replies in that same old gruff voice since the day you met. 

You were wandering through the base, having done all the tasks Price had assigned ya. Hearing a familiar deep voice in one of the rooms, you were about to enter but a flash of hesitation hit you once you heard your name. “[mumbled] and what [scrambled] about [scrambled] [Y/N]?” muttered soap, his voice an unserious tone. You gulp, wondering if the context was negative or positive. “What about them?” your heart drops, did he really think nothing of you? Of course not, you were overthinking, you assure yourself this was just ghost being ghost. “I don’t mean to pry ya, lad. Don’t you and [mumbled] have something going on?” your smile reappears after soap’s suspicion. You were about to burst in, smiling, before hearing ghost’s voice once more. “What? No. There was never ‘anything’ between us.”

 Oh. Tears blur your vision before hearing soap say “Ah. So you’re pretty serious about this one you’ve been talking to, huh?” You run away before your heart shatters even more.

“Don’t bullshit me Simon. I heard you in there with Johnny.” You finally turn around once you’re out in the training field, only this time it was empty. You’ve never seen it this empty. What a strange sight. You bring your hands up to your head, fuzzying your hair as you scoff and fold your arms, waiting for ghost to respond. He just looks at you with those same deadpanned eyes, only this time it was laced with a confused look. “What?” he voices in a hushed manner.

 You could only fall to the rough ground as you broke down in an out-of-breath manner. Hearing Simon's footstep’s rummage through and leveling with you to hold you in his arms, his grasp tight as he hushes your cries.

“[Y/N], did you get those files i asked yo-” he barely got to finish his sentence before you dropped them at his hands and began to make your way out. “Gotta go, I'll see you later, Kyle.” you utter, quickly shutting the door behind you. “What’s up with them?” Simon asked Kyle, eyes wide with how the normally-clingy [Y/N] was now being avoidant. “You cannot be that fucking stupid, LT.” Kyle remarked. “What?” ghost asked, voice slightly raised now. Gaz scoffs, “You shit talked them to Soap, you think they wouldn’t find out?” he added. “I never said anythi- fuck. I wasn’t-” Kyle just raised an eyebrow, letting his lieutenant explain himself. “I was telling Johnny how much i like them.” Kyle drops his pen whilst smirking, clearly intrigued now. “Go after them, idiot!” he yells, as Simon bolts outside, in search of you.

And now here you were, in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. ‘How pathetic.’ you think. “Do I mean nothing to you? All those nights, those- stupid breaks I spent with you, getting to know you, nothing?” Simon’s heart aches as he hears your broken voice, feeling immense guilt creep up. “[Y/N], I was telling Johnny how I wanted to be with you.” your sobs quiet down, trying to process what he just said. “There’s no one else?” you whisper, silent cries slipping.

“Really? And what about that gyal you were talking to, Sarah? still want [Y/N]?” – “I don’t mean to pry ya, lad. Don’t you and Sarah have something going on?”

He was denying ever having ‘something’ with a different girl. It all seems foolishly funny now. You laugh through your tear stained cheeks as you punch Ghost on the chest playfully. "i hate you." your voice softer than before, if that were even possible. “It’s you, it’s always been you.” he explained, in that same old gruff voice since the day you met. Only this time, it held more emotion than ever.

[the-fiction-witch]

Adorable

Media - The Maze Runner Series Characters - Newt Couple - Newt X Reader Reader - Y/n Rating - 17 (Smutty discussion) Word Count -996

Newt sat quietly in the back of the ageing jeep, the vehicle bouncing over the uneven terrain as they traversed the vast, deserted landscape toward the last city. He gazed out the window, taking in the expansive horizon where the endless, sun-bleached sand stretched like a golden ocean, punctuated only by the rusted remains of old cars, skeletal buildings, and other relics of a civilization that had long since faded into memory. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, amber glow over everything, giving the desolation a haunting beauty.

Y/n, blissfully unaware of the world outside, lay sprawled comfortably across the backseat, her head resting against Newt’s shoulder. She was nestled beneath the warmth of his jacket, which he draped over her like a protective blanket. Exhausted from driving throughout the night, she was finally able to steal some well-deserved rest.

Newt smiled softly at the sight of her serene face. He gently pulled her a bit closer, relishing the moment, and pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head.

Up front, Thomas sat in the passenger seat, his eyes shifting between the rearview mirror and the endless road ahead. Fry gripped the steering wheel with determination, his focus set firmly on the path that lay before them. After a moment of silence, Thomas turned slightly to glance at Newt, "Hey … Can I ask a weird question?"

Newt raised an eyebrow, intrigued by what was to come from his friend's mouth, "Hm? Yeah, What is it?"

"How uhh how long have you two?"

He chuckled, shaking his head as he lightly ran his fingers through Y/n’s hair. "Three years now. Surprised none of you knew before."

"I had suspicions."

"Oh really? What kind of suspicions?"

"… I was curious where you were sneaking off to all those nights after lights out,"

"Yeah, yeah. Though we were getting away with it just fine."

"Do you two …"

Newt raised an eyebrow, "Are you going to finish that sentence, or just leave me in suspense?"

"You know… Do. It?"

"Do what exactly? You're gonna have to be more specific."

"Fuck." Fry spoke up,

Newt laughed out loud, "Yeah."

"… Kinda a dick move. What if she'd gotten pregnant in the glade? None of us knew how to deliver a baby and no one was ready for a small tiny thing!” Thomas complained,

"That's a valid point. We were definitely stupid to risk it." Newt agreed,

"You could have just… Not fucked." Fry suggested,

"Yeah, right. You try telling me that when you're alone with the person you love, in a stressful situation. Not that easy to just ignore the temptation."

"Translation. Newts was a horny teenager and Y/n got tired wrists." Fry joked,

"Hey, shut up. You try being stuck in a dangerous glade with a beautiful girl."

"Adorable. But what about now? No glade anymore…" Thomas suggested

he shrugged, "Not as easy to find a moment of privacy. But we're not stuck in a giant maze anymore, so it's not like we have to worry about getting caught as much. Plus, I think she's still making up for lost time." he teased.

"Also you know, given the whole… Dramatically decreased population and all… I mean you are kinda continuing humanity?" Thomas laughed,

"Great, humanity continues through Newt and Y/n." Fry sighed,

"We're doing our part to repopulate the planet," Newt smirked,

"Ughh I swear to god I'm gonna come back from a scouting trip and they'll just be like seven little blonde British kids running around," Fry groaned,

"Hey, don't knock my future seven little blonde British kids! They'll be adorable."

Y/n shifted in her sleep on Newt's shoulder nuzzling close, "ummmm babies…"

"Awww Looks like someone's dreaming about babies." Newt cooed,

"If you start making babies in that backseat I'm kicking you out Newt," Fry warned,

"Relax, we're not gonna start making babies in the backseat. I'm not that desperate."

So… Does Y/n let you … You know?" Thomas asked,

"Let me do what, exactly?"

"Touch her… You know?" Thomas asked, making a vaguely chest-grabbing gesture.

Newt rolled his eyes, but still couldn't help but smirk a little at the question. "Yeah, I do. A lot."

"how do they feel?"

"Amazing. They're…big, soft and sensitive."

"Sensitive?"

he nodded, a smug smile still on his face. "Yeah, very sensitive. She reacts just from a gentle touch on her skin. And trust me, I know just the right places to touch to make her go crazy."

"Gross." Fry sighed,

"He asked. Don't get upset just because you got an honest answer."

"But like … What does it feel like having someone else… Touch you?" Thomas asked curiosity,

He pondered for a moment, trying to find the right words to describe it. "It's… amazing. Like a whole new kind of pleasure. Having someone else touch you, knowing that they're enjoying it just as much as you are. There's nothing else that compares to it."

"Winston used to say blow jobs were like the best feeling known to man… Not sure how he knew…" Fry spoke up,

“He probably made it up." Newt laughed,

"But does it?" Thomas asked,

"Does what?"

"Does a blow job feel like the most amazing thing on earth?"

"Yeah, it does. But not the whole act itself, it's the way she… It's like… heaven." He thought for another moment, still running his fingers through her hair, smiling softly at the memory. "Especially when she's on her knees in front of me. Or if she lets me pull her hair."

"Impressive you trust someone enough to willingly put your dick between their teeth." Fry laughed

He shrugged, "Hey, I trust and love my girlfriend. I know she would never hurt me."

"hummm Newtie…." Y/n grumbled,

He softened, glancing down at her with a fond smile. "Shhh, go back to sleep, love."

She mumbled something incoherent, shifting on his shoulder and snuggling closer. He gently kissed the top of her head.

"You guys are adorable." Thomas laughed.

"Yeah, yeah, says the guy who's still single."

"We had one girl in the glade and you got her, what was I supposed to do!"

"Not my fault I got to her first. You snooze, you lose." Newt smirked, planting a kiss on Y/n’s nose.

[souperbloom]

short oneshot inspired by a tweet i saw (please don’t kill me for being inactive im sorry im a very busy gal)

cabin fever. [A.I]

🪵 Ashton x fem!reader

a late-night kitchen rendezvous on an annual trip with your friends.

a/n: i cannot find the tweet this was inspired by but it was something along the lines of ‘nobody makes out on the living room couch and dry humps like they used to’ so… just use your imagination with this one friends.

also WHO ELSE IS BUMPING STRAIGHT TO YOUR HEART CUZ I KNOW I AMMMMM

content warnings: none, really!

WORDCOUNT: ~3.1k

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Three AM. The prime time to chug a cold glass of water and stand in the kitchen to contemplate life.

It was day two of the annual ‘friend trip’. Eight twenty-somethings to a six-bedroom cabin with a plethora of tanning lotion and tequila. You had spent most, if not all, of today out by the lake— your shoulders were burnt to a crisp and your eyes felt tired and heavy. It was the price to pay for a gorgeous day out on the water.

Everyone had called it a night around midnight, the couples sifting off to their respective rooms while the solos duked it out for the only other queen sized bed. Luckily, you were the winner of that duel. But now, you’re faced with that unquenchable late-night thirst.

Plus the fact that you couldn’t sleep.

You crept down the old oak stairs quietly, your socks padding against the wood and creaking with every step. You’d wince every time your foot made a sound; but you were also convinced that everyone was too deep in sleep to hear it.

A lakeside cabin in the middle of nowhere was a lot more quiet than you’d anticipated. Only the cadence of chirping crickets and the occasional owl hoot could be heard for miles. It was honestly kind of creepy. You ignored those jarring sounds and continued your journey for that tall glass of water, hoping it would put your sleepy mind a bit more at ease.

Once you tipped some ice into your cup and filled it with water to the point where it was overflowing, you let your shoulders relax. You leaned with your back against the kitchen island and sighed, before taking the biggest swig of your life.

“Can’t sleep?”

A disembodied voice startles you, briefly making you choke on your water as you whip your head around to see who it was coming from.

“Fuck, Ash— scared me…” you mumble sheepishly, wiping a bit of water that had dripped down your chin.

“Sorry, sorry. I probably should’ve made myself known when I saw you coming down.”

Your eyebrow lifts as Ashton starts to approach the kitchen island where you were standing, “You’ve been down here the whole time?”

Ashton nods, stretching his arms up behind his head. “Yup. Been down here for like an hour now. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Mmm, same.”

An awkward, yet peaceful silence falls between you and Ashton as you continue to take large sips out of your cup. He eyes down the sweaty glass, passing it to look down at your sleep shirt and pajama shorts.

You cross your arms and stare at him with that same intrigue, scanning over his unbuttoned flannel and accompanying black sweats. His bare chest was exposed and slightly sunburnt, which mostly everybody had gotten brute of today while out by the lake.

