#prompt: i told you this ages ago

[tiza0925]

Idk if you take requests but Hinata,Tsukishima, Or Atsumu with an S/o that has a choking kink?? You can write however you want (u dont have to take this req, if u dont want to) :))

how about all three hq men ♡ i loved this prompt, ty for the request anon 

Wrap your fingers around my neck | 18+

Warnings/Tags: nsfw, afab/female!reader, riding, lap sex, raw sex, kissing, praise kink, creampie, finger sucking, degradation kink, dirty talk, pussy eating, squirting, petnames, fingering, needy!Atsumu, pussy slapping, kitchen counter sex, choking kink ♡ SET IN A TIMELINE WHERE ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED-UP AND OVER 18 YEARS

Pairings:  Hinata Shouyou x Female Reader, Tsukishima Kei x Female Reader, & Miya Atsumu x Female Reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Hinata

It was an honest accident. 

Hinata didn’t mean to do it—and you genuinely did not think he would follow along after but—

Hinata always loses himself a little whenever he kisses you. 

He can’t help it. 

Your lips feel so nice and soft against his. You taste so good when he licks his tongue inside your mouth and fuck—the little moans you make against him get his head all hazy, and he just wants his hands all over you—

“Shit,” Hinata murmurs, his breathing a little heavy as he pulls on your lower lip with his mouth, and his hands roam up your thighs, the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist—touching you everywhere while you sit on his lap, straddling him, as he sits up against the bed frame. “So pretty, angel.” 

You let out a shaky breath against his mouth, and you grind your hips towards him—pulling out a hiss from Hinata as his cock moves inside you. 

“Keep going, baby,” Hinata groans when you roll your hips again, and you gasp as his cock hits against your g-spot while your clit rubs against his exposed skin, and you dig your fingers into his broad, muscled shoulders for support. 

“Just like that,” Hinata’s hands are squeezing your ass, holding your hips, grabbing your tits—they’re everywhere and he can’t seem to control it when he’s like this. 

He just loves how you feel under the palm of his hand—maybe just a bit more than a volleyball—and his head is in the clouds as your pussy swallows him so perfectly, taking his thick cock like you always do, that he—

He doesn’t realize that one of his hands has moved further up to graze over your collarbone and shoulders. 

He’s too busy focusing on how sinful your tongue feels gliding against his. 

How your pussy is so damn wet—you’re dripping all over his dick—and god, you’re tight, that he’s so close to exploding—

Hinata doesn’t realize that his hand is near your neck—your skin is so soft and nice under his hand that everywhere feels the same—

It’s why he mindlessly circles his fingers around the base of your neck when his palm is there—he just needs his entire hand to feel you.

And you suck in a sharp breath as the feel of long, strong, and thick fingers curl around your throat—so hot and firm—and that’s Hinata freezes. 

Shit. 

He’s ready to apologize profusely—his fingers are already beginning to uncurl from your neck—because he didn’t mean to hold you that way but—

But then he hears you let out a moan—small, shaky, and wanting—and you buck your hips up against him, kissing him more feverishly, causing Hinata’s eyes to droop and roll back, a small groan ripping out of him when he realizes—

You liked that. 

“Yeah?” Hinata breathes out in response to your moan, and his fingers stay where they are—just a little hesitant with the pressure—as you ride him, your lashes fluttering as his heavy hand sits around your throat. “You liked that, didn’t you?” 

You nod, eyelids feeling heavy, and Hinata lets loose a low breath, shaking his head and smirking as he kisses you, murmuring against your red lips. “Should’ve told me you like that sooner, baby.” 

Because now that he knows you like having his hand around your throat like that—

“Would’ve made that pretty little head of yours all dizzy a long time ago,” Hinata rolls his hips up as he says that, shoving his cock a little deeper until you swear you feel it in your guts, causing you to gasp with a wet moan, and he puts a little more pressure on the sides of your neck with the pads of his finger—his eyes focused on yours. “Is that okay, angel?” 

More than okay—fuck, your head feels a little more light-headed now. 

You can still breathe, but the pressure around your throat brings out a blurry fog around the edges of your vision, and your cunt clenches around Hinata’s cock—making him groan—as your fluids leak out, getting him all wet and messy from how heated you are. 

It’s so overwhelming and you love it. 

You nod, moving your hips in tandem with his—languid rolls as his dick rubs your g-spot over and over, bringing you higher and tighter and hotter for your orgasm—

“Good girl,” Hinata praises, breathless, and uses his hold around your throat to pull you in closer—letting him kiss you like he’s greedy for your mouth as he licks and sucks and nips until you feel all woozy from it—then he moves to brush his mouth against the shell of your ear, his voice throaty as he pushes his hips up. “Can you cum for me like this, baby?”

Your pussy throbs around the girth of him when you feel his fingers press against the sides of your throat a little more, his hold around the most vulnerable part of you feeling possessive like he can own you if he wanted to. 

And you trust him enough to give it if he asks.

Your lips part with soft breaths being punched out with every buck of his hips, fucking you to make your mind melt, and he grazes his teeth against your earlobe—your heart leaping in your throat when he gently squeezes your neck, testing it until you moan in approval, losing yourself to how full you feel from his dick. “I want you to make a mess, angel, you always look so pretty when you do.” 

God—

It only takes a few more pumps of his cock inside you, your walls sucking him in, while your puffy clit rubs against your stomach until your orgasm ripples through you—your mouth hanging open with a silent moan as you gush around Hinata’s cock, legs tensing and back arching as your vision goes blurry and white as he keeps his hands where they are. “Fuck—so good for me, baby, look at you—”

He fucks you through it, nearing his orgasm as you pulse around him, and Hinata cums with a guttural groan—sticky cum spurting into your plush walls—

And his hand stays around your throat the entire time—holding and pinning you in place just the way you like it. 

Tsukishima

It’s not news to him that you like the feeling of his hand around your throat. 

He’s been playing around with the idea for a while, now, whenever he’s touching you—just in subtle ways. 

Whenever he kisses you, he places his hand just above your collarbone—not fully on your neck, but the tease is there—and slots his lips between yours with a sigh. 

Or it’s when you two are out in public and it’s a little too busy and you easily become lost in the crowd—Tsukishima guides you with his hand wrapping delicately against your nape, keeping you close while he has you in his hold. 

He always picked up on the way you reacted whenever he touched you there. 

How blown your pupils would get. 

How your breath would hitch with your lips parting with a small intake of breath. 

How dazed you would look in the eyes—making him feel just a little smug about finding out a little secret about you that he definitely plans to use one night. 

It’s when he’s got you lying on the bed all pretty for him—looking up at him with starry eyes as he pumps two of his fingers in and out of your drenched pussy—with his other hand caressing your cheek, his thumb teasing your lower lip. 

And he’s smirking down at you—in his usual lackadaisical way— with one of his knees sitting between your bent legs as he presses the pad of his thumb down onto your lower lip to pry your mouth open. “You always need something to suck on, don’t you?”

He teases you, his voice low and mirthful, and all it does is make your pussy clench as you moan—rolling your tongue out to flick it at his thumb before wrapping your warm mouth around it, your cheeks hollowing as you give his thumb a slow, indulgent suck.

“Shit,” It’s the way you keep eye contact with him as your head moves, leaving his thumb shiny with your saliva as you suck it, that sends heat down to his cock, making him feel light in the head. “You’re a needy little thing, you know.” 

You make a sound that’s similar to a moan around his thumb, and your eyes flutter, going half-mast, as you bob your head and swirl your tongue around his thumb as if it was his cock instead. 

And Tsukishima can’t help it—you look so desperate like this, your back arching against his hovering body, looking up at him so obediently, with your tits all perked up and nipples pert and pretty as you leak all over his hand—

It’s filthy and you—

“A perfect little slut,” Tsukishima lets those words slip out, a groan in his throat, and you choke a little with a whimper when you feel him press his thumb into your mouth a bit deeper, affection lacing his rather filthy words.

And you moan—low and wanting—when you hear him call you that, and Tsukishima can’t help but chuckle darkly as he leans in a little closer, his head tilting almost mockingly as he watches you with desire and affection. “Yeah?”

He curls his fingers to rub your spongey g-spot, his palm pressing against your swollen little clit for friction that sends heat up your tummy and chest. “You like being a little slut for me, sweetheart?” 

Fuck. 

“Looking like the mess that you are just because of me,” Tsukishima hums, his voice low. “You can hear just how soaked you are, you know.” 

You whine around his thumb as your orgasm balances at the edge—ready to combust with how tight your muscles feel—and you nod. 

God—you’re too perfect for him. 

He can’t help the small smile that threatens to creep up on him, trying to focus on making you cum—for the second time tonight—on his fingers before he finally fucks you the way you both need him to and—

And then his eyes widen a little, turning more amorous when his eyes briefly flit down to your exposed throat—

“…You can get a little more messy for me, right baby?” It’s not a question. 

Just a warning worded more sweetly. 

Because before you even get a chance to respond to him—

You feel his thumb slip out of your mouth—making a wet popping sound with your spit connecting a thin, clear string from your mouth to his thumb, leaving you gasping for air—

Only for it to be partially taken away again when you feel long, calloused fingers gently wrap around the area just beneath your jawline—and your eyes widen as you look at him, your breath catching, and he watches you with a knowing look behind his eyes. 

Like he knows that no matter what—you’ll trust him.

And he’s not wrong—you do. 

Enough to let your eyes immediately soften into submission, your lips wet from your saliva, and you let out a small moan as you tilt your chin up—giving him more room for his fingers to hold and cover. 

It brings out a hiss from him, low and breathy, and you see the way things primarily shift in his eyes when you begin to pant, moving your hips as he fucks you with his fingers—encouraging him to push harder and make you lose your mind. 

And god—he listens almost instantly as he squeezes the sides of your neck a little more, and you moan as you get a little hazy in the head, your limbs loose as his fingers move inside you. 

“Fuck, look at you,” Tsukishima lets out a small breath that’s almost a chuckle, and he watches you with his dick throbbing as you let him take the weakest part of your body into his own hands to play with. 

Giving him that trust that gets him all heady and needy to just—

To just kiss you and fuck you and take all of you until all you feel, smell, taste, and hear is him. 

“Always so good for me, sweetheart.” 

He grinds his palm against your clit with more pressure, moving it in circles as his fingers get swallowed by your pulsing walls—and then he’s pressing his fingers into your pulse points a little more, slowly playing with your ability to breathe, feeling his hand heavy around your neck until—

“Oh fuck—Kei—shit—”

You gasp, shaky, and your lower spine draws tight when your eyes get blurry from the brief lack of air—and that seems to snap something deep within you as you cum furiously around his fingers, spasming and gasping with your senses turning numb—

“Just like that, baby—get all nasty for me—“

Tsukishima finger fucks you through it, watching with dark eyes as he loosens up his fingers around your throat—and clear fluids squirt out of your sopping pussy with every thrust of his wrist inside you.

You end up gushing fluids all over the bed and his thighs—but Tsukishima doesn’t care. 

He’s too wound up and high on watching you cum on him to care about how sticky everything is—

It’ll only get messier once he gets his dick inside you anyway. 

You cry, coming down from your high as air rushes into your lungs after your orgasm—your pussy clenching hard from wave after wave of pleasure—

“I’m going to fuck you now, okay?” You hear him breathe that out. “And fill you up just how you like it.” 

You’re still too out of it to respond with anything other than a languid nod, feeling light and a puddle of fire at the same time as he kisses you so achingly soft that you melt against him. 

Atsumu

If he isn’t spending his time practicing or playing volleyball—

Miya Atsumu’s idea of using his time effectively is by having his hands and mouth on and all over you.

Specifically being able to bury his face in between your plush thighs—with his mouth and tongue pressed against your cunt. 

It’s what he’s doing right now as he’s got you bent over the island counter in your kitchen—while he’s on his knees behind you, hands gripping onto your upper thighs to hold you in place, with his tongue running a wide strip from your clit to your hole. 

“God—‘Sumu, you couldn’t have waited—?” 

You moan with a small whine as he sucks on your folds, tongue dipping in and jaw working as he makes out with your pussy from behind. 

“Sorry, baby,” Atsumu is breathing heavily when he pulls back, and he wets his lips as he slides his hands up to squeeze your ass—massaging it before using his hold on them to spread them apart, giving him easier access to your cunt.

And his eyes go half-lidded, his cock hardening in his pants, at the sight of your spit-slicked and soaked folds. “Can’t help it.”

Then he dives back in, jaw slack as his tongue licks your pussy like he’s thirsty for it, and you whine at how embarrassingly close you are to your orgasm already. 

“Ya looked so good in that skirt,” Atsumu murmurs against you, undulating his tongue against your clit before pushing the tip of his tongue through your drooling slit—

And he moans. 

He actually moans while he eats you out—like he’s just so desperate to have his mouth on you, determined to get you utterly soaked as your juices trickle down his chin and your thighs from how much he’s gotten you worked up. 

“Couldn’ wait,” Atsumu pants, swallowing before pushing his tongue further to lick your sensitive clit—flicking it with his tongue until he has you tensing and your thighs squeezing around his face. ‘Fuck—baby, so good—”

A whimper escapes your throat, and you rest your forehead against your arms that are on the counter, pushing your hips back to fuck yourself on his face until that ball of heat explodes in between your legs—and your orgasm throbs through you. 

Liquid heat spreads through your body, and you moan through it all as Atsumu licks and sucks and eats, groaning so low and needy, until your clit twitches with oversensitivity and you’re whining. 

“So pretty f’me,” You hear him mutter, sounding drunk off the taste of your cunt, and your entire body jolts as a sharp gasp slips through your parted lips when you feel a slap against your sopping folds. 

And Atsumu’s head spins when he stands back up—his eyes focused on the way your arousal drools down from your pussy lips, a thin string of clear fluid running down to the floor and—

“God damn, baby, ya drooling.” Two of his fingers strum your slit, getting his fingers all nice and shiny and creamy from your orgasm, feeling your cute little cunt pulse around them. 

Then—

You choke out a broken gasp when he slaps your pussy again, hearing the wet smack against his hand, and Atsumu’s voice comes out in a low drawl right after. “Turn around, love.” 

Your legs buckle when you do—your movements slow with that ache still there between your legs—

But Atsumu is right there—guiding you with gentle touches over your legs and hips—and the moment you’re facing him—

He gives you one, heated look—his eyes lowered and so murky with desire—before he captures your lips with his, and you exhale a sharp breath through your nose when you can taste yourself in his mouth. 

God. 

You kiss him back, though, a little sloppy with how muddled your head is, and you make these tiny sounds that Atsumu eagerly swallows up—while his hands move to squeeze your ass, then move down until they’re at the back of your thighs and—

“Lift up for me,” He mumbles against your mouth, and you follow almost immediately—one leg moving to wrap around his waist after the other—and you use your hold around his neck for support, kissing him with a small grunt when he lifts you to sit your ass on the edge of the counter. 

It causes the cool surface to brush against your bare pussy, pulling out a gasp from you, and Atsumu breathes heavily against you as he grinds his clothed bulge—god, it’s so fucking big—against your pussy, making you all dizzy with it. “‘M gonna fuck you, okay?” 

He kisses you again, his rough hands running up and spreading goosebumps over your legs until they just reach the part where your hips and thighs meet. “And you gonn’ take it like a good girl f’me, yeah?” 

You whimper with a small nod, kissing him and bucking your hips back at him almost impatiently. 

“Say it, baby.” 

Shit—

“O-okay,” You breathe out, too high off the bliss of your post-orgasm to care about the fact that he’s going to fuck you raw—

You don’t even realize he doesn’t have a condom on until he’s pulling his pants and underwear down to let his dick bounces free, and it slaps against your upper thigh—feeling so heavy and hot and smooth and—

Exposed—with his pre-cum leaking from the fat tip and onto your leg, making more of a mess on you. 

“Good,” Atsumu praises you, kissing you as he slides his thick cock through your pussy folds, getting it all nice and wet, before sliding in—pushing the fat tip through your hole so easily and he’s bottoming out in one, fluid motion. “So fuckin’ good, darlin’.” 

Your eyes roll back, and your legs around him tighten as he pulls out—only to roll his hips against you, making you feel the heat of his skin flush against yours as he fucks his cock into your needy walls. 

He fucks you with his hands pinning you down to the counter by your hips—making your body jolt with every thrust—and tiny, wet moans get punched out of you as your mouth hovers against his. 

It causes your juices to gush out with every rock of his hips, making a mess on the counter, as loud and wet squelches fill the kitchen to show just how wrecked you are. 

And it all just adds to the feverish warmth that’s flooding your clit and lower belly—that tension building until it’s ready to snap again with every brush against your g-spot and—

And you don’t realize the fingers around your throat until you feel a slight pressure in your head, and heat pressing against the sides of your neck. 

And when your eyes—all wide and glossy—flit up to meet Atsumu’s—

He’s already looking right at you, watching you, focused to see your reaction—as if he’s waiting for you to tell him to stop—while still fucking your sensitive pussy. 

But you don’t. 

Instead, you let out a moan in approval, your eyelids dropping in response, and your cunt clenches around his girth as you kiss him softly, panting against his mouth with a soft mutter. “Harder.” 

And god—hearing that does astronomical things to his head and dick. 

“Fuck,” You feel his groan vibrate against you, all low and throaty, as his fingers grow firmer around your delicate throat—and his pace picks up as he starts to get needier for your sweet pussy. “Don’ think ‘mma last long, baby.”

He doesn’t let you respond.

Not when he’s quick to hitch your legs higher—and he uses his hold around your throat to push you down until your back is flat against the counter’s surface, and your eyes blow wide with a woosh of your breath escaping your lungs. 

“Ya think you can keep all f’me inside you, sweetheart?” He asks, voice so sweet and cooing as if he isn’t fucking your guts and making you choke as his body hovers over you, and he’s smirking down at you as he takes in just how good his hand looks around your neck. 

“I want this pretty lil pussy to get messy, kay?” 

Your eyes roll back when the pressure under your jawline grows, making you feel light-headed, and—

You should feel somewhat alarmed with how easily he can choke you. 

To hold the power over your body just like that—with no effort whatsoever. 

He’s stronger than you.

So much bigger than you. 

And his hands and fingers are dominating and heavy but—

But all you do is look up at him in submission, all hazy and eyes shiny with lust as your fingers wrap around his wrist as support, laying there and taking his cock as another orgasm rips out of you. 

You trust him to never hurt you—to take things too far. 

He’s always knew just how far to take things with you—to dance on that delicate line of risk and pleasure for you. 

It only takes another few strokes inside you, your g-spot overstimulated, for you to cum around him, electrified and feel like you’re floating as he fucks your pussy—all puffy and abused as it squirts so much on his dick and the counter—

And nothing but the sound of wet skin slapping against wet skin fills your ears, and your entire body shakes when Atsumu moans so desperately against you.

And his hand never leaves your throat, even as he kisses every inch of your face to soothe and praise you while you cry from your orgasm—and he’s following soon after with his hot cum filling you up till your pussy is leaking both of your fluids everywhere. 

Getting you all messy like he said you would. 

end ♡

Masterpost

[confessedlyfannish]

DP x DC Prompt #6

Phantom is sitting at the Batcomputer, kicking his legs back and forth. With the seat last set for Batman's height, his feet barely skim the ground. He's propped his head up with one hand, examining something he is holding between his thumb and forefinger in the other.

He is very casual for someone who has never been told the location of the Batcave.

"Phantom," Batman grunts. Phantom doesn't glance his way, likely having heard the Batmobile pulling in.

"Hi Bruce," he says. "I had a nightmare last night."

It's important to note that The Justice League does not know Phantom's true age, although there are several theories:

Theory One: he is a ghost dating back to several thousand BCE. The proof of this is sparse but present, through written record of beings with white hair and green eyes and uncanny likenesses found in artifacts proven to be authentic. Could these truly be Phantom? Yes. However, there is

Theory Two: he is a teenager, as his visual presence suggests. This could be true even if his existence is thousands of years old, as his mentality might not have advanced beyond that of a child aged fourteen to sixteen when they died. This is supported by his general behavior and advanced knowledge of memes. The few times he and Red Robin have interacted, Bruce did not understand a word of it without extensive googling. But worse, of course, there is

Theory Three: Phantom is the age of his first recorded appearance in modern times, only a few years ago. Phantom's recorded appearances in the past were sparse compared to his consistent existence in this century, which could hint at a timestream accident similar to Bruce's own, if they are real. And ultimately, this would not be the first time a two year old presented as a teenager in form.

Two out of three options propose Phantom is a child, and so Batman's tone is gentle when he says,

"Did you?"

"Yeah," Phantom says, words almost a sigh. Whatever is in his hand catches in the lamp light, shining green.

It's kryptonite. Phantom is holding a shard of kryptonite.

"Sorry." Phantom twirls his chair around to face Bruce. He holds the shard out in his palm. "I called you Bruce, didn't I? I know you hadn't told me yet."

"That's okay," Bruce says. He takes the shard calmly, his suit's layered biometrics disguising the fact his heart is racing. He recognizes this chunk from his stores, kept in the secure, deepest, impenetrable section of the cave coded to his DNA alone.

He's been aware Phantom's powers include invisibility and intangibility, but the ghost has been benevolent, honorable, and heroic since introduced and he had allowed his guard to slip. All it would've taken is being tailed one time, and now he must rely on that benevolence.

"And I'm sorry about that," Phantom says, nodding at the belt Batman has tucked the kryptonite inside. It will do nothing to stop Phantom should he decide to pluck it away again, but kept out of sight in a lead-lined pouch still feels safer than out in the open.

"I needed to make a point." Phantom says. The words are threatening but his tone is not.

"Oh?" Bruce asks, wary nonetheless.

"I'm really strong," Phantom says. "I can walk through walls. I can disappear. I can fly. I can blast and freeze stuff. I don't need to breathe. Traditional weapons don't really work on me."

"I can duplicate," a voice says from behind Bruce. He whirls around, batarang in hand, to see another Phantom rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "That duplicate will have all the same powers," the doppelganger says, apologetically. He floats back over to the Phantom sitting on the chair and the two merge.

"I have bad powers too, ones I don't like to use. I can scream at things until they fall apart, even buildings. I can...I can possess people, and make them do things," he admits, unable to look Batman in the eye. "It's not that all ghosts are like this, pretty much all of them aren't, it's just that I'm one of the stronger ones, and I'm only going to get stronger, and the stronger I get, the more powers I might get, and the less weapons even made especially to fight ghosts will work on me."

None of this is phrased as a threat, but rather a confession.

"Why are you telling me this?" Batman asks.

