#it’s painting with a broad brush and it’s close minded

[demigodofhoolemere]

Me through most of Boom: Wow, this is a really solid dramatic episode.

Me when Moffat needlessly sprinkles in anti-faith sentiments without specifying that it’s blind faith in bad things that the Doctor doesn’t like, which makes it come off like the Doctor is just against religion generally:

[thesecondhandwoman]

MORNING AFTER

Sevika x f!reader

Summary: You and Sevika had another fling-filled night, but this time both of you decided to stay, waking up to one another, realizing that it was much nicer than waking up alone.

The morning light filtered through the tattered curtains of Sevika’s small apartment, painting the room in golden hues. The air carried a slight chill, but the warmth radiating from the body next to you was enough to keep you from shivering. You stretched lazily, muscles sore but pleasantly so, a satisfied smile curling on your lips as memories of last night flooded back.

You turned your head to find Sevika still asleep beside you, her broad shoulders rising and falling with each steady breath. The blanket was pushed down to her waist, revealing the scars and tattoos that decorated her upper body. In the soft light of morning, her sharp features were relaxed, her usually furrowed brow smooth, and her lips slightly parted. Even in sleep, she exuded a kind of raw, magnetic power that made it hard to look away.

Your gaze lingered on her for a moment before a wave of shyness hit. It wasn’t every day you woke up beside someone like Sevika—formidable, intimidating, and yet somehow, so tender when it came to you. The memory of her rough hands on your body, her lips trailing fire along your skin, sent a pleasant shiver through you.

Carefully, you slipped out of bed, trying not to wake her. Your legs wobbled slightly as you stood, a testament to just how thorough Sevika had been. You grabbed the nearest piece of clothing—one of her oversized shirts—and slipped it on. It hung loosely on your smaller frame, the scent of leather and something distinctly her surrounding you.

The kitchen was barely more than a corner of the room, but you managed to scavenge some coffee grounds and get the old percolator working. As it bubbled away, you leaned against the counter, staring out the small window. Zaun was already alive, the sounds of machinery and distant shouting filtering up from the streets below.

“Stealing my clothes already, huh?”

The low, gravelly voice startled you, and you turned to find Sevika leaning against the doorway, her hair mussed from sleep and her cybernetic arm gleaming faintly in the morning light. She had thrown on a pair of loose pants but hadn’t bothered with a shirt, the lines of her torso drawing your attention despite your best efforts to stay composed.

“I thought you wouldn’t mind,” you said, trying for nonchalance but failing miserably as a blush crept up your cheeks.

She smirked, the expression lazy but dangerous, as if she knew exactly what you were thinking. “I don’t. It looks better on you anyway.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. Turning back to the coffee, you poured two mugs and handed one to her. She took it with her flesh hand, the metal of her prosthetic brushing against your fingers. The sensation was oddly comforting, familiar after last night.

Sevika took a sip, her sharp eyes never leaving you over the rim of the mug. “So,” she began, her voice still rough from sleep, “was last night… acceptable?”

You almost choked on your coffee. “Acceptable?” you repeated, laughing. “Is that your way of fishing for compliments?”

“Just trying to gauge my performance,” she said with a teasing smirk, though there was a flicker of something genuine in her gaze—uncertainty, maybe? It was rare to see Sevika vulnerable, even in the smallest ways.

You set your mug down and closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around her waist. “If I rated it anything less than perfect, I think my legs would file a formal complaint,” you murmured, resting your head against her chest.

She chuckled, the sound rumbling through her like a purr. Her metal arm came to rest on the small of your back while her flesh hand gently cupped your chin, tilting your face up to meet her eyes. “Good,” she said softly, her thumb brushing over your cheek. “I’d hate to think I left you… unsatisfied.”

Her lips captured yours in a slow, languid kiss, the kind that made you forget about everything else. When she pulled back, her forehead rested against yours, her expression softer than you’d ever seen it.

“You know,” she said after a moment, “I don’t usually do this… the whole morning after thing.”

You smiled. “I figured. But I’m glad you’re making an exception.”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Me too.”

The rest of the morning passed in a comfortable haze. You ate a simple breakfast together, Sevika grumbling about the lack of decent food in her apartment while you teased her about her poor culinary skills. For a moment, it was easy to forget the harshness of the world outside, the constant dangers and betrayals that came with living in Zaun.

But as you sat there, watching Sevika’s rare smile as she listened to you ramble about nothing in particular, you realized something. Last night had been incredible, but this—this quiet, intimate moment—felt just as important. Maybe even more so.

And judging by the way Sevika reached across the table to take your hand, her fingers lacing with yours, you had a feeling she felt the same.

Hey dolls, I know this a bit smaller than my normal fanfic, but I thought it would be nice to add another fluffy write up for you guys! Hope y’all enjoyed it, and I’m always up for recommendations/requests.

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

Backseat - Rafe Cameron Daydreams ☁️

+18 Minor DNI

Frat!Rafe x Yearning!Reader

+18 Minor DNI

🪄 warnings: brief unprotected p in v, language

📖 You and Rafe want to hook up but the rooms are all taken

✨ “Round two aight? You’re not gettin away from me.” ✨

400

Rafe’s strong arm wraps around your shoulder as he walks you up the stairs of the frat house for the most unnecessary tour, considering all you have on your mind is him and getting him alone. All his words are going in one ear and out the other. The only thing you’re retaining is the depth of his tone and rasp in his voice, making you even wetter.

Rafe reaches down, turning his door knob finding it locked. “No fuckin’ way,” he hisses. His eyebrows furrow, annoyance painted all over his face as he lifts his fist, banging on the door. You hear Top next, screaming that the room is occupied. Rafe’s hardened demeanor softens again as he leans his back into the wooden door, pulling you in by the small of your back as he wets his lip, flipping his snapback around to lessen the space between you even more.

“Occupied,” you pout, body buzzing as you find yourself deliciously close to his lips, just far enough to see his smile curl into a smirk. “You think any of these are free?”

“It’s a big house, doll. We got options…” He croons. “My trucks always free if you wanna be alone. We don’t need to play this guessing game.”

“Your truck huh?” You light up just enough – Rafe, takes his chance, leading you in the opposite direction a moment later. The two of you walk back through the packed frat house as you feel your heart start to pick up speed. As soon as you pass the threshold you let out a gasp as Rafe takes you into his arms. You wrap yours lazily around his neck, fingers lightly scratching at the nape of his neck making the blonde groan and smile. “So…”

“So…” You giggle, cocking your head ever so slightly. Rafe chuckles, turning his gaze narrowly, trying to compose himself.

“I like you, sweetheart.”

“I like you too,” you add, making Rafe turn his full focus back to you.

“I don’t want you to think I’m out here for a quick fuck. ‘Cause I’m not.”

Your eyes widen at his words, lips pulling in a sweeping smile. “We’re fuckin’, Cameron?” You asks in that breathy tone that has him pushing your back against the side of his lifted truck, hauling you into a searing kiss. Rafe’s tongue slips between your lips, reeling with yours as his body grinds into you, pulling away between kisses to confirm exactly what you wanted.

“Yeah – yeah we are.” He opens the passenger’s side door, setting you down, making you gasp as he lays back the seat fast. The two of you works off your clothes, stealing kisses in between. Your bare skin clings to the leather as Rafe pulls you to the edge of the seat, moving closer on his knees with one hand on his cock, the other on your hip.

Your fingers trace down his broad chest, catching all that you can see in the dark. A single streetlight gives you a sliver of light, just a glimpse of his tanned, toned skin, and muscles. “I wish I could see you,” you sigh.

“Round two aight? You’re not gettin away from me.”

“Okay,” you respond dizzily as your fingers trace through his abs, retreating to hook around his neck as his fat tip glides through your folds, catching your clit making you moan. Rafe leans in again, just like he did in the frat house, that same magnetism pulling you in as well. Rafe’s lips brush softly against yours, pressing firmly as he pushes in.

Your lips separate from his as they fall open in a soft “o”. Rafe kisses the corner of your mouth as his cock fills you completely. “Rafe…” You squeal. He circles his hips, letting you adjust to his size to no avail as he stretches you out like never before.

“Holy shit…” He grunts in reply as he drags his long, thick cock out making you whine at the loss of him. “You feel too damn good, princess. You alright?”

“So good…”

The car is quiet, the soft bass of the party is all that’s heard between Rafe’s teasingly shallow thrusts resulting in lewd squelching of your wet pussy, making him chuckle smugly. Rafe reaches up, wrapping his hands around the two metal bars connecting the seat to the headrest. His big biceps flex as he curls his fingers around the metal, no doubt planning on using his grip to fuck you right. “Ready for more?”

[justblades]

┈── ⟣ tracing their tacet marks! scar, jiyan, & aalto

notes: fluff & slight crack, reader is rover, gender neutral! reader. inspired by this tweet, not proofread.

SCAR : with feather touches, you trail the lines of the tacet mark on his neck with your thumb, drawing zig zag lines to follow its outline. his lips were sewn shut the first second, but gradually lets loose as he realizes what you were doing.

"having fun, rover?" he queries with a growing smirk carved on his lips, heterochromic eyes of solferino red and slate gray hues carefully watching yours as your vision anchors to the end of the mark on his neck.

the male then wraps his dominant hand around your wrist, much to your surprise and proceeds to inch closer, rubbing his scarred, sunken cheek on the back of your hand. the same smile still carved upon his features, a tranquil atmosphere envelops the two of you. as if you were put in a trance, his ivory colored locks ripple along the gust of the wind that blows. "i've always known you were a curious one. don't worry, you can always do whatever you'd like to me."

his tone insinuates something different from what he says, as always, he likes to dawdle around words that are more than what meets the eye. yet still, you couldn't help but indulge in a passing moment where silence runs through your system and revel in the fact that you get to do this to scar, who's always, for some reason, unpredictable at times. grateful for your status as a rover, this is a privilege you had come to appreciate in each day that elapses.

you can tell for certain this part of his doesn't receive that much attention, nor affection - evident enough from his expression. he simply closes his eyes, letting everything at the moment unfold naturally with no more unnecessary remarks to be told. "feel free to do whatever makes you happy."

JIYAN : the general gazes solemnly at the vista of infrastructures in the jinzhou city, getting lost at the view as petals of emortia brush softly back and forth on his legs. a strong, gelid wind blows upon your dewed skin, you notice how he hangs his head low, now admiring the bed of flowers where his efforts brought him - a sudden thought lighting up his mind.

he sits down on the field, one leg up and the other resting on the ground. the teal haired then calls to you, "come, sit beside me." voice laced of resolution and velvet, his tone was not of command, but an honest request. you tread towards the general's figure, his broad back and the tacet mark exposure befitting the view in front of you.

curiosity piques your mind, when suddenly, your index finger ghosts a touch on the middle of his mark. a jerk movement erupts as a bodily reflex, his lips part wide from the unanticipated gesture - tassel earrings dangling along his movement as he looks at you with a confused expression painted on his face. "apologies, that was unexpected . . ." he pauses, golden eyes anchoring from your hand to your face. "but i'd like to ask why."

a short silence with no sound but the wind blowing ensues, "your tacet mark's bigger than those i've previously seen. sorry for the unprompted touch like that." you display an apologetic smile, eyes squinted with a hint of begging for the general's mercy. he turns his attention back to jinzhou's breathtaking scenery, feeling the breeze once more with his guard let loose, at least for now.

jiyan flashes you a small smile in return, "no problem. i don't mind." he simply answers. as if you could see every glimmer of light from the city reflecting in his amber eyes, you could get lost at the imagery inside as you proceed to draw the outline of the tacet mark on his back.

a darker color in stark contrast to his fair skin, the view becomes even more beautiful: the general simply lives in the present tranquil moment, perhaps these light touches will serve as a soft reminder that it is alright to rest once a while. after all, being a general is being a bastion of hope and resolution. amidst having a solid, hard resolve, perhaps soft moments and touches will surely melt the toughest heart of depths.