“Since when did you listen to Guns N’ Roses?”

You scoff down at his mention of your old thrifted t-shirt, “Since you decided that not wearing sunscreen in 90 degree weather was a good idea.”

Ashton chuckles quietly, tousling his hair with his hand and mocking your crossed arms and posture.

“Touché.”

You laugh for a moment, chewing the inside of your cheek contemplatively. It had to have been at least 3:30 by now. Getting sleep was definitely one of your top priorities, but Ashton seemed like he was awake for the long haul.

Sleep was imminent, although you didn’t really mind some alone time with him. Something about Ashton and your long-standing friendship left a little swirl in your stomach. You’ve always had the tiniest crush.

“Want some?” You break the silence by swirling your cup, ice clinking against the sides of the glass. He seemed tantalized by your offer, and took the glass without a word.

He raised it with grateful eyes before taking a sip, then finished it all in one gulp. Your jaw dropped slightly at how quickly it disappeared.

“Hey,” you whine, “I said some. Not the rest of it!”

“Oh c’mon, Y/N. We’ve got a tap with unlimited water and about six ice trays in the freezer. I could easily pour you another.”

You shake your head in mock distaste, and start to walk away from the kitchen into the living room area. “No thanks. I’m not thirsty anymore.”

Ashton chuckles from behind you not long before the tap starts running again.

“Suit yourself.”

Now that you were fully awake and alert after Ashton had scared the life out of you, you weren’t sure where to place your restless body. You figured that sitting on the couch and staring at the ceiling may help you get that tired feeling back.

“I’m thinkin’ about staying up to watch the sunrise,” Ashton blurts, his voice growing closer to the couch.

“But, aren’t you tired? I’m fucking exhausted.”

“You woke up at 11 this morning. You got a lot more sleep than I did.”

Your eyebrows furrow as he continues to walk around the coffee table, looking as though he was about to sit himself down next to you on the cushion. “The sun makes me tired.”

“Everyone’s different, I guess.”

Ashton’s words felt backhanded, yet you didn’t have the energy in you to care. He sat himself down next to you with a fresh glass of water and now the only thing you could think about was how his flannel had fallen slightly off of his shoulder.

“You think you’re gonna sleep?” you ask.

“Nah. Probably not.” he replies.

“Cool. Me neither.” Your decision was final.

That silence from before carried over from the kitchen as Ashton took one long sip and finished his water in one sitting. Your eyes lulled closed, but it seemed that sleep was no longer an option.

“Wanna watch somethin’?” asks Ashton, voice raspy and quiet, as he leans forward to discard his glass onto the coffee table.

“Do we even get cable this deep in the woods?”

He laughs at your honest question, slinging his arm against the back of the couch and letting his hand rest behind your head.

Smooth move, Ash.

“Maybe not. But, I’m sure we could find something on demand. Probably some old black and white movie but, I actually kind of dig those.”

You can’t help but giggle and roll your eyes, nodding your head towards the remote as his smile mirrored yours.

“Put on whatever you find intriguing. But if I end up falling asleep, that’s nobody’s business but mine.”

In no time, Ashton had surfed through all movies dating back to the golden age of Hollywood, and eventually landed on A Streetcar Named Desire. You found the choice of such a dramatic movie to be odd for someone like Ashton. Then again, you only knew him so well.

“Have you seen this?” he asks you, settling back further into the couch and letting the cushion cradle his head.

You blow out a breath, trying to recall a time where you’d maybe seen Marlon Brando on your parent’s television yet failed to remember virtually anything about the plot.

“I think so—” your sentence is broken by a yawn, which brings Ash to snap his head away from the silver screen.

“You’re tired, aren’t you?”

“Psh, no. I’m staying up. That’s what I told you and I’m sticking to it.”

Ashton’s gaze flicked down your face, yet it was becoming harder to hold the eye contact as his illuminated features flickered beneath the television.

“Alright. Whatever you say.”

Silence passes as the movie begins, the titlecard rolling onscreen and earning another heavy yawn out of you. Your eyes felt heavy now, heavier than before.

Would falling asleep really be the worst?

Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment and as they fell, you could feel Ashton’s head tilt towards you. The hand that was beside your head on the back of the couch had slowly crept towards your hair.

Without any words exchanged, he begins to pet your head. Not in a strange way. But in a way that if he kept it up, you’d fall asleep and wake up in the morning with your body strewn across his lap.

“Feels nice…” you mumble lazily, your eyes still closed.

“Yeah?”

“Mmh, yeah.”

Dialogue began quietly funneling through the sound system and for some odd reason, you felt compelled to open your eyes. Ashton continued to stroke your hair, but when you expected to see him staring at the television, he was still just staring at you.

“What?”

“Hm?” he jumps slightly, as if caught in some way.

“You’re looking at me.”

He shrugs. It was the most he could do.

“Don’t know what’s happening to me, but— you look really fuckin’ pretty right now.”

Heat swells the apples of your cheeks at his compliment. He did that thing, the one where a man stares at you through his unbelievably long eyelashes and hopes you’d get the memo simply by their eyes.

“Could it be the glow of the silver screen?” you tease, trying to ease up on the ever present tension that Ashton had created out of nothing.

“Could be.”

Something was swirling inside of the pit of your stomach that you couldn’t put your finger on. It could have been how late it was, or the fact that repressed emotions and feelings were making an appearance after the person you’ve had a tiny crush on suddenly expressed interest in you. Ashton was a flirt, but never to this extent.

He was hard to read most of the time.

Instead of feeling out-of-body by the contact Ashton was providing, you decided to embrace his gentle touch and the way his hand softly ran across your head. He had eventually made his way to your shoulder, mindlessly toying with the neckline of your t-shirt as he watched the movie.

You bite your lip, looking down at that muted and worn flannel he was wearing. Then letting your eyes, and mind, wander off and wonder what it would be like to run your palms across his smooth chest. A shaky breath leaves your throat, and catches his attention.

“You alright?” he asks, genuine concern flitting across his face as he catches his hand wandering.

“Huh—? Oh, yeah. I’m fine.”

The eye contact lingers. The triangle method is now in play. Eyes, eyes, lips. Eyes, eyes, lips.

“Anything on your mind at the moment?” Ashton quizzes, his words lazy and muffled.

“Mmmh, no. Not in particular. You?” You try to bounce back but lying was never your strong suit.

“I’ve got a thing or two on my mind, yeah,” he trails off, looking at the tv as his fingers drum against the couch cushion behind you, “Not sure how you’re feeling.”

This odd conversation spinning around the room was making you dizzy. If he wanted anything from you, which seemed obvious by his incapability to focus on the movie, you wished he’d be more honest.

“Tell me what’s on your mind, Ash.”

“Can I show you?”

Those viridian eyes were at it again. Eyes, eyes, lips. Eyes, eyes, lips. You were shocked at his ability to communicate with you without any words exchanged.

It all seemed to be happening in slow motion. Ashton maneuvered himself towards you delicately, as if you were made of porcelain and were to shatter at any given moment. Your back was suddenly flat against the couch and the speed in which it got there had you questioning reality.

Your lips attached and a collective sigh filled the room that was louder than any of the sounds encompassing this massive wooden fortress. Your hands tangled in Ashton’s hair as his flannel brushed against your sides and covered the both of you.

His broad palm cupped your face while he angled his knee between your legs, breathing deeply into the kiss and letting his tongue lead the way.

You could feel the warmth of his body engulfing you, something you’d never thought you’d feel in this lifetime. In your dreams, maybe, but it was just a stupid little crush. Maybe you’d fallen asleep on the couch, and this was your subconscious mind taking over.

But when his hand traveled from your cheek and rested at the base of your neck, you quickly realized that you were not fucking dreaming.

“This okay?” he mumbles, the words knocking against your lips and his hips dip down to grind against your core. It seemed as though he was about as eager to do this as you were.

“Mhm. Fine. Yes.” you blubber, coherent sentences getting lost somewhere in the room and hypnotized by how sweet his lips tasted.

He dips back into the kiss and you could feel him smile against you. It took everything inside of your body to keep your moaning to a minimum, but God, you couldn’t help it.

“You’ve gotta be quiet, hon’,” he giggles into your mouth again, before popping up briefly to stare you down with big, kelly green eyes, “Don’t wanna wake anyone up.”

You nod. Of course. How stupid of you. The last thing you needed was a story to tell your best friends around the campfire while Ashton did the same in another room.

How stupid.

The kiss continues, as does the path of your hands. You let your curiosity kill whatever cat was around and run your hands down his bare chest. You didn’t think fantasizing about it would actually lead you here but hey, it had felt as good as you’d imagined.

A groan rumbles through Ashton’s throat while your fingertips drag down his flesh. His hips seemed to have a mind of their own, occasionally grinding against your core and threatening to pull louder noises from you.

The hand that Ashton was using to hold himself above you had dropped to an elbow, and he slowly began to trail feathery kisses down your jaw and towards your neck. Your eyes shot open, and you just sighed. He sure knew how to press all of your buttons, and he was damn’ good at it too.

“Ash, no marks. Please. Don’t— wanna— have to explain.”

“I know, I know. I’ll keep my markings to a minimum.”

You could feel a catty smirk crawl across your neck, so you playfully whack his shoulder.

“Ashton. I said, no.”

“But you know you want ‘em. C’mon. What’s the fun of a group vacation without a little drama?”

His sultry voice gave you whiplash. He was right; you really wanted those marks. Even if it was just a hickey or two. Surely you could come up with some sort of bluff that would save the both of you from an awkward breakfast conversation.

You’ll worry about that in the morning.

“Fine. But don’t go crazy. I’m not good at lying.”

Ashton chuckles, brushing a rogue lock of hair behind your ear. “Did you forget who you’re dealing with? I’ve got the best poker face in the country.”

You roll your eyes at him, silently dismissing him yet excited for what he had up his sleeve. He began to leave little bites across the side of your neck and down towards your collarbone, occasionally replacing teeth with delicate open mouth kisses and darting his tongue out to wet the surface.

“Mmmh, you’re sweet,” Ashton groans, his breath tickling your chest, “Didn’t know you tasted so good. I could eat you right now.”

Your eyes widen at his random pillowtalk and double entendre, a ping of electricity shooting up your spine, “What?”

“Nothin’.”

He hushes you quickly with his lips once more, the rhythm of his hips making you think that you were actually dreaming with how heavenly his rock hard dick felt pressing against you. But you didn’t want to go to any extremes.

You’d save those for that queen sized bed.

You didn’t realize that the soft whimpers and cries floating through the kiss were a little louder than what you thought they’d be, since Ashton had detached your lips to gaze at you scornfully and say only one word.

“Quiet.”

You nod, like a sad little puppy, and follow his instruction. You wanted to tell him how it felt too good to be quiet, but you didn’t want to cause any problems in which he’d need to carry you up to your bedroom and make you think about what you did.

God forbid.

As the two of you made out like you were the last two people on earth, Ashton’s hands wandered down towards the hem of your sleep shorts. You stop short, out of breath, and look at him with distaste.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Ashton,” you whisper, making a point to trail your words against his ear and leave a gentle kiss at his earlobe.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

He then digs his hips down into your core again, you and Ashton moan in unison. The shock in your eyes at how loud the two of you sounded seemed to hit both of you at once. Frazzled faces morphed into smiles as he takes his hand and caresses your face.

“Y’know, maybe we should pick this back up another time.”

You groan indignantly, but couldn’t help agreeing with him.

“A time where we don’t have to be so quiet?”