"I had a nightmare," Phantom repeats weakly. He reaches under the computer table and pulls out a purple JanSport backpack, cotton dirty and frayed with use. He unzips the front pocket and pulls out a small plastic baggy. He offers the baggy to Batman, his hand shaking.

Batman takes the baggy, examining the contents. Inside are six tiny little dots. They look like poppy seeds, but held up to the light are a deep purple in color.

"Phantom, what are these?"

"Hemo Prunus," Danny says, eyes stuck on the baggy. He's paler than usual. "Colloquially: blood blossoms. At the time they were grown it was believed they required drops of blood to grow, but a friend of mine who likes plants thinks it's more likely they actually just like a higher quantity of iron in their soil. You know, truths found in witch's tales and stuff like that. I don't know much about their care beyond that but I do know they were grown previously in Salem in the late 1600s, early 1700s during their summer seasons with some amount of success so perhaps you can mimic that environment and go from there. From what I've gathered they're incredibly difficult to grow, but I figure if anyone can do it it's you."

"I'm not exactly the gardening type," Batman says dryly.

Phantom laughs faintly. He looks like he's about to pass out, which should be impossible and is not the correct reaction to gifting someone a rare piece of flora.

"Phantom," Batman says again, slowly. "What are these?"

"They're my kryptonite."

Bruce closes his fist over the bag immediately, taking several steps back to put distance between himself and Phantom. "Are you alright?" he asks sharply.

"I'm fine," Phantom says, waving a hand. "As seeds they just sting a little, like nettles."

That's not the reaction of someone being lightly stung, Bruce thinks. Phantom looks like he needs the chair he's sitting in just to stay upright.

Then the rest of his words click together.

"You're giving me these," Bruce says.

"Yes," Phantom says. "For safekeeping."

"To grow."

Phantom's smile fades. "For safekeeping," he says, looking at Bruce's belt. Where he has stored the kryptonite.

The enormity of what Phantom is entrusting him with hits Bruce like a ton of bricks, and he finally realizes that Phantom is not sick but terrified. He is quietly, deeply, terrified. Bruce also realizes that a reaction like that is not born out of fear of the unknown but is the reaction of someone who has felt the sting of the bee and felt their throat close up. At some point Phantom has felt the blood blossom flower, and the sheer memory of it is enough to make the ghost go almost catatonic with terror.

And he has still handed over the one weapon that can hurt him to the Batman, and told him all he knows on how to make more.

I had a nightmare.

"Is this all of it?" Bruce asks, the question coming out brusquer than intended. Phantom blinks.

"Yes, I'm sorry, that's all I could--yes that's all," he stammers.

Bruce shakes his head. "I mean, does anyone else have access to it? Is anyone else growing this that we should be aware of?"

Phantom can't mask a sudden shudder, his reactions always woefully transparent (pun not intended). "No, that's the last of it. No. No. I don't think," his eyes grow wider, "I don't think so," he whispers, to himself, an attempt at comfort.

Way to go, Bruce, a familiar voice whispers, you just scared the kid harder. Bruce drops the packet on a table beside him and strides forward to put a firm hand on Phantom's shoulder.

"I'll make sure of it," he says. He'll pull Kal in and together they'll make sure, the same way they raided every GiW base across the United States four months prior. Phantom looks up at him the same way he did then, with complete and utter trust.

"Thank you," he says quietly. "But if you do...if you do find any more, promise me you won't destroy it. Promise me you'll keep it, the same way you keep the kryptonite. Please, Bruce."

He's not just asking him to keep it. Another weight finds its place, settling on the Bat's shoulders like the cape he wears. Another contingency for a hero he fears will one day be a dear friend.

"I promise, Phantom."

"Danny," Phantom says, "My name is Danny. A name for a name, right?"

"Danny," Bruce says, heart growing ever heavier. "I promise."

[kaleidoscopewritings19]

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Title: Ruin Me

Warning(s): language and SMUT! MDNI!!! If you are under the age of 18, you should not be here on this particular reader. I have warned you, and therefore am not responsible for what you’re about to read. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Prompt Credit are in bold and go to: @ rent-white, @ dumplingsjinson

—————

Slowly, you opened the door to your assigned house in Jackson, Wyoming. The freezing air made you shiver, and you kicked the snow off your boots.

You pulled your coat off and hung it on the hooks hanging by the door. You had made your home as cozy as possible with decorations you would find when out searching for supplies. Any time you walked into your home, you felt at ease and at peace. Another pair of boots on the floor caught your attention when you were taking off your own. “Joel?” You called out, and a creak on the floor board made you whip your head around.

The familiar pair of eyes made you breathe out a breath of relief, “You knew those were my boots, and yet you were nervous.” He said and you looked down at your feet.

“The last time I trusted a pair of familiar boots, I was kidnapped.” You said and Joel took a step closer to you. A while back you were taken by raiders; you never talked about it, and Joel understood that- he could only imagine what happened to you. “I would never let that happen. Not now, not ever.” He said as he pulled you into his body.

You were twenty years younger than him- gentle and fragile. The both of you had gone through the most fucked up things before finding solace in Jackson. When Joel had met you, he knew he had to protect you at all costs. Despite the hellish things you had been through, you were still kind.

You were far different from Tess and the women he had met along the way. It was a warmth Joel hadn’t felt since before the outbreak, and he was drawn to you. He didn’t trust anyone (other than Ellie and his brother), but he trusted you.

You were told of Joel’s past; he had murdered, he tortured people for information, and often times he would torture people to death. But just as he was drawn to you, you were drawn to him. He seen the ugly of the world, but you only found the good and the beauty in this world. Joel found it fascinating and you were addictive.

This little arrangement happened a year ago- the two of you would fuck each other to release built up emotions and stress, and that was it. But one of you was bound to get burned, and it just so happened to be you. You had fallen hopelessly in love with the ruthless and complicated man.

“What’s going on in the pretty little head of yours?” He asked, tearing you from your thoughts.

“Nothing.” You lied.

Joel pressed a kiss to your forehead- he was different around you. The man that was deemed as lethal, was gentle when it came to you. He was always the one to initiate things, but this time, you decided to be brave. You grabbed Joel’s hand and led him to your couch; he had lit the fire prior to even coming home, but you were glad he did.

Warmth filled the room, as you straddled Joel’s lap. Your legs were on the side of his, and he stared at you a gleam in his eye. His hands wrapped around your waist, and your shaky hands rested against the scruff on his face. No words were ever used when things would get sexual, both of you had agreed less talking was better, because this was nothing.

His dark eyes stared up into yours- he knew you wanted to take control, and little did you know this is something he had dreamed of. You had needs too, and he wanted you take advantage of him and these needs, but you were always too shy.

Joel did not want to rush you. Slowly, your face inched closer to his, and your lips brushed against his. His breath tickled your lips, and there was no time to be shy, so you pressed a kiss to Joel’s lips.

A few months back, the two of you agreed to allow kissing in these moments, but they were never filled with passion. They were just necessary to make things more steamy and to get things moving along. You pulled away from his face to see his expression.

He gave you a small smile, trying to encourage you to keep going- the waters were fine and did not need to be tested. You deepened the kiss and slid your tongue between his lips, and he pulled you closer to him.

Joel hummed in response to you, and he leaned his head against the back of the couch. His lips were puffy and a lazy smile made its way across his face, “Kiss me like that again and I’m gonna think you’re in love with me.” He said breathlessly, and you froze above him.

Joel noticed the look on your face and he sat up straighter, and before you could stop yourself, the words left your lips, “But what if I am in love with you, Joel?”

His breath hitched in his chest, and he (gently) pushed you to the side of him. “I’m gonna need you to stop right there. Don’t you dare bullshit me with that.” He gruffed, and he pulled on his boots.

He did not even bother to tie them, instead he turned to you. His finger pointed at you, “We promised each other that this wouldn’t happen.” His Texas accent was thick; it always was when he was angry, and man, he was angry.

You stood up from the couch and stood toe to toe with Joel. Being quiet and letting things slide, that was expected of you, but you couldn’t remain quiet anymore. “Yeah, Joel, we did. But it happened. What do you want me to do about it?” You asked as you looked in eyes for an answer, and when you didn’t find one, your hands rested on your head. “I can’t un-love you, Joel.”

Joel twinged at the word love, and he looked down at his feet. “You need to stop.” He said as he walked to the door, but you blocked him. You stood at the door with your head held high, “Y/N, move.” Joel stated and you shook your head.

“No.” You responded and Joel’s jaw tightened. “Move. Now.” He said again, and you folded your arms against your chest. “What’s stopping us from becoming more than this?” You demanded and Joel stepped forward.

He kept stepping towards you, until your back was pressed firmly against the front door. You held your ground, you stared up at him and he looked down at you. His face was emotionless- it was like chiseled stone, and with a monotonous voice, he responded to your question.

“You don’t want to love someone like me, Y/N.” Joel’s hands went to the side of your head, resting on the hard wood. He barred you in and he looked into your eyes, “You have no idea who you’re falling in love with.” He said, and his big, strong arms were making you weak in the knees. You gulped as his face was inches away from yours, “I have murdered people without a second thought, especially if it meant survivin’, and protecting Ellie.”

His eyes darkened, “I’m a dangerous man, Y/N. I’m not capable of love.” He said and you shivered underneath his gaze. But you remained steadfast, “I don’t care about that, Joel.” You said.

“You should.”

“You are capable of love.”

“How?”

His responses were quick, but yours were faster. “The way you protect Ellie. She’s no longer cargo. I know what you did to those fireflies when you knew what they were going to do to her.” You said and Joel pulled back from you. “How do you know about that?” He questioned.

You stared into his eyes, and you brought your hand to his cheek. “Because you talk in your sleep when you are able to sleep, Joel.” You said and he took a step back from you.

Joel turned around and he was looking at the ground, “You stay up and watch while I sleep. You protect me, Joel. You’re gentle with me, and I am fully aware of what you’re capable of.”

He remained silent and you remained against the front door. “You care about me, Joel. I think you feel what I feel too and it scares you. You are capable of love, otherwise you wouldn’t protect me and shield me the way you do.”

Joel turned back around and he hovered over you, “I am afraid to hurt you. Do you not understand that? I have this darkness that surrounds me. You’re like sunlight to me- somethin’ I have never experienced. I- I don’t want to… I’ll poison your light. I will ruin you.” He whispered and you looked into his pain filled eyes.

You moved out of his way and he opened the front door; tears stung your eyes, and you gulped back a sob, “Then ruin me, Joel. Because I can’t keep doing-”

The front door slammed and in one swift step, his hands were on your face, and his lips smashed into yours. Your hands gripped his strong arms, trying to steady yourself. His calloused hands held your face- making it impossible to pull away from him, and you didn’t want to pull away.

His kisses made you feel weak and dizzy; he knew that when your body swayed. He lifted you up off the ground and took you to the couch and laid you down.

Joel’s body hovered over yours, and his hand traced down from your neck all the way down to your waist. “Every time I touch you, it’s like I can feel ya unravelin’ under my hands.” He whispered before pressing another kiss to your lips, earning a moan from your lips.

You couldn’t wait any longer, you sat up and wrapped your arms around Joel’s neck, your legs wrapped around his waist, and you used all of your strength to flip him over. Now you were on top, and Joel was in shock.

His arms were resting well above his head, and he had a smirk on his face. He sat up and pressed a kiss to your lips, and you helped him shimmy out of his flannel. All that was left in your way, was his white t-shirt, and his jeans.

Joel removed his t-shirt, and then reached over and ripped open your button up blouse. Buttons hit the floor, and you began to work on his belt; Joel was letting you take full control.

He wanted to see this part of you, and when you got his pants off, he sat on the edge of the couch, and removed the jeans that clung to your legs.

As he pulled them down, he began pressing kisses from your navel, to where you wanted- needed him, and then pressed kisses all the way down your legs.

Instead of letting him do what he wanted to do, you pulled him up and pushed him back on the couch.

His back was resting in the cushions, and you pulled down his underwear. Joel’s eyes darkened as he watched you straddle him; your panties were black and lacy- he didn’t know how you got your hands on a pair like these. But he was glad you had them. He could feel how wet you were, and he wanted nothing more than to pin you down and fuck you. Hard.

You rubbed yourself against his length and he groaned into your shoulder, gently biting down on your warm skin. Joel couldn’t help himself; his finger traced down from your arm to your laced panties, and he hooked his finger underneath the thing fabric.

His finger slid between your wet folds, and he pushed the lace to the side. You were entranced by Joel- the way his rough finger felt between your legs ; it made you want to unravel right then and there.

Instead, you led his thick cock to your entrance, and slowly slid down until he was fully inside you. A moan left your lips, and Joel ripped off your bra, leaving you completely exposed underneath his gaze.

You were already cock drunk on Joel- he had this effect on you no other man has or could ever have on you. The hunger for Joel was insatiable, after he fucked you once, there was no turning back.

He thrusted his hips up into you, clearly impatient for you to come to your senses. His thrusts were slow and even, then you remembered, gentle. Kind. Fragile. That’s how Joel viewed you, and these slow movements were not longer feeding the need of him. You pressed a kiss to his lips, and leaned in towards his ear, and whispered, “Ruin me, Joel.”

When you pulled back to look at his face, he held your cheek. “Are you sure? Do you even know what you’re asking for?” He questioned. All you could do was nod as he continued to thrust up into you. His hand went to your hair, and gently pulled it back, “I need to hear you say it, baby.” This time you were moving yourself up and down his cock, “Joel, I want you to fuck me. I’m tired of you treating me like I’m going to break.”

This was all the confirmation he needed. Joel flipped you over and now you were laying on your back, staring up at him. He shoved himself back inside you, the sensation overwhelming your senses.

The sight of you made Joel thrust even harder. You fit so perfectly around him; your walls clenched around him. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips, and you took this opportunity to wrap your legs around his waist.

Skin against skin, his hand hovered over your throat, and his thumb gently pressing into it. His hips snapped into you, and finally you started matching his thrusts. Joel was no longer holding back with you; his thrusts were rough and sloppy- not his usual slow and rhythmic thrusts.

His teeth grazed your bottom lip, making you moan at how sensitive you were becoming. A new feeling had taken over your body; Joel felt you were coming to the edge of breaking. His fingers went down between your legs and began rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Joel…. Joel…. Joel!” You were chanting his name like it was going to be the last time you were going to say it.

“I’m about come, baby girl.” He whispered gruffly in your ear. His thrusts became quicker and messier, the sounds coming from the living room were erotic. You silently prayed no one could hear the sounds your bodies were making, but then again, you didn’t care.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful— finishing all over my cock” he said as he pressed a kiss to your neck. “Wantin’ me to ruin you… You belong to me now.” Slowly he pulled his cock out of you and slammed back into you. “I want everyone to know who you belong to, Y/N.”

Small, love-bite bruises were forming all over your neck and collar bone, and with one finally moan of his name, “Joel!” You came undone on his cock.

Joel continued to thrust into you until he finished deep inside you. It took everything in him to pull out of you; your bare chest heaved trying to catch your breath.

He reached for the quilt on the back of the couch, and pulled it down to cover you both. You moved over to give him space, and then you rested your head on his chest.

Joel’s fingers ran through your hair and he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. “I do care about you, Y/N. It’s hard for me to let my guard down, ‘cause when I do, it never lasts.” He said and your finger gently traced his lips.

“I’m not going anywhere, Joel. I promise.” You whispered and his lips locked onto yours. It wasn’t too long before he had you pinned down on the floor, and made love to you like it was going to be the last time he could love you.

————-

I hope you guys enjoyed that… I’m not the best at writing smut, but I am working on it. 🩶 kinda scared to post but oh well.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hey :) Hope you're doing well, I read some of your Aemond fanfics, and they were great. I was hoping you could write a Jacaerys x Alicent daughter fanfic. Something about an arranged marriage, you can take it anyway you wish, but could there be some angst in there. with the prompts 1. ‘’My blood is not noble enough for a prince.’’ and 14. ‘’I’m not used to this. Being a wife.’’

Thank you :)

Request: Alicent’s second daughter to marry Jacaerys to unite the houses

Thank you for the compliment on my Aemond fics <3 More will be coming soon. Also, I was not able to use the first prompt as it doesn’t work with the characters. Alicent’s daughter’s blood is more noble than Jacaerys since her father is king and his mother is princess. I hope you still enjoy what I wrote for you <3

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Twenty years ago, when Viserys made Rhaenyra his heir, the knights and houses who swore allegiance to him had no choice but to accept her as their future queen. She was the king’s only child. But now that the king had a male heir — and a spare —, there were possibilities that people would oppose her claim to the throne and demand Aegon to wear the crown. 

To prevent the situation from happening, the king and queen, along with Rhaenyra, made an accord that Rhaenyra would ascend the throne following the king’s death, but to unite the houses, the princess’s firstborn son — and heir — would marry Alicent’s second daughter and, one day, inherit the throne together. 

Like any political marriage, you nor Jacaerys had a choice or say. At least he wasn’t an older lord you had met once or twice. You knew Jacaerys — a little. He was kind, loyal and protective. He was a good man. 

Prior to that arrangement, your grandsire, Otto, had been talking to you about having a tourney to meet suitors, but your mother had been quick to oppose to the idea. She didn't want you to be the victim of his scheming like she had been at your age. 

You were drawing under the weirwood tree when Jacaerys stepped into the yard, having just arrived in King’s Landing. Its red leaves matched the color of your dress, making him smile. He liked you in red. 

‘’I was told by the servants that my wife was out here.’’ 

Immersed in your drawing, you didn’t hear the prince approaching. You only glanced up when you heard your new title, the sound of his voice almost making you drop your charcoal onto your dress. Your mother would have been furious.

A soft laugh left your lips. Moons have passed since the wedding, yet being called a wife still felt strange. ‘’I’m not used to this. Being a wife.’’

‘’Me either,’’ Jacaerys admitted. ‘’What are you drawing, Princess?’’ 

You reflected his smile as he approached. ‘’Just some birds.’’

Jacaerys walked up to the tree and sat beside you. He had a bit of dirt on his jacket from sparring with Ser Criston in the training yard. 

‘’How was your training session with Ser Criston?’’ you asked, raising a hand to run through the front of his hair, fixing an unruly curl that was on the wrong side. 

The older he got, the more he looked like Ser Harwin Strong. He had the same dark brown curls. But you would never dare saying that out loud. Although you meant it as a compliment, the mere insinuation of his illegitimacy was a vile insult to the crown — to the princess. 

‘’I disarmed him twice…and I ate some dirt.’’ The brunet grimaced, the earthy taste still lingering on his tongue. ‘’It was a blessing that no one was watching.’’  

‘’Mayhaps you need an opponent that is closest to your age?’’ you suggested, not finding it fair that he was sparring against a grown man who had years of practice as a knight. ‘’You could ask Aemond to train with you? He is training for the upcoming tourney, but I’m sure he would a accept to help you.’’

Jacaerys hummed, then leaned back against the weirwood tree, taking a moment of rest. He watched with quiet admiration as you continued your drawing, fascinated by the way you could, with a few strokes of charcoal, illustrate pretty much anything. Birds, flowers, dragons, or portraits of your family. 

Much like your twin brother, you favored solitude over socializing. When the betrothal was announced to you, you assumed that this tranquility would be disrupted, but it turned out that Jacaerys enjoyed it too. Partially. While he often thrived on the excitement and duty that came with his heir title, he found it relieving that he could find peace and comfort in your silent company. 

‘’I’m going back to Dragonstone in the morrow,’’ the prince announced, breaking the serenity of the quiet.

‘’How long for?’’

Jacaerys shifted, fearing the conversation that was to come. ‘’No. I’m going back to Dragonstone…permanently.’’

You stopped drawing, a sudden knot forming in your stomach. ‘’And what of me?’’ 

‘’You can join. Or not. That is up to you.’’ 

‘’And what of us? What of our marriage, Jace?’’ you asked, turning your head toward him. 

When you got wed in the tradition of Old Valyria, you pledged to one another that you were one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever. Jacaerys returning to Dragonstone would break your duties to your House. 

‘’Dragonstone is easy to travel from and back on dragonback.’’ You began picking at your fingers, and Jacaerys noticed, taking your hand in his to stop you. ‘’I tried, but King’s Landing is not my home. I don’t belong here.’’

‘’I can’t leave my family.’’ 

‘’I left mine for you.’’ 

You pulled your hand from his hold and narrowed your eyes at him. Jacaerys moving to King’s Landing after the wedding ceremony was your father’s idea, not yours. How dared he blame you for a decision you didn't make?

—

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[joelsmochi]

Dirty Lies

SUMMARY: Joel realized how much you matured since he last saw you 4 years ago and can’t resist you. WARNINGS: age gap [reader is 22, joel is 35], smut minors dni, no descriptions of reader aside from having shoulder length hair & having a girly sense of fashion, pervy!joel, shy-ish!joel, needy!joel, reader seduces joel. 18+ WARNINGS: infidelity if you squint (technicalities people), brief objectification, masturbation (f), oral (f receiving), dirty talk, reader was a lying little shit in high school but it paid off WC: 7.3k [please read author's note]

A/N: this was originally going to be a 15k word long smut as part of my LDR series, but........ I figured the more parts I can make out of it the more content I can produce, so here is part one of Us Against The World. Enjoy :) Edit: I’m rereading this and noticing a few typos, I apologize about those! Grammarly isn’t so helpful sometimes…

series masterlist | main masterlist

There you were in your blue tank top and yoga pants laying with your father’s dog in the middle of the front yard. You had just returned from New York a few days earlier from college, which your father amicably told Joel about over a few beers the week before.

Joel was expecting to see your 18-year-old self: long hair, sparkly eyeshadow, dressed in your late mother’s hand-me-downs from the 80s. But that was no longer you.

You dressed more modern and age-appropriate. Your hair was shorter, looked curlier, and you had highlights. Your eyebrows were thinner and your face was free from the loud makeup your teenage self was accustomed to. Joel would make jokes from time to time about how he believed you were just born with glitter all over your eyes.

Joel felt a little silly thinking you wouldn’t have changed. Who doesn’t make a drastic change when they leave high school? He hadn’t found the time to stop by and say hello but he wasn’t necessarily rushing it.

He’d met your father when you guys moved in next door in 1993 and he remembered you introduced yourself the second you saw him and Sarah playing outside despite your father’s protests.

You told Joel about how your dad was only being grumpy because he’d just turned thirty-six. Something about getting old. You didn’t bother to retain that information.

But here you were: all grown up. It reminded Joel of the day he overheard you and your best friend talking about how handsome you thought he was. He wondered if you still felt that way.