AALTO : "can i touch your tacet mark?" you delve straight to the point and reach out to the side of his neck even though you haven't received an answer yet. goosebumps ride on his skin as he feels the delicate contact follow along the mark's bizarre shape. he feigns composure and turns his head to the opposite side, just so you wouldn't witness him at his vulnerable state.

although the slower you traced on the tacet mark, the more impatience gnawed at his bones and his sensitivity heightens. "w-wait! why are you doing this?" he inquires and takes a step back for a moment, one eyebrow raised, obviously confused at your actions as of late. "i was just wondering if it was sensitive." you reply and step closer to him once more, driving him to a corner where he'd find no refuge from whatever you're planning to do.

suddenly, a gust of wind leaves a silhouette in front of your eyes in a wink, the pseudo figure of him doing a heart pose with both his hands feel like he's poking fun at you. "come on, aalto, just one!" you purposely exclaim. emerging victorious the moment he comes back to the spot, he heaves a dreary sigh. "i suppose it can't be helped."

he stands still and waits for the teasing episode to come to an end. you reach out your index finger and trail your fingertip on his soft skin, paying attention to his body language all at the same to see if there could be any information you could get out of the man - even if it did not appear to be beneficial at all.

the intel broker then peers at you with a bashful look cast on his flaxen irises, feigning obliviousness but the bit lip was clearly an indicator that he's not used to this. watching his poorly stifled expressions, you could not restrain yourself anymore and a chuckle slips from the margins of your lips, "that was surprisingly entertaining." you state as a matter of fact, comical tears about to well up in your eyes.

"shall i trace your tacet mark again next time?" you ask in a rhetorical manner, heart brimming with wonder. "that'd be the last." he says bluntly and takes a swift turn around, proceeding to put on his tinted glasses as a last resort to upkeep his cool guy style.

[kpopsexstories]

Could you write a Quick Fix Gay where Dom Tops! Jeno and Jaemin have a threesome with Sub Bottom! Male Reader?

QUICK FIX GAY #4: Dominant Tops NCT Jeno & Jaemin Fuck You Senseless

This is a 100% gay story. Check out this post for my straight smut and this post for more gay smut.

Pairing: Top NCT Jeno x Top NCT Jaemin x Bottom Male Reader

Content: Threesome, Missionary, Rough, From behind, Spooning, Standing, Handjob, Blowjob, Jerking off, Cumshot (Jeno's), Dirty talk.

Type of Sex: WILD

Word Count: 1,663

Three bodies stand tall on the bed, on their knees with their hands squeezing and rubbing the others. Jeno is positioned behind you, cock inside your ass and an arm around your chest, pulling you close against his full length. He fucks you slow – real slow – except when he forces himself deep into your hole. Each time he thrusts forward, it's abrupt and hard and accompanied by a deep-throated groan.

“Uhhrgn!” he grunts by your ear, before he slowly pulls back with a drawn-out inhale. “Uhhrgn!” he repeats.

The noises and size and feel of his dick make you weak.

Jaemin is beside you, lips planted on your neck. He nibbles, then bites. You feel his teeth sink into your skin and the light paint which turns you on.

They love to play and be rough with you. And you certainly love to be their submissive little bitch.

When Jeno is as deep as he'll get and is about to pull back again, you feel his hand and arm all over your front. Jaemin's teeth and lips leave your neck, and you hear them kiss passionately behind you.

Then the arm disappears, and a significant load is taken off your chest. For a moment you wonder if Jeno is focused on you or Jaemin. You get a clear answer when the hand returns to your upper back and the man violently pushes you forward.

“Get down,” he orders. You land on your hands, bed squeaking as your weight hits the mattress. But he doesn't stop there. “Uhhrgn, fuck yeah!”

Your elbows cave in. He forces your head into the pillow. He nearly breaks your spine like a twig when he leans in over you and the palm of his hand presses down on you hard.

“Uughnn!”

He starts thrusting faster. Jaemin's hard cock brushes against your side. His hands are exploring Jeno’s body as well as yours. You can feel and imagine the eager grins on their faces as they put you in your place.

Jeno puts his weight on your shoulder and grabs your hip to pull your ass onto his member. He finds a steady rhythm and fucks you like a wild animal, aroused by your muffled whimpers in the pillow.

“Nnhm, nhhm, nhmm,” you moan. They can hear the light pain in your grunts and they absolutely love it.

It turns Jaemin on so hard. He wants in on the action too. He gives Jeno a moment to fuck you wild, while he moves his hand up and down Jeno's outstretched back, arm, ass and legs.

He lies down beside you. He gently kisses your strained face and you briefly open your eyes, to see the sweet and broad-chested man up close and smiling. It takes the pain away.

He licks your lips and nose. His mouth touches your eyelids. His tongue slides down your cheek. For a second you feel Jeno leaning down and you can hear them when they kiss each other.

Then, Jaemin returns to you and finds your ear. The nibbles are back, and he goes as far as biting your neck like a vampire.

“Ouch,” you whimper, but it's not a complaint and Jaemin knows it. He grins, then opens his mouth wide and eats your face.

The length of his body is pressing against your side. He's pushing himself in, grinding and exploring, his hand squeezed between your lower back and Jeno's sinking body.

Jeno eventually decides to share. He sits up and pulls out, and Jaemin doesn't waste any time.

The man with his mouth all over your face quickly and abruptly pull you toward him. You roll on your side with your back against him. He squirms, humps, and lifts his knee to allow your ass to get real close to his groin.

You wait a second while he positions his dick. You focus your mind on the head honing in on your hole. Then you feel it stretch the rim, as Jaemin pulls on your hip and his cock fills the space that gave Jeno such an intense pleasure just a moment ago.

“Yeah, you're mine now,” Jaemin says and smirks behind you.

“Fuck you're hot,” Jeno muses somewhere above you.

“Yes, fuck my ass,” you whimper for their enjoyment.

Jaemin soon thrusts and pulls. He jams his cock in, pulls half way back out, and repeats the motion.

You bend your body forward on your side. You briefly see Jeno's towering body admiring your figure, and his arm up close when he reaches out to touch your skin. He explores your face, side, hip and thigh, while holding and stoking his own dick close to your eyes and nose.

“Oh yeah,” he says slowly, satisfied and aroused by your submissive nature. “Fuck, yeah.”

Jaemin too begins to moan lustful words that exude of desire. “Fuck, you're so easy,” he says happily. “Mm, let me feel your tight ass.”

“You like his cock?” Jeno asks with a grin. You raise your gaze to meet his eyes behind the blurred silhouette of his erection.

“Yeah,” you whisper. Jaemin fucks you faster and you close your eyes again. “Yeah, I love your cocks.”

Your upper body is slipping further away but Jaemin wants to feel you, all of you. He grabs your shoulder and pulls you back, then wraps a strong arm around your waist and chest.

His knee goes higher in the air, resting on top of your thigh. Jeno caresses and squeezes you both.

Jaemin’s hips thrust faster still, as he shoves the cock deep and hard into your hole. His lips return to your neck, and he licks and bits your skin while he fucks you.

“Mm, mm, mm,” he moans repeatedly by your ear.

“Fuck, so hot!” Jeno exclaims.

“Ahh, yes, fuck my ass Jaemin!” you weep.

Jaemin suddenly pulls hard on you. He rolls on his back and his arms and hands take your whole body with him. You end up on your back on top of him. Simultaneously, Jeno comes crashing down from the side.

You raise your head and upper back on your elbows and arms and spread your legs wide. You push your ass down onto Jaemin's crotch, and his hands take a firm grip around your hips. He holds you steady while thrusting hard and fast into the hole, groaning louder than ever behind and below you.

Jeno quickly finds your hard dick. He grabs it, kisses it, then swallows it whole. He bobs his head up and down, sucking it hard while Jaemin's dick is going in and out of your body just below his face.

“Yes, fuck!” you exclaim when Jeno's lips give you an intense pleasure, and Jaemin’s dick rubs you in just the right spot.

“Ahh, ahh!” Jaemin pants behind you.

Jeno looks up and your eyes meet. The expression on his face reveals what great joy you give him.

“Ahh, I'm gonna come!” you suddenly exclaim and throw your had back.

“Me too!” Jaemin grunts behind you.

Jeno sucks you harder while Jaemin's hands go up and down your sides. When he isn't holding you firmly your ass bounces on his crotch, your dick pushing far into Jeno's mouth.

Then the hands return to your hips and hold you still again. Jaemin's ass bounces on he mattress while your steady hole brings him ever close to the edge.

Jeno takes your dick out of his mouth to jerk it fast with his hand.

“Ahh, fuuuck, yes, fuck my ass, I'm coming, I'm co-ooming!” you scream.

You push your ass down hard on Jaemin's cock when you release. Jeno pulls his head back and observes the eruption between his fingers. You shoot your load onto your stomach, and when you finally open your eyes you see him smirk and pant right next to it, while grinding his crotch and boner against your leg.

Jaemin has reached his peak too. He digs deep into your skin when he comes, then abruptly let's go and exhales deeply. You're too numb to feel his cum inside you, but the strong sensation of his pulsing release feels wonderful.

Jeno keeps smiling wide. Then, when your muscles relax and you sink down on top of Jaemin's equally spent body, lust returns to his eyes.

He sits on his knees beside you and strokes his cock. You get up, Jaemin's still hard dick slipping out of your hole, and approach the flapping hand. Jaemin quickly joins you. Soon Jeno is towering over you both, looking down at two eager faces ready to receive his hot load.

He doesn't last more than a few seconds. Your eyes flicker between his expression of pleasure and the dick head which waves right in front of you. He groans loudly and his eyes open wide, himself eager to see the display and your reactions.

His cum arrives suddenly and with force. It spurts out onto your face. You instinctively close your eyes to protect yourself, and you feel Jaemin's head pushing in to get some of the action.

“Holy shit!” Jeno exclaims above you. He's panting hard, his fit chest and stomach moving in and out in long strokes.

“Damn,” Jaemin chuckles and wipes his chin with the back of his hand.

You laugh when he turns to look at the cum dripping down your nose and lips. Jeno too chuckles, satisfied and drained.

You reach for something to clean yourself with. Jaemin throws himself back on the bed, stretching out while catching his breath. You join him and cuddle up in his arm.

Jeno helps clean you up, then he too lies down beside you.

“Fucking hell,” you say with a big smile.

“That was incredible,” Jaemin concurs.

“You're such a little slut,” Jeno grins and you playfully slap his stomach.

Jeno and Jaemin want a submissive bottom to play with, and you're more than happy to have been the object of their sexual desires.

[farfromstrange]

Fictober Day 18: Mirror Sex

Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Prompt: Mirror Sex (✨)

Summary: Matt decided to move a mirror before your bed.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), mirror sex, slight dom!Matt, dirty talk, use of "good girl"

Word Count: 902

Read Me On AO3! (Coming soon)

He turned the floor-length mirror you brought into the relationship toward the bed. You didn’t think much of it, at first—you were too focused on his head between your legs, lapping at your pussy like a man starved, to pay much mind to the inanimate object—until he told you, “Turn around. On your stomach, now.”

That is how you got here, ass in the air and staring at your reflection in the mirror as Matt thrusts his thick cock into your cunt from behind. 

“Look at you,” he grunts, pushing his hips into yours. “Tell me what you see.”

He can hear it. He can hear how fast you’re breathing, those moans that get stuck in your throat when you are overwhelmed, and he can feel how tightly your walls are clutching him. Matt can feel you all around him, but he can’t see you. He can’t see your eyes rolled back into your head, can’t see the way your back is arching, or how your skin glistens in the purple light of the Billboard streaming in from outside. He can’t see how fucking lewd you look, and you have hardly seen it yourself. 

He wants you to experience this in a way close to what he is experiencing every time he fucks you. Every time he gives you pleasure or takes it in return. He wants you to see what he is doing to you, and paint him a picture his brain will never forget. 

The room is filled with the obscene slapping of skin against skin, wetness trickling down his cock and onto his thighs, as he takes you hard enough for your pussy to remember him for days to come. 

You won’t be able to walk when he is done with you.

He curls his fingers around your neck and hoists you up. “Eyes up,” he commands. “Focus.”

You cry out. The sight of you is entirely too much. 

“Tell me what you see. C’mon.”

You can see his hand around your throat, his index finger resting against your lips as you choke out pieces of a sentence. 

Your breasts jolting every time he thrusts into you. 

Your back arched.

His cock disappearing in your wet cunt.

Your swollen clit. 

Hickeys on every inch of skin he could find before. 

And you can see him. You can see his brows furrowed, lips parted and abs straining. His thick thighs are broad enough for you to catch them behind yours, thrusting and thrusting and thrusting, barely pulling out before he slides back into you. 

