#regal T Shirts
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"Regal Glow - Christmas Peacock"- Exclusive T-Shirt for Boys, Girls, Men & Women Racerback Tank Top
#regal rambles#regal T Shirts#peacock#women tshirt#apron#christmas gift#festive#holidays#xmas#christmas lights
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Me waiting for the ânew shirts weâre all gettingâ my manager told me about to come in so I can finally have a legit shirt instead of the uncomfortably tight t shirt they gave me:
#I asked her like two months ago at least#âhey do you know when I could get one of the collared shirts?â#âweâre all gonna get new collared shirts soon đâ#I donât like the t shirt itâs too small#and itâs faded now#and it makes me feel like I look like im a new employee#even though Iâve been there for like eight months now#the new people look more experienced than me#lol when I worked at spirit Halloween they didnât have the aprons so Iâve never had a legit work uniform#one thing I donât like is that I think the new shirts are gonna be the ones with the orange sides instead of the blue#idk I like the look of the blue ones better#IK orange makes more sense I even questioned why it was blue cause Regalâs color is orange#đ€·
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summary: after a night out dancing and a lift home turns into something more, you learn something about your dad's buddy. joel miller fucks.
pairing: young!joel miller x f!reader
ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. it's smut, y'all. everything you've come to expect. respectable age gap (10 years ish), tiny bit of spanking, one (1) gentle pussy slap, lil bit of daddy kink, joel miller eats it from the back (oral (f&m)), edging, unprotected piv (do better), creampie, feelings, joel miller's whore mouth.
reader has hair and wears dresses, no other descriptions or name.
wc: 7.2k
an: for @schnarfer. my favourite hot priest, i worship in your church <3
Joel went out looking for trouble that night.
Hair curling at the nape of his neck, a beer sweltering in his hand as beads of sweat carved their way down the strong line of his back. T-shirt sticking to his skin, tension wound tight in his shoulders, thick in every muscle, every strand of sinew after work.Â
Revelling in the feeling of how the weight of the day lifted the more he drank, the more he relaxed, feeling his smile get wider the more he loosened up in the crowded bar. Freshly thirty five, another year in hand. Tommy buying the shots, introducing him to every new face that walked into the steaming, heavy swell of wood and linoleum, every stranger who leant against the tacky bar, every pretty girl who flicked their hair and batted their eyelashes.Â
Heâs laughing - held flung back, chest heaving - harder than he has in a long time. Dancing in a way so unlike how he dances with Sarah in the kitchen, welcoming the heavy, slow grind of hips against his own, breathless against a sweet smelling neck. Itâs hot and itâs loud on this Friday night in Austin, and he loves it.
Not quite basking in the attention of being the birthday boy, but shouldering the stream of conversation that Tommy directs his way nonetheless. Cheeks flushed pink as heâs hauled up on to the bar top, clumsy, unsure where to look as the bartender encourages him to stand in full view of the crowd. The whole bar, oscillating with colour and light and sound, roaring into a raucous chorus of happy birthday, beckoned by the chime of the bell by the till.
The spectacle of it all makes him look to the ceiling before dropping his chin to his chest, makes him laugh again, watching these people, many strangers, cheer and sing for him.Â
He holds his beer to his chest through the first part of the song, cheeks tight with a smile. His eyes swivel to the corner of the dancefloor on the downturn of Joel⊠catching the flicker and flare of a pair he recognises, scanning your face on the refrain - happy birthday - heart dropping confusingly low in his chest, the world taking a sticky beat as his blood halts and begins to rush again - to you.
Heâs not seen you here before. Much more used to seeing you coming and going from your fatherâs house - bright smile, wicked eyes. Moved back home after spending some time out west when youâd finished your Masters program, always happy to chat for a little longer if you were where he was. Interesting and interested - heâs been regaled by tales of you from your father - the man whoâs been overseeing safety on Joelâs latest job site - and listened to more directly from you, lip caught between his teeth as he bit back amusement at the things you didnât want your dad to know.