You sat up, feeling the sense that someone was watching you; your eyes scanned around until instinct made you look to the same window Joel was standing in.

For some reason, he didn’t feel embarrassed about being caught staring. He offered you an energetic smile and you took in his appearance.

He hadn’t changed much — his hair was a little longer and he had a few more fine lines across his face, but he was still the handsome man you remembered and admired.

You stand up and walk over to the window prompting him to open it.

“Hey, creep,” you teased with a big grin, “how ya been?”

Even your voice sounded different with its blend of Texas and New York. It was sultry with a hint of confidence. He tried not to let his weaknesses show.

“I’m doing all right… Sorry for starin’. Could hardly tell that was you,” he responded.

You just barely saw his eyes glance down to your chest, and it made you smirk.

Had this been any other man you’d have your fist meeting their jaw, but it wasn’t any other man. It was Joel. You hadn’t forgotten that he was attractive, but you did forget just how attractive. Or maybe his sexiness came with his age.

Not like it mattered anyways. It wasn’t like you could make a move.

“I been gettin’ that a lot… Dad tells me you’re a contractor now with Tommy.”

Joel nodded and said, “Yep, hated workin’ for other people, so…”

You were unsure if you were being awkward or if it was just… Awkward.

“Cool. Yeah, no, I get that. How is Tommy, by the way? Is he still really cute?” You giggled.

This made Joel roll his eyes. “Not cuter than me,” he answered begrudgingly. You watched how his eyes faltered again, trailing from your lips to your belly ring. “Your dad let you get that?”

You scoffed and waved your hand lazily as if you were swatting his condescending tone away. “One, Dad can’t tell me what to do with my body. And two, Tommy was always the cuter one.”

“S’that so?” Joel grunted as if he were tempted to laugh.

You gave him a cunning look and nodded. “Yeah. But you were always more handsome.”

Joel found himself blushing at the compliment, trying to wipe the redness away with his calloused palm to no avail.

You let out a quiet teetering laugh and looked back to make sure your dog was okay for a moment. “He get that dog after I left?”

Joel focused on you again and confirmed it once he noticed the dog again. “Yeah. I think your dad likes having something to take care of.”

You looked back into Joel’s eyes and bathed in them for a moment. He seemed more like himself, more certain of who he was. It made you a little sad to know how much time has passed, but maybe it was better this way.

“He was always like that. I think it started after… Well, you know.” You took a deep breath and tried to change the subject. “How’s Sarah? She still my little rockstar?”

“She’s more of a pop star, now,” he said. “She still wears that bracelet you let her have, the… The silver one.”

Your chest swelled with joy and you couldn’t contain your excitement. “Really?! Aw, man, that’s so cool. I remember I would throw a fit if I didn’t have that damn thing on.” The dog barking grabbed your attention once again. He was just barking at the mailman but settled once the worker started petting him. “Sorry!” You shouted before returning your focus to Joel. “Well, Joel it was nice seeing you. We should… Catch up. I could use some… Life advice.”

“I’m free tomorrow night if that works?” He tried to contain his excitement.

You slowly backed away, giving him one more nod and smile. “Perfect. Just come over whenever like old times.”

Joel decided to be respectful enough to not ogle over your ass as you walked away. He turned away from the window wondering how the hell he was going to get over this… Crush?

Is that what this was? A crush?

He decided to not torture himself with his intrusive thoughts.

“Hey, kid,” Joel greeted. You rolled your eyes at the nickname but greeted him back. He entered the backyard slowly trying to get a feel for the mood. He sat next to you in the extra papasan chair and snatched your beer out of your hands. You glared at him, unable to hold it for long when he shot you that infamous smile. “Everything all right?”

He tasted your strawberry chapstick around the rim of the glass and let the taste linger on his tongue. His eyes fell to your lips as he thought about how the chapstick would taste coming straight from you. Raw and unfiltered.

You held your breath, wishing you had enough courage to ask your father these questions. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust your father, you just wanted an opinion from an outside perspective. You were hoping Joel wasn’t as inclined to protect or embarrass you as much as your dad.

“There’s this guy I’ve been dating for a few months now… I…” You sigh frustratedly with the tension surrounding the question meanwhile Joel grew tense and jealous? He asked himself why that was the way he felt about you having a boyfriend.

You apprehensively said, “We had sex a few times before I left and it wasn’t…good.”

“Okay?” Joel asked as a way to tell you to keep going.

“How should I go about telling a guy that?”

He cleared his throat uncertain of how to answer your question. He didn’t want his newly discovered feelings to cloud his judgment as the chances of you two becoming a thing were slim to none. He wouldn’t want to sabotage you or your relationships. Especially when you trusted him enough to ask such a burdening question.

Joel accepted the awkwardness of the topic and put it aside. He didn’t want you to feel embarrassed. “Well, have you tried suggesting things that he can do to make you—it feel good?” He asked.

“Yeah, but I’m starting to wonder if it’s me,” you admitted.

“Does he do the things you ask him to?”

“Kinda?” Your cheeks flushed and your eyebrows furrowed tightly.

He gave you a look that said come on now.

“He like… Does half of it?” You could just die of embarrassment right now.

“Wh—? How does he do half of it?”

You groaned obnoxiously and chugged some more beer. “I don’t know?! He does what I ask for like five minutes and then just does what he’s used to I guess.” He watched you poke your bottom lip out to pout as you stared into the glass bottle. “I really like him, Joel.”

“Does he like you?”

“Well, yeah,” you said as if it were obvious. “Fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He inhaled sharply through his teeth and stole your beer bottle again. “All I will say is that a man that truly likes you would try harder, especially during sex, and especially if you’ve told him how he could make you feel good.”

“So… What do I do?”

“Do you think he likes you?” He asked again. “Think about it for a second. What does he do for you?”

“Well, he…” Your voice trailed off into silence as your mind went blank. Surely this guy did something for you to make you like him, right? But anything that did happen to come to mind was the bare minimum. You didn’t want to give Joel the satisfaction, so you said, “I think it could work.”

“Who’re trying to convince? Me or yourself?” He saw the frustration on your face and propped a finger below your chin to make you look at him. “If a guy really likes you, sweetheart, you wouldn’t have to ask more than once,” was all he said after he took a sip of your beer.

“What do you mean?”

Joel’s sigh almost sounded irritated. “I mean… A guy that truly likes you and deserves you won’t make you suffer through sex. A real man’ll take care a’you.”

“A real man, huh?” You bantered.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Like you?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“Do you like me?”

Why the fuck did I ask him that?! You thought as soon as the words left your mouth.

Joel didn’t couldn’t answer right away. His voice just stumbled over his tongue and out of his mouth.

“I think you’re a sweet girl,” he finally said, “and you’re smart enough to know who’s worthy of your time and attention. Doesn’t sound like it’s him.”

You couldn’t defeat the growing smirk on your face as he fought the urge to look over your body. He wasn’t so good at hiding it.

You turned your body in the chair slightly and dauntingly lifted your leg to touch your bare toes against his calf. You watched his breath get caught in his throat and your mouth fell open in awe at how easy it was to get him riled up.

He looked at the ground, not moving a single inch of his body. He was overwhelmed by your confidence.

The amount of attention Joel’s given you in the last ten minutes already seemed to surpass the attention your “boyfriend” (can you even call him that?) had given you.

Your foot trailed up Joel’s leg before you rested it upon his knee; Joel’s eyes screwed shut as if he were praying to not get caught like this, but your voice brought his gaze back to you.

“You didn’t answer my question, Joel,” you whispered seductively. Your foot left his leg and you got on your knees in the chair, then you leaned forward, hands around the rim of his own seat, and leaned in devilishly close to his face. “Do you like me?”

He swallowed hard, his fingertips turning white as they pressed into the bottle.

His lack of an answer caused an impatience to grow inside you. You leaned in even closer and strengthened your eye contact with him. Your fingers absentmindedly trailed over his knee to the midpoint of his clad thigh.

His spine shivered and his arms grew goosebumps. “Why don’t you have this attitude with your boyfriend?” He asked lowly in a poor attempt to further evade answering you.

You snickered and looked over his beer-covered lips, craving to taste them. “If I’m being honest he’s technically not my boyfriend… You’re tellin’ me things about men and how they should act. It’s making me feel like… He just can’t handle me.”

He smirked at you, fighting the way his body pleaded to touch yours. “If that’s the case then, sweetheart, I don’t think he’s the one for you.”

“Oh?” You got even closer, your nose touched his and you heard him choke on his breath. “Do you think you could handle me?”

He chuckled rashly and straightened his posture, now sensing you tense up. “I could,” he confidently confessed. “But this ain’t right, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you scoff, “you can’t keep your eyes off of me.”

“If you keep actin’ like a spoiled brat you won’t be able to keep my hands off of you.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” you retorted, a cocky essence in your eyes.

“That so?”

“Maybe you can show me how a real man should be taking care of me.”

Joel had to stop himself from speaking as it would have potentially led to consequences. His flustered cheeks and wide lustful eyes created a hunger you’d never felt before.

However, you wanted Joel to earn it. Push him to the point of begging for just a taste of you. You needed to know if he craved you. Something you longed for from other men that just could not deliver.

You hovered your agape lips over his so dangerously it tickled his nerves. You gave him a soft kiss on the cheek then sat back in your original position.

Joel was both relieved and disappointed with the kiss. Relieved it didn’t end up with his head buried between your thighs, and at the same time disappointed that it didn’t.

For the next few days, you settled into your room as best as you could and got everything how you wanted it to be. Well, almost. You wanted a shelf to go over your closet so that you could display your most prized possessions.

When the idea sparked in your head you remembered that your dad said he was going to be gone for most of the day. You figured you could hold off for one more day. That was until you heard some power tools and heavy grunting from beyond your window.

Joel.

Joel had followed your lead as best as he could and you had to admit that the lack of physical contact was making it harder to resist him.

You felt a bit strange, however. After all, this is Joel. Sweet, caring, next-door neighbor Joel. You and your friends had a crush on him and his brother, Tommy, sure, but this wasn’t that. And you surely weren’t a child anymore. But still, you couldn’t help but think of how strange the dynamic is.

It wasn’t enough to stop you from taking your sweatpants off and changing out of your t-shirt into a stretchy tank top. You poked your head out of your window and shouted Joel’s name a few times until you successfully got his attention.

“Hey!” You said with a proud smile.

“Hey, kid!” He shouted back.

“Can you build a shelf for me? I wanted to get my room done today, but my old man’s gone!”

“Right now?” He tried to seem indifferent.

You just smiled harder and motioned for him to come over. “Please?!”

He huffed and looked at his half-done project, ultimately deciding to help you instead. The sooner he helps you the sooner he could create distance, he figured. Though deep down he knew that wasn’t the real reason.

You patter downstairs to unlock the door for him. He could see from the corners of his eyes that you were half naked, only in white panties and your top.

“Couldn’t a’put pants on?” He asked grumpily as he walked past you, not giving you the satisfaction of staring. You shut and lock the door before guiding him upstairs.

“Yeah, but I figured since you were doing the job for free I could at least give you something to look at,” you flirted. He didn’t even bother trying to stop you.

“What d’ya need done exactly?” He asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“I want those shelves to hang over my closet right… Here. I have a power drill here already, I just couldn’t figure out how to get it.”

He was doing a decent job at keeping his eyes anywhere but on your body, but in his mind he had already taken your clothes off and fucked you against the wall.

“S’alright, I can get it for ya,” he said while giving you an earnest look.

“What?” You asked after a moment of silence.

“Nothing,” he answered with a shrug and a smirk. You lightly smack his arm and plop down on your bed.

You lay on your stomach and flipped through a fashion magazine, occasionally smelling some of the perfume samples. You snuck glances at Joel’s broad back as he made sure everything could be lined up, smiling to yourself at how efficiently he worked.

“How’s your boyfriend?” Joel randomly asked after about ten minutes. You looked at him through your eyelashes as he peaked over his shoulder. 

You stifled your laugh and began looking at the magazine again before answering him. “He actually ended things with me two days ago. But like I said, he technically wasn’t my boyfriend. He never asked.”

“Oh… You doing okay? Seemed like you really liked him.”

“I like someone else more,” was all you said. Joel took a second, then just nodded even though you weren’t looking at him anymore.

“This someone have a name?” He asked after a few more moments of silence.

Joel’s internal conflict was teetering between giving in and giving up. He wasn’t sure why he was so drawn to you, but that’s what fueled his filthy thoughts even more.

“Yep, he sure does.”

Your tone was the exact opposite of what you were feeling. You felt hot and desperate, but you (almost) fooled him by sounding bored. He didn’t want to give into your childish game of beating around the bush, so he kept his mouth shut and began hammering a nail into the wall.

Suddenly you had an idea. An awfully sinister one.

You tossed the magazine on your nightstand and sat up in the bed, leaning into a few pillows and angling yourself so that Joel could get the perfect view if he dared to look.

Your hands traced uneven lines and patterns over your clad breasts and you gasped softly at your nipples perking up quickly. He couldn’t hear you over his hammering.

You rid yourself of your wet panties, kicking them to the edge of the bed. You spread your legs and began working big and slow circles over your sensitive clit. You used your free hand to pinch your nipple over your shirt, the combination of stimuli making you give a more audible moan.

Joel didn’t think much of it at first — he figured you were moving around on the bed to get more comfortable. So when the next moan came and he stopped his work to look at you he was taken aback, to say the least.

He said your name, but you shook your head in protest. “Is this okay?” You asked, innocence spreading across your face.

He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe.

“Joel?” You snapped him out of his daze. “S’this okay?”

He nodded and watched your trembling hands dip down into your glistening slit, collecting your wetness and coating it over your clit. Your body was stiff with anticipation, watching him watch you.

He took in all of your beauty like the way your eyes fluttered halfway shut and how you bit your plump lip to quiet your mewls. One hand cupped your breast so gently and the other rubbing steady, taunting circles over your sensitive bud. He watched the way you pleased yourself and let this picture of you engrave itself into his memory.

One day, Joel thought, I’d be able to make her feel as good as she makes herself feel.

He ignored the hardening of his cock pressing against his jeans, not caring enough to touch himself if it meant he didn’t get to feel you. He found the situation quite sexy and the lack of physical contact made him feel good.

You were showing him that he didn’t need to touch you or talk to you. He didn’t need to do a damn thing. All he needed to do was stand there and let you look at him.

Your moans were quiet and soft, barely heard by him. You squeezed your nipple harshly and jolted at the shock of electricity it sent throughout your body, your eyes screwing shut and your legs curling up into an almost fetal position at the feeling.

He saw you swallow the lump in your throat as you looked into his eyes again, soon scanning over his body and imagining how he would feel on top of you. The imagination was more than enough to get you going.

You imagined he felt strong and heavy above you, trapping you with his burly arms and using his lean thighs to keep your legs open for him as he rolled his hips to meet yours.

You absentmindedly curled your middle and ring finger into your creamy pussy, chasing after the feeling of being stretched out by Joel. Your pussy effortlessly squelched as your discharge poured out of you like a waterfall, coating your plump ass cheeks in your juices.

You got a bit louder but remained mindful of the open windows just a few feet away. You watched the movement in his jeans from his cock that twitched, longing for just some fucking relief. But he didn’t move, he didn’t even adjust his pants. He wanted you to know that you were the one in charge and that he was willing to suffer just for you.

“Joel,” you breathed out in between helpless murmurs.

He almost caved at how sweetly you said his name like you were asking for help. You reached even further into your sex, pressing into your sweet spot carefully. You pretended it was him.

Allowing your eyes to shut and your mouth to open, your mind dove deeper into the fantasies of Joel. You imagined him fucking you slowly, steady enough to not make your bed squeak too loud. Your fingers followed your mind, bumping against your g-spot the same way you wanted him to: carefully, yet forceful.

Joel felt awkward just standing there watching you, but you looked so beautiful. Sprawled out just for him with your fingers dipping into your sopping cunt as if you were made just for him. He saw your shoulders twitch and a hiss escaped your lips.

A ripple of ecstasy shocked your nerves, your walls tighten around your fingers, and your clit tensed up with a tickling sensation.

Your face twisted from the overwhelming feeling that began to encapsulate you from your core to your mind. Your moans became shallow and louder. Your clit throbbing beneath your palm motivated your to work your fingers faster. You fucked yourself with more desire than you had before, still twisting your perky nipple between your other fingers.

You were a lot more gentle with yourself than Joel would have expected. You took your time, didn’t overwhelm yourself.

He knew he loved it when the ever-growing pressure inside of you burst into a million flames throughout your trembling body. He saw that the slower you were with yourself the more intense the orgasm was.

He accidentally groaned at the sight of you: clinging to your bedsheet with the very hand that toyed with your breast, eyes refusing to open from the immense pleasure soaring through your veins, curling up into a ball because your body couldn’t comprehend just how good you were feeling.

He noticed how your cum gushed around and below your fingers creating a wet spot on your blanket. He carefully watched as you opened your eyes, still slowly fingering yourself. You continued to feel your orgasm, exploring how much of it you could endure.

You moved your free hand to your clit and rubbed tiny and fast circles around it. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you refused to moan anything but his name.

You shoved your fingers deep inside of you to press against your g-spot relentlessly. Your toes curled at the mix of pleasure.

You knew your orgasm was coming back more powerful than before already, and you braced yourself when your walls flexed against your fingers basically forcing them out; you chewed hard on your lip and laid your stiff fingers flat against your clit to rub from side to side at the arrival of your squirt. You squealed behind your swollen lip and let your squirt splash everywhere.

Joel palmed his rock-hard cock for some relief as he watched in awe at how you came for him. You looked so fucking delicious soaking yourself in your juices. His heart punched against his chest and his mind nearly blank, only filled with you.

Your lips formed an ‘o’ shape as you eased up on your clit. You let out sweet hums of bliss and you opened your eyes again, carefully analyzing his body language.

He practically reeked of inferiority. He was your marionette, your toy, whatever you wanted him to be. He didn’t recognize you in the best way possible. You were an unwrapped present that he couldn’t wait to open and play with. Your confidence grew at his puppy eyes that were low and dark, filled with a need to serve you.

Your fingers collected some of the creamy nectar between your folds before you brought it to your mouth and darted your wet tongue out to taste it.

You never broke eye contact once, observing how his body shuddered at the filthy action. His breath was heavy, his chest heaved in anticipation. You stuck your fingers inside of your mouth moaning at the salty goodness coating every single taste bud.

It wasn’t until your fingers dropped back down to your side and you gave him a shit-eating grin that he finally looked away, sighing loudly.

He felt ashamed of himself.

He’d known you since you were a child.

How could he ever look you in the eye again?

How could he ever look your father in the eye again?

You slipped your panties on again while he wasn’t looking and just grabbed your magazine, flipping through the pages again like nothing ever happened though the wet spot on your bed clearly said otherwise.

When Joel saw you had returned to your previous activities he did the same. Drilling and hammering your shelves onto the wall like nothing fucking happened.

“Here you go sir, you have a lovely day,” you chirped at the customer as you handed him his food waiting until he left. You turned around to straighten up the counter behind you when the bell on the door jingled. “Hello, give me just one moment and I’ll be with you!”

You gave the counter a lazy wipe with the wet washcloth before tossing it into the sink nearby and turning around, being met with a smirking Joel.

“My, my, you working at a burger joint? Never thought I’d see the day,” he teased.

You made a face and told him to shut up. You tried not to notice the sheer layer of sweat that coated his partially exposed chest. “What can I get you, sir?”

His face contorted with arrogance and he placed a hand over his chest. “Sir? You callin’ me sir now? Oh, you are just too cute.”

With a roll of your eyes, you huffed out a stream of air, waiting for him to stop fucking with you.

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, dropping the act. “Can I get a burger and some fries?”

“You don’t want a drink?” You asked before writing his order down quickly and sliding it through the kitchen window.

“Are you tryin’a make me tip you more?”

You shrugged. “Nah, it’s just that the cola here is really good.”

“Mmm,” he hummed as if he didn’t believe you.

“If you want a cola I’ll make it extra cold for you,” you whispered as if you were telling him a dirty secret.

“Mhm, okay. Fine, I’ll take your word for it. Gon’ and get it f’me then.”

“You can ask that a little nicer,” you scoffed. You walked off, breathing in a gust of smoke on your way to the soda machine. “F’here or to-go?!” You shouted.

“Mm, I was gonna get it to go, but I think I’ll stay and keep you company.”

You could just hear the smile in his voice.

“Awe, how thoughtful of you,” you bantered before rinsing out a clean cup and filling it with ice. The cook called out the order was ready and you thanked him before finishing up with Joel’s drink. You grabbed the tray and walked over to the end of the counter where the stools sat, setting the food in front of Joel with a weak smile.

He watched you closely as you leaned onto your elbows waiting for him to try his food.

“What r’ya doing workin’ in a restaurant? Didn’t you graduate for like… Fashion or some shit?” Joel asked, unable to keep his smile down at how pretty you looked in your uniform: a teal skirt and a mustard yellow shirt, but so, so tacky. You hated the fucking outfit, it was everything you would never wear, but Joel thought you made it look good.

“I did,” you confirmed, “but I wanted a humbling job before I truly entered the world of fashion.”

Joel’s thick and somewhat dirty fingers unraveled his greasy burger after he dumped the fries out chaotically. He took an unnecessarily big bite, not seeing how your eyes watched the trail of juice trickle down the corner of his mouth to his chin before he swept it set with his thumb.

“Humbling, hmm?” He questioned before swallowing his barely chewed bite. “You’re a wise girl, you know?”

“So I’ve been told,” you smugly replied. You stole a fry off of his tray and smiled at his frowning face while eating it before washing it down with his fizzling soda. “Best drink that ‘fore it goes flat.”

You walked away momentarily to help a customer that just walked in; she only wanted a dollar milkshake so you told her not to worry about paying. You took a dollar and some change from your tip pocket and put it in the register before grabbing a styrofoam cup and packing her cup.

Joel noticed halfway through you making the shake that whenever you tapped the bottom of the cup against the counter your breast jiggled against your arm. He felt the lady nearby staring at him so he turned his head just enough to see the mix of disgust and concern on her face.

If only she knew how filthy you were for him just last week…

He didn’t care enough to stop though, he just went back to looking at how your clothes hugged your body.

You finished up her shake and popped a lid on it before grabbing a straw and walking back to give it to her.

Joel heard the lady ask if you were okay, and he promptly rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and tried his best to not laugh. You were confused by her question, simply nodding your head and saying, “Yeah?”

She looked at Joel once more, choosing not to say another word before leaving.

“Fuck was that about?” You asked, watching her walk away.