You can barely breathe, barely even talk. When you go silent though, he squeezes his fingers against your pulsepoint, and he commands you to tell him again. To tell him what you see. 

It is like watching porn, almost. You watch yourself get taken apart by him, and it pushes you closer to the edge. It curls the beginnings of an orgasm in the pit of your belly, so intense that you can’t help but cry for mercy. 

Matt hoists you up even higher, chest against your back. His heart is hammering to the beat of yours. 

“See that?” He cups your pussy. “See how fucking wet you are, sweetheart? Hm?” 

He has never looked hotter, you think. Eager fingers rub at your clit, and you watch as he brushes against his own cock. It makes him hiss. It makes him twitch, buried deep in your velvety walls. 

God, you won’t last like this.

His fingers speed up. “I want you to see what you look like when you come,” he says. “I want you to watch. Watch you come all over my cock. Watch me fill you up. Watch…”

You clench around him, eyes threatening to close. He takes your breath away with a simple flick of his fingers, and you have no choice but to watch as your orgasm washes over you.

What strikes you most though is what he looks like when he comes from this angle, spilling deep inside you. You feel him, and you can see him, and you come the hardest you have in your entire life. 

For a moment, you black out. You can’t see or feel anything other than his cum leaking out of you. You can’t breathe under his hand, but oxygen seems useless anyway. You’re not alive, you’re not existing, you’re just there. You’re there and nowhere, floating in a bubble between space and time as you so often do, but it takes an eternity for the wave to subside. It continues to crash and drown you, and it almost kills you. 

Matt barely catches your fragile body as you collapse in on yourself. 

“Shhh,” he coos, lowering the two of you back down on the bed.

He is fragile—overly sensitive and overstimulated, too—but in this moment, you are all that matters to him. 

“You so well,” he tells you. “Take a deep breath.”

You inhale, following the steady rise and fall of his chest to come back to reality. 

“Good girl. I’m so proud of you.”

When you look in the mirror this time, you find yourself safe and sound wrapped in his arms, and everything falls back in place.

“That was…” you trail off. 

Again, Matt shushes you. He squeezes your hand. Three times. I love you. 

You squeeze back. Four times. I love you too.

You might keep the mirror where it is, after all. 

@ebathory997 @the-b33skn33s @scoliobean @drmeghanjones @lanae111 @steve-chandler @lucienofthelakes @xnatyx @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @zomtart @ethereal-blaze

[leonsleftbicep]

Quirks i’ve noticed Sleep Token Members have

mind you, this is things i’ve just noticed from from the concert videos i have caught out of no where

Vessel

big stomps

flaps arms and hands when hes dancing

scrunches his face in photos with flash

squeezes himself with an arm to calm himself

II

broad stance

almost always wears vans

right eye is slower to open the his left (hes just super sleepy)

III

flicks his hands

brushes his hand over his head trying to “smooth back his hair”

pants are always regular length and never tall length just so socks are on display

head bangs like his hair is out

thumb holes in long sleeves (hes just like me for real)

loosy goosy dance moves

looks like he would punch you if you acted wrong to someone hes close to

IV

hood up almost always

40 year old dance moves

palms not painted purposfully

sassy/saucy body movements

adjusts the soft mask A LOT

props up guitar with his right thigh during the summoning solo

i feel i missed a couple but thats okay!

(i do indeed know that some of these are for technical reasons and such but i just notice them and want to write them down)

[zorosdimples]

BETWEEN YOU AND ME (AND THE SEA)

pairing ༄ zoro x gn!reader

warnings ༄ suggestive content (this takes place after sex). slight angst that ends in sweet comfort. brief descriptions of violence and wounds. love as religion/love as worship.

word count ༄ 911

notes ༄ this fic is just an insanely intense pillow talk session with my favorite man (i don’t know how to be normal). it’s brimming with love. please enjoy!

p.s. i use the word “bokken” to denote a wooden practice sword.

“i would die for you.”

your breath caresses zoro’s heaving chest, his tawny skin damp, glistening under the moon’s pearly glow. the air is still in the crow’s nest; the only sound to disturb the lulling midnight is the gentle lap of the wine-dark sea.

it takes the swordsman several moments to process your words, his mind still hazy from the events of your shared watch. one wide palm rests on the soft curve of your lower back while he absentmindedly strokes the arch of your neck.

“hm?” zoro belatedly rumbles, brows knit in confusion.

you raise your head to meet your lover’s steel gaze. the look in your eye—zoro knows it well. beneath the heady cloud of contentment is the crazed glint of worship, shining like a honed blade. it’s a look that both terrifies him in its depth and comforts him in its earnestness.

will he ever be worthy of your devotion?

“i’m not particularly brave or strong,” you start, a fingertip etching love into his flesh as you trace the jagged edges of the scar that slashes across his torso—the ghost of an injury that almost took him from you.

“but i would do anything for you, zo. i would die for you. and it should scare me, that i feel so deeply.” your finger stills, hovering above his heart, beat steadfast as the foamy tide. “but when it comes to you? i lose all my inhibitions. i would die for you in an instant.”

even in the dusky quiet, zoro’s hands are broad and warm as the sun. they are an extension of his weapons, instruments of death. yet he cradles your cheeks with devastating care as he pulls your face to his own. his jaw flexes resolutely as he grits out, “don’t say shit like that.”

“not saying it doesn’t make it any less true,” you murmur.

few things scare the swordsman; he knows death’s face, having brushed shoulders with the endless ether more times than he can count. when he dreams, he wades through a river of ichor as asura, violence incarnate.

but your vulnerability frightens him—how you lay your heart bare and expect nothing in return.

the way you live goes against everything zoro has ever known, against his basest instincts to keep his emotions close to his chest, to fight the burden of existence with blood in his maw, to survive at any cost.

(it’s a bitter january evening and snow flurries paint the eaves of the dojo white. zoro’s stomach growls, hunger gnawing at his intestines. his young, scrawny limbs ache with overuse. the room is frigid; his simple robe is not nearly enough to keep the color in his cheeks.

this dreaded overnight practice is punishment for pilfering onigiri from the kitchen several days prior. hunger is but a distraction for the weak. he must repent with grueling drills. but in the middle of an overhead swing, he loses feeling in his arms, the bokken clattering to his feet.

his sensei tsks in disappointment. “the way of the sword is absolute, roronoa. you eat and sleep and breathe by the blade. the second you lose focus—the moment you lose sight of what is important—you will cease to be a swordsman.”

tears of frustration prick the young boy’s eyes, but he holds his tongue, picking up the bokken without sound or complaint. he doesn’t realize that his palms are cracked and that the wooden hilt is stained sanguine. he continues training until dawn.)

zoro licks his chapped lips. his tongue is always loose when it’s just the two of you and the sea. “i’m not worth it.”

a frown pinches your features. adorable, he wants to say as you wrap your arms around his neck with a huff.

“what makes you think your life is worth any less than luffy’s? than chopper’s? than mine?”

zoro assesses you for a moment, feline eye unreadable. he measures his words with unusual care. “my role is to protect. it was—it is—my vow to luffy.”

threading your fingers through his mint tresses, you tug, concern rolling off of you in waves. “then who’s left to protect you, zo?”

his mind answers without hesitation: no one. (the little boy with the bloodstained bokken weeps.)

“let me protect you,” you entreat, lips brushing his, ardent as a prayer.

the fates, in their divine and impartial wisdom, must have made a grave mistake: spinning the claret thread of your fate, meting it out, and mistakenly intertwining it with the swordsman’s. zoro is certain that it’s a miscarriage of justice—not that the gods have ever been preoccupied with fairness.

did he do something in a past life to deserve your reverence?

“i can’t,” he breathes. but his iron resolve is rusting, fissures compromising the once-gleaming surface.

“you can.”

zoro has never considered himself to be a good man. you are eager to give, and he wants nothing more than to receive. he drinks in your affection so greedily that he doesn’t notice how his lone eye burns when he claims your lips with his own, heartfelt i love yous exchanged between spit and tongue.

the tears are silent as they drip down his freckled cheek; you swipe each of them away with a thumb before dotting kisses across his salty flesh. zoro has half a mind to be embarrassed—swordsmen don’t cry.

but if there is one absolute truth in this cursed world, it’s this: his heart is safe with you and you alone.

[jolalibrary]

16. apple green

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter sixteen of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.7k chapter warnings: dad!frankie. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. FLIRTATION TO THE MAX. an: this chapter made me beam from start to finish. like my face hurts.

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

It’s long, your exhale. Stretching out slow and full, cheeks still tingling with the lingering ache of laughter as you gaze at the horizon.

Just where the sun dips; its final rays painting the sky in lavender and rose. You're joined by a gentle, warm breeze whispering through the air, carrying the salty scent of the sea and the soft hum of waves caressing the shore's golden sand.

The air is cooler now under the encroaching dusk, as the tide steals the footprints, making them vanish.

And it’s perfection. All of it.

A moment you wish you could pause and live, exactly like this, for a handful of hours.

The sound of flip-flops meeting soles is what eventually ruins it.

It pulls your glance over your shoulder, watching his approach—shades shielding his eyes, hair loose in slightly longer curls, it almost dry from your earlier fun in the water.

Then you see his smirk. The one which grows as he nears, knowing what you’re thinking, even if you try to hide it. Because if you had gone to grab pizzas, you’d be face down in the sand—food ruined, embarrassment smothering over your cheeks. But, he carries it one-handed like it’s nothing. A bottle of soda under his arm and a plastic bag dangling from his wrist, as you shift on the blanket that’s still warm from the sun, arms reaching up to help.

“Hey, Butterscotch.”

“Hey, Mi lluviosa.”

You don't even fight how you beam at your nickname's new variation. The one that had slipped out when he'd turned his alarm off, eyes all closed with your face buried into his neck.

The jingle of his car keys sounds as he throws them to the edge of the blanket, watching him join you as the scent of melted cheese, tomato and toppings greet your nose before you even open the box.

“Smells so good.”

He utters a soft agreement as your knee abuts his; periodically glancing at him as you grab a slice, chewing with a smile as he wrestles with his toppings and strands of cheese from tangling in his beard.

By the time you’re both full, the chill of the evening air is making you shiver, when you gently slot the cardboard lids back into place. Tenderly, as you watch another wave rise and crash against the beach, your palms tenderly brush up and down your arms.

He notices—or must do. Moving onto his knees to dig around the duffel you’d both brought—a jacket pulled out, before sliding it around your shoulders, coming to sit behind you. Legs on either side as the scent of him joins you.

Toes wiggling in the sand, his hands sliding over your legs, you turn. “Would you rather be a jellyfish or a starfish?”

Exhaling a groan, your back comes to rest on his chest. Eased there, guided. Your ankle accidentally nudges one of the half-empty pizza boxes in your movements—a thing you hope remains sand-free from when you get back to his and decide you wish to nibble on a little more.

Blowing out a puff of air, it tickles against your ear as his arms come around you. “Jellyfish.”

“Is it because they glow in the dark?”

Laughing, kissing the side of your head. “No. But that is a good reason.”

“You want to sting people, don’t you?”

Sliding your hand around the back of his neck, fingers scratching at his hair, smiling, biting down on your lip as he presses another kiss.

“Maybe.”

“Deviant.”

Softly blowing against your ear, drawing shapes along his scalp as he whispers, you love it.

And you do.

Fuck you do.

Do you think I need to reconsider jeans and a black tee for what we’re getting up to today?

No, you’ll be fine. I’m putting up some shelves is all.

Does this mean you’re going to tuck a little pencil behind your ear?

Do you like the idea of that?

Might do.

I’m beginning to worry you’re with me for my hobbies and not me.

How about you stop looking so hot when you do your hobbies?

I’ll try. It’s hard to turn off.

HA HA HA.

HA.

You're there, in a stranger's home, for all of ten minutes before you realise that you’re not needed. Not that Frankie says anything.

Only confirming it when you ask, “You sure you don't need me to hold this?” Voice-breaking the quiet hum of the electric drill he’s holding.

Carefully re-positioning one of the wooden shelves against the wall, his brow furrows in concentration, a single dark curl falling over his forehead as he glances from the step-ladder, eyes nothing short of warm and twinkling despite the overcast light. “I've got it, but your company makes it easier,” he replies, tone nothing short of affectionate, sweet, truthful.