He nods, turning it into a shrug, “Or maybe tomorrow. Either works.”

You bite your lip, still bewitched by the taste of his tongue and the slow movement of his hips. You didn’t want to give it up. But if there were promises of continuing this tomorrow, you couldn’t really complain.

“Should we just go to bed then?” you ask, running your palm down his chest again with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

“I’d prefer not to leave the couch.”

“Why not?”

“This seems like a perfectly good place to fall asleep. Plus, my bed upstairs wouldn’t have you already in it.”

Still unable to argue with such a forgiving face, you sigh dreamily. Falling asleep on the couch with Ashton seemed like a bad idea in theory but then again, he was already shifting around you to get comfortable.

Plus, you wouldn’t want to give up the warmth of his body after finally getting a semblance of what it felt like to be so close.

When you and Ashton eventually find a comfortable position, his body behind yours and spooning you with his arm tucked against your stomach and your head resting along his bicep, you let your tired eyes hold the reins.

Falling asleep to the sound of his gentle breathing and elevated heartbeat had turned into an entirely new favorite thing of yours. Whatever was in the air tonight, from grabbing a glass of water to watching an old classic movie, you weren’t sure you wanted it to end so soon.

Oh, who cares. You’ll deal with that in the morning, too.

[alloftheimaginesblog]

nose in a book {bucky barnes}

plot: the coffee shop you and bucky frequent is also a library and every week, you have your nose in a new book.

request by sunflowerkitten2: a coffee shop meet-cute

character: reader x bucky barnes

In all of his years, Bucky Barnes had been to hundreds of coffee shops and had drank thousands of crappy cups of coffee but recently, he'd began to drink at this coffee shop. It was a small shop, half library half coffee shop with warm lighting and a nostalgic musky smell from the old books that adorned the shelves. There was a certain charm to it but the coffee certainly wasn't it. The coffee was actually pretty awful but there was a reason that Bucky kept coming back to this one.

The reason was you.

Each time Bucky came into the small shop, there you sat same time every Saturday morning, same time but always with a different book in your hand. From the first time Bucky entered that coffee shop, he was intrigued by you.

You were usually too concentrated on the book to look up at him when the chime of the door went as he walked in. Sometimes you caught each other's eye and exchanged friendly smiles but that was rare.

Bucky had never approached you, he wanted to but he wasn't that confident around asking beautiful people out anymore. He had changed a lot since the forties. Today though, the book you held in your hands was familiar to him... in fact it was one of his favourites; The Hobbit.

"You know," he said gently as he approached you, voice soft so's not to scare you, "I was there when they first printed that book."

With the comment, you expected it to be attached to a ninety year old man (which he was but you didn't know that yet) and instead you were met with the blue eyes of a very handsome thirty something year old. You laughed, "That's a rubbish pick up line," you teased.

Bucky frowned, "Not a pick up line, doll," he said, "I was actually there. 1937. What a year."

You blinked at him, insanely confused, before your foot pushed out the chair across from me, "Okay, I gotta hear this... How?"

He sat with a smile, reaching his hand across the table to shake yours, "Bucky Barnes, ma'am. Pleasure to meet you." Bucky... Barnes. That name sounded familiar.

Then it clicked.

"Oh!" You exclaimed with a little surprise as your shook his glove clad hand, "Oh my god, you look so good for your age." You hadn't meant to say that, it sounded pretty fucking weird but Bucky's face split into a wide grin. You were amusing. Usually, when people realised who Bucky was they recoiled with fear or at the very least they'd be apprehensive to talk to a ninety something assassin but you... you looked intrigued? He laughed, thanking you for the compliment that slipped out.

"Have you read Lord of the Rings?" You asked him with slightly warm cheeks.

It was his turn to be confused, "I don't think I've ever heard of them."

"Oh my god!" You gasped, "So obviously this is the Hobbit and this is a prequel to The Lord of the Rings which is hands down one of the best series ever written. They made movies of them too! It follows Bilbo's nephew, Frodo and his quest to destroy the Ring."

Bucky vaguely recalled Stark talking about movies that sounded similar to that title, "Are they any good?" He asked, genuinely curious, "To be honest, I've not seen many movies."

"They're so good. They made Hobbit movies too. Three."

He frowned, "Three movies? Did two more Hobbit books come out then?"

You shook your head, explaining that it was three movies centred around the one book, "I really liked them," you shrugged, "but is that because I just absolutely love the Hobbit? Who knows?"

As you and Bucky continued to chat you realised a very important fact, "I just realised I never told you my name," you said stopping mid sentence, "I'm (y/n). It's so nice to meet you, Bucky."

Bucky grinned, "Trust me, doll, pleasure's all mine... Now, can I buy you another cup of coffee?"

[writtenbyan-aries]

Summary: Reader meets Jake at a bar, learning quickly about what goes on underneath.

Warnings: strong language, fighter!Jake, fighting, mentions of blood, cuts, bruises, punching, kicking, kissing, alcohol consumption, not really smut but it’s not really fluffy cute, if you read, you’ll understand what I mean - not edited

Enjoy!

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“Thank you.” You gave the bartender a small smile as he set your glass, half full of a dark liquid down on the bar.

He nods and you lay a ten down, “Keep the change.” He smile, “Thank you.” You nod and look down at your drink, mind racing about why you decided to move to L.A.

Why did I come here?

Do I have a reason to be here?

Can I really fit in and-

“This seat taken?” The deep voice pulls you from your thoughts and you look up, slowly turning your head over to where the voice came from.

A, very tall, guy with a beanie covering his black choppy looking hair, stands there with a small smile on his lips. He was fairly cute, you couldn’t lie, so you shake your head, “Not at all.”

You smile and sit up, turning towards him slightly as he sits down.

“I’m Jake.” He holds his hand out and you look down, shocked when you see his busted up and bruised hand, “Um.” You tilt your head as you take his hand, “Y/n.”

You look up at him and a smile spreads across his have as you speak, “I’m sorry, but I have to ask. Are you okay? Do you need like medical attention or something!”

He shakes his head, taking a sip of his drink, “Nah, nah. I’m alright, sweetheart.”

Your heart skips a beat and you can feel your cheeks growing redder.

“Thank you for asking.” He smiles and you nod, “I mean, if you say so.” You laugh slightly, eyes moving back down to fixate on your freshly manicured hand in his.

The deep colored bruising and the dark red scabs not only intrigued you in a, what do you do on a daily basis kind of way, but also in a wow nothing has ever turned you on like this before way, too.

“You can ask.” Jake’s voice causes your eyes do snap up to his, “what?”

He chuckles, sipping on his drink, “I said. You can ask.”

“Uh, ask what?” You play dumb and Jake squeezes your fingers that are still lingering on his palm. He leans in and his eyes move from your lips to your eyes, “Ask me what I do to make my hands look like this.”

Your eyes move between his and you smirk slightly, “Tell me, Jake.” You circle his palm with your fingers slowly, “What do you do to get your hands all beat up?”

Jake looks up at the clock, “Come with me.”

Usually, a guy telling a girl he just met to, come with me, would usually raise red flags, but you’ve basically held Jake’s hand the whole time have been sitting here chatting.

Jake, as weird as it sounds, makes you feel safe, so you had no problem following him to his car.

“Here. You can put your bags in here for now.” You nod as you watch him open the back door. You nod and toss your duffle in before Jake lifts your suitcase and lays it on the seat, “Alright.” He closes the door and holds his hand out, “Follow me.”

You take his hand, waking with him around the building of the bar you were just in, “Where are we going?” You ask as you walk under Jake’s arm.

He turns, arm still on the door, a smirk on his lips, “You scared, darlin’?” A smirk grows on your lips as you shake your head, “No. I trust you.” He nods, taking your hand into his again, “Atta girl.”

You smile to yourself as you look around, “What is this place?” Your eyes fall to him as he stops and you can hear faint shouting and chanting coming from, somewhere.

Jake reaches for the handle of the old door. Your eyes watch as his busted up and ring cladded fingers wrap around the handle, “This is how my hands get all fucked up.”

You raise your brows and he nods towards the door as he swings it open, “Just stay with me. You’ll be good.” You walk in and the shouting grows louder the closer you get to the deep green lit room.

Your eyes scan down over the floor below you, taking in what you’re witnessing. You take a sharp breath as the one guy below in a ring formed by the, what you can only assume is members, takes a bad punch to the jaw.

“Knocked out.” Jake says in a low voice as he leans in towards you. You smile slightly and point, “So what..” you bite your lip and look up at him, “You fight for a living?”

“I know he’s here!” A guy, who is very angry, yells. You look down and see a guy spinning around slowly, looking at each crowd member in the face, “Webber. Where the fuck you at, brother?”

“Is he looking for you?” Your head snaps to Jake and he chuckles, “Uh huh.” He starts do take his rings off, extending his hand out to you, can you hold these for me?” You open your hand and he drops his rings into your palm, flashing you a smile, “Thanks. Come on.”

You stuff his rings into your pocket and quickly take his hand, following him down a rickety looking spiral staircase. Every turns, their eyes moving from Jake to you and you have never felt so out of place.

Jake pulls you through the crowd, his grip tight on your body. You did feel super safe with him, especially now with knowing he can fight. You stop as you get to the opening and Jake shrugs off his jacket, “Heard you were lookin’ for me.”

You take his jacket as he extends his arm back, almost like muscle memory. The guy cracks his knuckles and then lifts his hand to his chin, “Wanted to take a crack at knocking you down from your rankin’ a lil bit.” He cracks his neck and Jake puts his hand to his ear, “And what rank would that be?”

The guy across from him laughs, “I’m here to remove your title as undefeated champion, Mr. Jake Webber.” You feel your heart beat harder when you hear the words roar off his tongue.

Jake slips his shirt off over his hand, you also take that and drape it over his jacket. Jake quickly stretches his arms a few times and shrugs, “Let’s see you try.” He motions with his hand, “Bring it, big boy.”

The guy wasn’t any bigger than Jake, well, maybe his ego. Jake looked back at you, giving you a wink before looking back at the guy walking over to him, fists balled and ready to swing.

Jake moves, getting them to walk in a circle before the guy swings on Jake, groaning in frustration when Jake dodges it. The longer you stood there, watching if all play out, the more you felt like you belong there, and walking in with Jake really seemed to help that - hell, undefeated champ and all.

Jake swings, popping the guy in his jaw and he laughs, “I think you have the theater and the ring mixed up, there pal.” Jake shoots, cocking his head, “I’m here to fight, not dance.” The guy lets out a loud yell as he runs towards Jake, and you gasp as Jake’s back meets the dark stained concrete below him.

The guy pulls his arm back just to swing but Jake quickly manages to escape and get two punches to his face before scurrying to stand up.

You were absolutely mesmerized, seeing Jake like this. The sweat glistening off his body in the glowing green lights. The way he can take more than a punch and not bat an eye, fuck. You practically had to wipe the drool off of your chin before anyone noticed.

“Come on, Jake.” You mumble to yourself, bouncing up and down in your spot. Jake’s head snaps to the left as he eats another punch, his cheek busted open slightly, but not as bad as the other guys. Yet.

Your lip is pulled tightly between your teeth, biting down harder each time Jake gets hit. Your eyes watch as he stumbles back, falling at your feet. Before you can bend down to help him, he’s already halfway up your body.

He drags his face really close to yours, and your heart is beating at a high rate speed. His lips press to yours, giving you a sloppy, but still the hottest kiss you’ve ever had in your life, before he pulls away, a cocky smirk on his face.

You hold your stare on Jake. You were too into watching him completely obliterate the prick that tried to be better than him, to notice that his blood was also on your face.