“She saw me starin’ at your tits,” he said between obnoxious bites. “If only she saw—“

Your eyes widened. “Do not finish that sentence.”

“Whatever you say, doll,” he teased before taking another bite.

You pretended to be grossed out by seeing the chewed-up food in his mouth as he spoke, swatting his hand gently. “You’re so gross.”

“You love me,” he quipped with a simper. He took a sip of his drink, humming at how refreshing it felt. “This is good,” he told you.

“Told ya.”

“What time are you out?”

You looked at the door when your manager came in, apologizing for taking longer than she expected.

“You’re fine, it’s a slow day,” you told her as she walked to her office. You looked at Joel and slammed your book and pen on the counter near the register. “I’m out now. Why?”

“Your dad asked me to pick you up.”

You felt a rush of worry. “Why? Is he okay?”

“Yeah, honey, everything’s fine. He forgot about pickin’ you up today and got drunk with his buddies and called me—well, he called Tommy. Said he wouldn’t be back home ‘til tomorrow.”

You raised an eyebrow at the mention of his brother’s name. “Oh? Well, why isn’t Tommy here?” You strutted around the counter and stood next to Joel as he inhaled the last of his food.

“Think you know why,” he grunted.

Anxiety pang inside of your chest, but you convinced yourself it was excitement. You were hoping that he wanted to get you alone somewhere and fuck you into the next week.

But you didn’t want to seem desperate. You kept a straight face, waiting for your boss to come back out before getting your things and punching out.

You followed Joel to his Chevy and thanked him when he opened the door for you. He huffed when by the time he got inside the car himself you were already flipping through his book of CDs.

“I got a good one in already—“

“Is it The Writing’s On the Wall by Destiny’s Child?” You interrupted after you found said CD.

“No, b—“

“Then it’s not what I want to listen to.”

Joel endured your (arguably bad) singing for the ten-minute ride back to your house. He thought about a few things in that ten minutes:

-Sarah wasn’t home, so he didn’t need to worry about food (or getting caught), so this time was optimal to make a move on you.

-If he were to make a move on you, then you two wouldn’t get caught.

-If he were to make a move on you, how exactly would he do it?

Once he arrived in his driveway, you both stepped out of the car and he walked over to your side.

“You not working tonight?” You asked.

“No, we finished early.”

You looked at him with lush eyes and bit the inside of your mouth, a flirty smile coaxing your lips. He looked hopeful for something, anything.

“I was just gonna watch TV all night,” you started, “and maybe make some dinner. I know you just ate, but you and Sarah are welcome to come over.”

“Sarah’s at a friend’s tonight, doing some studying,” he answered. His voice trailed off as if he weren’t finished speaking his thought aloud, but you picked up where he reluctantly left off.

“Do you want to come over, then? Just you?”

He looked around the quiet neighborhood as if he had to think about what he wanted. “Uh, yeah, sure.”

You lead him to your house, kicking your shoes off at the door and he followed. He felt unsure of his decision. He wondered if this night would play out platonically and just be filled with conversation and dinner, or if this was truly the beginning of a secret he’d have to keep forever.

“Spaghetti okay?” You asked him once you both entered the kitchen, decorated with oranges and reds, and yellows, reminiscent of your late mother. You tossed your half apron on the island before making your way to the refrigerator.

You heard his feet patter on the linoleum quickly but before you could turn around on your own Joel did it, pinning your back against the refrigerator and knocking down some of the bottles inside of it.

You gasped when his fingers peacock over the outsides of your thighs, gripping at the hem as a means to pace himself.

His eyes were bright yet lustful as his proximity alone sucked the air out of your lungs. Your chests heaving against each other’s created the only other physical contact you had with him.

He then dropped to his knees before you got the chance to speak; his calloused hands rose beneath your skirt, hiking it up enough for him to pull your wet panties down to your ankles. You stepped out of them for him and he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder before meeting his mouth to your clit tongue first.

You moaned at how he just dove into it, not bothering with kissing or easing you into it. Your digits laced through his messy curls while his tongue coated itself in your juices.

His tongue did crazy laps around your clit and he smacked a couple of firm kisses in between his licks. You tried to watch his work but your stupid fucking skirt was in the way. You settled, however when his eyes opened, the only visible part of him from your view.

You tasted so good to him, he tasted your day of work mixed in with your salty precum and he couldn’t get enough of it. He moaned when you tugged at his hair, burying his face as deep as he could and closing his eyes.

You let out a stream of obscenities while using your calf to push into his back, afraid that if you didn’t hold on tight enough he’d vanish.

He wrote out his full name over your clit like he was casting a spell that anything you or someone else touched you there you would only think about him.

You were amazed at how good he was eating you out — you didn’t think he’d be bad. You just didn’t know it could feel this good. It was like you felt him touching and kissing and licking all over your body, swimming in an endless pool of dissolution.

His touch was decadent through remembering how careful you were with yourself. He wanted to cater to you and to make you feel as good as you made yourself. And on top of that, he just really wanted to eat your pussy.

Savor it.

Taste it.

Drink you until you fucking ran dry and begged him to stop.

Nothing could have torn his lips away from your pussy. Hell, someone could have walked in and he’d still keep going.

“Joel,” you gasped, throwing your head back and grinding on his face.

He loudly moaned, tightening his grip around your thighs and wagging his head furiously from side to side to provide more stimulation.

Your hips bucked into his face roughly and you screeched, pulling even tighter on his hair.

“Joel, oh—fu-fuck!”

He smirked and pulled at the skirt to unveil his eyes again. His dick angered in his jeans, but he ignored it. He’d much rather focus on the way you writhed from his touch. Your panting growing heavier fueled his already intense movements. He began to suck while still shaking his head earning another screech from you.

You never felt out of control with how loud you were before. Every motion sent a million shockwaves throughout your body. You always did a good job at keeping quiet enough so that the neighbors wouldn’t hear, but fucking hell was Joel the one to break that evergreen streak.

You felt his hot breath collide with the fluids coating your sex and his nails leave indents on your flesh.

His tongue darted out to collect a stream of your cum, but his nose butted against your clit as he continued shaking his head making your hips buck once more. Then he realized… He got to stimulate your sensitive bud and lick between your folds.

He loved it.

Your moans became more distressed and uneven; he felt you chasing that high. He wanted you to cum so fucking badly. To let all of your pent-up cum pour over him.

You held the back of his head gently and he angled it just right enough for you to ride his face.

“Use my fucking face,” he moaned loud enough between your legs for you to hear. “Use my fucking face to cum.”

Your body gave in finally at his hoarse voice; your hops sped up, still using his nose and lips to overstimulate yourself. The orgasm was forceful, your moans strident.

Joel felt a pool of your cum leak out and drip down his chin onto his neck. He watched you crumble and curl into him and he was attentive enough to hold you steady while your balance dissipated.

Your head was dizzy and your vision blurred. You slowly halted your movements and just stood there being held by him while he placed light, but loving kisses along your dripping cunt.

He finally pulled his face out from underneath your skirt and carefully put your leg down before standing. He tucked some loose hairs back or behind your ears, then caressed your cheek and gave you a peck.

You wiped some of your cum off of his wet chin with your thumb and held it up to his mouth which he gladly sucked on. He grinned at you afterward and fixed your skirt for you.

The silence was soothing because frankly, neither of you knew what to say. It left you speechless, but that could just be the aftereffect of your climax.

The night was beginning to close in sooner than either of you wanted it to. You two just talked, truly catching up on the past four years. He was a lot funnier than you remembered, your cheeks were aching from how much he was making you laugh.

"You are a real gentleman, Joel Miller. What can I say? Dinner and an orgasm?!"

He lifted you up from your spot on the couch and pulled you into his lap so that you were straddling him. "I don't have to be," he murmured against your lips. His fingers flexed into your feverish skin, holding you upright and close by. He chased you with his lips until you finally let him kiss you. "Be honest with me... Did you really think I was handsome in high school?"

Your face grew warm and you hid behind your hands in embarrassment. "Oh, my God."

"Why are you actin' all shy now?"

"Because you weren’t supposed to know about that."

"Know about what exactly?"

You crossed your arms, deciding to let him win this time. "You want details?"

He smirked and leaned back to get more comfortable.

"Well... I used to lie and tell my friends that we fucked," you admitted.

"Really?" Despite his surprise the smirk never left his face. If anything it grew wider.

You sheepishly nodded. "I used to tell them how good you were. Everything you would do to me."

"What would I do to you?" His cock was already throbbing against his jeans, and just like every other time, he ignored it.

"You would fuck me up against the wall," you explained. "Sometimes, you would bend me over the edge of the bed and spank me for being naughty. Or just 'cause you felt like it. I'd even tell them about how you played with my ass so gently because you didn't want to hurt me."

Every word went straight to his dick, making it jerk and prod your thigh.

"Maybe I do need to bend you over and spank you for all that lyin' you were doin'. Your friends probably think I'm some creep now," he said; his tone wasn’t scolding or cold. He sounded thirsty for more of you. Like his throat had already run dry despite how much of you he drank earlier.

"I'd tell them the truth, but if I were to do that now then I'd be lying again," you whispered against his lips.

"We certainly cannot have you spreadin' no more dirty lies, now. Can we?"

-

Read Part 2 here.

[lavenderspence]

A runaway kitten | A.H.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Content warning: fluff, cuteness overload to be honest. 

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: A troublesome kitten prompts quite the meet-cute

Request: May I please request a meet cute with Hotch? Maybe they become new neighbours or reader has a child jacks age and they meet like that? I honestly don’t mind I just love the cuteness that comes from first interactions 😫💛

A/N: for once, I'm not really sure what to say...except, I forgot this blog's three-month anniversary, so...happy over 3 months? writing's been a bit hard recently, but I do hope it's going to get easier. enjoyy

Request are closed! | masterlist

“Olive?” You called out, setting his water bowl down. You clicked your tongue a few times, hoping he’d come out of hiding to drink some water, or at the very least, show you he was slowly acclimating to the new space. 

Olive was your very pretentious, borderline-dramatic, six-month-old kitten. You’d found him near your old apartment building 3 months ago, cowering in fear and shivering because of the rain.

One look at him, and you knew, this little fella was your new roommate and cuddle buddy. You’d brought him inside, bathed, fed him and the rest was history. 

But Olive did have a flair for the dramatic, at least that had been the case for the last three and a half weeks, ever since you’d moved into your new apartment. 

The moment you’d opened his pet carrier after moving in, giving him a chance to look around and get familiar with the space, he’d turned his small head around a few times, hissed, and walked back into the carrier. 

He’d spent most of his time inside, venturing out for only a few minutes to investigate the space, and then making it inside again. He did slip into your bed every night but still refused to explore the space or get used to it.

He started looking around more the last few days, sometimes spending some time in your closet or at the back of the couch, but that was about it. 

“Olive?” You looked around. He might hate the space, but he always showed up when you called for him. No meows, no movement, and no kitten in sight made you worry a bit. You checked the places he usually visited, if for a little while, and then you checked everywhere else just in case. 

No sight on him, not a peep anywhere. And that’s when you saw it - your bedroom window was open. You ran towards it, head ducking outside to check. You looked around frantically, looking for any sight of him, and finding none. 

But there was a small ledge outside the window, running around the whole building, and any neighboring windows. It was a big enough ledge for Olive to walk across and make it to your neighbors’ apartments. 

You closed the window and ran towards your front door, straight to apartment 123. The lady who lived there always greeted you with a smile, and this time was much the same. But a frown, and a sad one at that made its’ way onto her face when you told her about Olive, and she replied with a shake of her head. 

Olive hadn’t made it to her apartment, all her windows were closed. 

You made your way to apartment 121 and knocked on the door. Your heart was pounding, worry overtaking your senses. Thoughts, about whether he’d made it to apartment 121, or if he’d fallen down. Thoughts about him missing and you trying to find him and failing. 

Deep in thought, you didn’t hear the lock click, or even the door getting opened, until a man stood in front of you.

He was handsome - black hair sprinkled with a touch of grey, chocolate brown eyes. Dressed in jeans and a fitted polo shirt, his hair was messed up like he hadn’t expected any company. He was fit, not overly so, and his posture was a little guarded. 

You remember seeing him, once or twice just in passing, but he hadn’t been dressed that casually. No, he’d been sporting formal attire - a suit and tie, dress shirt, and slacks. You’d barely glanced at each other then, but now standing at his door, you could fully take him in.

You watched him arch a brow, waiting for you to speak up. You shook your head the tiniest bit. 

“Hi.” You started with a small voice and equally a small smile on your face. 

“Hello.” His mouth barely moved, but you caught the small lift of his lips.

“I know this is going to sound very strange. Do you, by any chance, have a grey kitten that showed up out of nowhere, possibly getting in using any of your windows?” You were fidgeting, picking at your cuticles as you waited for his reply.

He relaxed a little, an actual smile making way for a row of white teeth, and the most adorable dimples you’d seen. He chuckled. “Well, I may have an even stranger answer for you. Why don’t you come in?” He moved aside and pulled the door open. 

Upon walking in, you took in the place. It was tidy, with minimal decoration, but also full of personal touches. Throw pillows and a blanket over the couch, pictures on the walls, and photos neatly arranged on the bookshelves. A blond woman, beautiful, smiled in one, her eyes striking. 

A photo of a small, adorable boy, no more than three, holding a small plush koala decorated another shelf. A small carbon copy of the woman. 

A chest of toys sat close to the bookshelf, and a lone toy truck was on the coffee table. 

“Sorry about the mess.” There was no real mess, to begin with, just a laundry basket full of clothes waiting to be folded and put in their rightful places. “This way, please.” He led you towards the back of the apartment, his strides small. 

The hallway was well-lit. A child's drawings were framed and put up, making the space homey. 

You made it to a half-opened door, “Jack, buddy?” Your neighbor called out, pushing the door open. On the floor next to the bed sat the same, cute boy from the picture in the living room, and close to him, lying on his back, paws in the air, was Olive. 

“Oh, Jesus.” You laid a hand over your heart, willing your heartbeat to slow. The little troublemaker was okay. 

“Who’s this daddy?” The boy, Jack, asked as he reached to pet Olive’s tummy gently. 

The man turned towards you, opening his mouth, but you beat him to it, “Hi, I’m Y/N, your neighbor. And this bad boy you have there is Olive.” You missed the soft look the man gave you when you introduced yourself to his son.

“Oh, he’s yours?”

“Yes, this little devil is indeed mine.” You shook your head with a chuckle.

“Why did he walk through the window then?” He asked, expression earnest and sweet. This might just be one of the cutest kids you’ve ever seen. 

“Jack!” The man, whose name you had yet to learn, crossed his arms and shook his head, sending you an amused look.

“Well, I left the window open, and he’d been very vocal about not liking the new apartment much, so he decided to go on an adventure.” You kneeled, getting to his level where he still sat on the ground. 

He looked like he was thinking for a second before he smiled, “He’s been liking my room, maybe he should stay here?”

A choked laugh fell from the brunette behind you, “Jack, no. You can’t say stuff like that.” 

“It’s okay.” And it really was, because Olive was still flat on his back, looking at you in boredom. 

“Worth a try.” He grinned back at you, one of his front teeth missing. You laughed in earnest, overcome by his cuteness.

“We better get going, we’ve taken enough of your time…” You trailed off. 

“Aaron.” He reached his hand forward, offering it for a handshake. 

You accepted his handshake with a timid lift of your lips, watching as his big fingers enveloped your smaller hand. You swore a small spark went through you at the contact - the feel of his skin on your own. Like a zap, an electric current - even your heart skipped a beat. 

There was something about his touch, maybe him as a whole, that you reacted to. A nice reaction. 

“Nice to meet you, Aaron.” You said, repeating your name to him too. 

His eyes shined just a tiny bit in wonder, he wanted to know more about you, to get to know you. As his new neighbor, he hadn’t paid you much attention, any at all. But now? Stood in his son’s bedroom, in search of a troublesome kitten and speaking softly to Jack as if he was the most precious thing ever? He felt a small piece of his heart crack, making space for a new person to enter - a new person to get to know better. 

You clicked your tongue, calling for the kitten again. He turned on all fours, looking bored, and started walking towards you. 

Just when he was mere centimeters from you, he stretched, his whole body shaking. Aaron expected the grey creature to walk up to you, but instead, it stopped at his feet and stretched again.

This time it stretched up his leg, his small eyes widening in plea.

You laughed, and Jack’s small giggle followed. 

“Well, maybe Olive does like it here.”

“Maybe he does,” Aaron added, looking at you. Your kitten may have liked his apartment, but Aaron liked seeing you both in it just as much.

comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[sugdenlovesdingle]

a little Tommy & Chim bffs for @rileychester

----

"Her ladyship requests, no demands, uncle Buck reading her a story before bed instead of her own mother." Maddie said, walking back into the livingroom after having gone to put Jee to bed half an hour ago.

"What can I say, it's not easy being this popular." Buck joked and extracted himself from where he'd been happily tucked under Tommy's arm on Maddie and Chimney's way too comfortable sofa. He quickly kissed Tommy, murmured something about being right back, and followed Maddie up to Jee's room.

Tommy watched him until he was out of the room and then turned back to Chim who was laughing at him.

"Damn Kinard you've got it bad."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Tommy said, trying to act somewhat cool and hide his reddening cheeks behind his wine glass.

"Yeah I'm sure you don't." Chim took a sip of his own drink. "I mean I love Maddie more than anything in the world, but I don't kiss her goodbye when she leaves the room."

"Well maybe you should start." Tommy told him. If he was getting called out, he might as well own it. "It's working pretty well for us."

"She'd probably think I was going crazy and call Hen to come check me over. Who would then also ask me if I'd lost my mind." He said and they both laughed. "But it's good to see you so happy, man. Both of you. Even if I never in a million years would have guessed that you two would end up together."

"Me neither really." Tommy admitted. "I actually almost let your call go to voicemail that night. My shift was almost over and there was bad weather coming in... I just wanted to go home and catch up on some sleep."

"And there was me asking you to steal a helicopter because of a hunch. I'm sure Bobby is still very grateful you didn't ignore me." Chim said and raised his glass at him. "To team who cares!"

Tommy clinked his glass against Chim's.

"Bobby isn't the only one who's grateful. If I hadn't answered that call, i would have missed out on the greatest thing that ever happened to me. i wouldn't have met the love of my life. I wouldn't be here now. I might have downloaded that dating app again that I'd deleted off my phone a few days before or taken Lucy up on her offer to set me up with her friend." Tommy shook his head. "I'm just glad I did answer. it definitely changed my life for the better."

"You're getting sappy in your old age, Kinard." Chimney teased. "When is the wedding? Do I have time to buy a hat?" he joked, expecting Tommy to laugh with him. Only when he didn't say anything Chim really looked at him. "What? Tell me you didn't..."

"I asked Evan to marry me last night." Tommy told him after a beat. "He said yes."

Chimney blinked a few times to process the information.

"Of course he said yes! He's just as crazy about you as you are about him." he got up to hug his friend. "Welcome to the family, man. We'll officially be brothers."

Tommy smiled and finished the last of his wine.

"There is one thing I wanted to talk to you about though..."

"Shoot."

"When Evan and I get married... will you be my best man?"

"It would be the greatest honour of my life."

---

Send me a prompt and I'll write you a ficlet!

[bunny-1111]

Blow out your candles - Theo Nott x reader

Description: you hate your birthday, your boyfriend Theodore tries to make it the best day for you, but only makes it worse, until...

Word Count: 1.1k

Fluff/Angst

Likes, comments + reblogs appreciated my loves xx

...

"One more sleep" Theo jestered, throwing an arm around you in the busy hallways of the Hogwarts morning traffic.

"Don't remind me" you muttered, wanting to hide in his chest

"Wait till you see what I got you" he teased, a smirk growing as he watched you

"Hey! I told you nothing, not fair!" you whined

"I can't wait, you're gonna love it, and you're gonna love your birthday baby" a cheshire grin painting his face

"I can wait" you say rolling your eyes, before the conversation could continue he pecked a kiss on your lips, before running off to class.

Now stuck walking by yourself, alone with your thoughts, you were becoming overwhelmed, since you were a child you despised your birthday.

With your parents always away, you spent most of your milestones alone, from as young as four years old, it was your Grandmother that would keep you celebrated, taking the morning to gather and make flower crowns, then spend the rest of the day wearing them. When she died, so did your birthday as far as you were concerned.

As time passed, you grew in age and in contentment. You now preferred your birthday to just pass as any other would, that's how it was supposed to be this year as well, until Pansy opened her stupid mouth a month ago, reminding everyone you would be eighteen soon.

Theodore reminded you everyday since then, he was basically a human countdown for your least favourite day of the year.

Now less than twenty-four hours away, you couldn't bare the thought.

Now, the night before the dreaded day, you hoped, by some miracle, Theodore would fall, hit his head, and forget.

That did not happen, the sun blared into your eyes as your boyfriend ripped open your blinds early birthday morning

"Wake up birthday girl!" he practically yelled

"No" you groaned sinking into your pillows, you hands throwing your blanket over you head, make this go away you thought

Theodore tore your blankets off you, and jumped onto you and began blabbering about the plans of the day, he was so happy your birthday fell on a Saturday, you hated it, if you had class you could avoid all of this.

He moved you to sit upright, and continued talking about a day full of surprises

"I hate surprises" you complain

"Well you love me, so you'll like these ones" he returned, gently caressing your face with his warm hands

"Why can't we just sleep the day away in my bed, that's what I want" you said

"Tough luck, sweetheart, let's go" he smiled prompting you up

In the great hall, your friends waited for you, smiles one their faces, waiting to welcome you. Theodore insisted they go around and give you their presents one by one, followed by stating all the things they love about you.

It was embarrassing to say the least, you felt so out of body.

As the hours passed, Theodore did not talk about anything else, reminded everyone, it was getting progressively unbearable. It never ended, he had something or someone waiting for you everywhere you turned.

You knew how much he cared, how hard he was trying, you loved him, and hated yourself for being so displeased at his actions.

By nighttime, you were counting down the hours till the days end, you entered the common room, a chalkboard centring the space, a big 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY' written for everyone to see.

You and your friends sat on the couch, when Theo entered, cake in hand, candles lit, your friends began to sing and clap. One final protest.

No, no, no.

You told him so clearly, no cake, and absolutely no singing. Spare me some fucking dignity you wanted to scream

He just didn't listen, placing the cake close to you, waiting for you to blow out your candles.

You threw your head back, tears stinging your eyes, breath, you reminded yourself. When breathing wasn't working you choose to get up and storm to your dorm, hot, frustrated tears flooding your face.