“Francisco Morales, did you want me here as eye candy?”

He buries his answer with the drill as you wander over to the window smirking, seeing that the sky is still a thick blanket of grey, clouds heavy with the threat of rain. Even without the window open, you know the air is cool, likely damp, carrying a hint of petrichor as you turn on your heels, watching from your new position.

You don’t suppress the small smile that plays on your lips—something comforting about the sight of him so focused, so intent on getting everything just right.

“Could you just pass that for me?”

Smirking, you quickly move over to pick up what he’s gesturing at, turning it over in your hand. “This?”

“Please.”

Biting your lip, grinning. “What do I get for it?”

“The knowledge I’d be done earlier.”

Tilting your head from side to side, you scrunch your face—almost wanting to twirl the tool.

“What if I wish that you'd do me yourself, Morales?”

Pausing, the wood in his hand lowers down the wall as he turns his head, staring, mouth falling open before he eventually rests the plank against the wall. Slowly coming down the steps, across the plastic-covered floor, it all scrunching under his boots. “That what you want?”

His hands slide around your waist, palms flat, dragging along the fabric that covers your skin, rippling fire out across your body as you curl in, arch, ghosting your mouth over his.

“We can’t fuck in this person’s house, Frankie.”

Groaning, low, deep in the back of his throat, you smile—mirroring the one he traces across yours. “Remind me why?”

“You make me messy.”

Grunting, pressing it to your neck. “Yeah?”

Nodding, biting your lip, pulling his face up by your palms on his cheeks, mouth ghosting over his. “Really messy.”

Inhaling, you feel him agree. Mouth meeting yours, before you ease his nose to your lips, pressing a kiss. “Finish drilling, Morales. Then we can go home and you can drill me.”

He mumbles something in Spanish under his breath.

Guess how my morning has been?

Wonderful? Full of coffee and people asking for tips on how to twist a screw in.

No, not everyone is you. Harold has asked me three times when he’s next seeing you.

Oh yeah, I should really return his call for our second date.

I know you’re joking, but ouch.

Don’t worry, Francisco. He’s just a side piece. You’re the main. I want to get lunch, do you want me to bring you some and then you can pee around me so he knows?

Please. He keeps asking if you like diamonds.

Tell him I’m not mad at a diamond.

Shooting a wink at Harry, he lifts his chest up from his leaned position on the counter. Head dipping, fingers sliding across his lips as though they’re a zip before tapping his nose.

That familiar scent greets you just as graciously. All fresh-cut wood, spilt paint and lemon disinfectant, as well as Harold's aftershave. The one change—the biggest—is the missing crackle of the radio, you had found a compact, newer one a few weeks back, placing it on the counter with a big red bow and a card for Harry.

Bag swinging in your fingers, it’s a hunt to find him. Peering down aisles, eventually spotting him crouched—cargo trousers doing their utmost to remain stitched across his thighs.

You’re grateful he wears an apron that covers his groin. Half-fearful of the eye contact you’d give the area in what he’s currently wearing.

Digging your hand into the bag, and retrieving the top plastic carton, you do a little wiggle down the aisle with it.

“What’s this?”

Shrugging, stopping just before him as he stands. “Cake?”

Placing his clipboard down, narrowing his eyes as he takes it, turning it over.

“Butterscotch—that’s the flavour.”

Scrunching his face, he sighs. “I… I don’t know if I like it, baby.”

“Well, more for me.”

Smiling, pressing a kiss to your cheek, he motions to peer in the bag. “You like it?”

“Well, I like you.”

“Not sure it’ll taste like me.”

Tongue in your cheek, looking him up and down as he straightens, you wait a beat, and then another, before adding, “Shame. Guess I’ll have to keep eating you then.”

“Menace.”

Moving close, lips almost touching his, you whisper the same words he said to you only a day or two ago, you love it. A low whine leaves his lips, stifling it against your mouth, a crooked finger under your chin, making kissing a little easier.

“Wanna eat in the office?” he asks.

“I was thinking we could eat as you cut wood. I love sawdust seasoning.”

Pinching your side, not able to stop the giggle, he turns you on the spot, leading you back down the aisle you’d come down. “Go in, I’ll be a moment—just gonna tell Harold that I’m going on break.”

Nodding, twirling on the spot, you wink. “Tell him I love him.”

His palm manages to catch you on your ass as you roar with laughter.

Butterscotch Morales.

I’ve been first named.

Did you put flowers on my car?

Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t.

You lured me there to be romantic?

Well, it is very hard to be romantic when you’re at my house.

I can go home early if you want.

Don’t you fucking dare.

Noted.

I also think you’re doing just fine in the romantic department. For one, they’re gorgeous. And the deep clean you gave me in the shower this morning still has my thighs shaking.

I don’t think you know how good you look with soap suds on your skin.

I have an idea now.

You fancy anything particular for dinner tonight?

Can you be on the menu?

I think it can be arranged for dessert.

Okay. Then tacos?

Double helping for me then.

Francisco!

You’re smirking I can feel it from here.

You know before you open your eyes what day it is. A mixed blend of emotions that flood you as you wake to the thick scent of freshly brewed coffee, breakfast—maybe eggs, you can’t be sure.

Heart both full and heavy as it coaxes you from your sleep, your lashes flutter, eyes blinking as you stretch your arm out across his dark bedsheets. You hate that you can feel the warmth fading. Dismay flutters in your chest, as you begin to fight the urge to roll face down into his sheets and glue yourself to his mattress.

“Morning, baby,” he whispers, interrupting, eyes finding him in the doorway, leaning, head resting against his bicep, a slither of his stomach on show as his top pulls up. “I’m making us breakfast.”

“You didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to,” he replies, palm patting against his thigh. “If you want a shower, you have time.”

“Telling me I smell?”

Tongue sliding over the front of his teeth, he smiles—mischievously. “Maybe I just want you to smell like my soap for when you go home.”

Home you think. A tightness in your chest all but inflicted by the word. Four letters. Barely anything. Yet, you have to bite down on the inside of your cheek when he kisses your forehead and heads back out of the room.

It bubbles as you glance around the room—his room—taking in the cosy armchair with your jacket laid over it, the photograph of you and him surrounded by ones of Luca, Frankie and Luca or his friends.

Then, you hear him singing. The sound makes your heart throb at the same time as it brings a smile to your face as you head to his bathroom.

You find that the only benefit to showering is wrapping yourself in his cosy robe before you make your way to the living room.

Frankie lounges on the sofa, hand patting the spot beside him. You eagerly curl up next to him, nestling your head against his chest as his arm wraps around you, the other hand resting on your knee, thumb tracing soothing circles.

The tray of breakfast sits on the coffee table. You reach for a piece of toast, nibbling as you settle in. After a moment, you taste it—the eggs cooked just how you like, the toast perfect, just the way you love it. Of course, he has.

Frankie watches you with a tender expression, his fingers continuing their gentle caress on your knee.

“You excited?” you murmur between bites, “He’ll be here soon.”

Hand stroking over your leg, he swallows. “Yeah, I’ve missed him,” he replies, his voice a low, comforting rumble.

You look up at him, your heart swelling with love. “He’s going to have so many stories.”

Snorting, he runs a hand down his face. “Oh, I know.”

You smile, let the tranquillity of the moment wash over you, savouring the simple joy of being with the man you love. Curled up together. “Thank you for letting me see him before I go.”

His cheeks flush slightly, and he leans down to kiss the top of your head. “You know you don’t have to go.”

Staring at him, thumb swiping over his upper lip, removing the crumb from a slice of toast. “I should. Before I never leave.”

The tip of his tongue peeks out, swiping across his lower lip as his fingers do a dance on your leg. “That doesn’t sound half bad.”

Rolling your eyes, picking up your coffee. “You can ask me better than that, Morales.”

You don’t add that you hope he does.

Draining more of your coffee as you stare at him over the porcelain, placing it down before kissing his cheek.

“I should go pack.”

His groan follows you as you head back off to dress—folding things, shoving others into a bag and cleaner clothes back into your drawer.

It’s a try, an almost fail to not feel a sting of tears as you leave your bag on the bed.

The embers of it flickering inside of you even when you take over cleaning for him when he tells you Sam’s car is pulling up. It almost douses it, his joy, drying the mug in your hand when you peer into the living room as the front door is flown open and you see Frankie bear-hugging Luca as Sam follows in behind him.

Miss you’s turn into excitable tales. Occasionally translated by Sam as you wipe the side free from water, closing a cupboard quietly and drying your hands.

Then, when you’re about to slyly move into the room discreetly, you hear her call your name.

For a second, your head turns, but you don’t move. Just glancing, pulse pounding in your ear as you find Sam smiling, waiting, brows slightly raised as though you hadn’t made it up that she’d spoken your name.

“Can we talk… outside?”

It takes all of your restraint not to flick your eyes to Frankie.

For what, you’re not sure—reassurance, need, it all blurs into a stew inside of you as you reply, following her through the living room and out of the front door.

Nails digging into your palm, you try to breathe. In and out, out and in. But it builds.

And it builds.

And it builds.

Unable to stop the anxiety shifts into something thicker, less easy to keep down. It rises in your throat, choking you. Something similar to bile, as your head runs through a thousand things—whether you’d been too much with Luca, whether Frankie hadn’t shared that you’d be here, whether and whether and—

“I wanted to thank you,” Sam begins, smiling, hands linked together in front of herself, “Frankie… he’s a great, great dad—”

“The best,” you add. And then shame blooms over the anxiety at interrupting.

Sam, though, doesn't seem fazed. If anything unbothered. “The best. I’m very lucky to co-parent with him. But—”

Your stomach knots. Tightens.

A ball swelling inside of you as it becomes harder to breathe, to take full ones that fill you with air and rational thinking.

“I know he didn’t help make all those things.”

Oh, you think.

Shoulders unlodging from your ears, sliding down to their normal place.

“You must have spent hours on them,” she continues, a soft line in her forehead appearing as her face lightly scrunched, “All of them. The t-shirt? The candle? The card—the card, was so, so nice. It was so thoughtful. I can’t… I am not ashamed to admit I cried my fucking eyes out.”

Shifting your weight, a smile breaking out, “It was all Luca’s idea. I just wanted—”

“I imagine some of it was, but not all of it.”

You blink. It’s that or let your eyes fill up too. Seeing her staring, watching, with nothing but gratefulness on her face.

“I’m… I’m glad he has you,” Sam says quickly, almost hurriedly. “Luca. And Frankie.”

Her hands come around her waist before relaxing at her side, lips rolling, looking as nervously as you did moments ago.

“Thank you, for helping him with the gifts,” she continues.

Swallowing, you nod. “Anytime—if that’s okay? I… I don’t want to be anything but Rainy to him.”

Smiling, she inhales. “I know.”

“Good.”

A beat happens, the two of you finding yourselves admiring the other when you hear Luca’s laugh echo out of the house.

“So, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what is it with Rainy?”

Laughing, you press your hand to your face, watching her smile, waiting—patiently. “It’s a stupid joke, Frankie’s doing.”

Sam raises her brows, and stares in waiting, gesturing for you to continue.

“Okay, well—”

The next time it rains, can you kiss me in it?

Baby I’ll kiss you whatever the weather. Am I allowed to ask why?

It’s romantic, isn’t it?

Are you watching a movie?

Maybe.

And we haven’t kissed in the rain. We’ve kissed nearly everywhere else.

Well, I’d hate not to have kissed you everywhere, baby.

What’s happening in the movie?

Lots of declarations.

Ah. Lots of when we first met, I wasn’t looking for someone, I was running from it. But, you really wanted to try and build something, and before I knew it, I was falling.

That kind of thing yes.

I miss you.

I miss you too, baby. The bed feels strange without you asking me random questions.

I think watching this was a bad idea.

Answering his call, you don't pause the movie—just turn the volume down. Curling further into your couch as you tug the blanket up your neck, bringing his voice to your ear.

“Hey.”

“Hey, baby. Is the movie making you sad?”

Nodding, you swallow back the lump in your throat. Tears springing, the ones that had already fallen.

“You choking up so much you can’t reply to me?”

Laughing, tears spluttering, you sniff, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand as you grin—half-shaking your head. “How’d you know?”

You hear rustling, imagining him in bed. In the middle of the place, the two of you have been sharing. Wondering if he can smell your perfume, whether he misses the extra warmth of your skin like you currently miss him.