“Alright. Alright.” A guy goes out, pulling Jake off of the weakened figure lying on the ground. Jake stands up, turning out and holding his arm up.

The crowd goes absolutely wild.

And so do you.

Jake looks around for a second before locking his eyes on you. He smirks and nods his head, cocking his jaw as he snatches the money from the guys hand and immediately walks over to you.

His arms go around your waist and your feet lift up off the ground. His lips meet yours again, along with fresh blood meeting the almost dried blood on your face.

“C’mon.” Jake sets you down, arm still around your waist, “Let’s get out of here.” He leads you up the steps and back out into the hall, immediately pressing your back against the old brick wall.

His hands cup your cheeks, thumb smearing his blood over your skin, “You look so pretty with my blood on your face.”

You smile and lick your lips, “You are incredibly, fucking hot.” He pulls you in and kisses over your cheek to your lips, “I hope you don’t have any plans tonight, because you’re coming home with me.”

══════════════════

Thank you so much for reading. I love you so much. Let me know what you thought! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[luxtrys]

from dusk till dawn

mornings with anakin skywalker (18+, smut)

"gotta get going baby" you heard a voice whisper as you opened your eyes for the first time in hours. you let out a few soft grumbles, knuckling the sleep out of your eyes. "are you sure you have to go this morning ani?" you whine, reaching out your hands for him even though he was over at the closet. "c'mon angel, you know the answer to that" he sighs, pulling his black short sleeve compression shirt over his head.

you always knew the answer, because no matter what, ani would go on that tortuous run and leave you cold and alone for 2 long hours. "go back to sleep bug, ill be back before you know it" he whispered placing a kiss your forehead and rubbing your bare thigh under the covers. "i love you" he voiced as he exited the room, grabbing his ice cold water bottle from the fridge and jogging to your front door.

you whispered back an 'i love you too' to a now empty room as you cuddled up to your stuffed bunny, slowly falling back into a deep sleep.

it was about an hour and a half later before you finally woke up. the 8am sun seeping slowly into your bedroom. you sighed, smacking both your hands down dramatically on your duvet as you saw no sign of anakin. you rubbed your eyes again before placing your feet on the floor, padding your way to the en suite bathroom.

you grabbed your pink toothbrush out of the stand, squeezing on a generous amount of toothpaste before brushing rather aggressively. after that, you started on your morning skincare, arrays of cleansers, serums, creams and facemasks crowding your and anakin's side of the counter, oops..?

you reached over into your massive shower, turning the handle all the way so it was the hottest it could be. you always waited to shower with ani, but he wouldn't mind, right? you felt gross and icky as the remnants of last night's escapades made its way slowly down your thighs and you were so very bored. you slid your floral underwear down your sticky thighs first, anakins shirt you had thrown on the night before and your socks following suit.

sighing contently, you let the steaming hot water trail down your head and body until your whole body was glistening under your bright bathroom lights. showering without ani was almost unfamiliar to you because you did it every single morning. while it was peaceful that you didn't have to feel anakins large, rock-hard body sticking to you the whole shower, you missed it.

you glanced up at the massive shower head, the water falling down onto you softly and healing any aches in your body from anakin the night before. biting your lip, you stared at your vast selection of scented body scrubs, deep in thought.

you were in fact so deep in your own head that you didn't notice your grumpy boyfriend enter the bathroom, cursing under his breath because you started showing without him. anakin aggressively peeled off his clothes, his dick growing hard at your naked frame through the cloudy glass of the shower.

you let out a squeal as a large pair of rough hands gripped your waist, spinning you around to meet his bare chest. "thought you could get away from me baby?" the cheeky glint in his eye sparkling brightly. "'course not ani, just got bored waiting" you answered, bringing your nails to drag across his now glistening torso.

"how was your run?" you asked sweetly, starting to trace the indents of his abs slowly. "same old baby. all that fresh air got me thinking about something though" he hummed nonchalantly, glancing down at your naked body for about the 500th time in the past minute. "what ani?" you ask intrigued, but also slightly worried, i mean anything could come out of his mouth.

"just my massive cock digging so deep in your belly that you can't walk for a week, screaming 'ani! oh, ani! it's too big' while i pound the fucking shit out of you" he says, teasing your nipples and acting like he just said the most normal thing ever. "anakin!" you gasp, shocked at his crude language and pushing him back on his upper chest, offended at how he mocked your voice. he doesn't move an inch though, not missing how your cheeks flushed a light pink and how you clenched your thighs together.

"what baby? don't act all innocent now, bet you still want me even after making you cum 8 times last night, fucking slut" you whimpered as he brought his finger down to your heat, dragging his finger across your folds and feeling the wetness that certainly wasn't water. you glanced down at his throbbing cock, standing tall and poking offensively into your stomach, making you squirm.

"need you ani" you sighed, reaching your hand down and grabbing the base of his heavy dick with your hand. "feeling confident today are we baby?" he teased, you almost never asked what you wanted, which was ok, because ani knew your body like the back of his hand. but hearing you confess your need to him made him twitch in your hand. you whined at his words, leaving a single kiss on his chest as he sucked marks down your neck.

"gonna fuck the living shit out of you baby" he whispered softly into your ear, lining his dick up to your entrance. you gasped as he pushed his tip into you, impaling you with his cock as he pushed rather fast into you. he grunted as your walls gripped around him, almost cumming as he felt himself bottom out inside of you, feeling your cervix. he rested his head down onto your shoulder, living in what felt like never-ending bliss.

"love this pussy so much" he moaned, pulling almost completely out of you before slamming all the way back in, making you mewl in pleasure. after pounding into you 2 more times, he felt your legs almost give out, making him hoist you up so he was supporting all your body weight in his arms. you were simply jelly as he slammed into you at a ruthless pace, splitting you apart with his cock.

"such a good girl for me yeah? letting me treat you like a little fuck toy, completely at my mercy" he seethed as you gazed up at him, no thoughts inside your now empty head. completely dumb on his cock.

the sound of your skin slapping together echoed around the bathroom, reminding you crudely of what your boyfriend was doing to you. he felt you tighten around his cock, almost pushing him out of you completely, but he wasn't going to let that happen. "gonna cum for me baby?" he asked, watching you nod frantically at his mercy.

you spasmed as you came around him, becoming a complete dead weight in his arms as he emptied his sperm inside of you while grunting your name like a mantra. after about a minute you caught your breath, your legs shakey as anakin rested your feet down on the tiled floor at your request. you glanced around the bathroom, still in your post-orgasmic haze, but as you glanced down at anakin's hard glistening abs, you noticed his cock starting to grow hard once again. he followed your eyes as you let out a loud scoff.

"what baby? s' not my fault you turn me on, you're too hot to handle”

[fayes-fics]

A Blessing

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: Turns out the father of your favourite pupil, could end up being your favourite adult

Warnings: none really… this is flirtation and fluff. Developing relationship.

Word count: 2.1k

Authors Note: This is a request fill for Anon (ask HERE) about a meet-cute between single dad Benedict and teacher reader. This is also dedicated to my lovely mutual @bridgertontess on the occasion of her birthday this weekend. Happy birthday my dear! Thank you for choosing the name of Benedict’s daughter in this fic. Many thanks to wonderful @colettebronte for giving this a read through, the title and for her generosity in creating the lovely artwork above. Enjoy! <3

You sigh as you fiddle with your nameplate, awaiting the start of Parents Evening. It’s always a night you dread - having to be polite to the parents of nightmare kids. There are a few pupils you simply adore, but somehow, those parents seem to linger less than those you struggle to find nice things to say about.

One of your favourites - yes, you know you’re not supposed to have them, but you do - is little Georgia Bridgerton. She is cute as a button with blue eyes and chestnut curls, but mostly, it’s her sweet temperament and intelligence you admire. You hope her parents turn up. You are intrigued to meet whoever created this little blessing, although you have only heard her talk of her Dad.

About an hour in, you have talked to six sets of parents of mostly middling pupils. You are just sneaking a look at your phone when someone flops into the chair opposite, and you hasten to drop it back in your bag.

When you look up, your lungs feel tight. Quite the most beautiful man has taken a seat, and you are temporarily dumbstruck as you glance at his name sticker. In the ‘hello my name is’ box, he has written Ben in large looping black letters. The ‘my child’s name is’ box has been left blank.

“I’m sorry, Ben,” you stutter, slightly distracted by his hazy eyes. “I don’t see your child’s name on your tag; who are you here for?” you ask.

He glances down at his navy shirt. “Ah shit, sorry.” Then he immediately winces. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to swear.”

“It’s fine,” you bat a hand. “The kids aren’t here tonight. You should hear me when they aren’t within earshot,” you jest, attempting to break the ice, even as you feel your face prickling hot at just the sight of him.

He laughs heartily, his face creasing up in quite the most handsome way, and you squeeze your legs together reflexively, hidden under the table. Good lord, he’s beautiful.

“I’m Georgia’s dad,” he explains as he stops laughing.

“Oh, my star pupil!” you gush, then have to stop. “Shit, I’m not supposed to say that,” you confess, eyes darting around the buzzing gymnasium to all the other parents and teachers, but no one seems to have heard.

“Or swear…” he adds for you, with a wink.

Oh fuck. You could be in trouble here.

You briefly dip your head, cheeks heated, until he starts talking again. “But it’s wonderful she’s doing so well. She talks about you a lot, to be honest. Always saying Mrs y/l/n is her favourite teacher,” he smiles. 

“I am her only teacher,” you remind drolly, even as you can’t hide how pleased that makes you. “Should we wait for another parent before we dig in…?” you ask, gesturing to the empty chair to his left.

His face clouds slightly, and you worry you have made a faux pas. “Oh, she, uh, won’t be making it tonight,” he says quietly.

“Gosh, I’m sorry that was rude of me to presume,” you cringe.

“No, no, don’t worry,” he placates kindly. “Georgia’s mother left me when she was just a toddler. But six months ago, she cut off all contact and moved abroad. It’s been…” he pauses to sigh and roughly rubs his eyebrow,  “…a tough adjustment, to be honest, mostly for Georgia. It’s been challenging trying to explain gently but honestly to a six-year-old that, in essence, her mother wants nothing to do with her.”

“I’m so very sorry,” you murmur, and part of you itches to reach out and give his hand a sympathetic squeeze as he picks his cuticles, probably unconsciously. “I can’t imagine why anyone would abandon her; she is quite the sweetest little child imaginable.” 

You know it’s unprofessional to say so, but you want to comfort him human to human. And for some reason, you feel completely at ease being open and honest with him. His eyes flick up from his hands, and they are so soulful you once again feel tongue-tied.

“Thank you,” he demures. 

“She talks about you a lot, too, in class. My dad did this; my dad did that. She looks up to you so much. You must be an excellent single parent,” you reassure, then lean forward over the table. “Umm, please don’t let anyone know I said any of this; it’s very unprofessional.”

His face morphs into a look of surprise, and then a lopsided smile tugs at the right corner of his mouth as he mirrors your stance, leaning in. “Your secret is safe with me,” he chuckles as you feel your blood run warm. “But it will cost you….” he adds teasingly.

Your eyes dart to his uncertain. “W-what?” You stumble, genuinely concerned for the first time about your job.

He leans back in the chair, assuming a very relaxed stance, that crooked smile growing more prominent. “Yes. The price is your apple crumble recipe. Georgia brought some home; she said you had made it for the class to commemorate the school centennial. And it was quite the best dessert we have ever eaten.”

You exhale the breath you were holding, relieved and can’t help the giggle that bubbles up. “Deal,” you agree.