You ran into bed, and continued crying, perfect, you thought, this is what you wanted, right? To push Theo away, to be alone, to feel like shit, to act like shit, congratulations, you're officially a year older and officially a shitty person.

When time passed, there was only 15 minutes left, a knock on your door.

"Please don't come in" you begged

He of course didn't listen, twisting the doorknob, opening and closing the door behind himself.

Theo carefully approached you

"I'm sorry" he almost whispered rubbing your back, meeting each others sad eyes.

"No, I'm sorry" you sigh

"Can I give you your present?" he asked so politely

you nodded, inhaling a sniffle.

"Close your eyes" he requested, you did

You could hear him reached into his pocket, and place something on your head, reaching up to feel what it was, your heart dropped, immediately opening your eyes, head clocking to your mirror, to be met with a flower crown decorating your hair.

You gasped, turned to him and threw yourself into a hug, he held you tight as you cried "How did you know" you enquired

"I wrote your mother" he shrugged, attempting a smile

"One more thing" he continued, handing you a letter

"What's this?" you questioned

"Trust me, darling, just read it" He said, kissing your forehead.

Birthday Girl. Read the front, opening the parchment you almost choked when you recognised the handwriting, it was from your grandmother.

Hi sweet girl,

I will be long gone by the time you read this, but did you really think I wouldn't be there in some way on your 18th birthday.

I love you endlessly, I am picking flowers for you above, stay gentle, regardless of what this world throws at you, and remember the times in the fields, crafting our crowns, baking your cake, laughing, smiling, don't lose any petals without me!

The things I would do to spend just one more birthday with you, child.

Think of me always, as I do, you.

Love you, my flower girl.

-Grammy

You almost dropped it in shock, eyes rescanning, rereading a hundred times

"i- How" you stuttered out

"You mother saved it, she wasn't going to send it, so I went and got it for you myself" he admitted

"You did this for me" You cried

"I love you" he hushed

"I love you so much" you returned, pulling him into your bed.

Before you both drifted to sleep, you faced him, "Best birthday ever" you whispered, kissing you, he grinned

"I'm so sorry teddy" you repeat

"Enough of that, alright, I know it's hard" he sympathised

"You've changed everything for me, I think I love my birthday again, thank you my darling boy" you cry happy tears

He held you tighter.

As you sleep your birthday off, the smile on your face doesn't leave you.

requests are open <3

[housetargaryenloyalist]

Oh So Sweet

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Summary: Although married off at age three and ten and sent away from Kings Landing, you never forgot your first love.

Word count: 2.7K

Content warnings: Bad parenting? Some self doubt and sadness, and also fluffy flufness.

Little author's note/disclaimer: (feel free to skip this)

I haven't written anything properly in years, which means I am very very very rusty. I essentially wrote this as bit of challenge to myself and I know it is not my greatest work, but I'm still proud of it.

So I hope you will like this! Feedback is welcomed and very appreciated <3

Happy reading!

Six years, that is how long you had been gone from King’s Landing and now you were back to celebrate Jacaerys Velaryon’s 20th name day. You had come as a representative from your husband’s house. He was currently indisposed due to some nasty fever and was too unwell to make the journey, and although you wouldn't admit it aloud you were all too happy to journey alone. Eager to see the man again whom you had loved since childhood.

Your husband was an insufferable swine four times your senior who had essentially trapped you in his estate after your marriage. Not allowing you to leave unless he were to breathe down your neck, it infuriated you.

However this specific name day celebration invitation had urged you specifically to attend, therefore you could not refuse or you would risk the fury of the royal household. Their fury was not one you wished to invoke.

Although it had been six years it felt as though little had changed in the Red Keep, much still looked the same. The same Targaryen heraldry hung the walls and decorated the castle, reminding you with every step you took to whom this place belonged. In case you forgot the dragons screeches outside. Years ago your father had been a member of Viserys I’s small council and had taken your mother and you with him to reside in the Red Keep.

It had allowed you to grow up with the royal children, and in that time you had grown partially fascinated with the eldest son of princess Rhaenyra. You had grown so close to him, the both of you were practically inseparable. Close in age and proximity, it was no wonder you were such good friends. He would take you to see Vermax and promise to take you flying to wherever you wanted to go. Every time he would train, he wanted you there and every time he won, he wanted you to be the first to congratulate him. You told him legends and stories of heroes and warriors of old. 

On your tenth name day the two of you had snuck out of the party to the Godswood, it is there under the glowing moon you were discussing the future when Jacaerys had let something slip. “I want to marry you,” he had whispered in a soft voice, almost as if he hadn’t meant to speak it out loud. In response you took his hand in yours as you whispered back “I want that too.”

By the time you were three and ten your mother had discussed a potential engagement between your two houses with Rhaenyra, who hadn’t seemed opposed to it. However, this discussion between the two of them had angered your father. He didn’t want his only daughter to marry a, what in his eyes looked like, a “bastard”. It prompted him to marry you off as soon as possible.Not even two months later you were wed to some lord in the Reach far away from King's landing. It was a sad ceremony and it resulted in a sad marriage.

Early in the evening a knock at your door roused you from your sleep, the handmaidens from earlier had come back to help you get ready. They carried several boxes each revealing a different dress, in various different shades.

“What are these?” You asked as you examined the fabrics up close, they all looked to be of highest quality but you recognised none of them, they were not gowns you had taken with you.

“Courtesy from prince Jacaerys my lady,” one of the handmaidens replied, her answer leaving you shocked. Jacaerys bought you these gowns? Your heart fluttered at the thought and you couldn’t keep your smile at bay. You looked through the many options, there were dresses in shades of purple, pink, red, green.

There was even a gown in the signature black and red of the Targaryen’s, no doubt intentional from him. After a while you settled on one, the fabric feeling soft against your fingers and you had a feeling Jacaerys would be pleased with your choice.

“I choose this one.” You turned to your handmaidens, they nodded and helped you with undressing and then helped you put on the new gown. Afterwards you sat at your vanity as one of the handmaidens did your hair and the others put the other gowns back into their respective boxes. It didn’t take long before you were ready, your hair beautifully done and all the gowns put away, meaning it was now time to make your way to the throne room to join the others in the celebrations. 

The throne room looked amazing, there were tables laid out with food and wine, a large chandelier illuminating the room alongside the various candle holders. Nobles from all over Westeros were gathered here today and were mingling amongst each other. You hadn’t seen a scene so grand since the wedding of prince Aegon to princess Helaena, and even then it had not been so grand. Your arrival was announced by a courtier and as you descended the stairs you looked to the Iron throne.

Rhaenyra Targaryen sat on the throne looking as regal as you remembered her, on her left stood Alicent Hightower with her three children. You were slightly surprised the four of them attended the celebrations especially after the usurpation attempt. Although it was a short lived attempt it was still a shock for the entire realm and you were relieved to see that they all seemed to be on decent terms with each other.

King-consort Daemon stood on the right side of the queen alongside his two daughters and his two youngest stepsons. You almost didn’t recognize Joffrey, he had been so very young when you last saw him, too young for him to remember. With a pang to your heart you made your way to where they served wine and asked for a cup.

The servant handed you your cup and as you were taking your first sip the crow dispersed, the servant who had just a few moments ago announced your arrival now announced the arrival of the guest of honour. “Prince Jacaerys Velaryon of House Velaryon and House Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne.” Your eyes immediately darted up to where he stood and as you laid your eyes upon him, your breath left you. 

Jacaerys Velaryon stood in the entrance to the throne room dorning targaryen red and black, standing tall and proud. His brown curls framing his face and making him look all the more handsome. You watched him make his way through the crowd as applause followed, echoing in the large room. You felt your lungs constrict, he looked so handsome, he looked even better than how you had imagined him all these years.

It almost felt as though the Gods were taunting you. It felt unfair, so so unfair. You drank more of the wine, letting the alcohol flow through you in an effort to feel more at ease. However it had much the opposite effect.

The crown prince gave a short speech in which he thanked everyone for coming and wished everyone a pleasant evening. For a short moment you could have sworn your eyes locked but you could not be sure.

Soon the crowd made way for the crown prince and Baela Targaryen, who were going to be the first to dance as was custom. You knew it was illogical but a bitter part of you thought that it should have been you, you in his arms dancing and laughing. It should have been you standing by his side, touching his arm, caressing his face.

You drank more of your wine, before long your cup was empty and the dance had ended with applause from the attendees. The band started a new number as the prince and princess disappeared in the crowd, other dancers swarmed the floor and you felt it to be in your best interest to find some fresh air. No one was paying attention to you as you slipped through the doors, at least, that’s what you thought. 

There was a small balcony not far from the throne room, it overlooked the water and the crashing waves hid any sound from the party. You leaned against the rails as you tried to hold back tears. All these years being locked away in an estate of a man you didn’t love, with no one to keep you company.

Just for you to return to where you had longed to be and feel equally out of place. It hurt, it hurt a lot. The angry waves crashing against the shore mimicked your own frustration, you were so engrossed in watching the waves and their endless assault against the shore, you did not hear the footsteps approaching. 

“I hope you’re not planning on jumping.”

You turned around faster than light could reach earth, the voice sounded so familiar yet deeper and more mature. Your breath caught in your throat

“Jace?” You whispered to the man in front of you, convinced you were dreaming. He looked even more magnificent up close, full lips and strong brows and fair skin. Jacaerys smiled at you before stepping closer. “Yes Y/n,” his hand reached out to touch your cheek and you instinctively leaned into the touch, closing your eyes. “It’s me.”

His hand wiped away the tear that escaped your eye, and as you opened your eyes again he stood so much closer. “I missed you,” you spoke as he stepped closer. “I missed you too.” His arms encircled you and you were pulled in a strong embrace “I missed you so much.”

He buried his face in your hair as he cradled you against his frame. You stood there for a while, clinging to him as though he were to disappear if you let go. The waves continued to crash against the shore, the nobles continued dancing and the music kept playing, regardless of everything at that moment it felt as though time stood still, just for the two of you.

However, you knew this wasn’t appropriate. If anyone saw you two, it would damage both your reputations, yours more than his. You retreated your hand and put it on his chest, intent on pushing him away, although you knew it would be futile.

It was you who pulled away first, although you couldn't go far. Jacaerys’ training paid off because you could not escape his arms even if you had earnestly tried. You looked into his eyes, now it was your turn to cradle his face. He turned his face slightly sideways before planting a soft kiss to your palm, a content smile gracing his face.

“We can’t Jace.” His eyes opened as pressed you closer to him. “Why not?” “It’s improper.” He laughed in response. “Why?” You slapped his chest softly  in jest, and looked at him. “Because I’m married, Jace, so we really really shouldn’t continue.” Instead of pulling away as well, he cupped your face and lowered his own face so he could look deep into your eyes.

 “I don’t care,” was all he said before his lips met yours. It felt odd to be finally kissing the man you had pined after for so long, it felt like a gift from the heavens, and it was gift you were going to cherish forevermore.

He left your lips briefly to whisper something only for you to hear, “I love you.” Before you could respond, his lips went back to yours and his hands cradled your face to prevent you from leaving. The kiss was sweet, sweeter than anything on this earth. Sweeter than the cakes in the banquet hall, sweeter than any fruit you had ever tasted. It was so sweet, you knew you would be addicted before long.

His hands left your face and travelled down to your back, pulling you closer to him. The kiss felt heavenly, his lips soft against your own, it was like life was brought back into you. You kissed back with vigour, your hands reaching for his neck where they crossed over one another.

Jace was quick to deepen the kiss, tugging you closer to him as if he was planning on devouring you. Your heart was racing a mile per minute, and you couldn’t help but let your hands travel. On instinct they found their way into his soft, brown curls. A soft moan escaped him as you lightly tugged on the curls, at this you smiled. In response Jace gathered your skirts and hoisted you up so you were seated on the balcony, your legs crossed behind his back on instinct. His hands travelled up and down your sides, almost tugging at the fabric so hard it would rip.

You pushed against his chest when it felt as though you were going to pass out, you needed to breathe as did he. He parted to let you breathe, and he let his head fall to your forehead. A bright smile on his face as his chest fell up and down in quick succession, mirroring your own. It was he who broke the silence between the two of you after a few moments. 

“Never leave again,” he whispered as he started trailing kisses from your cheeks to your neck, and as you opened your mouth to reply, he sucked on a specifically sensitive spot on your neck. A moan escaped your lips as a result and you could feel his smile widen against your skin. You giggled softly, “I won’t.”

He continued to lavish your neck with kisses as he did so, you could hear loud footsteps approaching, and a variety voices talking over one another. If they passed by and saw you in this position with the heir to the throne, you didn’t want to think about what was to ensue. 

“Jace-” your hands tugged on his hair, which resulted in a gorgeous moan escaping his beautiful lips -” Jace, we should stop,” you said, hand caressing the curls you had tugged on. He grumbled before raising his head, and you let your hands fall to his shoulders. “Why do you want to stop,” he asked, “did I do something wrong?”

You shook your head, “We’re too exposed, anyone could walk in on us.” You glanced to the hallway and now it seemed that Jacaerys heard the same voices that you had heard moments prior, however now they were growing ever closer. He helped you down from your position and straightened his tunic.

“We should continue this elsewhere.” At this you let out a giggle, “bold of you to assume we will continue.” The puppy eyes he threw at you in response were enough to make almost any person swoon and fall for his ploy, but you needed to remain strong. “Jace I’m serious, I am married, continuing this would be most unwise.”

He took your hand in his, and looked you in the eyes, “I promise you this." His thumb stroked over your knuckles as he continued, "I will have your marriage annulled. I will beg my mother to do it and then-” he placed your hands on his chest, ”then we can marry, as was always the plan.” You smiled at him and softly caressed his chest. “I would like that.”

The voices in the distance disappeared and emboldened you to give him a small peck. “I should return to my room now.” He nodded in return, “I shall escort you.” You shook your head with a smile. “You should entertain your guests. They will wonder where you are.” He sighed, because he knew you were right. “Very well then. I shall see you on the morrow.” You smiled and nodded before departing to your chambers.

Once at your chambers you noticed something sitting on your vanity, a small raven scroll. Upon closer inspection it appeared the letter was sealed with the crest of your husband’s house. You opened the scroll and dropped it as soon as you read its content. You followed to scroll in its descent on the floor, shocked breaths falling from your lips. The content from the scroll laid bare for all to see. 

Dear lady Y/n

It is with great sadness that we inform you that your husband has succumbed to his fever, passing away in the late hours of yesterday eve. We pray for you well being and eagerly await your return.

With regards

Maester Tansen

[russo-woso]

Meeting | Leah Williamson x reader

Request | Masterlist | Prompt list

Part of the mini Williamson universe.

Summary Little Miss finally gets to meet Leah’s teammates.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“I knew this would happen.” Leah sighed dramatically after coming back from training, flopping onto the sofa next to you.

“Knew what would happen?” You asked, resting a hand on her knee and rubbing it gently.

“The girls want to meet little Miss. She’s still too young. I don’t want them spreading their germs.” Leah sighed once more, rubbing her temple with her fingers.

“Le, Charlie’s three and a half weeks old. She’s fine to meet them.” You told her, letting out a small laugh as Leah sighed for the third time.

“Yeah but Kyra’s gonna put her grubby fingers all over her.”

“They’ll wash their hands before holding her.” You said, trying to calm Leah down by rubbing her arm as well.

“I’ll make them triple wash their hands.” Leah added

“Okay, baby.” You laughed, gently placing your lips on Leah’s cheek.

Before you could make contact with her cheek, she’d turned her head and your lips landed on hers.

Not even a second later, cries from Charlie’s Moses basket were heard.

“Hi, bubba.” Leah cooed, picking her up and resting her on her chest. “Are you hungry? Come on then. Let’s take you to mama.”

“Hi, little miss.” You smiled, latching Charlie on.

“Where’s my other bubba?” Leah asked, looking round for Ami with a confused look on her face.

“I put her down half an hour ago.” You explained. “Back to the girls meeting Charlie, did you say yes?”

You watched as Leah’s face scrunched up in panic once you brought up the subject again.

“Leah, what did you do?”

“I said yes. And they’re due round in 20 minutes.” Leah mumbled, her words being barely audible.

“Leah, you’re so stupid! The place is a tip. I look terrible…” you began but Leah cut you off.

“It’s fine, baby. The girls don’t care. They understand that we’ve just had a baby. I promised they don’t care.” Leah explained and you nodded calmly.

“Which girls are coming?”

“All of them.” Leah said, again, it being barely a whisper.

“Oh my god.” You sighed, resting your head on your hand.

—

Exactly twenty minutes later, a knock was heard on the door.

At this point, Leah now had Charlie asleep in her arms so you got up to answer the door.

You opened it, thinking it would be a few girls to start with but when you did open the door, the whole team was looking back at you.

They all bombarded you with hugs and congratulations before walking inside.

“Please be quiet, the girls are asleep.” You warned them, knowing how pissed off Leah would get if they woke Charlie and Ami up.

You closed the door whilst all the girls were awing at Charlie.

Just as you were closing the door, another knock was heard.

“Trust you to be late, clumsy.” You told Alessia, hugging her.

“I’m sorry, it’s not my fault there was a crash on the way here.” Alessia said, shrugging.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it was your fault with your driving.” You muttered, still loud enough for her to hear.

“Hey! Now, where’s my nieces?”

“Ami’s fast asleep upstairs and I think you’re going to have to fight everyone else to get Charlie.” You explained, pointing to the herd of teammates in your living room.

When you walked in, Leah was instructing them to triple wash their hands.

One by one, they went to wash their hands, waiting in line to hold Charlie.

“Does anyone not know how to hold a—” Leah began but you cut her off.

“—Le, I think they know how to hold a baby. They’re not five.”

“Fine. Who wants to hold her first?” Leah asked and they all put their hands up.

“Oldest to youngest?” You suggested as they all nodded.

“Finally. My age can do something good.” Kim joked, getting herself ready to hold Charlie.

Leah walked over and rested her in Kim’s arms, quickly taking a photo on her phone.

One by one, they are held the newest member of the team.

About half way through, small footsteps were heard coming down the stairs.

“Hi, bubba.” You said, greeting a very sleepy looking Ami.

Amelia looked shocked as she saw all her aunties in the room.

“Auntie lessi?” Ami asked, searching the room for Alessia.

“I’m here, bug.” Alessia said, using the nickname which was supposedly an inside joke between them.

“She doesn’t want us anymore.” Leah mumbled quietly to you, pouting.

Just as you went to respond, Charlie let out a loud cry.

Leah jumped up in a flash, taking Charlie from Lotte.

“Hi, bubba. I know, it’s scary meeting new people, isn’t it? Mummy’s got you though.” Leah whispered, calming Charlie down.

Leah then sat down with a sleeping Charlie in her arms.

“Do I still get a cuddle? I’ve got loads of pranks to teach her about.” Kyra said with a cheeky grin.

“Ky, sorry to break it to you, but she’s not even a month old.”

“So?”

[mystic-writings]

ink on skin | daryl dixon

PAIRING — daryl dixon x fem!soulmate!reader

REQUEST — anon — hello! could you do an angsty story with daryl dixon? fem reader please <3 

SUMMARY — daryl gave up on the concept of soulmates long ago, even with the words marked on his wrist. and then he found you.

WARNINGS — canon-typical scenarios, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, soulmate au

WORD COUNT — 3,573

NOTES — this was supposed to be part of a really long collection of prompt drabbles from years ago but i found it in my docs and turned it into something a lot longer <3 it’s not the best (i couldn't for the life of me work out a good ending), but i think this might be one of my faves i’ve written bc of how poetic the first few paragraphs are 

masterlist | navigation | requests are open!

Daryl gave up on the concept of soulmates long before the world ended. He gave up on it when he was just a boy, when his mother died and his father stopped showing love. When he was told by his peers, his brother, his father, that no one would ever want him to stay with them, because he just wouldn’t be wanted by anyone. 

He grew to loathe the words on his wrist from a very young age. He did everything he could to cover them — makeup he stole from his aunt, long-sleeved shirts, bracelets, you name it. He’d even gotten used to not glancing at the ink scribed on his left wrist, making sure that no matter what, his eyes never fell on them. 

But even when he hated the words that sat there, waiting to be spoken by someone who cared, someone who wanted him, he couldn’t deny the countless nights he spent awake, tracing each letter and imagining what his soulmate’s voice sounded like. How would they say those three little words? What would they look like? When would he meet them? 

Daryl missed the feeling of being wanted. He only ever felt it when he was with his mother, when he was a young boy who didn’t know anything but that the sky was blue and soulmates were real and his father was mean. He hasn’t felt wanted — truly wanted — for a long, long time, not even when he found the group. 

Over time, with the loathing came the forgetting of the words marked on his wrist. By the time the world ended, Daryl had almost completely abandoned the reality of having a soulmate, and he rarely ever thought about it. In fact, he felt some relief in the fact that the world had ended. The chances of him finding ‘the one’ had lowered significantly now that most of the population was undead, and he had no reason to worry about being better for someone just to make it seem like he was worth loving anymore. 

For almost three years, he lived with the relief of likely not having a soulmate anymore. 

Today was an ordinary day, especially for the Alexandrians. At least, it seemed like an ordinary day. The sun was shining, people were milling around, crops were growing. But underneath the surface was something that no one wanted to address. Fear. 

Negan was beginning his wrath on the community that could barely keep itself alive. He demanded supplies, and he demanded a lot of them. So, half of Daryl’s people had gone out on runs to look for stuff. Food, clothes, medicine, whatever they could bring back. Daryl was among that group, taking a car as opposed to his motorbike and going to a high school with Carol.

At first, he volunteered to go alone, but she reasoned with him. It was too big of an area for him to cover on his own, she said. He could get hurt, or worse. And it was Carol, how could he deny her? She was his best friend, after all. So, Daryl drove in silence, Carol in the passenger seat, staring curiously at him. 

The feeling of her eyes on his annoyed him to no end, and eventually, the archer caved. 

“There somethin’ on my face or wha’?”

“Nothing,” Carol chirped. “Just… thinking.” 

“‘Bout wha’?” Daryl asked, sparing a glance at the woman. 

Carol shrugged, eyeing her friend. “About those words, on your arm.” 

Daryl tensed, shifting his posture to hopefully hide them from Carol’s view. “And?”

“Well, they’re not gone, for one.” She stated, a lilt in her voice. “And they’re… interesting first words for a soulmate, don’t you think?”

“How am I supposed ta know? I ain’t never seen anyone else’s tattoos. And it ain’t like I got a good chance of meetin’ ‘em, with all this shit goin’ on.” Daryl grumbled, watching Carol shrug and avert her gaze, looking ahead at the road. 