“‘Cause I know you. And, you do this little sniffle you try to hide and—”

“Okay, okay,” you interrupt, hearing him laugh, it tickling down your ear, making your chest go all warm like it usually does.

Like it always does.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have put this on.”

Snorting, it’s followed by a groan. One you now know he does when he stretches, when he’s trying to loosen the tightness in his back.

“Why did you?”

Because I miss you, you almost reply. Unsure how he couldn’t know, wouldn’t. A horrid thought burst through everything, standing all determined in the wake of nothing but only joy and happiness for days. Making your heart hurt, shrink and fall somewhere along the pit of you. Because maybe he didn’t know, because he didn’t miss you.

Maybe he felt happier that he had his home to himself, his bed, his things—

“I miss you too, Rainy.”

A gasp escapes, one enriched in emotions, fresh tears falling as you pause the movie, curling up more, knees pulled up as he repeats it.

“What do you miss?”

He snorts again, but more full of tease, “Fuck, where do I even start?”

“At the beginning of the list.”

“Oh well, firstly, I miss the fact I’ve not been asked if I would rather be a cactus or a house plant.”

And you smile. It stretches out, sliding into your cheeks—for the first time since you came home to emptiness—you feel happy again, even as another tear rolls down your cheek and you ask, “Well, what would you prefer?”

Frankie laughs. It flows down the phone, somehow brightening your own home, even if he’s not inside of it. It makes you kick off the blanket, stand up, turn the television off—and the lights—and walk the lonely route to your own bed.

Half-wishing you’d taken him up on the offer of staying one more night.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

[lovesickeros]

☆ glimpse of divinity

{☆} characters lyney, neuvillette [ separate ] {☆} notes cult au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 0.8k

× neuvillette

The first time he sees you strolling the streets of Fontaine with a glint of wonder in your eyes, he thinks he must have finally lost it. He has to rub his eyes and check a few dozen times before he's certain that you are, in fact, real and not some figment of his imagination conjured by a lack of sleep and overdose on caffeine.

..Though now that he gets a better look, it's not quite the same. Like a smudged painting, he thinks. Still, the uncanny resemblance to the visage of the Divine One has him lingering around the area just to stare a little longer, a deep, devoted sense of affection bristling beneath his skin.

And then you turn sharply on your heel, staring directly back at him, and he feels a sudden wave of embarrassment and something akin to shame.

Archons, he'd just made a fool of himself, hadn't he?

He quickly turns away, clearing his throat and hiding his embarrassment behind his hand. Though it does not seem to deter you, the soft tap of your shoes growing closer until you were peering up at him with wide eyes.

"..Hello." He offers awkwardly, a little too stiff and a little too formal, but you don't seem to mind in the slightest. He knows that your appearance, your vague similarities to the Divine One are mere coincidence, but it does not stop his heart from skipping a beat when you smile up at him. "I– apologize for being so uncouth and staring, it's just.."

His voice trails off into a breathy exhale, his hand twitching on his cane as if he wanted to reach out and touch you..but he restrains himself in time. He could not make a bigger fool of himself – he would never hear the end of it from lady Furina.

"You remind me of someone."

He decides, readjusting his hands on his cane as he bows his head for a moment is a show of genuineness, though it must look awkward with how stiff his body feels.

Yet he cannot help but want to get closer anyway, to hear the silky lilt of your voice grace his pointed ears. This is as close as he will ever get to the Divine..he is a weak man, he finds, as he offers a hand to you.

"I understand if this is a bit..forward, but would you mind joining me for tea?"

× lyney

He is a master magician – his entire work is built on keen misdirection and sleight of hand, but even he stumbles for a minute thinking he'd seen an illusion in your warm smile and striking features. Almost an exact copy of the Divine One, yet not quite..

Still, it's enough to pique his interest – enough, too, to give him the confidence to slip into your conversation with ease, all smiles and the slip of a card between his fingers.

"Hello, stranger – I don't think I've seen you in Fontaine before," He laughs, his hand reaching around to rest gently on your opposite shoulder, his voice a ghost of a whisper in your ear. "Say, could I interest you in a bit of magic?"

He perks up at the way you seem to light up like fireworks at his offer, a spark almost like recognition in your eyes he brushes aside – he's quite well known, after all.

"Good! Now, if I may just borrow your attention for a minute.." He grins, stepping around you and turning sharply to face you, his hand outstretched with a deck of cards in his hands, face down. "Let's start simple, shall we? I shan't overwhelm my audience – pick a card."

He holds the cards out again, his features twisted in something like awe, though he hides it well.

His heart flutters at the briefest of glances of your hand against his as you pluck a card from his hand, and he quickly retracts it, reshuffling the deck with a broad grin and a wink.

"Do your best to remember it! If you could return it to the deck.." The card is placed back in it's place amongst the rest, and the magic begins!

"Now then, let's see..hm," He hums for a long moment, the silence filled by the constant shuffle of cards until he suddenly plucks one from the deck, flipping it around for you to see. "Is this your card?"

He frowns when you shake your head, almost pouting, before he lights up again and steps forward.

"Ah! How foolish of me, I missed it..it's riiight here, see." He winks, reaching behind your ear..and pulls free a card from seemingly thin air. He flips it around for you to see again, and when you tell him it is, in fact, your card, he flips it around again.

And before you can see it, he's holding a rainbow rose between his fingers, his hand outstretched as he bows.

His eyes glint with a sort of wonder as he looks at your features, his smile widening a fraction.

"Well, dear stranger? Did you enjoy the show?"

[hrefna-the-raven]

Mask

Horror masterlist - Masterlist - Misc. masterlist

RZ Michael Myers x female nurse reader

Part 1

Words: 1248

Warnings: very mild and short descriptions about violence

Summary: you seem to be the only person who's able to communicate with Michael and so you continued to take care of him on Dr Loomis' orders

Reader: short female reader in mind, but no specific descriptions are used

The following days and weeks passed with the same routine. You were overseeing Michael in the observation room until Doctor Loomis would arrive for the therapy session. Occasionally, the doctor would even request that you stay, hoping that Michael would open up in your presence. He did, although the doctor was too engrossed in his own theories to notice it each time, but you saw all of it. The little amused huffs behind the mask whenever you challenged him with a question, the silent chuckles and crinkling eyes whenever you told one of your jokes and the way his breath hitched as soon as your hand found his in an innocent touch. All the while a frustrated Loomis sat across the table, huffing as he scribbled down in his notebook, so much to write and yet no wisdom to share, only speculations.

The conflict within Michael kept raging on, torn between his urge to kill and the growing fondness for you. You were a thorn in his flesh of bloody sin and yet, you soothed his mind and your touch left a sense of longing burning beneath his skin. Your fingertips brushing the side of his hand as he tried to help you make your own mask felt electrifying, a spark straight to his rotten heart, nourishing its dying flesh. His heart raced, threatening to burst out of his chest while his breaths grew heavier. As his eyes finally locked on yours, the entire world around him froze, time trickling away while you observed him, your perfect lips slightly parted, realising what was happening to him, what you did to him.

"Well mine doesn't look as good as yours but I still have time to learn from the master", you giggled, holding your mask up for him to see, "shall we try them on?"

A faint smile spread across his lips, well hidden beneath the painted paper on his face. The way you giggled so carelessly in his presence, the graceful movements of your hands, making the piece of paper-mâché seemingly dance in the air, Michael could feel a knot forming in his stomach. He had never felt like this, not even prior to that one fateful Halloween. Although his heart suddenly jumped as he observed your cheerful expression falter, replaced by a hint of fear. Would this be the inevitable moment of truth where you'd finally realise how ugly he truly was on the outside and deep within?

"I...I should turn around", you murmured, "sorry I forgot for a moment that you don't like showing your face."

His fingers moved up to grasp your chin, preventing you from turning your head away. Observing your initial confusion, he handed you his new mask and slowly removed his old one. A hushed gasp slipped passed your lips, eyes wide in shock as you gazed upon Michael's real face for the very first time. He let out a rasped groan as your fingertips graced his forehead, brushing the long blonde strands of hair away to tuck them behind his ears. His handsome face bore a rough charm, tiny dark stubble adorned his broad jaw and chin, his lips trembling ever so slightly while his icy blue eyes locked onto yours. He noticed your flustered expression and the heat rising to your cheeks as you leaned closer and put the mask over his head, but you didn't pull it down immediately.

"That...uhm...is a very beautiful face", you whispered, "thanks for allowing me to see it...for the trust."

You pulled the mask down and right before it covered his face entirely, you saw his lips curl into a wide smile. As you were about to put your own mask on, the metal door swung open and Loomis entered with Cruz following closely behind.

"Thank you nurse", the doctor called out while Cruz simply waved at you with a smile, "you can take your leave now. Mister Cruz will take care of Michael in the coming days and I will commence the daily therapy session now. Happy Halloween!"

You sensed Michael tense beside you, the breaths under the mask becoming more erratic with each second of silence passing. Your hand found his, squeezing it gently while his gaze met yours at the subtle reassuring touch.

"I'll take a week off from this evening on, but", you spoke calmly, sensing his rising panic, "I know tomorrow is Halloween, soooo....after discussing it with Dr Loomis, I got the approval to drop by and visit you, in my Halloween costume. And of course I gonna bring you some candy."

You offered a gentle smile while your hand remained on his but it wasn't nearly enough to quell the anger burning within Michael in this moment. He had trusted you, opened himself up to you, and now, like everyone else in his life, you were about to leave him again. Leaving him all to himself and his darkness again? The thought of being abandoned consumed him, causing his teeth to grind and his once warm eyes turned cold and lifeless. His hand instinctively moved towards your neck while his mind exploded with images of how he could simply smash you head first into the table. The cracking sound of your skull, the crimson trickling from every wound, pooling around your face in perfect contrast against the dark grey metal underneath, all mingling with the sweet melody of your panicked last breaths, realising your life was drained away by his hand, the very one you're still holding onto right now.

"If you write me down your favourite candy, I gonna try and get that one for us. Promised!"

Your soft voice snapped him out of his murderous trail of thoughts back into reality and he felt his hold on your neck loosen, gently caressing your skin before retreating. Steel blue eyes blinked at you a few times, the love and gentleness slowly returning to them and with a loud sigh Michael leaned forward, hastily scribbling a few words on a piece of paper before sliding it towards you. The chuckle escaping your lips went straight through his chest, it being the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, forgetting all the pain and doubt it had caused within him just a few seconds ago.

"Oh those two are my favourites too", your finger tapped on the paper, "you have an excellent taste in sweets, Mr Myers."

He rolled his eyes in response but you could almost see the smirk peeking out from behind the paper-mâché.

"I'll see you tomorrow then. Make sure to wear your scariest mask", you winked at him before heading towards the doors.

Before the door fell shut, Loomis slipped through it, calling out for you. It amazed you how this man knew so much and so little at the same time about his most famous patient. He listened, analysed and yet, he never seemed to truly see or hear Michael. Maintaining a friendly and professional expression on your face, you continued to listen as he provided additional instructions for your visit the following day.

As you laid in bed that night, a stash of candy and sweets stowed away and ready, excitement bubbled in your stomach while your restless mind got lost in the anticipation of your first private meeting with Michael, outside your nurse outfit and the obligation to watch over him. It would simply be you and him having as much Halloween fun as a place like Smith's Grove would allow.

Part 3 - Home (18+)

[iamgonnagetyouback]

Friends to lovers trope with Charlie Dalton? 😁

The crisp autumn air clung to Welton Academy as another day of classes ended. The sky was just starting to dim, painted in soft hues of orange and pink as the sun dipped below the horizon. You were lounging on the grass near the courtyard with Todd Anderson, who had recently joined your little circle of friends. The campus buzzed with life, but you and Todd sat in comfortable silence, watching as Charlie Dalton animatedly spoke to Neil Perry a few feet away.

Your eyes, however, weren’t following the conversation between Charlie and Neil. Instead, they were focused entirely on Charlie—his broad gestures, his laughter that rang out like music, and the way the fading sunlight made his messy hair look almost golden. You didn’t even realize you were staring until Todd broke the silence.

“Are you two… dating?”

You blinked and whipped your head toward him, startled. “What? Who?”

Todd tilted his head slightly, looking between you and Charlie. “You and Charlie.”