This is quite the most casual and flirtatious you have ever been with a parent, and you suddenly become cognisant of it. Sitting up straighter and clearing your throat, you shift gear a little, discussing the details of his daughter’s progress. He listens intently, nods, and asks questions at appropriate moments.

“Usually, I would conclude with suggested things you can do at home to assist your child,” you wrap up, “but, to be honest, for Georgia, I have no suggestions. She is just a delight and could not do any better. Just keep doing as you are; she will go far in this world.”

He clutches his chest, patently proud of his little girl, but you find yourself fixated on the crisscross of raised veins mapping the back of his large hand. Your traitorous brain chooses this moment to give you a vivid flash of that hand grabbing your flesh, making you squeak in your throat and a shiver run down your spine involuntarily, goosebumps breaking out over your arms. 

“Are you alright?”

“Sorry, must be a draught from somewhere,” you fib, tugging at your cardigan sleeve. “Old school buildings and all,” you titter nervously.

He nods in understanding, but his eyes linger slightly longer than necessary on your body.

“Why are you a Mrs if you wear no wedding ring?” he blurts, then looks mortified. “God, I’m sorry, that is really none of my business,” he admits, blushing endearingly.

Your heart leaps into your throat at the idea he checked, but you maintain composure by waving a dismissive hand. “No, don’t worry, it's fine. I’m, umm, actually a widow,” you confess, seeing his eyes soften with sympathy. “Oh, it was a few years ago now,” you preempt the platitudes, “and I never took his last name for work, but I did change to Mrs at the school’s suggestion. I keep thinking I will change back to Ms one of these days, but all my pupils know me as Mrs you know,” you shrug with a nonplussed look.

He chuckles understandingly. “I’m sorry that happened,” he offers more soberly, and you nod.

“And I’m sorry for what happened to you and Georgia. She is doing remarkably, considering.”

Your time together is naturally wrapping up, but you are reluctant to voice it, and he seems in no hurry to move.

“At the risk of sounding completely inappropriate,” he hedges with a very beguilingly almost sheepish mien, “may I have your phone number?”

Your heart pounds, and you resist the temptation to squeal like a teenager or even show it on your face.

“Certainly,” you respond brightly. “I am always available to parents to discuss anything to do with their child’s education,” you try to justify as you scribble your number on a new page of your notepad.

“And what if I don’t want to discuss my child?” He asks quietly, his tone turning smoother, “may I still text you?” 

You almost rip the paper straight through as you try to detach it from the metal spirals. You are certain your face is giving you away now, feeling flushed from your toes to your eyes.

“Yes,” you whisper, nervously glancing to meet his eyes for a brief second that feels blistering as you fold the paper and push it over the table towards him.

His fingertips brush yours as he takes the paper, and your body riots at that simple touch. 

“Thank you,” he says sotto voce. “I look forward to connecting more,” he adds as he stands. You try your best not to ogle his body in his fitted dark wash jeans as he tucks the note in his pocket, but it’s at eye height now. And you try to ignore how his shirt hangs off his broad shoulders when you look up, but mostly, you fail.

You stand too, feeling awkward, and hold out your hand to shake, as you do with every parent.

He looks briefly bemused, then takes your hand in his. It’s warm, the skin soft except for some callouses where he holds a pen or maybe a paintbrush, and the size engulfs yours. You never want to let go. Fireworks explode behind your ribs as his eyes dance even under the harsh gym lights.

“It was wonderful to meet you, Mr Bridgerton,” you parrot your usual parting line at him, but somehow, it feels weighted with additional meaning. 

“Likewise, Ms y/l/n,” he replies pointedly, not using the Mrs, as his thumb swipes distractingly over the back of your hand, not letting go. “And please call me Ben,” he requests duskily, finally stepping away, his fingers gradually slipping from yours.

You just nod, almost unable to speak, not trusting your tongue at this moment. You try not to watch Benedict walk away towards the exit, but again, you fail miserably. 

Less than thirty seconds later, your phone buzzes in your bag. It’s a number you don’t recognise.

BB: I’ll need that apple crumble recipe for tomorrow if you don’t mind. I have a big family lunch on Saturday and have been roped into bringing dessert.

You giggle, your fingers fly over the screen, composing a response in your lap, even as the next parents pull up to take a seat. 

Y/N: Okay… but good luck. Most of the secret is in the prep…

BB: Hmm, then a demo might be best. Fancy being a culinary teacher tomorrow after work?

Your heart flutters hard, and you must mumble an apology to the waiting parents as you can’t resist firing off a flirty response.

Y/N: But what if I don’t want to give away my trade secrets just yet? 😉

BB: Fair. Then my family will have to settle for Tesco’s finest cake instead…

Y/N: I can’t in all good conscience let that happen. OK, you have a deal. 7pm tmrw?

BB: 👍😁

You spend the rest of the Parents' Evening floating on a little cloud. You even smile through the meeting with Damien’s parents, who couldn’t be more aptly named. 

The next evening, when his front door sweeps open, Benedict and Georgia are wearing matching pinstripe aprons, faces so eager. They look so adorable you crack a smile from ear to ear. 

“Where’s your apron, Mrs y/l/n?” Georgia pipes up.

You smile, then reach into your shoulder bag and pull out your trusty apron with a flourish.

She breaks into giggles and does a happy little dance as Benedict gestures for you to come in with an exaggerated bow.

By the time you leave, hours later, they have a delicious apple crumble for their family lunch the following day, and Georgia is sleeping soundly. You have an apron dusted in flour, a tingle on your lips from his wondrous kisses and a lightness in your being that fizzes like champagne.

The following day, he texts that the apple crumble was such a success his mother demanded the recipe on the spot. Then, a few seconds later, another message asking you to drop by. You practically trip in the rush to get out the door.

When his front door sweeps open this time, he’s alone and dressed handsomely in a white shirt with those jeans. You are powerless to do anything but push up onto your tiptoes and kiss him immediately. And when he whispers hotly in your ear that Georgia is staying with her cousins for the night, you almost melt right into his doorstep.

It turns out Georgia was not the only blessing you got from the Bridgerton family.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23

[iheartjohnlennon]

'Let me take you down'

London, '66

Summary: John and Paul see the same so John and Paul share the same (you).

Word count: 3,054

Tags: Smut, Threesome, Unrequited Love

The lounge was adorned with light, drugs, and music. The holy trinity of joy.

The light was more a metaphorical one. But no one had caught your eye, personally.

You had caught a few though.

Through your peripheral vision, you saw John Lennon slightly sauntering towards you.

A cig in hand, flirtation on standby and a smile that would make most of his thirteen-year-old army piss themselves with happiness.

Finally, you thought to yourself. 

He can now stop undressing you with his eyes or making passing comments.

You knew he wanted you, you've known that for a while now. 

You also know of his other half, his bandmate, Paul. He gives you eyes as well.

But you try not to pay Paul any romantic mind because he gouges his eyes out for any woman he sees anyways.

"Well 'ello love." John speaks in a chipper tone, he sits beside you, not even asking if the seat is taken.

His cockiness shines through as he rubs against you, you turn fully to look at him.

"John." You don't give anything up, you won't make it easy.

"Why so quiet tonight, hm?" He strokes your chin, he seems disappointed you aren't on your knees from the first hello. 

You scoffed, "Quiet? We've been speaking for seconds John." 

"Ye know wha' I mean.." He rolls his eyes, he didn't like how dismissive you were sometimes.

John always had a simple philosophy of flirt then fuck, which clearly didn't seem to work a hundred percent of the time.

"Why's a bird like you, 'ere alone?" How classic.

"Because I came here alone."

"Well, no shit."

"Don't get rude."

"Not gettin' rude lovely." He took a puff of his cig.

A voice interrupted your little squabble, it was a familiar one, "I reckon he's tryin' to call ya beautiful."

You saw the charming face that matched.

"Which ya are by the way," Paul added with a smirk.

He stood before you both. His hair was dishevelled and he smelled delicious. 

"Alrigh' McCharmly she gets it, fuckin' 'ell." John spoke with an acute bitterness in his tone. He wasn't prepared to let you go yet, especially not to Paul.

"Ha, well, anyways I came here to ask if yous wanted to smoke some grass."

So that's what that aroma was, the one that hypnotized you to no end.

And 'yous'. He wanted you both.

As much as you preferred Paul's company over John's, you were intrigued by this offer of having both of them at the same time, smoking.

"Wha', you wanna smoke 'ere?" John questioned.

"Not really, follow me." Paul palmed your hand in his with a warm smile as John placed his hand on your back possessively.

~

They both ushered you through the bar area upstairs, into some sort of chamber.

It was abundantly less lively than the former and had harmonious jazz playing in the background as opposed to some soft rock.

Everyone looked like they were on something, good and bad. You felt intimidated. John and Paul knew this scene more than you, even though you came to the lounge often.

"Welcome!" Paul began, "Make yerselves at home I suppose, I'll be back."

You and John were oddly close on the sofa. Physically because his arm was loosely around your waist and emotionally because his eyes were intensely on yours.

Maybe it was the music, the lighting, or his flirting that made you yearn for more than just his gaze.

He took your chin in his fingers, "Yer beautiful, ye know that?"

"Do you need me to know that?"

"I'll tell you every day if I can."

John shifted his head, it was on a tilt as if he was going to kiss you. You were happy to oblige, but a vigorous Paul interrupted you both. Again.

He strode in with a plastic baggy filled with weed, rolling paper, and a bottle of Jack Daniels. This could be an undoubtedly long night.

~

Paul placed himself beside you, now you were nicely in between the pair. 

"We'll share one blunt and do a pass around." John affirmed.

"Yeah, an' Y/N will roll 'em 'cause she has tiny, cute fingers." You adored the way Paul tickled your hands after saying that. You sent him a smile and he sat back, hand tracing circles on your back.

You didn't smoke weed often but didn't find it hard to roll the blunt.

"Good girl." John whispered, giving you a smirk.

"Have a light?" You asked no one in particular.

"Sure thing." 

Paul reached into his pocket and fished out a light, he held the blunt between your lips childishly and held your jaw as it lit.

You took in a puff and immediately felt inundated with pleasure and simultaneous dizziness.

You sat down but felt like you were stumbling on a circus wire. You turned to John and Paul, their faces were now just attractive blurs.

You cleared your throat heavily after inhaling more.

"Ladies first." John chuckled.

"Easy there, you ok?" Paul asked patting your back.

"Absolutely sublime." You sneer whilst inhaling even more. You could feel your face getting hot and your vision getting more skewed.

You had enough and passed it on to Paul. This was nothing new and as he took a puff he looked at you with contentment.

His hand was still on your back, rubbing up and down. 

He passed the blunt onto John.

He held your shoulders and began with a lustrous look in his eyes, "I want to kiss ya, lemme kiss ya Y/N?"

You could only nod in response before Paul lay a warm kiss on your lips, his tongue exploring yours as he replaced John's arm with his.

"Slag." John mumbled.

Your noses touched, your tongues tasted and your chests collided as Paul kept his devoted pace.

John watched you and Paul make out whilst longingly taking swigs from the whiskey.

John was watching with a peculiar fixation. He loved the way you groaned as Paul bit your lip, he loved the way you squirmed with each wet kiss.

This was peculiarly turning him on.

Paul met John's eyes for a moment whilst in the middle of necking on with you.

He felt bad for the fella, he was in this cuckold, which wasn't a cuckold because John isn't with you, but still.

Paul stopped kissing you, you sighed craving more of him.

"Can I share ya?" Paul mused to your bewilderment.

"Hm?"

"Sorry, I meant can we share ya?"

"Hm-".