“Just saying… I wouldn’t give up hope, Daryl.” 

How would Carol know whether or not he should give up hope? Sure, she’d been the person closest to him aside from Rick, but even she knew nothing about his soulmate. Hell, he was still trying to figure out how she knew exactly what words marked his wrist. Still, he shook the thoughts from his head and continued the drive in silence, as though nothing had been spoken between the pair. 

Somehow, the high school Daryl and Carol had arrived at seemed to be completely abandoned. 

There were no walkers roaming around outside the grounds, most of the windows were intact, and the parking lot was practically void of cars. It was a small town, but from what Daryl could remember of the high schools they’d driven past or looted during their time at the prison, he figured most high schools in small towns — like this one, in particular — would’ve been turned into aid camps for refugees. 

Even with no signs of life, Carol and Daryl kept their weapons up as they entered through the main doors. 

Flashlight beams swept over every inch of the school, and it became clear as to why there were no walkers. Rotting bodies littered the linoleum floors, dried blood splattered over tile and wall and metal lockers. A stench that the pair had, unfortunately, gotten used to, permeated the air, filling their guts with a permanent feeling of nausea. 

The first place they’d found was the nurse’s office, and while there wasn’t much in the way of medicines, there were supplies that Alexandria was lacking. Gauze, tension wraps, bandaids, generic over the counter medicines like ibuprofen and Gravol. Whatever was left, Carol loaded into the backpack she’d brought, filling it to the brim with what they found. 

“Cafeteria should be this way,” she nodded down the hall, flashlight sweeping across the path before they exited. 

Passing by empty classroom after empty classroom, Daryl said, “Migh’ need some of this stuff for later, when the kids get older, ya know? Be good for ‘em to learn.” 

“Yeah, it would be,” Carol nodded, eyes landing on a set of double doors to her right. “Maybe we’ll come back for all that stuff later.” 

Daryl grunted in affirmation, about to push the cafeteria door open with his shoulder. He paused as a loud thump echoed down the hall. His eyes flashed, followed by the beam of his flashlight, landing on a singular closed door, a plastic chair propped under the handle. 

“Leave it,” Carol advised. “It’s just a walker.” 

Daryl nodded, but his eyes lingered on the door for a moment. Deciding to leave it be, he pushed the cafeteria door open, finding it empty yet again. The pair crossed the large area to the hot table, where they could already see some canned goods lying about on the tables. 

“If there were people here,” Carol began, “why wouldn’t they have taken the food with them when they left?”

“Why’s that matter?” Daryl asked, propping his crossbow against the wall and pulling out his knife. He knelt by the door to the kitchen, putting his flashlight down and wedging the blade between the frame. “‘S more for us, ‘s all that matters. Don’ gotta question everythin’,” 

Carol said nothing, keeping her flashlight trained on the door for Daryl to use as extra light. 

After prying open the door, the pair used a cart to transport the mounds of large, sealed canned goods. With Carol pulling and Daryl pushing, they’d made quick work of the first two trips they needed to make, loading their trunk as best as they were able. 

On their way out of the third and final trip, Carol held the cafeteria door open as Daryl pushed the half-full cart, stopping abruptly as the door started to swing shut behind him. 

“What? What is it?”

“I hear somethin’,” Daryl muttered, straining his ears to listen for the noise again. He listened for what felt like decades, and just when he thought he was going crazy, he heard it again. “There,”

“What? I didn’t hear anything,” Carol said. 

“Nah, I heard it. Comin’ from this way,” he gestured down the part of the hall they hadn’t bothered exploring. Slowly, focused entirely on identifying the noise, Daryl crept down the hall, a confused Carol following him. 

Just as he’d been passing the room with the chair blocking the door, Daryl heard two sounds: a dull thunk, and a hiccuping cry. He stopped, turning to the door that had drawn his attention before. 

“Daryl, it’s just a walker,” Carol insisted. “Let’s go, we got what we need.” 

The archer didn’t listen, footfalls nearly silent against the linoleum as he approached the door, knife raised. In quick motions, Daryl pulled the chair from the door, sending it down the hall with a resounding screech, grabbing at the handle and pulling it open. The hinges squeaked as he peered within the dark, small room — a supply closet, he’d discerned from the cleaning products lining the shelves. All sense of danger left him when he wasn’t met with a walker, but instead a girl, her body half-laying, half-sitting, propped against the wall. 

Daryl’s eyes widened, taking in her form. She was covered head to toe in dirt and grime, save for the clear tear tracks down her cheeks and neck. Her hair was matted, and the side of her calf, just above the ankle, was wrapped in dirtied bandages. Her only protection was a small knife, covered in dried blood, the handle of which rested in her limp hand. 

“Holy shit,” Daryl blurted, catching the attention of Carol, but barely gaining acknowledgement from the girl before him. 

Carol, peeking over Daryl’s shoulder, moved first. She darted around the archer’s broad frame, kneeling down at the girl’s calf. Peeling the bandage from her skin, Carol sighed in relief, finding a deep gash where she feared there might have been a bite mark. “She’s hurt,” Carol remarked, moving closer to search for a pulse. “And barely alive.” 

“Go bring the cart out, I’ll carry her out,” Daryl’s eyes never left the girl’s form as Carol left. Carefully, he scooped the girl into his arms, relief flooding him when a weak, protesting groan fell from her chapped lips.

There was no telling how long she’d been stuck in that closet, without food or water, simply left to die. And based on the chair propped against the door… it had been intentional. 

Daryl carried her to the car with ease, having Carol assist him as he laid you across the back seat, taking the time to make sure she would be secure as they drove. After confirming that everything was packed into the trunk, Daryl peeled out of the school parking lot, the drive back to Alexandria being much shorter than the one to the school. 

The sun was setting when the car passed the gates, and from there, things passed in a flurry of motion. Daryl carried the girl to the infirmary himself, watching Tara and Denise move about hastily to heal this mystery woman. 

“What happened to her?” Denise asked, cutting the bandage from her ankle. 

“Dunno,” Daryl huffed. “Found her like tha’. Musta been trapped for a while. Few days without water, at least.”

Denise only nodded, working to clean the wound and stitch it. She barely had the focus to think about the wound itself, how deep it was and the likelihood of infection setting in. Tara worked at cleaning the girl’s skin, inserting an IV into her hand like she’d been taught. 

The sun had set by the time they were done, the girl changed into new clothes and her skin cleaned of grime. Tara had been sitting by her side when Daryl came back to the infirmary, after going to the Grimes home to eat something and give as much information as he could to Rick and Michonne. 

“How’s she doin’?”

“As good as she can,” Tara smiled awkwardly. “I don’t think she’ll be waking up anytime soon, she’s like— super dehydrated. It’s been an hour and I’ve had to change the bag thingy twice already.”

Daryl grunted in acknowledgement, pulling up a chair on the other side of the girl’s bedside. He didn’t know much about her — or anything, really, not even her name — but even with her chapped lips and sickly look, he thought she was beautiful. And he also knew that whoever had left her in that closet had done so on purpose. He figured it might have been because of her injury, but it was cruel no matter which way he tried to paint it. 

He just hoped she’d be okay when she woke up. 

It took the mystery girl three days to wake up. Managing her health at a time where there weren’t any real supplies to use had been difficult, and it took all of Denise’s focus to make sure she had enough fluids. 

Waking up in an unfamiliar, oddly clean, room, on a bed, with no stench of rotting bodies wafting through the air was confusing, terrifying, and oddly comforting. 

Your body woke with a jolt, eyes snapping open like you’d woken from a nightmare of sorts. There was movement to your right, and you jumped back from it, frantic eyes finding a blonde girl attempting to calm you without touching you as best as she was able. 

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, you’re safe.” She’d said, stressing the last word. “One of our guys found you in a supply closet and brought you here. He— He said you were half dead.” 

Pure fear and confusion kept your mouth shut. The girl kept talking, asking questions, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond to any of it. The pain in your leg hadn’t been of any help, pulsing and throbbing with every slight movement. 

By the time she’d realized you weren’t going to respond, she sighed and moved over to the kitchen to your right. When she came back, she placed some food and a tall glass of water on the bedside table, backing away slowly as she spoke. “I’m Denise. The man who found you, Daryl, is on his way to see you. Maybe you’ll feel more comfortable talking to him?”

The idea of speaking to anyone, even the man you vaguely remember before passing out due to dehydration, made your stomach roll. Still, you picked up the plate, gratefully digging into the food you were given. Drinking the water, you relished the feeling of it sliding down your throat. Water was something you hadn’t had in what felt like years, and you’d be damned if you didn’t cherish what you’d been given. 

As you finished up, the door creaked open, and your body stiffened. You watched a burly, reserved man step inside, his movements hesitant. You watched Denise approach, whispering something to him — likely about you. Presuming this was Daryl, you willed yourself to relax, even as you pulled your knees tight to your chest, arms locked around them. 

You watched him approach the bedside, standing awkwardly beside you as you looked into his eyes. Strikingly blue, surprisingly soft. 

“Hey. Ya alright?” He asked. His voice was rough, southern accent awfully thick. But his words sounded soft, somehow. Small. Like he was trying not to frighten you. 

All you could manage was a nod. He huffed, nodding back, clearly somewhat relieved that you were at least communicating somehow. You kept your eyes on him, tracing every inch of his face and his clothes. It was clear to you, though you were unsure of how, that he must’ve been built for this world. Daryl seemed out of place in this clean, crisp, white room, and when you pictured him in the woods, he seemed to blend right in. 

After a moment, he turned and went back to talk to Denise. They spoke in hushed whispers, and you thought back to the exchange you’d just had. Your mind had been reeling, so caught up in the entire situation, that the words Daryl had spoken didn’t register. And neither did the tingling across the inside of your wrist. 

Pulling down the sleeve of your shirt, your fingers grazed at the skin where the words you’d been waiting your whole life for the right person to say used to be. With wide eyes, you found the words gone, replaced by a slight scar of where they had once been inscribed. It was surreal, and definitely not the time. 

“Hey,” Daryl called out as he came to stand beside you again, voice still soft despite its natural roughness. “Doc said ya can leave if ya want. I know ya don’t know me, but if ya want… ya can stay with me. I got a cot ya can sleep on, if yer okay with tha’,” 

You mustered up a small smile, nodding at the man before you — your soulmate. You’d been wishing to find him your entire life, but with the world ending, you put that aspiration aside. You certainly hadn’t expected to find him when you were at the brink of death, trapped by the selfish people you’d once considered family. 

Carefully, you slipped out from the blankets, stumbling as you put weight on your injured leg. Luckily, Daryl caught you, wrapping an arm around your waist as the other guided your arm to rest around his neck. Wordlessly, you watched his cheeks flush red as he shifted his weight before you began walking. 

It was painful, getting to the house he lived in. Not because of your leg, but because of the proximity. Along with the fact that you couldn’t bring yourself to speak a single word, not even to him. 

As you settled into the large basement room he’d taken, he told you more about the community, about his people. The ones who lived here — Rick, Michonne, Carl, and Judith — were family to him. The others were the same, but they all lived in different homes. He laid out the cot as you sat on the bed, watching intently as his voice reverberated around the room, rattling your heart in your chest. 

“I know ya don’t talk much,” he huffed, rooting through a bag of his and pulling something out. “But ya can write, right?”

You nodded, watching a smile play on his lips as he handed you a notepad and pen. 

“Can ya tell me yer name, at least? So we can call ya somethin’ that ain’t jus’ ‘girl’?”

Smiling, you wrote out your name and handed the paper back to him. Your smile widened when you heard him say your name, meeting his eyes as he looked back up at you. 

“Ya can talk, right?” You nodded. 

Daryl nodded, leaving the pen and paper with you, just in case. “‘M gonna go find Rick, tell him yer stayin’ with me fer now. Alright?”

The thought of Daryl leaving you, of being alone, in an unfamiliar place, with no light aside from the window at the very top of the wall, shocked the fear back into you. As he turned, heading for the door that led to the stairs, your breath caught in your throat. As quickly as you were able, you reached out, grabbing the man’s wrist and pulling him back to face you. 

“Please, don’t leave.” You whispered, voice gravelly and strained. It surprised even you, eyes widening as you met Daryl’s gaze. But his carried a certain fear as his eyes tore from your own, locking onto the wrist you’d caught. 

Following his line of sight, your heart stuttered, watching the ink on his arm begin to fade into his skin, into the same imprinted scar of words that you had. 

“Yer…” he breathed, eyes filling with tears.

“Yeah,” you whispered, eyes watering, watching him as his eyes remained on his wrist. “Your soulmate.” 

Daryl pulled his wrist from your delicate hold, his mind on overdrive. He’d thought it ironic, that the apocalypse had only pushed him closer to his soulmate instead of further apart. And now, the words he’d been desperate to cover throughout his life were finally gone, and the woman that the universe decided was meant for him was sitting on his bed, saved from the cusp of death because of him. All because he couldn’t take his mind off the closet with the chair blocking the door. 

His hand came to his wrist, rubbing at the skin that was no longer tainted with words he thought would never be spoken. And despite all of the fear Daryl carried with him over the years, the gratefulness he had for the apocalypse and the relief that he’d never have to let down his soulmate when they saw that he wasn’t good enough for them, he felt none of it when he looked at you. 

All he could feel was happy. Relief, not that the world had ended, but that you were safe and healthy. 

And, all of a sudden, meeting your eyes, Daryl was okay with the idea of having a soulmate. All the words that had been spat his way growing up, all the times he was desperate to pretend like he didn’t have a soulmate didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was you. 

It would take time for Daryl to feel like he deserved you, he knew that. But you were here, and you were alive. That was enough for now.

Forever taglist: @mazerunnerrose @theboldandthebootyful @miraclesoflove @heliads

Daryl Dixon taglist: @katrina765 @hp-hogwartsexpress @ellablossom @alexxavicry @avabh12 (open!)

taglist form here!

[forensicheart]

Age Is Just A Number

Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: You like Fernando but it takes a bit of convincing for you to admit it.

Warning: Dirty talk, fingering, p in v, edging , age gap (reader 21, Fernando 42)

You couldn't help as your gaze stopped on the flash of green you spotted as your eyes scanned the paddock. You were making your way down the pitlane to see your brother but instead you found yourself drifting towards the Aston Martin garage.

"Hermosa!" A voice shouted as you entered the garage, your figure always catching the eyes of the older man. He made a beeline for you as he excused himself from his strategist wrapping his arms around you and he hugged you gently. As he pulled away from you, you didn't miss the way his eyes dragged up and down your body.

"You look as gorgeous as always" You turned your head away trying to hide the blush as you saw Fernando smirk out of the corner of your eye. Before you could open your mouth to reply Fernando seemed to have more on his mind.

"I'm sure this dress would look even better on my floor though" He ended with a wink and turned to walk further into garage as his name was called. Once more you were left blushing and as you continued down the pitlane you couldn't help but think about Fernando. The way his accented words sent shivers down your spine, the way his sat that made you want to run your heads through it, how his confidence never strayed despite the clear gap in your age. That was the main reason you never pursued Fernando's obvious advances, the age gap. 21 years. Fernando never held back with his flirting, everyone knew that he was into you but you on the other hand had never admitted to feeling the same.

"Who's got you blushing?" Max's voice interrupted your thoughts, you hadn't realised that you'd even made it to the garage, let alone bump into your brother.

"Oh, uh, just a bit hot is all" You tried to lie smoothly but Max had always been able to see right through you, especially with the upscaling of Fernando's flirting recently, not even attempting to hide it from your brother.

"You've been at the Aston Martin garage haven't you?" You sigh knowing you won't be able to lie your way out of it.

"Yes, but I didn't initiate anything Max, I was barely even there for a minute" Max imitated your sigh from a moment ago shaking his head.

"He's far too old for you Y/n”

“I know, I know Max, I’ll stay away from him more” You said accepting defeat as you made your way further into the RedBull garage to find a spot to watch the race from.

-

With Max winning per usual you made your leave early without him knowing you’d see him after all the media and presentations were done. On your way out though you were stopped by a certain older man who called out your name as you made your way to your car. Max’s words circled in your mind as you kept walking deciding to ignore the man behind you but he wasn’t giving up. Running up to you he placed his hand on your shoulder as he stood walking next to you.

“Are you ignoring me now hermosa?”

"Simply brothers orders Alonso" Fernando lets out a laugh and you know he doesn't believe you.

"I think you just don't want to admit that you've fallen for an older man" You scoff and brush off the hand still resting on your shoulder as you both come to a stop.

"I do not like you Fernando. So please, just give up" Your words only draw the man closer to you, seeming to tower over you as a hand reaches up to brush a strand of hair from your face.\

"Oh mi amour. Why don't you come back to my hotel room and I'll help you admit your real feelings" With the intent of his words hanging in the air Fernando turned on his heels and walked towards his car, head held high as you stared after him, your lip between your teeth.

-

This is a bad idea. You told yourself as the elevator doors opened, prompting your exit. This is a very bad idea. He's 20 years older than me! You were nearing his hotel door now, even without being given a time you knew he would have been waiting since the moment he had caught up to you at the carpark. I should not be doing this. I need to go home. Max is gonna kill me. Your movements didn't match your thoughts though as you raised a fist to knock gently on the door in front of you.

Taking a deep breath as you lowered your arm you waited no more than a second before being met with the face of Fernando Alonso.

"I was wondering when you'd show up" He spoke smugly as he stepped aside allowing you to walk past him and into the room.

The door closed behind you and your body froze as you felt a hand slide to sit on your waist.

"Now, are you going to admit it or are we going to have to do this the hard way hermosa?" His breath sent a shiver down your spine as his lips brushed your lobe. When you didn't make a move to speak in the time given Fernando used the hand on your waist to spin you so you were facing him, the force making you place your hands on his chest to steady yourself.

"Hard way it is then" Wasting no more time his lips were on yours in a heated kiss. You reacting positively not able to resist the man holding you. His hands traveled from you waist to your ass and he squeezed earning a groan from you. A smirk rested on his lips at the sound and he worked on removing your dress. The zip was down before you could register and the dress was falling to a pile at your feet which you stepped out of as you pulled out of the kiss.

"I told you it would look much better on my floor" Fernando sent a wink your way as his eyes racked over your body before his hands were back on it. This time taking off your bra so he could grab the flesh of your breasts. Letting out a louder moan than the one prior you felt needy to feel him too. Hands going to remove his shirt you allowed yourselves to separate so you could pull the shirt over his head, throwing it to the ground with your dress. Next you were unbuttoning his jeans as he slid them down his legs, kicking them off his feet and bringing his hands to grab the backs of your thighs allowing him to pick you up. With your legs wrapped around his waist Fernando walked you into his bedroom, the both of you caught in a kiss as you were laid onto the bed.

“Hermosa” Fernando whispered breathlessly as he pulled himself out of the kiss to look over your exposed body. With his mouth now paying attention to your breasts you let out a moan that made Fernando snake his hands down to remove your underwear while he focused on your chest. A finger glides through your folds making you gasp as your eyes snap to Fernando's whose already staring down at you.

"Please" You practically begged, your body craving his touch.

"Are you going to admit to having feelings for me mi amour?" You hesitated but quickly shook followed by a sharp bite of your lip as Fernando thrusted two fingers into you. You weren't able to keep yourself quiet for long though as Fernando immediately set a rapid pace.

"Oh god" Your words led a string of moans as Fernando begun to decorate your neck as his spare hand settled on your breast gently pinching the hard bud. His pace was unrelenting but you wanted more.

"Please Fernando, I want you inside of me" Without saying a word Fernando removed his fingers making you whine as he took off his boxes staring down at you as his tip brushed your wet folds. Silence filled the room as the two of you stared intently at one another. A pleading look in your eyes and a determined one in his.

"You want this amour?"

"Yes. I want this, please"

"Then admit that you like me" You were hoping to get away without speaking a word about feelings to Fernando but the fire in his eyes told you that he waws not letting another move be made until he heard this confession.

"I- I like you, Fernando" Your eyes avoided his as you finally confessed the one thing you'd been trying to run from.

"See. That wasn't so hard now was it?" Before you could even think of a response Fernando entered you without warning making you throw your head back as you tried to adjust to the size of him. You weren't given much time though as Fernando sets off at a bruising pace, his hips snapping into you as he hits the right spot every time that makes you slur out words of gratitude and praise. You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening quickly as Fernando only grew faster in his thrust. He was sure to hit deep inside of you, watching you take all of you and filling you up like he'd dreamt of. He wanted to make you feel good and that was exactly what he was doing. You grew closer and closer to your climax, your hands reaching to grab something, fists gripping at bedsheets.

"Tell me again hermosa. Tell me you like me" Fernando demanded, his thrusts getting sloppy as he too neared his climax.

"I like you Fernando, god I like you so much" You moaned out without hesitation. The moment the last word left your mouth Fernando leaned down to pull you into a passionate kiss as you both groaned into each others mouth, finishing together as you pulsed around him.

"Be mine?" Fernando asked through heavy breaths.

"Always"

[sanguineterrain]

Idk if you know that scene from friends where Rachel kisses Ross while they're in the laundromat and Ross hits his head on the washer door afterward 😭🩷 it makes me giggle sm. Anyway thinking about that kind of kiss with Spencer. Genius left speechless!

very cute prompt thank u! gn!reader. your kiss surprises spencer—his kiss back knocks the wind out of you.

****

This is an impossible case.

You throw down your files in frustration and rub your temples. "I'm gonna quit and join the circus. I suck at this."

"Hm?" Spencer looks up from his computer. It's just the two of you staying late. The cleaning people have already come and gone. You're both working on a case that's stumped the team for three days.

You're here because you're new and, yes, you need to prove yourself. Spencer's here because... well, you're not actually quite sure why he's here late. He doesn't usually stay. But he'd offered when you said you were going to. His company is certainly welcome.

"This is fucking impossible. I've gone over these lists three times. There's no pattern, no commonalities, nothing! I'm such an idiot."

"You're not an idiot," Spencer says, getting up and joining you at your desk. He pushes some papers aside and sits on the corner. "Can I see?"

His long fingers brush yours as you pass him the lists. Gloomily, you scratch at your notepad with your pencil.

"Why are you trying so hard on this case?" he asks, fingers tracing the paper as he reads.

"Because I know you guys don't really need me here and I wanna prove that I'm valuable."

Spencer stops reading. "You are valuable."

"You're sweet, Spence."

"No, you are. You're smart. More brains are always better when it comes to this job."

"I think you've got enough brains for all of us," you say, half-smiling.

"Everyone provides skills that I don't. That's why we're a team."