Your cheeks instantly flushed. “No! No, no, no. That’s absurd. Charlie? Eww, no. Never. Absolutely not!”

Todd’s lips curled into a small, amused smile as he raised his eyebrows. “Okay…”

You crossed your arms defensively, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that your heart had picked up its pace. But you weren’t blushing because of Charlie… right?

Later that evening, after most of the boys had wandered off to their dorms, you found yourself alone with Charlie in the common room. He was lounging on one of the worn-out couches, casually flipping through a book, while you sat nearby, trying to focus on your own reading. But your mind kept wandering to Todd’s words from earlier, replaying the conversation in your head until you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“You know what’s funny?” you said, looking over at Charlie.

Charlie glanced up from his book, intrigued. “What?”

You grinned, the corners of your mouth twitching in amusement. “Todd thought we were dating.”

Charlie’s eyes widened, his usual confident composure faltering. “What? He thought we were dating?”

You let out a soft laugh, nodding. “Yeah, can you imagine? You and I? Together?”

Charlie blinked, the idea clearly taking him by surprise. He chuckled, though it seemed a bit nervous. “That’s… hilarious.”

A silence settled between you two, but it wasn’t awkward. It was charged—filled with something unspoken, something that made the air feel heavier. You bit your lip, trying to figure out where this sudden tension was coming from. Then, before you could stop yourself, the question tumbled out.

“Can you picture it, though?”

Charlie’s book slid from his lap, hitting the floor with a soft thud. He stared at you, as if trying to process what you had just asked. His lips parted, but no words came out at first. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

“I… I don’t know. Maybe?”

Your heart skipped a beat, your breath catching in your throat. “Maybe?”

Charlie shifted, suddenly sitting up straighter, the playful smirk that usually adorned his face gone. “Yeah. I mean… I never thought about it. But now that you mention it…” He trailed off, his eyes searching yours. “Can you picture it?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his gaze. For the first time, the possibility didn’t seem so absurd. “Maybe.”

His smile returned, softer this time. He scooted closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “So… what if we tried?”

The world around you seemed to slow down. Your heart was pounding so loudly that you were sure he could hear it. “Tried?”

Without saying another word, Charlie leaned in, his eyes fluttering closed just as his lips brushed yours in the softest, sweetest kiss. It was tentative at first, like both of you were afraid of breaking the delicate moment. But then, as if a dam had broken, the kiss deepened, full of all the unspoken feelings you didn’t even realize you’d been holding onto.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads pressed together.

“I can’t believe I’m kissing you,” Charlie whispered, his lips quirking into a small grin.

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly before pulling him back in, capturing his lips in another kiss. “Shut up, Charlie.”

And just like that, the kiss turned from a soft peck into something more, something that felt inevitable, as if you had both been waiting for this moment all along. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble, discovering a connection you never knew you wanted—but now couldn’t imagine being without.

thank you so much for requesting, lovie!

[raitonsfw]

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Never again will you tolerate Eren's arrogant behavior- you said mindlessly as he pounded into you with a poisoned feeling running through your veins.

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, fem!reader, asshole!eren, doggy style, choking, bruises, hair pulling, dirty talk, begging, clit play, cumshot (on reader's back), rough p in v intercourse, dubcon, slight edging, implied second round, degrading names (slut, whore), he calls you baby once.

a/n: wrote this in maybe 30 minutes with nothing but slutty thoughts in my mind. wc: 600ish. v-day m.list | m.list

thirst count: 1

divider credit: @hitobaby & @firefly-graphics

“Damn, you take dick so well…” You heard from behind you, the bed creaking from his momentum and… fucking never again. 

This was a one time thing– you couldn’t fucking do this again or else you’d scream. Eren Jaeger was such an asshole, but Mikasa swore him to be a sweetheart ‘once you got to know him.’ 

Yeah, sweetheart my ass as he pounded you from the back so harshly he left nasty bruises. His fingertips dug into you, blood welling to the surface as they marked your skin and you yelped, your cunt accidently squeezing his cock harder. Eren groaned at the feeling, his hips smacking even harder into you and you swore you heard him growl from the pleasure.

“Shit– too deep!” You whined out as he angled himself deeper, aiming to ram relentlessly into your cervix. All you got from him was a cruel laugh, his hands running up your back now to grasp at your hair and your neck. A strong arm held you in place by your throat, his fingers squeezing at just the right amount of pressure and his other hand yanked you back to look at him as he hovered over you now. 

“Too deep, huh? But ‘re moaning like a slut– shit…” His eyes rolled back as you tightened around him again, quiet whimpers escaping you as he pounded you with no remorse. His cock pulled all the way out each time, long broad strokes, as he fucked back in with low grunts leaving his throat. You couldn’t really see him, trying your best to turn to face him but his grip made it so hard and your vision blackened slightly as he choked you out. 

“Fuuuck, gonna cum baby–” Eren breathed out, his thrust growing sloppy as he chased his release and you wanted to cum too; you were so close, your pussy fluttering around him as you inched higher and higher but you knew he was going to pull out before you even had to chance to. 

And– yeah, there it was; his cock pulling out of you quickly– a sharp gasp falling from his lips as he painted your back white with his cum, some catching in your hair and you clenched around nothing with a desperate whine. Your fingers chased towards your clit, but a brutal hand stopped you. 

“Please, need to cum. Do something– anything.” You begged, arching your back as you breathed out a frustrated sigh. You swore you saw a pout from him– maybe he felt bad? You never knew with this fucker. 

“W-Wait a fucking second…” He gritted out and you felt your orgasm fleeing, dissipating as you pleaded for Eren to just fucking touch you. A few seconds later, his fingers brushed against your clit and you shuddered at the feeling with a quiet whimper. “You’re so goddamn needy…” 

You didn’t care what he said to you now, endless babbles of nonsense spilling from your lips as you rolled your hips against his circling fingertips. They tapped incessantly against your clit, his nails delicately scraping against it once in a while to get you to jolt at the hinted pain. You drooled into the pillow beneath you, your body quivering as you fell apart with a wanton moan; his name becoming the only thing you knew. 

Boy, was he fucking lucky that you even moaned his name this time around. Why did you ever listen to Mikasa– there was no way Eren Jaeger was a sweetheart. He was an asshole, through and through, his cock prodding into you once more as you came down from your high. 

“Aw, c’mon now… a whore’s gotta have her fill– wouldn’t want you getting loose for other men besides me…” 

[nerdytyrantphantom]

shattered but not lonely (joel miller x f!reader)

This is my 2nd request! Hope you love it, anon 💖

request: hey!! could you do joel x reader (maybe smut) where joel gets super protective over the reader after saving them from a dangerous situation?❤️❤️ word count: 3.9k rating: 18+ explicit warning: SMUT. reader was kidnapped by raiders and joel rescues her and they have sweet, sensual reunion sex after she heals. soft!joel, pet names ("sweetheart" "baby"), light mentions of captivity, oral (f receiving), reader gets super fucking wet, joel is very into it, p in v sex (be smart etc.) a/n: my goal with this piece was to write the filthiest yet equally loving/romantic smut possible :o) i hope you like it! also, to the anon who made this request - i have a second (less fluffy) interpretation of this prompt i plan to post in the near future :) p.s. title is from the song "my favorite book" by stars

“Joel?” you whispered. If the figure in the doorway wasn’t who you thought it was, you prayed for a quick death. 

But as the man’s silhouette approached, your breathing steadied; it was him. Despite your blurred vision from two swollen black eyes, your brain recognized the fragments that formed Joel Miller’s unmistakable presence: the broad shoulders, firm gait, and weight of his rifle slung over his shoulder. A hot wave of tears rose at the realization that Joel had found you. You were going to be okay.

Upon reaching your side, Joel sank to his knees. His battered hands carefully cupped your wet cheeks as his bloodshot eyes desperately searched yours. You’d never seen this Joel before – a Joel who was scared, whose vulnerability was laid bare – and your heart wrenched with pain at the tears threatening to spill from his own eyes. 

“Sweetheart,” he choked, like he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or to cry. His bottom lip quivered as his thumb gently brushed your cheek, as if he was checking to make sure that you were real, that it was really you beneath the bruises and the bloodshed. His voice cracked with sorrow, guilt seeping through every word: “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

The iron fist that wrapped around your heart squeezed knowing that Joel blamed himself. It was in his nature to take on the weight of the world and responsibility for those he loved and you were no exception. You knew Joel and understood the depths to which he would punish himself for not protecting you. In reality, there was nothing he could’ve done. But in Joel’s tormented mind, such reasoning held no solace.

You struggled for the right words to take away his burden. “It’s okay,” you assured, your hands tenderly covering his that still cradled your face. “I’m okay. I promise.” Joel saw through your forced smile, but knew there was nothing he could say. “Let’s just go home.”

Silently, Joel cradled you in his arms, holding you close against his chest. As he carried you, he felt the weight of your body relax, surrendering to the comfort and safety he provided. Your head rested against him, your breaths becoming steady and peaceful as sleep claimed you. 

Time blurred as the days passed. Hazy memories floated in and out of your consciousness — glimpses of Joel spoon-feeding you, of tenderly replacing bandages, and the featherlight touch of his lips pressing kisses to your forehead. 

Finally, one night as twilight painted the sky in shades of purple, you stirred awake. As if on cue, Joel entered the room with a glass of water. His boots scuffed the hardwood floor as he approached and set the glass down on the bedside table. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed beside you, he reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Then leaning forward, his lips pecked your temple.

"Hey there,” he whispered. “How are you feeling?" 

You took hold of his hand, bringing it to your lips, pressing a tender kiss to each  knuckle. "Better," you whispered, as though the two of you were sharing a secret. Your lips trailed up his hand, skimming along the inside of his wrist until you found yourself pulling him closer, causing Joel to lose his balance slightly as he leaned in to embrace you. 

You nuzzled into his neck, seeking the comfort that only he could provide. "Missed you," you murmured, your words vibrating against his skin, as you breathed in the familiar scent that defined him.

His strong arms enveloped you, pulling you tightly against him. "I'm right here, sweetheart," he promised, his fingers stroking your hair. "Never gonna change that." In that moment, time stood still as you both immersed yourselves in the simple joy of being together again. The outside world faded away – the QZ, raiders, the infected – and all that mattered was the warmth of your bodies and shared breaths and sighs between you.

As your lips brushed against Joel's ear, you confessed with a hint of playfulness: "I think I need a shower." 

Joel's arms gave you one final squeeze before releasing their hold. He leaned back to look at you, his eyes still filled with a mixture of awe and disbelief, as if he still couldn't quite believe if you were real. You gave him a small smile. "I'm here," you reassured him. “I’m okay.”

As you stood from the bed, a mask of determination veiled the pain that still raked through your body. Joel stood beside you, a silent pillar of support, guiding you with gentle hands to maintain your stability as you found your renewed sense of balance. Together, you made your way into the bathroom.

Joel reached out and turned on the shower, the sound of running water filling the space, creating a soothing backdrop to the moment. He stood by your side, his presence a steady reassurance as you prepared to cleanse away the remnants of your ordeal. With quiet care, he helped you disrobe, removing each piece of clothing with a delicate touch. 

As you lifted your arms for Joel to remove your shirt, you couldn’t hide the whimper that escaped your lips, a sharp burst of pain radiating throughout your spine, as he tugged the garment over your head. You tried to quickly conceal the pain, but Joel saw through your facade – he knew you better than anyone.

To your relief, he didn’t scold you for moving into normalcy too fast or decide that the shower was a bad idea; instead, he held his hand under the stream of water, adjusting the temperature to ensure it was just right. 

Then, you watched as he slowly shed his own clothes, standing before you naked and vulnerable, mirroring your own state of undress. He held your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, as you both stepped into the warm fall of the cascading water.

Under the torrent of the shower, steam billowed, welcoming you in a cloud of wet warmth. With practiced hands, Joel lathered shampoo in his palms, his fingers working their way through your hair, massaging and cleansing with a confident yet gentle touch. You observed him in silence, captivated by the sight of his muscles flexing with each movement, displaying strength tempered with tenderness. The white suds built up, creating a frothy veil over your hair, as Joel carefully lifted your locks into the stream of water, rinsing away the traces of the past.