You were overwhelmed with such a flabbergasting joke. You were stopped in your tracks by such a crude joke.

Or?

Was Paul asking for a ménage à trois right now?

John sniggered from beside you, "He's not good with his words, is he? It seems like he wants a threesome, well- we." 

This was convenient. You could all find somewhere private, knew each other well and were as horny as it seems.

Paul spoke, "Ya know, ya really don't have-" 

"I want to." Your eagerness came out as you interrupted him to accept.

Paul put on a grin. He had you where he wanted you.

"We'll take this somewhere more private after you neck on with John."

You did somewhat like John. And you supposed he would have fucked you eventually, but certainly not in this circumstance.

Paul playfully pushed your head towards John's and whispered, "C'mon baby ya know ya want to, I see the way ya look at him."

Before you could even formulate a response, John was already on you. He grasped the back of your head and immediately placed his lips on yours.

His tongue and teeth collided with yours, you could taste each drop of whiskey on him.

Paul smoked and watched with lidded eyes.

John gripped your waist with both hands, his kissing was passionate and abrasive. He groaned, he was properly getting off to this. He got rougher, pushing you into the sofa.

"Alrigh', alrigh' don't kill 'er." Paul cracked up whilst separating you both.

Paul's kiss contrasted with John's. Your lips felt all puffy after John, he looked at you smugly. You couldn't tell the difference between John making you dizzy and what you were smoking.

Paul's task was over and the men on either side of you gave each other a knowing look.

~

You all rushed down the stairs quicker than a blink.

They were all over you the moment the driver set his eyes on the road. You didn't care if the driver was watching, or hearing. You had two pairs of hands on you. Yanks and grabs were all you felt the whole way through. Paul was in one ear and John was in the other.

Paul attacked your neck with smooches and sucks, you giggled girlishly at the feel. 

John buried his face in your breasts and all but tried to leave marks on your chest.

You felt their hands travel down further, like waist down further. You halted their efforts to dually finger you in the back of some car and cautiously mumbled, "Later, later.."

A triad of soft moans and silly giggles continuously echoed in the car, you were sure the driver was sick of you all now.

"Are we nearly there yet?" You said dramatically.

"We arrived minutes ago you daft girl." John laughed.

Jesus, now you were dazed.

Paul began, "Shall we?"

~

The driver didn't bother to say goodbye and drove off with a scowl.

You all sounded hysterical whilst rushing to Paul's hotel room.

The hallway was closing in on you. Paul had his key in hand and fumbled with the lock, John had your ass in his. 

"Any slower McCharmly?" You jested.

"I'll go faster when it's convenient Y/N." 

With his dirty quip and the push of a door, you eventually entered.

Before you could even close the door behind you the duo was still all over you. You felt so many hands it was as if you were crowd surfing. They were taking small bits of clothing off, like ties and shoes, and somehow still found focus on you.

"We aren't even on the bed yet you animals." You whined.

"I'll 'ave ye anywhere." John retorted.

"A bed? Let's get on the bed then princess." Paul cooed, bringing you up to your feet properly.

You couldn't even get on the bed without feeling gropes and pinches all over you. You got on top of the thing and slouched back, in a relaxed position.

Paul made his way on top of you and John got on the side, laying by you. 

Paul confidently took off your articles of clothing. He carelessly tossed your heels on the floor and began working to get your tights and skirt off.

John almost immediately mouthed you in that same rough manner again. He held onto the back of your head, making sure you wouldn't pull back. He took his kiss lower, to your jaw. Lower, to your neck. Lower, to your chest. He dragged your shirt up, so eager to have a taste he couldn't even pause to unhook your bra.

He sucked and fondled your breasts. You let out chortled moans as the ticklish splendour of him using his teeth to nibble and his tongue to swirl drove you over the edge.

"Fuck John-" You seized his hair in your hands, raking through it, drawing him closer. He swapped sides and moved onto the other breast.

The way your body writhed as John sucked you off made it fidgety for Paul to get your bottom half off. He managed in the end and wasted no time in taking an interest in your silk panties.

"Ooo, these are pretty... pretty Y/N.." He marvelled, tracing a maddening thumb over your clit.

As John proceeded with his kissing assault to your top half, Paul took his head to your lower regions. He licked your clit through the panties and teasingly gave it a kiss. 

Then you felt Paul pull your panties aside. He slipped a finger into you and began a come-hither motion inside of you whilst also giving you little flicks with his tongue.

You frolicked around in ecstasy, you were reaching a boiling point from having both successes on your cunt at the same time. You could've cum from this alone, but you comprehended this was going to be a long night.

Your moans only rose louder, they turned into cries, you could feel yourself pulsing. Paul is damned good with his mouth. 

He moved his head off you, leaving you wet and wanting. John also did the same, looking down on you triumphantly.

"Oh Paul...Oh John..." You sighed pleasantly.

The two gave each other another knowing look, you rolled your eyes, "What is it this time?" You flirted.

"Nothin' love, we're jus'...wonderin' ya know." Paul spoke back.

"Wondering about what?" You mused, turning on your stomach.

"How good ya are.." Paul whispered.

"How good I am what?" You question, confused.

John suddenly mocked, "Bloody 'ell Paul, carn't stop speakin' in bloody metaphors can ye?" 

"Awe, I think he's just a bit muddled from what he had earlier Johnny." You tittered.

Paul interrupted, "Righ' I'll get to the point then shall I? We wanna take ya from both ends." 

"You don't have to present everything like a business proposition Paulie." You laughed, getting into a doggy position. 

"Ya are our business Y/N." John enunciated. 

~

Their positions were determined. Paul was behind you and John lay on his back in front of you. You got in between his legs, lowered down on your elbows, and greeted his clothed cock with a kiss.

You could feel him growing stiff as you worked to pull down his trousers, then his boxers.

Before Paul could put anything in, he was working to get fully naked.

John would have preferred fucking you from behind but he felt like the guest star, being all lounged back, receiving attention from your mouth.

You got his trousers off, then his boxers, you received a happy welcome. 

He met your eyes and snatched your hair in his hands. "Yer beautiful...so beautiful..." John murmured, stroking a thumb across your lips. 

"Isn't she." Paul chirped in, guiding his cock towards your entrance, in a reverie, all imperceptive and seductive. 

You practically shivered at the intention, his first thrust was unreal, different to any cock you had felt before, maybe because it was him. 

His cock naturally felt more distinct than his fingers. Its thickness caressed your vaginal canal and provided tinges to your G-spot via the tip. 

He sped up the moment he got that first feel, moving you forward before you could even fit the latter into your mouth, the impulsive movement causing you to brush your face against his cock as opposed to sucking. 

"Mmmph, mmm." Paul moaned. 

"Fuck- fuck-" was all you could muster as John watched in amusement. He gave himself a few tugs before discovering great solace in your lips. 

He bobbed you up and down, vulgarisms rang from his mouth as you wrapped your lips around the top inches and used your hands to trace what your throat wasn't handling. 

"Fuckin' 'ell Y/N...fuckin' 'ell...keep goin' baby, jus' like tha'..." John's head lulled back in fulfilment, he honoured you to high heaven and was for the time thankful Paul was here, as every thrust he gave you caused your moans to vibrate onto his cock. 

~

You were all moaning messes, utterly void of any emotion apart from pleasure and whatever emotion you would call being under the influence. 

You were being rag-dolled back and forth and wished for every bit of it. 

John's hand got tighter but his once consistent up-and-down movement got sloppier, his hips moved up lightly, trying to get as much of you on his cock as humanely possible. 

He was balls deep within your mouth, you were taking in a nose full of his pubic hair. "Yer goin' to make me cum- Jesus Christ Y/N!" His words were still riddled with praise and hastiness as his free hand palmed your tits. He grunted as each movement he made caused the sensitive tip to touch the back of your throat. 

You relished in providing John pleasure. 

Paul had only gotten harsher, the space was mainly filled with the moist sounds of Paul penetrating you, the viscosity you two had produced felt mouthwatering.

"Ya like it when I go faster don't ya? Tell Paulie you like it when he goes faster." He uttered. 

His strokes were paired with that voice off his and as he arrived close, he all but cooed, "Like tha' Y/N? Like tha' baby?"

You turned your head back at him for a moment, he greeted you with a cocky, yet lovely smile. His hair was all messy and he was flushed with colour. 

You could feel him precisely hitting and caring for every nerve inside of you, with his hands tugging on your hips and his pelvis meeting your ass.

And as much as you rasped out John's name, you couldn't help but pull him out of your mouth, only subtly, just to stammer out Paul's. 

You felt an exhilaration coming from all senses. John let out a definitive moan, finally releasing into the back of your throat. The consistency made you feel naughty, you spat some back out only to lick it off his cock again, the slight overstimulation drove him mad, "Shit- fuck...Y/N...slag..." 

Almost on command, Paul did the same. You felt his cum shooting into you, a liquid bullet. He moved in slightly, shoving his semen to the innermost part of you, moaning yeahs and ooos. 

He trembled as you clenched around him. 

 ~

Paul changed positions off of you and so did John. You all looked like orgasmic chaos. 

You felt hit with weakness after that, you signalled to them that maybe it was time to rest. 

~

You were in between them. Paul spooned you, seemingly falling asleep the fastest, probably because he smoked the most. 

John was facing you, muttering sweet whatevers and giving you smooches along your chest. 

It's as if your souls intertwined with one another as you all simultaneously climaxed, you pondered. 

"I love you." You whispered to no one specifically.

[always-elias]

The Magnus Protocol Episodes have a downright uncanny talent to match up with what is happening to me while I listen to them.

Once, I was out on an evening walk, and decided to go a bit off-track. I don't do evening walks often, but the weather was quite nice and I wanted to listen to the new episode. However, it got far too darker in the forest than I'd have expected, so I was feeling rather uneasy. I descended down to the creek, walking by it. Just hoping I don't stumble into any creepy murder-guy. Well. Guess what episode I was listening to? Certainly not the one with the needle-covered creepy murder-guy?

It was quite terrifying, but I was doing well enough and I was intrigued, so I kept listening. However, at the very moment when he started to doxx the call operator, something splashed in that fucking creek. Needles to say (ha! See what I did there?) I got spooked to all hells and back, and to this day I have mixed feelings about the episode.

The other time, I, having learnt from my mistakes, headed on another evening walk. This time, into the city, y'know, where there are lights on and everything is fine. I headed out to explore one part of the town that I don't know well, and only have been there a handful of times before. It was quiet, and completely deserted. But the lamps lit the way, so it was fine. It would be fine, right?

It felt weird. It just felt weird, and I headed into one of the streets. The lamps started to be sparse. One of the houses was shrouded in darkness, and it's fence looked so weird in the dark. There was a strange shape, maybe a shed, leaning on the house. There was a couple of weak, colourful lights on in the garden of that house, and it seemed like they swayed ever so slightly. My dear friends, I was listening to Running On Empty, y'know. The Lonely liminal place episode? With the darkened place, and strange lights surrounding the piece of architecture? I noped the fuck out of that street so fast.

And of course, the most recent case fo this. I live in a country with a lot of public transport, and when you take your local bus several times everyday, you reach a certain level of familiarity with the bus drivers. Some even let me board without showing my ticket, and I have memorised all of their faces and demeanors. We often smalltalk a bit, it's fun, and it's routine. I've been commuting for years, so I can for example recognize the type of the incoming train in the dark, based on shape of the approaching lights alone. I can, also, recognize all of the buses on my line home, even without seeing their actual numbers. I know them. Sometimes a new driver comes on the line, or an old one leaves, and even if they add a new bus, it tends to be of a certain model or general vibe.