You hum, pushing your pencil around. "Yeah, sure."

"We can figure this out," he says. "Let's think. Okay, no connections with the names or the ages. Gender and race is random. Did you check the locations of their deaths?"

You nod. "Did. No shapes, no nothing. Garcia ran every algorithm she has."

"There's sixty-three names on here. When did these murders start?"

"About nine weeks ago. But not everyone on this list was murdered. Some of them have been long dead. That's what's so confusing," you say. "The police think the killer will round back and kill the rest, but I don't think so."

"I don't either. Which people were killed?"

You circle them in red. Spencer stares at them.

"That's every sixth name. Maybe groups of seven are the key." He points at the second name on the list. "He's a reverend, right?"

You nod. "Yeah, more than one name on here is."

Spencer drums his fingers. "Circle those."

You do. Suddenly, you're struck by something.

"What is it?" Spencer asks as your fingers fly across the keyboard.

"Solomon Grundy."

Spencer leaps off the desk, immediately understanding and just as excited as you. He kneels beside your desk chair and starts highlighting and circling names in different colored pens. Heat emanates from his body, he's so close. You swallow and try not to think about it.

"Reverends Christened on a Tuesday," he says.

"Every third person was married on a Wednesday," you say. "The unsub is following the rhyme!"

You turn to him, mirroring his joy. "We did it!"

"I told you you'd figure it out," Spencer says triumphantly.

"Are you kidding? You brought up the numerical patterns."

Spencer grins at you. "I wasn't even thinking Solomon Grundy! You're the genius, not me."

You roll your eyes. "Aren't you past modesty, Doc?"

"Aren't you?" he shoots back, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. "You're brilliant."

And something about the rush of solving the puzzle, and the way Spencer's smiling at you, open and happy and proud, it makes you impulsive. You see his round, dark eyes, his fluffy curls, and the way his cheek crinkles from his smile, and you do it. You lean in.

Your hands go to his face for a moment, just enough to steady him as you kiss him. You kiss for two seconds, your touch like a breath on his skin. Spencer tastes like the cherry Chapstick you bought him last week.

He shoots up and away, lips parted, eyes wide. You panic.

"I'm so sorry, I don't know why I did that—" you begin.

"You, um, you just—okay—"

He turns the wrong way and bumps bodily into the side of your desk. You wince as his thigh crashes into the wood.

"Spencer! Jesus, are you okay?" you ask, beginning to stand.

"Uh-hm," he squeaks out, voice strained. "Yeah, fine." He rubs his thigh in a way that suggests he's very much not fine.

You hover, unsure if you should touch him. You know Spencer doesn't love to be touched without warning.

He leans against your desk. He's not running away screaming, which is a good sign, although he's somewhat incapacitated so maybe he wants to but can't.

You go to your desk drawer and get an instant ice pack, shaking and crushing it.

"No, I'm fine, really—" Spencer insists, but you make him take it anyway. He obediently presses it to his leg.

"I know you bruise easily," you say, chewing your lip. "God, I'm so sorry, Spencer."

"This wasn't your fault. I'm clumsy," he says.

You shake your head, lump in your throat. "You don't have to spare my feelings. I know I shouldn't have kissed you. It was stupid of me."

Spencer presses his lips together and looks down, shuffling the ice pack around. "Oh. I-I mean, we can forget about it, of course. I won't bring it up to anyone. No one will know we kissed."

"No, if you want to tell Hotch and, y'know, have my desk moved or something, I'd understand," you say, more glum than when you couldn't crack the case.

"Wait, what? If I told Hotch?"

You shrug self-consciously. "It was unprofessional, to say the least. I made you uncomfortable."

"No, you didn't."

You look at Spencer. He's looking right back at you, pinning you with those bottomless eyes.

"Did you kiss me because we solved the case?" he asks.

You shake your head. "No. I... I've wanted to kiss you for a long time. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he says softly, and then you're getting kissed back by Spencer Reid.

He kisses like he wants to devour you, and it startles you how voraciously Spencer kisses, like you're a well-loved book whose pages he pores over every time he reads.

You're caught off-guard too by his confidence, those big, chilly hands completely cradling your face. The ice pack tumbles to the floor. Spencer takes the air right out of you, sends lightning up your spine.

"Thought you thought you'd made a mistake," he says against your mouth, in between kisses.

You shake your head. "Didn't." And that's all you both need.

You think you'll stay late more often. You suspect that Spencer will, too. It's incredibly productive.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FOR PEOPLE WHO AREN'T USED TO KINDNESS *  assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary

what are you doing?

i can handle that myself, you know.

you didn't have to go out of your way to take care of me.

i'm not used to this. this caring thing.

thank you. don't ever do that again.

i thought you hated me, to be honest.

i didn't ask you to love me!

no one's ever actually just... sat down and listened to me.

i didn't think people like you existed.

is this normal for you? going out of your way like this?

i told you i had it handled. you didn't have to bother.

i... should probably thank you for that.

i don't know what to say. this has never happened before.

wait, that's mine. you fixed it?

you did all of this... for me?

that was the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me.

i'm kinda at a loss for words.

i wasn't expecting this from you.

you did all this for me?

i had it under control.

when did this happen?

how long were you planning this?

i'm not sure what to say. i'm not used to this.

i owe you one.

that was... very kind of you. thank you.

i'm just not used to people going out of their way to help me.

usually people just look the other way, but you actually care.

this is weird. is this what caring about someone feels like?

i could have handled it.

this must have taken you forever to arrange. and you did it all for me?

it would be easier in the long run if we went our separate ways.

i hate being in other peoples' debts.

i didn't want this to happen.

people around me don't last very long.

i feel like i'm screaming and screaming and no one hears me.

i'm in your debt.

how did you find that? i lost that ages ago.

you actually... listened to me?

no one's ever paid attention.

no one's ever put that much time in effort into something for me.

when did i say that?

i didn't ask you to care about me!

i'm easily missed. people don't pay attention to me.

i'm invisible most of the time.

it's easier for people to look the other way.

do you do this often? help people?

i'm surprised you're still here.

if you're expecting something in return, forget about it.

you came back?

why do you care about me so much?

i'm a lost cause. you should just forget about me.

what's the use? there's no point.

i don't even celebrate my birthday. no one cares.

you can't just make someone care about you.

i thought you left.

what is it about me that has you so worked up?

you're making a big deal out of nothing.

thanks for patching me up.

you... brought this here for me?

but i didn't ask for this! i didn't ask for any of this!

stop smiling at me like that.

[strang3lov3]

Downpour

Jack offers you a ride home, pulls over to wait out the storm, and fucks you. (4k)

Tags - smut, fingering, oral (f! receiving) hand jobs, unprotected piv, infidelity (Jack is married still), dirty talk, pet names (darling, sweetie, sweetheart, dear), unspecified age gap, kissing, finger sucking, bit of comeplay/come eating, reader has a bush but is otherwise undescribed #bushnation, Jack is all sweet and tender but kinda pervy too, i've headcannoned that mr. delroy is a man who comes a lot. like just so much come. references to late night with the devil but this fic can be understood without watching the movie, I write car sex uniquely in that I am not bound by physics or logic or any bullshit like that. So it’s like a Mary Poppins bag in there. Lots of room for fucking. No, don’t ask questions. Shhh. Don’t worry about it. Fic Help - @noxturnalpascal thanks for your help sweetheart ♡ i love you forever A/N - the David Dastmalchian brain worms infected me months ago and have not let me rest, so here’s this. Car sex with an older and married Jack Delroy.

I feel a little nervous about writing Jack, as I feel with all characters that are new to me. It takes me some time to find my groove. Kind comments would be appreciated 💕 maybe a prompt or two in the inbox for me to play around with if you wanna see more of him 🙏

  As Night Owls comes to a close for the evening, and laughter and chatter begin to fade out, you busy yourself tidying up your station. Cleaning your makeup brushes, packing away your supplies for the weekend. You watch the television in your room and see Jack waving goodbye, shaking audience members’ hands. He’s so handsome tonight. He’s handsome every night.

You’ve been working as a makeup artist on Night Owls for about a year now. It’s a job you kind of stumbled your way into. You had won a raffle ticket to watch Night Owls live show. You were so excited to go and yet you don’t even remember who the guest was that night. You went alone, and found yourself charmed by the show’s host, Jack Delroy. While on commercial break, while the television crew changed the set, you noticed Jack glancing at you as you touched up your makeup, fidgeting and tapping his foot. You offered him a kind smile, and he approached you. 

“Jack Delroy,” he said, holding out his hand. You took it, and he kissed the backs of your fingertips. Starstruck, you giggled and gave him your name, tripping over the syllables. “Beautiful name, darling.”

“Thank you, Mr. Delroy.” 

Jack held your hand longer than what was appropriate. Realizing this, he quickly dropped it. “So, I apologize, but I'm about to be very forward. Gosh, this is very embarrassing,” he laughed awkwardly, then scratched the back of his neck. “I get a little oily in the face. The lights, you know. You wouldn’t happen to have like, a…” he trailed off, stuttering as he tried to find the right words.

You smiled and held up a finger, then dug through your makeup bag for some Mary Kay Beauty Blotter sheets your friend had given you. “Here.” You held the pack sheets out for the handsome talk show host. “Would these help?”

Jack took the sheets from you and inspected them. 

“And this,” you added, handing him your mirror compact. “You just press one of the sheets against your skin.” 

Jack grinned kindly, then took one of the small sheets and pressed it on his forehead and his long, gorgeous nose. “You are a lifesaver,” he said. “There. This is much better. I’m almost as pretty as you now, huh?”

Your cheeks warmed and you looked down at your lap to hide your smile. 

“Apologies, I’ve been told I'm a chronic flirt.” 

“I don’t really mind,” you told him softly.

Jack pressed his lips together in a smile and nodded, then sat in the empty seat next to you. “Alright,” he said, “This is an odd question,  but I’d like to toss it out there anyway because you seem to know what you’re doing with this kind of stuff. We’re short a makeup artist here at Night Owls. It’s unorthodox, I know, but you wouldn’t happen to be interested in–”

You gasp. “I’d love to. Yes.”

“--Being our makeup artist,” Jack finished, chuckling at your excitement. 

“Sorry, I just - oh god, I’d really love to,” you gushed. Jack opened his mouth to speak further, but was called back to set. 

“Stick around after the show, will you?” Jack winked.

“I will, Mr. Delroy.” 

And that’s how it happened. The job was simple: A little powder here, moisturizer there, hairspray to seal it all off. Nothing complicated, and it paid well. Lots of perks and advantages, like meeting TV stars and music artists. You consider yourself lucky. 

Perhaps your favorite part of the job is getting Jack ready for his shows. You’re no stranger to his handsomeness, but it’s special to experience it the way you do. To wash his face, moisturize it, paint a little makeup on his skin - as if he even needs it. “Make sure you cover up my crows feet, please, darling,” Jack said, pointing to his perceived flaws in the mirror. “Gosh, I’m getting so old. Don’t get old.” 

“Noted,” you told him. 

“And my hair, could you use a bit of that makeup to cover up my grays? They look so much worse on the screen.” 

Your heart broke a little. He’s always asked you to cover his wrinkles, but covering his grays was new. You hate doing it. That’s your least favorite part of the job. 

“Oh, but they don’t look so bad, Mr. Delroy.” You combed your fingers through his hair, inspecting the silvery strands he complained about. They look so beautiful against the inky black rest of his hair.

“Jack,” he corrected. “Just Jack. Who says they don’t look so bad?”

“I um…” you hummed, nervously messing with his hair. “Just fans, some of your fans kind of like it.” 

“Do they, now?” Jack teased, his eyebrow cocked. He laughed at your bashfulness as you stuttered something in defense. So shy, so sweet.

Jack loves you all the same. He loves the special affection he gets from you as you get him ready each night, he loves getting to peek down your shirt. But he plays the gentlemanly act well, never going further than a little harmless flirting. It’s fun to make you squirm, tease you for your little crush on him. He’s not oblivious to it. 

When the Night Owls theme finally ends and the studio lights go out, you get a phone call at your station. You hold the receiver up to your ear. “Hello?” 

“It’s Shar,” the voice says. Sharon is your roommate, and also your ride to and from work most nights. She drops you off at the studio before her shift, then picks you up after the show ends each night. Tonight, however, she’s at a party. “I met this guy, and I wanna go home with him. So that means…” Sharon doesn’t finish the sentence. She sounds guilty. 

“But you’re my ride, Shar,” you complain. “And they’re saying it’ll rain. What am I gonna do?”

“I promise I’m gonna make it up to you, okay? Don’t be mad. You’re not mad.” 

“Sharon,” you groan. 

Sharon says your name. “Just listen - he’s so fucking hot, seriously. He’s like a movie star.”

“A movie star, huh?” 

“Don’t judge. Like you wouldn’t fuck Jack Delroy if you could. You know what, why don’t you ask him for a ride?” Sharon teases.

“No way, not happening. He’s married, and his wife is sick. Absolutely not.” 

“Pussy.” Sharon pauses. “If you really don’t have another way home, I’ll come get you.” 

“No, no. It’s fine. I can take the bus, I guess. But you owe me.”

“I do owe you,” Sharon says, “I owe you so much. I love you. Bye. Be safe.” 

“You be safe,” you quip. “Condoms.” 

Honestly, you’re not mad. Is it an inconvenience, sure. But Sharon works hard and deserves a nice night, and she’s right - you’d fuck your movie - television - star crush if you could too. You’ve taken the bus before, and it’s usually empty this time of night. It’ll be fine. 

You grab your purse, pull your knit cardigan over your torso and walk out of the studio, down the hall, then take the elevator down to the lobby. Through light rain, you walk down the street until you’re at a bus station, then sit down on the bench. A gust of wind nearly knocks you over, causing you to shiver and pull your cardigan tighter around your body as you wait for the bus. 

At least you don’t have to wait for long, though. Headlights approach, and the vehicle slows down. Except, it’s not the bus you were expecting. It’s a cerulean ‘74 Buick Electra, Jack’s car. He pulls over and leans across the seat to crank the window down. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

“Waiting for the bus,” you yell. Rain’s starting to come down harder, now, soaking your clothes. Jack makes a face and motions for you to get into his car. You wave him off, “It’s okay. It shouldn’t be much longer.” 

“Nonsense! Get in the car.” 

“It’s really okay, Mr. Delroy.”

Jack rolls his eyes. He gets out of his car and rounds the front of it, then takes your hand and pulls you up from the bench. “I’m not asking. I am telling you, as your boss, to get in my car.” 

Jack opens the passenger door and ushers you inside, then shuts your door and gets into the driver’s seat. “It’s supposed to be the storm of the century out there, and you’re gonna let it blow you right away. Crazy girl.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Delroy,” you murmur sheepishly. 

Jack puts the car into first gear and takes off. “What’ve I told you about calling me Mr. Delroy? Jack, sweetie. Just Jack.” 

“I’m sorry, M- Jack.”

“Too sweet for your own good, you know that? Always so polite. Where am I taking you, sweetheart?”

“It’s a little bit far. You’re just gonna take this road for a while,” you instruct. “And then I’ll tell you where to turn. I’m not in the city proper.”

“Must be nice,” Jack replies. “Quiet.” 

You shrug. “Sometimes. Not usually. My roommate is kind of noisy.” 

Jack chuckles. “The roommate days, gosh. I don’t miss those a bit.” He pauses, thinks of something to say to fill the silence. “You don’t usually take the bus, do you?”

“Not usually, no,” you answer. “My roommate gives me a ride most of the time. But she ditched me tonight, so…” 

“That’s a real shame.” 

The rain starts to pick up a little more. Jack squints and at the road and increases the speed of his windshield wipers. He tries talking to you, but you can’t hear him over the drumming of rain against his car. Thunder booms, the drumming becomes louder and the windshield is nearly impossible to see out of. Jack has slowed the car down to a crawl, but when hail begins to fall from the sky, he pulls over. He shifts his car into neutral, then pulls the emergency brake to keep the car from rolling. Jack leans in close so you can hear him, “We’re just gonna wait out the storm, okay? It’s not safe to keep driving.” 

“Yeah, that seems smart,” you agree. You’re thankful Jack showed up when he did, and that he’s keeping you safe in his car. If you listen closely, you can hear the faint sound of music playing on his stereo. You still feel a little nervous, though. Maybe it’s the storm, or the jitters of being alone with Jack - older, married, handsome Jack. You shiver in your wet cardigan. 

“You’re cold,” Jack says. He tugs on your sweater, “Let’s get this off of you, huh? Not gonna let you catch a cold on my watch.” He peels the sweater off of you entirely, then lays it in his backseat. “And look, watch this–” Jack presses a button on his dashboard, a little orange light glows beneath the tiny image of a seat. Within a few seconds, the leather underneath you begins to warm. “Neat, huh? That should warm you up nicely.”

You still look cold, it’s evident in the way you hold yourself. Shoulders curled inward, hands clasped together. Jack thinks about holding you close, using his body to warm yours, but decides against it. You want it too, but you’ll never initiate touch. 

You look out of the raindrop-covered window at the creepy woods off to the side, the trees illuminated by the lightning. Jack sees the worry on your face reflected on the glass. “Everything alright, sweetie?”

“It’s just the woods,” you answer. “I don’t know. I don’t like it. I’ve heard about…I don’t know. Scary stuff happens there.”

“Like what?”

“Satanic rituals or something. The occult, that kind of stuff. I’ve heard about it on TV.”  

Jack lies to assure you, “It’s all make-belive,” he says, pushing down his own memories of The Grove. The sickly sweet smell of decaying leaves, sticks and branches crunching beneath his feet. The cold, metallic cup against his lips, that awful taste of whatever it is he drank. “But don’t look at the woods. Just look over here, right at me.” Jack turns your face toward his, then taps your nose. “There’s that beautiful smile.” 

You grin even wider. You know it’s just his nature, that it’s his job to be charming and likable, charismatic and sweet. It makes you feel so special and seen nonetheless. 

Jack smiles too. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” He admires the details in your face for a minute, your perfect nose, sparkling eyes, your pretty lips. His eyes travel lower, tracing the endlessly beautiful curves of your body - breasts, waist, hips, thighs. There’s a rip up high on your nylons, just below your ridden-up skirt. He furrows his brows and touches your bare skin with his finger, “What happened here?”

“Oh.” You touch the tear with your finger, just a hair away from Jack’s. “My cat, Felix. He ripped my tights.” 

“Sounds like Felix is a real troublemaker, huh?”

“Oh, he can be,” you giggle quietly. “But I love him anyway.” 

Jack keeps his finger on the hole in your nylons, now drawing lines back and forth over your thighs with the rest of his fingers. Little goosebumps erupt on your skin in their wake. “You’re still so cold, darling. What am I gonna do with you?” Another shrug, another shy smile. “Come here,” Jack whispers. He wraps his strong hands around your legs and pulls you across the seat so that your legs are lying across his, and your torso curled into his own. Fuck, he smells good. His cologne is musky and spicy and masculine. You’re so close, Jack can feel your heart pounding nervously. But he says nothing about it, doesn’t want to embarrass you. Instead, Jack just gazes at you warmly, still tracing patterns on your leg. “You’re such a gorgeous girl, have I ever told you that?”  He pushes a bit of your hair behind your ear, sending tingles down your neck and spine.

“Jack,” you whisper, elongating his name. “Stop it.”

“I’m serious, darling. If only I were a younger man…If I hadn’t married…” He moves his hand from your ear to your mouth, pulling down on your bottom lip with his thumb. God, you’re so soft. Desire is building within Jack, taking control over his sensibilities. And you, too young and enchanted by Jack fucking Delroy to listen to any inhibitions in your head telling you that you should stop this.

 Jack pushes his thumb past your lips and you suck on it gently, so gently, the blunt little edges of your teeth tickling his fleshy skin. Arousal quickly builds in Jack, the sensation overwhelming him and bubbling over. He pulls his thumb from your mouth and holds your cheeks in both of his hands, inching closer to you bit by bit. Jack licks his lips, he’s about to do it. Finally, he does. Jack closes the gap between you by pressing his lips against yours, kissing you softly. He’s relaxed and controlled, but the way you kiss him is desperate and a little tentative. In time and with encouragement from Jack, how he squeezes you and growls against your lips, you find your confidence. You kiss him fervently, tasting him, savoring the softness of his tongue. 

Jack takes your hand and presses it against his warm bulge. You gasp, “But your wife–”

“Shh, quiet. She’s not here, now is she?” 

“N-no,” you stutter.

“No. It’s just us. You-” Jack unzips his pants and pulls his rock-hard cock out of his boxers. He spits into your palm and has you hold his length, then closes his hand around yours. “-And me.” 

With your hand under Jack’s, he pumps his cock. “Oh, that’s good. You’re my good girl,” he breathes. 

Jack grips his cock tighter and kisses you again. “Oh, Jack,” you moan. Jack helps you to stroke him from base to tip, your pinky finger brushing against that patch of coarse hair at his pelvis, thumb rubbing over his weeping head. 

“Just like this, darling. All the way up, all the way down. Just like this. You’re doing so well.” 

Jack twitches in your hand as you feel every thick vein and ridge on his cock. He urges you to pump him faster and at the same time, touches you. He gropes your breasts first, breasts he’s dreamed of touching since he first laid eyes on you. He unbuttons your blouse and slides his hand beneath your bra to squeeze your flesh, tease your nipples. Jack relishes in your body, how supple, soft, warm and wanting you are. You touch him like you love him and Christ, Jack can’t wait to bury himself inside you. Feel that warm, wet embrace of a young woman’s cunt. 

“Do you let other men touch you like this, sweetheart?” Jack asks, unzipping your skirt and shoving his hand down the front of your nylons. He toys with the arousal-dampened hair that’s spattered on your mound, then slips his fingers past your lips. “Older men, huh? Married men?” 

“N-no, Jack. Just you. Only you.”

“Do you like being touched like this?” You stutter out a frantic, breathy ‘yes’. “Dirty girl. It’s always girls like you.” 

Jack circles your clit with his fingertips, then presses two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out. “Distracted, are we?” he murmurs as your hand that strokes his cock slows to a still, so focused on how Jack pleasures you that you forget about his needs.

 “H - what?” Jack chuckles and gives your hand a squeeze to remind you. “Oh, I’m s - sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” God, you are such a precious girl, and Jack is a lucky man. He breaks away from you just for a moment to undress himself, shoving his pants down his thighs and unbuttoning his dress shirt. Once bare, Jack turns to you and finds that little tear in your nylons again, then rips the hole wider up the garment. He yanks the nylons and your panties off of your legs and puts them with the rest of his discarded clothes, tucking them away for later. He removes your skirt next, followed by your bra and your blouse. You breathe heavily as Jack takes in your naked form, even more beautiful than he pictured. He needs you now, needs to taste you.