Gently, Joel turned you around so that your back was to him, his hands lathered in soap. With the utmost care, he began to massage your shoulders and trace a path down your arms, his touch both soothing and deliberate. He lifted your arms slightly, ensuring no part of your body was left untouched, as his hands moved down your back, tracing gentle circles and washing away the remnants of your captivity. Leaning forward, resting his chin on your shoulder, he guided his hands over your stomach and breasts, the suds gliding down your body, renewing your skin. 

The moment held a sensual undercurrent, but it was devoid of pressure or expectation. This act of washing was an expression of pure love, a quiet gesture of nurturing your body back to health. Yet, even in this gentle intimacy, feeling Joel's body against yours, his hands caressing every inch and crevice of your body, a dizziness washed over you. A sense of lightheadedness and longing swirled within you, the desire to melt into his touch and be swept away.

After the shower, Joel wrapped you in a soft towel, cocooning you in its warmth. He then tenderly placed a second towel over your head, gently drying your hair, revealing your face with a renewed glow and cleansed complexion. As his eyes took in the sight of you, a mixture of relief and adoration danced in their depths, forming the first soft smile you had witnessed since your return. He leaned his forehead against yours, creating a sacred space between you.

"Tell me what you need, baby," he whispered, his voice carrying a blend of tenderness and desperation. His commitment to taking care of you was unwavering, his desire to meet your every need palpable. In this moment, he wanted nothing more than to provide solace and support, to be the anchor that would guide you through the storm.

Hugging your towel against you, you burrowed into Joel, a silent request for him to hold you that didn’t require words for him to understand. As he wrapped you in his embrace, you spoke into his bare chest, voice muffled: “You. Just need you, Joel.”

"I'm right here, baby," he murmured, his touch a comforting presence against your back. Your body stirred with a different kind of ache as you gazed up at him, a longing that transcended the physical. His soft, pillowy lips beckoned to be kissed, the scruff on his face tempting your touch. You could spend a lifetime tracing the lines and contours of his face, exploring every inch of him with a blind devotion.

Locked in his gaze, Joel understood the unspoken desires that flickered within you. Like a language only the two of you shared, he deciphered the quickening of your heartbeat, the subtle lick of your lips, and the faint furrow of your brow that betrayed both frustration and longing. He blinked, a silent affirmation that he felt it too, as he gently guided you towards the bed.

"Come on," Joel beckoned, his voice laced with a mixture of invitation and anticipation. You observed as he skillfully arranged the pillows against the headboard. He draped the towel that had once enveloped your damp hair onto the mattress, purposefully positioning it where your body would inevitably find its place. You then climbed onto the bed, positioning yourself with your back nestled against the plush pillows, your abdomen resting upon the soft towel, and the second towel still wrapped around your shoulders, offering warmth and security. 

From this vantage point, your gaze fixated upon Joel, who stood at the foot of the bed, an arresting sight that never failed to steal your breath away.

No matter how many times your eyes met his, the effect remained unchanged—an overwhelming wave of captivation that surged through your veins. This moment was no exception. His hair, still damp from the shower, was slicked back, save for a single rebellious curl that dared to escape its confines. His flushed chest glistened under the subtle glow of amber light, adorned with droplets of water that cascaded over his skin. The only barrier between you and his complete vulnerability was the white towel that draped enticingly around his waist. Its snug embrace accentuated the contours of his hips, hinting at the sculpted muscles that lay beneath the fabric, while the mere suggestion of movement threatened to loosen its grip.

A tremor of anticipation coursed through you as Joel's eyes roamed over your form, mirroring the same intensity with which you had studied his. A slow, deliberate stroke of his jaw accompanied the journey of his gaze, traveling up your legs, lingering over the heat of your core, trailing across the curves of your breasts, until finally, his eyes connected with your own. His thumb traced a path over his bottom lip, an unspoken question hovering between you.

"Will you let me take care of you, baby?" he asked, a confident plea that resonated with sincerity. He closed the distance, taking a purposeful step toward the bed, his touch grazing over the delicate skin of your foot, tracing invisible patterns.

A lump formed in your throat, your mouth suddenly dry as you nodded, your eyes conveying an unspoken affirmation. "Always," you managed to whisper, the weight of your words hanging in the air, sealing the unbreakable bond that bound you two together.

You bit back a moan as the towel wrapped around Joel’s waist teasingly fell lower, the outline of his half-hard cock rising beneath the white cotton. He then crawled up the bed between your legs until he was able to nuzzle his nose into the soft skin behind your ear. 

“That’s all I ever want,” he murmured, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. He planted a small kiss onto your skin, humming with pleasure as he grazed your neck. “To hold you,” he continued, moving down to kiss the constellation of freckles that spanned over your shoulder, “to kiss you.” 

As he continued his onslaught of kisses and pecks, you felt the heat rising within you. Finally, as though Joel could sense your desperation, he brought his lips to yours. He softly worked over them – the soft, wet sounds filling the air – before delicately swiping his tongue over your bottom lip. As you opened your mouth and permitted his entry, his warm taste filled your senses, igniting a carnal desire that only Joel could fuel. You moaned hungrily into the kiss and raised your arms to wrap around Joel’s chest to pull him closer, but then groaned as another shock of pain rippled throughout you. 

“Shhhhh, baby,” Joel cooed, resting his forehead against your own. He fought back an amused smile as he lovingly stroked your cheek and pecked at the corner of your lips. “Can’t have you hurtin’ yourself on me, sweet girl.”

Your cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and frustration. You felt like your body was betraying you from what your mind – and your hormones – severely desired. 

“Just lean back and relax,” Joel coaxed, returning to the spot where your neck met your shoulder. He planted more kisses, featherlight, as he continued, “Just let me take care of my girl.”

Closing your eyes, you forced yourself to relax under Joel’s direction. As you sank into the pillows, you concentrated on the touch of Joel’s mouth moving further down your body. “That’s it,” he murmured as your breathing steadied. “That’s my girl.” 

Your heartbeat quickened as Joel’s hands gently pushed away the towel you had slung over your shoulders, revealing your bare chest. With great care, Joel cupped your breasts, massaging the plush skin soothingly beneath his fingertips, while his thumbs lazily circled each nipple. As they became erect under his touch, he popped one into his mouth, suckling the sensitive skin between his teeth. 

“Oh, Joel,” you whispered, your voice both a warning and a plea. He knew what you liked. He knew exactly how to give you what you wanted. And right now was one of those moments, when he suspended the passing of time and acted as though his life’s sole purpose was purely to worship and please you. 

His tongue continued to swipe over your nipple before releasing it with a pop and moving to the next one. When you looked down, butterflies fluttered in the pit of your stomach at the sight of him; he looked so content with his long eyelashes covering his shut eyes, his nose slightly squashed against your breasts, and his lips wrapped around your nipple like he could stay that way pacified forever. 

As you melted further into the pillows, Joel’s kisses moved down your belly. “My sweet girl,” he murmured – more to himself than to you – as he reached the pubic hair covering your mound. He pushed himself lower onto the bed and arranged himself so that he was neatly between your legs, before carefully lifting your thighs over his shoulders. As you settled into the position, arousal pummeled into your core at the touch of Joel secure between your legs and your bare feet grazing the muscles of his back. 

“Sweet, sweet girl,” Joel repeated, his voice just a muffled murmur as he continued to plant kisses over your thick curls of hair. He turned his head to skim the tip of his nose over the inside of your leg, before dipping himself into the deepest crevice of your thigh, where he dragged his tongue along the crack. “My baby,” he whispered. 

Joel hadn’t even touched you where it counted yet, and already, your core was dripping. Hearing Joel’s whispers of sweet nothings, tickled by his hot breath ghosting your skin, smelling the soap and shampoo mingle with the scent that was pure Joel, and feeling his plush pillows hug you from behind – it was all building so fast to be too much for you to take. Without a second thought, you spread your legs further, exposing the slick web of arousal between your legs to Joel.

He groaned with ravenous desperation, the sound only turning you on further. He squeezed the dough of your thighs over his shoulders as he buried his nose between your folds, the sticky spread of you smearing onto his face. Your breath hitched as you felt him deeply inhale your scent, before dragging his tongue along your folds. “Give you anything you want,” he mumbled, gently gliding his tongue up and down your slit. His tongue worked lavishly against you, slowly, with deliberate movements that were in no rush. As you felt his tongue dip into every curve and crevice of your core, your fingers found their way weaving through his hair. 

“Joel,” you whimpered, wanting to buck your hips into him further but knowing your pain wouldn’t let you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head with pleasure.

Joel shushed you as he continued to lick, his scruff tickling your skin and the sensation electrifying you more. “Sweet, sweet girl,” he continued, a groan pouring from his throat as he licked up a stripe of slick that oozed from inside you. With someone else, you may have been embarrassed or ashamed by how wet you got. But Joel treated it like a gift, like he’d discovered a secret that was all his, and he never failed to express how much he enjoyed it.

For what felt like hours, he stayed like that, his fingers gently massaging the dough of your thighs while his mouth sucked and slurped every part of your core. As perspiration formed on your forehead and your cheeks began to flush, you squirmed with want under Joel’s touch. But like always, he understood.

“You ready to cum, sweetheart?” he asked, looking up at you from between your legs. Despite what he was doing, his brown eyes looked so innocent. As you eagerly nodded your head, Joel pecked up your folds tenderly until he reached your clit. “Okay, baby,” he said soothingly. “You can cum whenever you want.” And with that, he sucked your clit into his mouth. Your stomach churned at the sensation of his tongue toying with your clit like it were candy, his soft strokes perfectly brushing against your sensitive bundle of nerves with kitten licks.

“Joel,” you cried, cradling his head in your hands. You felt white hot flames licking you from the inside out as the coil in your stomach threatened to snap. Heat rose into your chest and your cheeks as you fell deeper into the pillows, the cushions swallowing you whole. 

Your hips rose just an inch, and though it hurt, the pleasure far outweighed the pain. At this perfect angle, Joel continued to swipe his tongue against your clit until all at once you were seeing fireworks bursting behind your eyes, a wave of euphoria rippling throughout your body. You cried his name as tears streamed down your cheeks.

As the aftershock continued to radiate throughout your body while you tried to catch your breath, Joel crawled up so that he could face you again. His dark eyes were blown out, his pink lips swollen and shiny with your slick. You whimpered as you watched him greedily lick his lips.

“Thank you,” you choked, wiping the tears that streaked your face. Joel kissed your face and hummed with content. “Still want you, though,” you sniffled, gazing up at him through your eyelashes. “Want to feel you inside me.”

Joel’s eyebrows furrowed in a mix of pain and arousal. “Are you sure, baby?” he asked, breath hitching, as your hips rose to grind against his. His towel had since fallen off and now you could feel it, his hard length begging to be buried inside of you.

You nodded confidently. “I’m positive,” you assured him, nosing into his neck. You nibbled his skin, the perfect button you could press to get what you wanted that would drive Joel crazy and whispered, “Please. Want you to fill me up.”

Joel groaned at your words; there was no way he could argue with you, and he didn’t want to. He fisted his cock in his hands and guided the tip along your folds. “You’re so wet for me, baby,” he commented, his eyes staring straight into yours.

You stroked his cheek and nodded, licking your lips. “All for you,” you promised him, studying every scar and scratch that etched his face. 

You watched as his jaw fell slack as he pushed himself in, his entire cock filling you up with ease. You moaned instantly. Joel was accustomed to the way you’d mewl for him to fill you completely. He knew how much you loved his cock – the length, the girth, the way it filled you to the hilt – and he could read it on your face every time he had the chance to enter you. As his pubic hair came to brush against your clit, his cock completely sucked inside you, he murmured into your ear: “That’s it, sweetheart. S’all yours.”

As your moans grew louder, Joel pistoned himself deeper, maintaining a steady pace that wasn’t too fast or too slow, but just enough to savor the sensation inch-by-inch. Your nails dug into Joel’s forearms, too weak to wrap around his back, as you clung to him with desperation. “Joel,” you whimpered, not knowing what to do with yourself underneath them. The pleasure was building quicker than you had anticipated. “Joel, I–” you started to say, before sinking your teeth into his arm. You clenched tightly around him as he continued to thrust inside you. 

“Can you cum again for me, baby?” Joel whispered sweetly, holding your chin in his hand to make you look at him. His eyes searched your red cheeks, furrowed brows, and watery eyes. As you desperately nodded your head, Joel’s lips frowned. “Yeah?” he asked, stroking your chin, unable to resist just a second of teasing. 