One night I was waiting for my bus home, listening to the episode Driven, y'know, with the people-eating coach that looks just similar enough to blend in, if the passersby don't pay close attention?

It was dark, and cold, and there was only like three other people waiting for the bus, which is unusually little.

A new bus came. The ones on this line are white and red, with shiny paint, the corners are smooth and round and sometimes there's ads on the walls, depending on the bus. This one was yellow and blue, the paint matte, and it just looked a bit too blocky compared to the others. The bus driver was also unknown to me.

Boy did I fucking hesitate to get on that one. I did, in the end, and it's probably still me writing these lines.

I'm just so intrigued, this never happened to me with any of the TMA cases... Did anyone have something like this happen to them with any of the statements?

[khorazir]

WIP Meme

I was tagged by @nuttersinc to share something from my current WIP. It’s from chapter 3 of the Payneland fic The Case of the Stolen Barrow:

“Wait for us, or better, come back down,” calls Crystal, before muttering, “What a fucking mess,” under her breath. She makes to walk on, but Charles grabs the sleeve of her jacket.

“Wait,” he hisses. “Something’s off.”

“Everything’s off here,” she returns, before drawing her jacket more tightly around herself. “For one, it’s getting colder by the minute. Do you guys feel that, too?”

“Yes, we do,” nods Edwin, intrigued by the chill creeping into his garments and making the hairs on the back on his hand stand up. He has not felt this kind of cold in more than a century, bone-chilling fear aside. The Doll House in Hell was a humid mess, always slightly too cold or too warm for comfort but never this chilly. He looks at Charles, who is frowning deeply as he zips up his Harrington jacket.

“Edwin, I can’t think up my black coat,” he says while a visible shiver runs through him.

Concentrating on materialsing his own tweed overcoat to hand it to Charles to keep him warm, Edwin realises that he can’t, either. Normally, making their clothes requires only very little energy, but now it feels like an impossibly difficult task. On his wrist, the glowing cord flickers, a sure sign that Edwin’s magic is increasingly compromised.

“Something seems to be actively blocking my powers now,” says Crystal, her teeth clattering.

“My magic, too,” says Edwin. He steps closer to Charles who even more than Crystal is shaking with cold now, his face pale and his lips tinged blue, deep dark shadows under his eyes. He looks shockingly like the frightened boy dying of internal bleeding and hypothermia whom Edwin encountered in the attic of St. Hilarion’s thirty-five years ago.

“Charles?” he enquires softly, hesitantly reaching out to rub his shaking shoulder encouraginly.

“I’m okay, mate,” rasps Charles. “Just fucking freezing. Haven’t been this cold since ... well. You know. Since I died.”

“Have you got a blanket or something in your backpack?” asks Crystal, also huddling closer for warmth, despite the two ghosts being unable to produce any she could actually feel.

“Yeah, think so,” replies Charles, visibly lightening up. He begins to rummage in his pack while Edwin calls out to the pictsies again.

This time, the only reply he gets is a hissing murmur, like wind sighing over the turf. “Yes, we are up here. We are waiting for you. Come now, come to us.”

“Those aren’t the pictsies speaking,” mutters Charles, his uncorded arm buried in the depths of his bag. “For one, they don’t say ‘yes’. They say ‘aye’.”

“Brilliantly observed, Charles,” nods Edwin. “This begs the question, however, of who is speaking.”

“Someone capable of doing some really fucked up magic,” says Crystal. Then she sighs when Charles wraps a patterned blanket round her shoulders – one Edwin knitted over the course of several years, in fact, while wearing his disguise. Snuggling into it, she huffs a thanks. “Guys, I think we should turn round and head back down. We can’t just blindly – literally – walk further into this fog. We don’t even know what we’re up against.”

“I agree,” says Charles. “This feels like that chapter of Lord of the Rings you read to me two days ago, Edwin. You know, when the hobbits travel through the Barrow-Downs and get lost in the fog, and end up in that old barrow and—” He stares at Edwin wide-eyed when apparently, he has an epiphany.

“You think that’s what we’re dealing with here? A barrow-wight or something?”

Edwin nods thoughtfully. “I have never come across any account that hints at those creatures being real, but given these strange circumstances, I would not rule it out. Good thinking, Charles. The question is, how do we proceed? We could head down, but that would not solve the actual problem.”

“Getting lost in a fucking magical mist wouldn’t, either,” growls Crystal.

“We can still nagivate by the lie of the land,” says Edwin. He takes a few cautious steps up the slope towards a darker shadow that can only be the tree-gate Fergus spoke about. It was right across their path. They cannot have missed it.

Crack!

I tag @discordantwords @raina-at and @jrow

[worldofsaia]

for your ask game + blue lock dr!! (i love your ask game btw it's so cool and unique)

⊹ 🛍️ TREAT YOURSELF — ✶ what’s the coolest thing you own in your dr that you don’t have in your cr?

⊹ ⏳ TIMELESS WONDER — ✶ how does time work in your dr? is it linear, fluid, or something else entirely?

⊹ 🕊️ SOULMATE THEORY — ✶ do you believe you have a soulmate in your dr? have you met them yet?

⊹ 🎢 ADRENALINE RUSH — ✶ what is the most thrilling experience you’ve had in your dr?

now playing ; who's number one by lil’ kim…

this ask makes me want to shift here again but i'm in the scriptmaster trenches with my hr. either way, I've made sense of my shift journal, since my memory can be ass. enjoy. :)

⊹ 🛍️ TREAT YOURSELF — ✶ what’s the coolest thing you own in your DR that you don’t have in your CR?

✶ a pink diamond encrusted tooth ring, shaped like a jaguar's head and snuggly capped over my right incisor. 24k carat rose gold. what? for good luck. it's small but luxurious, and custom-made; mr. ego's design. between the teeth of the jaguar is a slightly larger fire opal cut in a perfect teardrop to show off the deep, almost magical hues it features. it even has the date i left the organization on it; which i think is his fucked up way of mocking me, as if to say that i will always come back, even when i swear i'm done with the place.

i don’t trust him, only people with 0 common sense or a tragic case of sadomasochism trust him! but...i do like trinkets and money, and he knows that. ego jinpachi has a way of worming his way into your mind. it’s a calculated trust, born from years of shady exchanges, and i suppose, a weird parenting style. he's a better father to me than my actual father there.

✶ centurion black card. honestly i don't care about the card; i care about the experiences i can access with it, also the exclusivity. i mean, they don't just give these out to anyone. with a swipe of this pretty little card, i get into exclusive art auctions with the most eccentric, and utterly conflated collectors and creators. priceless paintings mixed with rare taxidermy, porcelain dolls that were once part of a haunted exhibit, and freaky sculptures made from excavate human bones (don’t ask, but not every skeleton beneath a church is considered a relic).

my favorite item so far has to be a mid qing-dynasty cherub made entirely out of red jade, and so intricately carved that it refracts sunlight like stained glass would. i usually flip the pieces for profit and then give back to vetted charities—but this, and my renovated cessna 172, I'm keeping. it goes so good with my decor and megs thinks it's nutty as ever.

✶ next would have to be my silk brocade furisode, hand painted and hand stitched. the story behind this is actually so wholesome. following one of my worst matches to date, i went into full recluse mode in my kyoto apartment, my only company being buckets of ice cream and call of duty to shield me from the unrelenting summer heat.

can you imagine my face when i opened the door? two burly, tattooed, hard-looking guys, bowing at my doorstep. honestly, i was pissed. i’d just been in the middle of a week-long pity party, and then these guys showed up uninvited, with no warning. it felt intrusive, but there was also something strangely intriguing about it? turns out, their boss—old-school, high-ranking yakuza—didn’t care that i was a foreigner. he’d seen me play, and that’s all that mattered. so what does he do? he sends me this immaculate beauty, dyed a perfect mauve with midnight blues, beaded with lighter crystals like snow. I'd received gifts from fans before but this was just pure joy to me, not even meguru's gifts are this wonderful.

they kindly explained the reason behind the designs—being that I was born in december (in that reality), it's traditional to gift items, or even receive tattoos that suit you without being flashy. one way to do this is to gift things based on seasonal associations. it was done in beaded kōri patterns, cranes by a river, depicted in flight with their wings soaring wide over a snowy landscape. last were the plum blossoms in shades of deep mauve, ivory, and soft pink.

⊹ ⏳ TIMELESS WONDER — ✶ how does time work in your DR?

✶ time runs on ego, duh. joking… sort of. there's no written time conversion here, but my preference is [1/hr cr = 1/day dr] or [1/hr cr = 1/month dr]. i've shifted here twice, and time seems to be the latter, if not a little intensified? when i’m deep in something, time drags on, every moment feels cinematic and personal. but when i’m in control, or better yet, when the activity is boring or unnoteworthy, it compresses. i’ve had moments where a game stretched for hours, and other times, hours go by in a blink.

⊹ 🕊️ SOULMATE THEORY — ✶ do you believe you have a soulmate in your DR? have you met them yet?

✶ no. well… maybe, i believe in soulmates, but when in this reality the whole concept is just ridiculous to me. it pisses me off (there) because meguru definitely has soulmate energy for such a random encounter. it wasn't really planned, i felt a slight ‘what-if’ there and scripted a fairly neutral past with him, nothing else. going there and experiencing him without any scripted preferences is what sold me all the way. it's genuinely so respectable how he goes after whatever he wants, you really wanna cheer him on when you see him because I've never seen someone so unassuming yet so utterly devoid of giving a shit.

i know i care for him a lot, but we're not dating, because the world of football, especially blue lock, is messy. he drives me insane too because i can see myself spending a lifetime with this selfish glorified soaked cat. he makes me feel things I don’t want to feel, but I refuse to imagine a world without him in it.

so…one thing led to another.

i think the moment i realized i’d met my match, was after a game? this was some time after the first time we hooked up. i remember thinking it's just a thing between athletes. it's all cortisol, adrenaline, oxytocin and ego. it happens !

speaking of. ego was working me like a dog to hype up the clubs that would eventually flock to rent my tenure. i was bruised, bleeding in places i actually made sure to guard, still buzzing on adrenaline. he ignored me at first, then came back, picked me up, piggybacked me to some hole-in-the-wall ramen joint. forced me onto a stool. ordered for me like he knew exactly what i needed.

when the food came, he didn’t say anything. just nudged the bowl toward me and stole my chopsticks when i didn’t move fast enough. i watched him eat, hair stuck to his forehead, sweat drying on his skin. i'd be mad if he didn't start blowing on the noodles to feed me. really, if that's not love, then what is?

he's frustrating, though, trust. not like seishiro, but his energy can be a lot to deal with when he's in mania. i can feel it, that i'll only love him with more of my soul going forward, but not in words, if that makes sense. i push him to his limits, i play harder when he’s watching, i let him see me at my ugliest, sometimes, because he's never once turned away when i needed him. i want to do the same for him.