Jack pushes you gently onto your back, laying you out across the bench seat before sinking to his knees on the floor of his Buick. He wraps his strong forearms around your still rain-cold thighs and pulls you close, close enough so that you can feel his hot breaths on your slick pussy. Jack could eat you alive right now.

He spits on your pussy, then rubs your folds with his fingers, paying special attention to your clit. He spreads your lips wide and admires your shiny, glistening center. “My, look at this mess,” Jack marvels, admiring your creamy arousal. He tastes you then, pressing a soft kiss against your core. Jack inhales deeply, taking in your scent, feeling your hair against his shaven face. His tongue darts from between his lips and he licks you up and down, dipping his tongue inside you. 

“Jack, oh my - yes,” you gasp, your hands tugging on his graying strands of black hair. Jack slowly licks a long stripe up your seam with his tongue flat against you, all the way from your asshole to clit. “Jack.”

The mess he’s reduced you to. All broken moans, desperate, needy cries of his name. Jack smiles against your cunt and continues licking and lapping at the sensitive part of you. He traces your folds, sucking them between his lips. He draws circles around your clit with the tip of his tongue next, driving you wild. “You like this, darling, don’t you? You like having this pretty pussy eaten?”

All you can do is nod. Jack closes his lips around your clit and sucks, causing you to clamp your thighs around his head and pull his hair tightly between your fingers. Jack forces you apart so that all you can do is take it, all that relentless, smoldering pleasure. 

Jack intensifies it all by pushing a finger inside you and curling it, stroking that sensitive part of you. Within seconds you’re coming, rocking your hips against his face as you ride out your high. 

There’s barely a comedown. Jack crawls over your body, one foot planted on the floor of the car and the other kneeling on the seat. He reaches behind the front seat for his suit jacket and bunches it up, then fits it between your head and the passenger door. “Don’t want your pretty little head to get hurt is all,” Jack says. 

He holds his cock between his thumb and his forefinger before he lines up with your entrance. His cock is big, perfectly lengthy and girthy. You tense up a bit as he fits his cockhead inside of you, “Easy, darling. Take it all for me,” he coos. 

You inhale deeply, and on your exhale Jack pushes himself inside of you in full. “Ohhh,” you moan. It’s such a tight fit, he fills you so fully. The aching burn of the stretch takes time to dissipate as Jack rubs your hip. After a moment, Jack pulls out of you, then inches his way back in. Your face previously scrunched in pain is now relaxed, soft little noises of pleasure escaping your lips. “That’s it, good girl,” Jack says. “Wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

Jack laces his fingers between yours and uses his other hand to brace himself on the back of the car seat. Jack begins thrusting, not quite fucking you gently. It builds quickly, the pace both harder and faster. Jack rocks his hips into you at that perfect angle to have you writhing on his cock, the head of it kissing the most sensitive place inside of you over and over. You bury your face into him, the hair on his chest tickling your face. 

“Fuck,” Jack grunts, fucking you deeper. He knows he should be more gentle than this, but he can’t be helped. He loses himself inside of you, growling like an animal as he fucks his cock into you. You’re squirming beneath him, muscles tensing against his as you begin to cry, overwhelmed by it all. “Such a filthy fucking girl, crying on my cock. You’re okay, sweetie.” 

Jack rolls his hips quickly and fluidly so that his pubic bone is grinding against your mound, the friction inching you closer and closer to a second release, but it isn’t quite enough. You rock your hips to match Jack’s thrusts, needing more against your clit. “M-More please, Jack,” you beg. “I wanna come, Jack, make me come again.”

While still fucking you, Jack spits onto two of his fingertips, then fits his hand between your bodies. He finds your sensitive bud and rubs it, using the momentum of his thrusts to bring you to climax once more. “Come for me, sweetheart. Give - fucking give it to me.”

Jack rounds your clit with his fingers, putting harder pressure against it. In moments, you’re coming for him again, this orgasm more intense than the last. Your moans are louder, more frantic. Your face scrunches in pleasure as you pulse around Jack’s cock, urging his own release along. “Good girl, good fucking girl.”

 Jack growls into your ear as he spills into you, milking himself entirely. He fills you with his come, so warm inside you, the throbbing of his cock so pleasurable and satisfying. Dampened with sweat, Jack presses his forehead against yours as he fucks you through his orgasm, then slows to a still. He hisses a little when he pulls out of your cunt, his spend dripping from your hole onto the leather. Jack collects this mess with his finger, then pushes the digit into your mouth as he catches his breath.

It’s all quiet, save for a few scattered raindrops and the sound of you and Jack both catching your breath. Jack breaks the silence. “Well hey, how about that. The storm passed, huh? Was really something, too. I’m glad we pulled over,” Jack laughs nervously. He helps you dress yourself as best as he can, then haphazardly dresses himself too. You smile a little, and Jack touches your face. “You alright, darling?”

“I’m okay,” you answer, still a little tearful. Jack smiles sympathetically and pulls you into his side, then shifts his car into gear. 

“Well, let’s get you home, then.” 

-

TY for reading! Comments, reblogs, all of that good stuff would be so appreciated ♡

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [5]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 4 | Fic Masterlist | Part 6

"She's severely malnourished, and the injuries on her body tell us that she's undergone quite the abuse, seemingly for years. But I assume you already deduced that much, yes?" Yunho stated as he turned to your husband.

Seonghwa nodded grimly, "Yes, unfortunately. Is there anything you can do to help with all the marks?"

"Given the lack of proper treatment for so long, most of her wounds have only worsened, resulting in permanent scars from various infections. I'll do my best to treat as much as I can, but please understand that I won't be able to eliminate most of these scars." The physician explained, not wanting to give the general any false hope of restoring your skin back to its original form.

Thankfully, Seonghwa wasn't naturally inclined to optimism, and he didn't care to entertain the idea of a miracle. He sighed, "I understand, Yunho. It doesn't matter to me if the scars remain, just... make all the pain go away for her. That's all that matters."

Though possibly surprised, Yunho didn't reveal it in his expression. That might have been the sweetest sentiment he had ever heard from the general. He nodded, "Very well. I'll need a few tools and herbs to prepare her tonic and ointment. Should I stay in the usual quarters until my work is complete?"

Eager to see her mistress recover quickly, the head maid was ready for action. She stood up as soon as her master addressed her, "Eunsook, you know what to do. Organise a team of servants to assist Physician Jung with everything he requires and prepare his usual accommodation."

Without having to be told twice, she swiftly moved to leave Seonghwa's room, "Yes, master! Please come with me, Physician Jung." The general watched as everyone exited his private quarters, leaving him alone with you.

Bringing a chair beside the bed, he seated himself next to you and mustered the courage to hold your hand. Gently rubbing his thumbs over your skin, he felt a pang in his heart, realising that it was far from how the hand of someone your age should be – smooth and flawless. Instead, it bore the marks of what he could only imagine as endless pain.

Reflecting on the unfounded accusations he had hurled at you after your sincere expression of gratitude during dinner, he wished he could turn back time and retract his words, if only it were possible. As if your life hadn't already been hell, he had only made it worse for you.

Suddenly, the notion of you being genuinely happy with The Cold Palace didn't seem so far-fetched. After all, who could fathom the inhumane living conditions you had endured for all those years? However, this realisation brought him no comfort; the fact that your life back in the Jang estate was so bad that you had to express gratitude for being given such a place was heartbreaking.

Seonghwa was jolted from his thoughts when he sensed your weak hand squeezing his. Looking up, he noticed your anguished expression as you cried in your sleep, your voice brokenly uttering, "I'm sorry..."

He felt his heart clench at the sight, prompting him to move and sit closer to you on the bed. Lifting his free hand, he gently wiped away the tears streaming from the corners of your eyes down your cheeks, "Hey, it's alright... You're safe now." He whispered, returning the soft squeeze to your hand.

As if aware of his presence, your eyes snapped open in alarm, and a whimper of fear escaped you as you saw him. For the first time in a long while, the general found no satisfaction in the fear reflected in someone's eyes. You gasped upon realising that the lifeline you were clinging to was him, noticing your hand in his.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" You cried harder when you realised your marks were still fully on display. Pulling your hand away from his, you grasped the sheets around you and clutched them close.

Despite the disappointment he felt at the absence of your hand, he didn't have time to dwell on it with your little panic attack. To ground you, he cupped your face with his hands, "Look at me," and you complied, your trembling eyes meeting his gaze, "Stop apologising and tell me what it is that you're sorry for."

"I-I'm sorry for all this," You gestured miserably to your own body, "I'm hideous. I'm tainted. I'm n-not good enough to be your wife, a-and I never will be. I-I don't deserve happiness... I was foolish to think I could find it h-here... with you."

Shaking his head, he caressed your hollow cheekbones, staring firmly into your eyes, "No, you listen to me. Never think that again. I forbid you from believing you're hideous or tainted or anything ridiculous like that. Whoever dares say you're not good enough to be my wife can go to hell because you're the only one I want. You deserve all the happiness in the world, and I will give you just that. You're not foolish to think that. I'll prove it to you."

Leaving you speechless, Seonghwa wrapped his arms around you before you could muster a response, pulling you close. The sudden warmth felt foreign but good, and you nestled your face into his broad shoulder, allowing yourself to relish the moment.

Am I dreaming? Feels too good to be true.

Marvelling at the luxurious interior of this beautiful room, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was all a product of your imagination. How could any of this be real?

The last memory you had was the general storming angrily into your room and ripping your hanbok open. After seeing you in your truest form, how could he have ended up acting this way towards you? It didn't make sense; he should have been disgusted and hostile. Instead, here he was, seemingly accepting you.

Exhausted from a lifetime of pain, you lacked the energy to question the reality of your situation. Even if it were just a dream, you decided to embrace it and savour the experience. On the other hand, if this was reality, you knew you had the rest of your life to understand his change of heart.

All that really mattered now was that the pain and the suffering stopped. If Seonghwa truly accepts you as his wife, the reason behind it doesn't seem important. You would simply be grateful for his kindness, or perhaps sympathy—whatever it was, you welcomed it wholeheartedly.

So long as there's no more pain.

With that decision made, you set aside the lingering questions in your mind and focused on how comforting it felt to be held in a warm embrace like this. A contented sigh escaped you as you whispered against him, "Thank you, my lord."

He responded by tightening his hold around your frame, gently cradling the back of your head with a hand, "No, don't thank me yet. I haven't done anything to deserve that from you. I've been horrible, the absolute worst. And for that, I'd like to apologise. I'm sorry, my dear. I promise you, I'll make up for it."

When you attempted to voice your protest, he halted you with a knowing shake of his head, "I know I may seem like an angel in comparison to the people who have... done all those horrendous things to you, but I won't lie and say that I'm proud of myself for the way I acted. You're important too, okay? You're the general's wife now, and I want you to remember that. I won't let anyone disrespect you again."

With a grateful nod, tears of relief welled up in your eyes. This transformed version of Seonghwa before you was a stark departure from the one you initially encountered. You didn't think he was capable of being so soft and caring, but you had no complaints; you could certainly get used to this.

"Oh, mistress! You're finally awake!" Eunsook exclaimed, standing at the room entrance with the physician in tow. This caused you and your husband to break eye contact. The general cleared his throat and averted his gaze, a faint blush tinting his cheeks when he realised the two had witnessed your shared intimate moment.

Yunho suppressed his smile and respectfully bowed at you, "Good day, Lady Park. I'm Physician Jung; it's nice to properly meet you." Blinking, you struggled to come up with a response, gaping at his handsome face.

While the elderly woman giggled at your loss of words, Seonghwa was less than amused at your reaction to the doctor's appearance. He scoffed lightly, finding it ridiculous that you were here gazing at another man after he had just poured his heart out to you.

How dare you be unfaithful this soon?

Upon catching the enticing scent of food, your eyes swiftly moved away from Yunho's face. Your face lit up as you finally noticed the bowl of piping hot congee in Eunsook's hands.

"Oh dear, you must be famished. With Physician Jung's help, we concocted this healthy meal for you. I know it's not very appetising, with all the medicinal herbs in it, but you must get better before indulging in tastier foods, alright?" She smiled encouragingly at you.

You shook your head as she approached with the bowl, "Not appetising? It already smells and looks better than anything I've ever had. Thank you for the food." You murmured, eagerly waiting as she fed you.

Unbeknownst to you, your innocent response had affected Seonghwa more than you realised, and it also surprised the physician. While Yunho had heard a bit about your situation from the head maid, he wasn't fully aware of the extent of it, and hearing it directly from you was truly heart-wrenching. That definitely explained the severe malnourishment.

The congee was gone within moments and Eunsook couldn't help but coo, "Well done, mistress." You bit your lip shyly, feeling embarrassed for devouring it in such an unladylike manner, but nothing mattered the moment the food touched your lips.

As if on cue, a group of servants arrived with a fresh set of clothes and bath supplies originally intended for you earlier in the morning. Turning toward the two men, the head maid bowed and gestured toward the door, "Master, Physician Jung, if you wouldn't mind stepping out. We shall bathe and change the mistress."

Yunho nodded, "Certainly, I'll be getting back to work then," and immediately excused himself, reassured to know you had finished your first sitting of medicine.

The general stood up from his spot, "Alright, Eunsook. I'll leave her to you for now. Take care of her for me." He said, moving to press a soft kiss onto your forehead. The action caused your eyes to widen, and all the servants internally squealed, shocked to see their master being so affectionate for the first time.

Your heart swelled as you watched him leave, his back suddenly seeming so reliable. It was hard to believe that he was your husband, yours. How lucky were you to be wedded to Park Seonghwa?

"Come, mistress. Let's get you cleaned up."

You observed with intrigue as the servants rushed around to prepare a bath for you, an experience you had never had before. However, as they began to assist in stripping off your clothes, you realised you had forgotten all about the marks on your skin earlier. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, you pushed the hands of the servants away and shook your head.

Reassuring you, they withdrew their hands with warm smiles, "It's okay, mistress. Please know we are all on your side; nobody here will disrespect or look down on you. You are now the official wife of General Park, and we will work our hardest to serve you."

The head maid nodded in agreement behind them, their sincerity deeply touching your heart, "Thank you for your kindness." You whispered, finally allowing them to help you out of your hanbok. They handled you with gentleness, and it took you some time to get used to it—finally not being manhandled like you always had been.

After they finished scrubbing you clean, the other maids momentarily left you alone to enjoy the bath, touched by your endearing demeanour—constantly expressing gratitude for every little thing. To them, it felt almost like caring for a child. Exchanging excited glances, none of them could hide their pleasure in having such a sweet mistress.

With your presence, perhaps the general's anger could finally subside, and the estate could experience some peaceful days. If only you knew the hope you had brought with your arrival.

Eunsook lingered in the background, cleaning and tidying up, while you played with the rose petals floating around the bath water. You couldn't recall the last time your life had been so relaxing, so peaceful. Turning to the elderly woman working nearby, you gathered the courage to ask, "This... this isn't a dream, is it?"

Setting down her supplies, she approached you with a motherly smile on her face, "I assure you, mistress, it is not. This is all very real. Perhaps the master's sudden shift in behaviour can be confusing."

She gently held onto your hand, "Trust me, he is actually not such a bad person at all. There's a good reason why all the servants here have been with him for a long time. Though he believes it is simply because of the good pay, it isn't. He just... has a hard time trying to express his feelings. Let's just say master did not exactly grow up living an easy life. He struggles to show his love because he has not been given nearly enough of it while growing up."

That sounds a little like me too.

Giving your hand a soft squeeze, she added, "And now, with you here, it seems we can all hope that things will change for the better, for master and for you, mistress."

"M-me? Better because of... me?" You whispered, returning the squeeze, and she nodded, "Yes, mistress. All because of you. You are our light and our hope. Thank you for coming to us. You're so important to everyone here, you know that? Never let anyone tell you otherwise."

You didn't realise you were crying until you felt a gentle touch as the elderly woman wiped away the tears rolling down your cheeks, assuring you, "No matter what happens, I promise you won't be alone anymore from now on."

Standing in the centre of the room later on, it almost felt like a dream come true as the servants attentively assisted you in getting dressed. For once, you felt genuinely cared for and respected, a stark contrast to your previous experiences at home, where most servants treated you as less than human.

Turning to face the mirror, a gasp escaped you as you gazed at your reflection, "You look beautiful, mistress. Master is going to love it." A servant exclaimed, admiring your natural beauty. Your eyes widened as you took in the pleasant appearance before you, surprised that despite the visibility of your scars, you could look appealing. It appeared that with proper care, hair, and clothing, you could indeed appear somewhat pretty.

I guess all hope is not lost.

"We'll be taking our leave now, mistress." The rest of the maids bowed in a line before you as they finished up. Panic crossed their faces when they saw you about to return their bows, and Eunsook stopped you in time, saying, "Oh dear, mistress! We'll have to work on that. Please remember you do not have to bow to any of the servants here, or anywhere, for the matter."

You nodded, "I'm sorry, I'll remember that next time."

She chuckled and shook her head, "That too, you do not need to apologise to us. We are here to serve you." The maids nodded to signal that the elderly woman was right, smiling encouragingly at you before bowing one last time and leaving to return to their other tasks.

"Now, there's still a bit more time before dinner. What would you like to do until then, mistress?" The head maid asked.

You blinked, realising you didn't know how to answer. You never had the luxury to do as you pleased; all your supposed spare time was spent rotting in your prison cell of a room. What did your stepsisters usually do? Right, make your life hell. That's what.

What do young ladies around your age do?

Suddenly remembering Eunsook's earlier words about having to work on what you should and shouldn't do, you perked up, "I... I wish to learn. I want to be a proper lady, to be a proper wife for the general."

You stared, puzzled, as the elderly woman tried to hide her cheeky grin, "Well, the master's study is full of all sorts of knowledgeable books. Maybe you can find something in there. Would you like to go there now, mistress?"

Finding nothing wrong with the suggestion, you agreed. The next thing you knew, you were left standing alone by the entrance to the study she had been talking about. She had explained that she needed to assist the physician with an important task before hastily disappearing.

Not wanting to be impolite, you knocked on the door and waited for a response, "May I please enter, my lord?" After a moment of silence, you knocked again, only to be met with silence.

Maybe he's not inside.

With a shrug, you cautiously pushed the door open. Your eyes widened when you immediately spotted Seonghwa seated at his desk, deeply engrossed in his reading with a slight furrow of his brows. Despite planning to leave, you found yourself rooted to the spot, admiring how attractive he looked, even when only sitting there.

As if sensing someone watching him, his eyes immediately shot up in alert, only to soften when he realised it was you. Caught off guard, you sputtered and bowed repeatedly, "I-I'm sorry, my lord! I didn't mean to spy on you or anything like that. Eunsook told me I could occupy myself with some books in here until dinner, and I—"

Too busy staring down at your feet, you didn't notice he had been making his way towards you. You gasped when his shoes came into view, looking up to find him right in front of you with a gentle smile on his face, "Relax, I'm not angry. You're welcome to spend time with me; I'd be happy to accompany you."

Looking at you closely now, his heart raced as he realised how stunning you appeared in this natural state, even more so than with a face full of heavy makeup, "You... you look beautiful, by the way." He remarked, watching with admiration as a blush tinted your cheeks when you quietly thanked him.

As you bit your lips shyly, he found it hard to look away, feeling a desire to kiss you that he had never experienced with any woman before, "M-my lord?" You stuttered, feeling flustered by the sudden attention he was paying to your lips.

With a hand outstretched, he cleared his throat and gestured for you to join him, "R-right, let me know what you're looking for. This is no royal library, but I'm sure I'll have whatever you need."

You gulped, shyly placing your hand in his waiting one, "I was hoping to learn more about lady etiquette. I... I want to be a proper lady and wife for you, my lord." His heart melted at that; despite the less-than-warm welcome he had given you, you were still willing to work hard and be better for him.

"Very well, come with me." Tightening his hold on your hand, he gently led you towards the bookshelves lining the side of his study.

As you passed by his desk, you couldn't help but do a double take at the reading material he had been so focused on just earlier. You'd recognise the Jang family crest anywhere.

"Wait, isn't that—"

Before you could inquire about it, Seonghwa was already in the process of tidying up the space and simultaneously putting the book away, "Sorry for the mess. Now, which area of lady etiquette did you want to start with first?" He asked, gesturing to the entire row of books dedicated to the topic.

"O-oh, I haven't really thought about that. I wasn't aware there were so many different areas. Gosh, I have much to learn..." You trailed off, your mind already reeling as you tried to figure out which area would be best to begin with.

He sighed in relief, successfully redirecting the conversation. His heart nearly stopped when he spotted the recognition in your eyes upon seeing your family records. The general didn't want to have to interview you in order to delve into your past; he didn't want you to relive any nightmares. More importantly, he didn't want to worry you by revealing any of the plans he had in store for your family.

« Preview of Part 6 »

Jongho entered his master's study that night, panting and puzzled to find the desk filled with books on... lady etiquette?

"S-sir?"

Seonghwa snapped up immediately, catching the assistant's appalled gaze on your books. He chuckled, "Oh, those are just your mistress' books. She said she wants to learn to be a proper lady and wife... can you believe that?"

Without himself noticing, the general had an almost dreamy look on his face as he smiled, lost in thoughts of you, unaware that he was letting it show on his face, revealing his affection for you.

"I see. I'm sure the mistress will no doubt make you proud with her studies soon." Jongho responded with a knowing grin, pleased to see his master being soft for a change, the intimidating General Park momentarily gone, all because of his wife.

Recalling his aide's purpose for being here this late, Seonghwa quickly turned serious, "Well, have you managed to find anything?"

The assistant immediately straightened up, moving closer to the general and lowering his voice, "I have, sir. With the funds you provided, I hired a private investigator willing to infiltrate the Jang estate. Fortunately, one of the older servants didn't take much to crack; she told him just about everything."

With a clenched fist, your husband asked for confirmation, "Well? Was it her father?"

Nodding, Jongho's expression turned grim, "It was as you assumed, sir. It was him, his wife, his stepdaughters, and even the servants. But there's... more. We've uncovered new information, the minister... he truly is despicable."

Sorry, this part took a little longer! Happy to report that I'm feeling much better! I was out all day with my family and immediately got to work finalising this as soon as I got home!

Thank you so much for 800+ followers! And as always, thank you for reading and I'm so excited to hear all your thoughts (or even predictions for what's to come😈), I promise I won't spoil anything in my replies! <3

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