But before any frustration could build inside of you, Joel’s hand was between your bodies and his thumb was drawing circles against your clit. “It’s okay, baby,” he encouraged, his own words struggling to come out of his mouth as his jaw became slack watching the pleasure wash over you. As your face contorted in pleasure, the coil in your belly threatening to snap for a second time, fresh tears began to roll down your face. Joel shushed you and kissed them away. “It’s okay, baby, it’s all for you,” he said, his words gradually coming out through gritted teeth as he fucked you deeper. “All yours, baby, every part of me.”

All at once you broke, crying out as a second seismic wave of pleasure erupted in your core and rippled throughout your body. As you gushed around Joel’s cock, his pubic hair drenched and the wet squelch penetrating the room, you felt his movements grow sloppy as he burrowed into your neck. Then he was emptying himself inside you, his warm cum seeping out of your aching hole. 

He allowed himself to collapse beside you, careful not to hurt you, his sweat-slicked chest panting. His hand skimmed your chest, cupping your breast, while his face nuzzled into the other one. “My baby,” he murmured, kissing over your areola. He nuzzled into you more. “Never gonna let you go again.”

[sweetercalypso]

formally requesting some Joel fluff please, just something sweet about spending time with him <3

Joel is pretty all the time, but you’ve decided that he’s prettiest by the light of the fire.

Camped out in the middle of nowhere, hours away from the nearest crumbling city, the rhythmic flicker of idle flames allows you to memorize his every feature – the salt and pepper scruff on his cheeks; the strong bridge of his nose; the scars mottling his skin in odd, aimless places, forever labeling him a survivor.

“What’re you looking at?” His brow furrows quizzically, twisting the deep shadows painting his face.

“You.”

The corners of his mouth tick upwards in a lazy, crooked smile. Joel wasn’t used to the familiarity of your company, but he’d be damned if he let his callow heart keep you at a distance.

“Why don’t you come over here, then? Get a better look.”

You push yourself up from the ground, brushing the dirt from your pants and rounding the glowing fire with a grin. When you’re close enough to touch, Joel reaches out to guide you onto his lap with nothing on his mind beyond the thought of having you closer.  

Calloused, broad hands, rough from a lifetime of hard work, plant themselves on your waist, warming your skin through thick layers of clothing. You might not feel the heat of Joel’s palms directly, but you’ve been in his embrace enough to know his touch by memory.

His chest rises and falls with contented breath, dark eyes shining with the light of the dwindling fire behind you. He strokes over your hip with one hand, the other flattened against the base of your spine, nudging you forward until there’s nowhere else to go.

“How’s that?”

It’s perfect. It’s warm. It’s exactly where you want to be. You relax against him with a sigh. “Much better.”

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the paint

lilac, chapter nine

a/n: hi! I'm back after taking a short break to obsessively work on this year's kinktober, but now i'm finally back to writing this beloved story. it feels so good to get back into it. it's only been a few weeks, one month max, but i've missed my lumberjack so much.

summary: “oh please, there’s only one guest staying here right now, and even so, people know this room is under construction, who in their right mind would just willy-nilly waltz in here?” 

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, smut, lumberjack AU, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, renovating an inn, painting, kissing, semi-public sex, oral, fingering, dirty talk

word count: 1922

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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A faint ache began to bloom in the muscles of your face from how hard you were smiling. You simply couldn’t help it. Every time you thought you’d gotten it under control, your eyes would just flutter back up to the man beside you as he stretched, reaching the paint roller in his hand far enough up to kiss the taped-off crown moulding that framed the ceiling, and each time he’d do so, his flannel would ride up just enough for you to catch a sliver of his skin before it dropped back down, giving you just enough of an unintentional tease to remind you of what he looked like beneath it. 

“You’re laughing again,” Frank pointed out the soft giggle that bubbled out of you as your glance washed over him.

“I’m not laughing,” you gushed, straightening back up to your full height as you finally stopped rolling over the one low spot you had absentmindedly been painting over and over again for a few minutes or so.

Eyes briefly flickering your way, his feet carried him closer to you, “well, what’s so funny then that you can’t stop laughing?” 

“Nothing’s funny,” you tried to keep your eyes on the wall as you felt his broadness brush against your shoulder. 

“Oh, no?” 

“Nope,” you playfully bumped your hip lightly against his, childishly angling your roller dangerously close to where his was glazing the wall a soft blue tone, an action that quickly developed into a juvenile game of chasing him across the wall. 

To your amazement, Frank played along, keeping it going till he suddenly changed tactics and caught you by surprise, rerouting his roller down to collide with your own, however, it never got the chance to strike as you, in the midst of a giggle fit, retracted your brush from the wall, fearing that he would roll right over you and make your arm all sticky with paint. Though in the end, not noticing exactly where you were hastily withdrawing your paint roller to, it ended up being him that got smeared and not you. 

“Oh my god,” your eyes grew wide at the sight of the blue that coated over the dark brown of his plaid sleeve, “I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“Oh yeah?” he glared back at you, grin crinkling up his eyes, “you didn’t?”

“I swear, it was an accident.”

“Ah, sure it was, just like this,” you felt his roller glide down the length of your top, making it look like you’d hugged a smurf.

Letting out a shrieking gasp, it only took approximately two seconds before you pouched in an attempt to get him back. Though the former soldier’s swift hands caught your roller before you could manage to seize your revenge, settling both yours and his own down on the covered floors before playfully wrapping his arms around you, halting your attempts at retrieving it. 

Laughter mingling and mixing into one, your feet then left the ground as Frank lifted you up. As your gaze now rose to be at the same level, the silly game swiftly vanished from your memory as you stared back into his brown eyes, both of your glee fading away as if it was never there to begin with. 

You didn’t know who initiated the kiss, but that part couldn’t be less important as your arms curled around his neck and one of your legs blissfully bent, softly flicking your foot upwards as you felt his tongue sweep across your own. 

Lowering you back down to the floor, his touch dragged up your form till his fingers tangled in your hair, tugging at the very roots in such a way that made you purr against his lips. Feet shuffling, the far wall you hadn’t begun on yet soon collided with your spine, though you weren’t pressed against it long before Frank surrendered to your enthusiastic efforts in spinning him around and switching places.

As your lips then detached, you slowly began to drop down to your knees, a wide grin warmed Frank’s features as your fingers hooked into his belt, “what do you think you’re doing, huh?” his head gently fell back to collide with the wall as he stared down at you in adoration. 

“What do you think I’m doing?” you blinked up at him as you bit down on your giggling lips, palm nuzzling against his blossoming hard-on as you undid his belt, his excitement created an impressive imprint against the fabric of his dark jeans. 

“I think we’re in an inn full of people and someone could walk in here at any moment,” he narrowed his eyes almost in a daring fashion as you tugged his zipper down. 

“Oh please, there’s only one guest staying here right now, and even so, people know this room is under construction, who in their right mind would just willy-nilly waltz in here?” 

Not tearing his eyes off of you for even a second as you freed his heavy length, he muttered softly, “you’re trouble…” utterly hypnotised as you wrapped your fingers around his girth. 

“Nuh-uh,” you smiled up at him, “I’m adorable,” before you swiped your tongue softly over his tip, visibly sending a shiver down his spine.

“Yes, you fucking are…” he uttered enchantingly, mouth falling agape as you began to plant sweet kisses all the way down towards his base, your dazzling eyes never leaving his, “holy shit…”

As your slobber began to gloss him up, your palm exploited it as you slowly twisted your enclosed fist up and down his length, keeping your movements up as your lips soon wrapped around his bulbous head, flat tongue fluttering like a gentle sea against his throbbing underside. 

Looking like he had died and gone to heaven, you felt as Frank’s fingers reach down to ghost over your features, his broad thumb caressing the outline of your face as your head began to bob, drool slowly dribbling down from your efforts and adding to the mess already painting the front of your shirt.

“Atta girl,” his fingers tenderly combed through your hair, “fuck,” lips stretched, his tip hit a place in the back of your throat that caused your eyes to squint, tears nearly appearing before you settled back to slobbering around his head, “you're so pretty like this.”

One hand steadily pumping the latter half of him, your other wandered over your own thigh. Like a magnet, your fingers pressed down on your clit through your pants, the astonishing relief causing a muffled moan to vibrate against Frank’s cock, a sensation he clearly enjoyed by the sounds of his own eager groans. 

“Oh, just like that,” he grunted, eyes lightly fluttering as you gurgled around his cock, “don’t stop,” fingers flexing and balling up into a fist in your hair as he twitched in your mouth, soon stifling a mesmerising moan as he came down your throat, “fuck…” 

Letting go of him with a soft pop, you swallowed as you gazed up at his hazy visage, feeling yourself drip and drench your panties from the borderline meditative motion of giving him head. 

Hands still fast in your hair, Frank kneeled down to your level and pressed his lips to yours, the teasing touch you had going on over your pants quickly grew into something more desperate. 

“Could you–…” you breathed heavily, “god, I feel like it’s been forever since you touched me…”

A warm chuckle rumbled out of him as he looked back into your blown pupils, “we fucked this morning,” he noted, rising back up and scooping you with him. 

“Exactly,” you bit down on your smile, “it’s been like three hours.”

Slipping beneath your waistband, your grip fastened in the front of his open flannel as his fingers grazed through your wetness. Eyelids fluttering at the foggy sensation, Frank manoeuvred your frames, spinning you around and pressing your back against the wall. 

“Well, I’m sorry that you had to wait that long,” he entertained your quip, rubbing your puffy clit just right, “whatever can I do to make it up to you?” his free hand securely snaked around your middle. 

Sharing his breath, your nose nudged against his, “seems to me like you already have a pretty good idea of what could suffice.”

“Oh yeah?” he chuckled like a crackling fire, “could this maybe make you feel a bit better?” your hold on his shirt tightened as he gently slid one finger inside your dripping heat.

“Mhm,” you nodded hazily, one of your knees briefly lifting to graze against his leg. 

As you readjusted your arms, draping them around his neck, “or how about this?” his lavish pace then intensified as he eased his ring finger in beside his middle one, curving them a bit as the root of his palm nuzzled firmly against your throbbing clit. 

“O-oh, fuck!” your head fell back and collided with the wall, your fluttering gaze glued to his. 

Leaning in to muffle your breathy whimpers with his kiss, the sensual soppy sound his efforts produced echoed throughout the half-painted room, those only growing in their volume as he rocked his digits within you rougher.

Moans melting against his tongue as it danced against your own, it didn’t take long before your pussy clenched down around him, clambering and inadvertently pulling his fingers in that much deeper as he slowed back down, rendering it a demanding task for him to get his hand back with the way you blissfully clung to it. 

Head resting a moment against his broad shoulder as you caught your breath, your puffs gradually morphed into the same blissful giggle you hadn’t been able to shake just moments before.

“You know what?” you lifted your head. 

“What?” he chuckled through his smile. 

Tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, you rose up to your tip toes and uttered, “I don’t know if I can wait another three hours,” before you captured your lips in another heated kiss, your hands swiftly travelling south on a mission for more. 

But just as Frank hoisted you up, your legs tangling around his hips, a booming voice from somewhere else in the inn cut through your haze. 

“I did it!” you heard your father shout, his jovial stride caused the staircase he hastily ascended to creak just as loud as his boisterous words boomed, “I finally did it!” 

“Shit,” you hissed, nearly pushing Frank away as you scrambled to hide any evidence of what the two of you had just done. 

“I’m a genius! I think I’ve finally cracked the code to croissants!” the moustachioed man burst through the doors just as you rushed to pick your paint roller back up as if it had been glued to your grip for hours. 

“Dad!” you skurried to roll some more blue on the wall, hoping he wouldn’t notice just how flustered you were, “hey!”

“I think I was handling the dough too much while laminating,” he rambled, flour tinting his apron a lighter shade of green, “also why I’ve never been great at pies, I fiddle with it too much, but I think I finally got the hang of it! Just pulled some out of the oven and they look amazing,” darting his dazzled gaze from you to Frank, he offered, “you kids want one?” 

“Uh,” you glanced back at the man, still standing close to where you’d blown him just moments before, “sure,” you stiffly heard yourself agree, “that sounds lovely, dad.” 

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