⊹ 🎢 ADRENALINE RUSH — ✶ what is the most thrilling experience you’ve had in your DR?

the most thrilling experience… hard to say. my life is crazy, my friends, rivals, circles are all unhinged and unapologetic. i'd have to say it was a game. my team was getting mauled 2-5. on the edge of collapse, with everything slipping away. we were done. most of the team had already thrown in the towel. the crowd already counted us out.

i remember standing there, hands on my hips, feeling that crushing reality. that knife’s edge between breaking apart and becoming something unrecognizable. the enemy’s defense was more than solid. a glance at their keeper told me everything—she was already celebrating mode. i think it triggered something from my childhood there, growing up poor with a wealthy father who wanted nothing to do with me unless i was on a plane to j'burg to show off like a charity case? always being the vulnerable one, on the outside looking in, never the winner, always the consoled.

and then something inside me snapped. something ugly, something glorious. i remember thinking, ‘fuck that, fuck losing, fuck the rules, fuck being anything less than number one.’

my heartbeat became the only thing i could hear, its rhythm matching the countdown in my head. there was this slow, hot flood of arrogance, my body was liquid fire, pushing so hard that my hairs stood on edge. the state i was in didn't feel human. it felt more like touching something primal and untouchable! every muscle in my legs abd core ached while i dribbled the ball, it was like my steps weren't registering as tunnel vision towards the goal took over.

i swear the night opened up, offering every possibility, every outcome, every breath before it happened.

i could hear the opposite team calling to each other in german, maybe desperate, or panicked, judging by their faces. i don't think i realized this was ego until my girl, nia, made the final goal that matched us 5-5.

if i had more time, would i have done anything differently? no. that moment was particularly perfect, reaching into a bottomless well of rage and genius and sheer will—it ended in a tie but it was worth more than any win. i crashed like a fly after that, honestly.

[dragon-susceptible]

TDP Rewatch S2 E5: Breaking The Seal

Berto got the intro voice! I guess it's more the recap voice, it's the 'previously on' thing.

It still gets me in the heart that Harrow even says he's done terrible things, and he's not sure they were justified. He has regrets.

Avizandum having ragged spots in his wings reminds me of some real world science. So it's not unrealistic for him to be able to fly with the level of damage he has, the holes are fairly isolated and relatively small. If we're going to accept that a creature as heavy as a dragon could fly with wings that aren't double its own size, it's fine; bats also fly regularly with equivalent damage.

It does remind me of the Real Science of horns, though, and how the Moonshadow elves' horns canonically defy that science in multiple directions. I get why they didn't have Runaan's broken one bleed in the first episode, because of the rating, but he absolutely should have been bleeding. Also, in Lunabloom he makes reference to Rayla's horns sharpening (normal horn development) and says they'll be Fully Grown within a few years, which isn't a thing, per se, with real horns. Horns typically continue to grow for the entire life of the creature that has them. That said, sometimes we use the term "fully grown" to just mean "has reached adult form", and it doesn't mean they've stopped growing entirely, so that could also be all Runaan meant.

Back into the current episode; "Dismount, disarm, and proceed alone to the meeting point" just reminded me of that scene from The Two Towers book where the Three Hunters and Gandalf are heading into a meeting with . . . I wanna say it was Theoden? It's been a while since I read it, and Gandalf fussed about giving up his staff because He's An Old Man, Haldir, He Needs It, and Haldir is just like I don't get paid enough for this. Please just cooperate. and Gandalf was ready to argue until Aragorn started roasting him for being a petty bitch.

The monarchs interest me so much, honestly. I appreciate how Ahling, Fareeda, and . . . god I forget the other king's name. The three who were already there were talking and laughing comfortably until Viren showed up, and then Ahling tried for sympathy and kept getting Interrupted by Viren.

I fucking love Aanya's introduction. Her interactions with Viren in this episode are pure fucking gold. She goes hard-faced when Viren initially asks after her regent, and clearly assesses the situation while he's talking, and then he starts to bend over all condescending to say "these matters require an adult perspective." And she just goes Cute to reply, "It seems then that I am a crown without an adult, and you are an adult without a crown. Let's just begin." And she just turns her back and strides to HER throne, because fuck this guy. The power of this little girl. Viren gets verbally murdered by a 12 year old.

I just wanted to look longer at the elven silhouettes that Viren summons here to scare the other rulers. Runaan's there in the center, Callisto and Andromeda to the right of him. The hair sort of looks like Skor to the left, but there's no weapons and the build is too vague to be sure. What I find interesting is that the elf furthest to the left in the highlighted section is Rayla's silhouette, an elf Viren shouldn't have even known was there. There's also the figures to Ahling's left, which are slightly faded, but who I can't identify for certain as elves.

this is just gonna be an image heavy post, sorry.

I find it intriguing that even Viren's false shades have the binding on their wrists, and Rayla doesn't seem to be one of these. Andromeda, Skor, Callisto, and Ram are the only ones he's summoned as more than silhouettes on the walls. He has them shuffling like zombies too.

So he adds feral snarls and shambling to the Moonshadow elves, to make them creepier. He adds spikes to the portrayal of Sunfire elves, and height, to make them more intimidating. All of his elves have blood red eyes. This is such blatant fearmongering. I also appreciate how the other monarchs are clearly moved by this display, but Aanya sees the manipulation for what it is, because she's been dealing with it for years as a child ruler.

FLORIAN that was the last dude's name.

That is not exactly the kind of name I would have expected from a Viking analogue lmao, fantastic.

I had a friend who was deep into RWBY the first time I watched this and I cannot unsee RWBY's Pyrrha when I look at Queen Fareeda.

See here it is again, this thing with Viren, strength is more important than goodness. He snaps when Aanya is undecided, because her decisions aren't strong enough for him. Meanwhile, it's actually a much stronger position (as she points out!) to actually stop and think about this situation rather than just taking the word of some random Guy from another kingdom and committing her entire country to a war effort.

She has SO MANY fair points, Ahling.

He really just roasts his own kid in the middle of a royal meeting huh lmao. I do think it's interesting that he doesn't die later - I'm pretty sure he's the one they said survived but was in a coma or something. What happened to his kingdom in the time lapse? Was Kasef's mother in charge of the kingdom? Did he have younger siblings?

Would it even be a mercy for Ahling to wake up and find out what happened to his son?

I love how unimpressed Aanya is with Viren's offer of a story.

OKAY I NEED TO WRITE THIS SHIT DOWN, TIMELINE TIME, FIRST USEFUL THING VIREN'S EVER DONE, JESUS

Okay so this is interesting, Ezran is 10, but Harrow only became king 9 years ago. So Sarai married Prince Harrow. And he took the throne telling Sarai he wanted to make a difference from how his father ran things, which has implications for what Katolis used to be like.

Fellas, is it gay to call your best friend "beautiful" in wistful tones while staring at him getting his family portrait done, and only mention his beautiful family as an afterthought?

Also Viren telling them they could move without consulting the artist, who was clearly still working on the family portrait, was rude AF and if I was the painter (not that I can paint) I would have splattered his pretty clothes with the ugliest yellow on the palette. The best part is Harrow would have thought it was so funny I wouldn't even be in trouble for it.

Viren's account of the history does include Harrow inviting him to stand with him in the portrait, but it is just his retelling, even if it's animated as a flashback. We already know from Rayla's flashback earlier that characters' memories/stories aren't necessarily how things actually went in this universe, and it still bothers me that Harrow was frowning in his official portrait with Viren where Viren wasn't. I suspect he wasn't the one who suggested it after all.

Harrow and Sarai were such tender parents, my heart hurts watching them cuddle with baby Ezran. I like that Harrow's so acutely aware of the class distinctions in his country. It makes me think that's maybe what bothered him about his father's reign; that's what he's so dedicated to changing.

"Lady Justice?" His little smirk when he leaned back and told her "She was wearing her robes." He knew that's where her mind was going to go and he was so fond about it. "Ah, so a boring dream." She says while snacking. I love how casually supportive she is, while also trying to bring lightness to a situation that's clearly distressing him.

I do think it's intriguing that Harrow does mention skin color in his list of things that would affect a person's position in the system, given we don't really see evidence of that in the systems we witness. The races that matter are elf and human; colors within those divides don't have nearly as much of an effect on the story. Maybe I missed or forgot something - or maybe most of the story takes place after this, and Harrow just really succeeded in addressing the inequality.

Amaya standing beside Sarai on her throne is such a good little background detail. She was crownguard before she was a general, it seems. I wonder if Sarai was too, and that's how she met Prince Harrow. I saw a post point out a while back that Callum's three parents are Soldier (Sarai), Poet (Damien), King (Harrow), and now I can't get that out of my head as I think about them.

Says something about Viren's arrogance that he's telling Aanya this story of her parents' sacrifice as if she didn't grow up hearing it.

Poor Bait.

I love the background reactions to Harrow's offer of help to Annika and Neha. Sarai and Amaya are on his side. The reaction of the public doesn't seem to be poor - and realistically, most of the common people wouldn't know at that point how badly this offer of help might affect them. They would just know that their king is offering help to people in need. Viren's the only one who reacts with anger or dismay, and his reasons are fundamentally selfish. It's better to let others die when you can help, just to avoid sharing in their suffering, in his mindset, and Harrow just disagrees.

I wonder if Callum ever accidentally reminded Harrow of Viren. Carrying around stacks of books, bright-eyed and intellectual.

I wonder if he'll remind Harrow of Viren even more, as an adult mage, and how that may affect their relationship in Arc 3.

Viren just randomly having a piece of the magma titan supports my running theory that he just randomly goes on trips to Xadia to "harvest ingredients", likely stoking the fires of Xadian aggression.

His bitter af tone mentioning that he wasn't Harrow's closest advisor is telling. I'm so fucking suspicious.

The guards watching over this sparring match just standing stock still even as their monarchs bicker, and then throw a spear between them, and then exchanging money about it, give me life. I love those little details.

"Is it intelligent?" "What? What do you mean?" "Does it think? Does it feel? Does it have a family?" I like this moment so much because it frames Sarai as someone who values life, all life, right away. "Then is it the last of its kind?" We know she's a soldier. We also know that she doesn't fight because she hates what's in front of her; she doesn't even fight just to defend what's behind her. She fights when she believes she's minimizing harm.

She would have gotten along with Runaan, if they'd met in good circumstances, and that hits, for me personally.

It's interesting that Sarai is already so suspicious of Dark Magic. I wonder what experiences she's had with it up until now to make her so solidly convinced it's a bad idea. "You said you wanted to build a better world, to really change things. That's going to take decades of hard work. There's no monster you can slay and solve all your problems! There's no shortcut! This is going to be a very slippery slope! Harrow, tell me you won't do this."

"It's our only chance."

Something about how when Harrow did something Sarai vehemently disapproved of, she fought with him about it, and she never changed her position, but she stood by him anyway to keep him safe, contrasted with how when Harrow did something Viren disapproved of, he fought with him about it and trapped his soul in a bird and tried to murder his sons to stage a coup.

Amaya was going to go on this mission whether Sarai did or not. I like that, the contrast between them.

Funny how Viren said the Magma Titan lived near the Xadian border, but after he got Harrow to agree to the mission, turns out it's actually on the Xadian side of it. Which makes this significantly more dangerous.

Interesting. The hidden outpost from a couple episodes ago isn't new, which was the impression I got from how Fen and Amaya talked about it; it's where Harrow and his group are planning the assault on the Magma Titan. I wonder if that's true or a plot device for Viren's story. Or just because the animators didn't want to or didn't have time to make a new background site.

Harrow "talks with his hands", a lot, just gestures a lot while he talks, and Amaya cracking a joke about how "look he's signing" to make Sarai laugh was adorable, but it also makes my heart ache because. Callum does that. That's a bit of Harrow's mannerisms in Callum. Ezran doesn't do that as much, he's more like Sarai.

Funny how Viren's so confident about how they just need to "open it up and take what we need", but he doesn't make a move to actually assist in doing that. He leaves that to Amaya and Neha.

Callum talking to Bait about Harrow's letter made me cry again. This poor kid.

Okay, but the story telling choice of framing breaking the seal of Harrow's letter with breaking the shield of the magma titan was so powerful.

Little baby Ezran with Bait for a palate cleanser. I do appreciate those moments from the credits sketches.