Your father is a good man. Kind, supportive. So proud of you in the way he talks that Joelâs taking blueprints for raising Sarah. And you - you. Joel tries to think of you in ways he thinks of other colleagues or acquaintances. Smart, creative, perceptive. Patient, generous with your time and energy when entertaining neighbours at cookouts. Any other thoughts creep in in the dead of night, and heâs quick to try and forget them by morning.
But this - you here, now - is entirely different. It could be the buzz of the tequila in his system, could be the hot blood in his veins, could be the giddy little flash of that smile you shoot him as you clap and whoop with the rest of the crowd, but his feet are itching to find you once he half hops, half clambers down off the bar, accepting claps on the back and other sentiments as he searches for you again.
But youâre gone.
Disappeared, into thin air. Like he imagined you in the first place.
He cranes his neck a little, twisting his head from side to side as if trying to loosen another tight muscle, trying to tamp down the damp disappointment he feels.Â
Trying to remember how he tries to forget.
âHappy birthday, cowboy,â the words are breathless, squeezed through a smile.
The grin that creeps across his face is slow and wide, crinkling the corners of his eyes as he turns to face you.
âEveninâ, darlinâ,â is his reply. Deep, coy, any idea of hiding his thoughts gone, buried. Itâs his birthday, and youâre here. You and your sparkling eyes.
âYou gonna let me buy you a drink, or have you got a queue of ladies lining up to do that already?â
He laughs, and you feel the sound glimmer down your body, lighting every synapse, every receptor. You track his gaze as it drifts down your body and back up, spine straightening at his appraisal.Â
Delicious thighs beneath the hem of your skirt, soft swell of your breasts above your neckline.Â
âYour daddy know youâre here?â He asks, delighting in the way you scoff.Â
âMy daddy knows Iâm out tonight,â you say, licking your teeth, eyes dropping to his mouth, âAnd he donât care much about it. Iâm a big girl, Joel. I can handle myself.â
Theyâre big words for someone around ten years his junior, but he doesnât doubt it. Heâs heard your bartending stories, about your debates with fratboys. Something about your confidence, your self-assuredness licks a tongue of flame up his back. He bites his cheek.
âBest buy me that drink, then.â
He went looking for trouble that night.Â
And Jesus, he found it.Â
Found it on the dancefloor, your soft body grinding against his. The heat and the sweat, how you moved your hips with his, how youâd giggled when heâd turned you around, pulling you flush against him. Your hands grasping for him, clutching at his thigh as you pressed firmly against the bulge growing at your backside, head tipped back, bliss etched across your face as you felt each other.
Found it in his truck when he dragged you outside under the pretence of giving you a lift home, found it when he rucked your skirt up on the backseat, when he pulled the top of your dress down. Inches of skin he had banished fantasies about to the back of his mind, revealed to him in the dim light of the parking lot. The sweat gleaming on your sternum, shining on your clavicles, your neck. He wishes, now, that he had taken more time to tell you how beautiful you looked, how smart you are, how funny, that first time, but the two of you had been too caught up in seeing, feeling, as much as possible.Â
His knees had protested as he crammed himself onto the floor, wanting to be between those thighs, wanting to taste you. Pressing, gliding his fingers against your pussy over your underwear, watching you keen and beg, hands twisting tight in the material of your dress, then his shirt collar, then his hair.Â
And that first swipe of his tongue when heâd pulled your underwear to the side, that first, most base knowledge of you. The sweet and sour, your smell, the way you became pliant, willing to have your thighs pushed up towards your chest. Quickly obsessed with the way you looked down at him, jaw slack, pupils blown, eyebrows slightly furrowed. Quickly obsessed with the way your pussy looked, puffy, needy, the way it leaked and clenched before him as he leant back to spit on it, how your head hit the headrest with a soft thump.
Too obsessed, everything about that night feeling too good as he lowered you down onto him, as he sunk his teeth into your shoulder to stop himself from coming too early, watching you bounce on his cock, listening to the way you moaned and panted and whimpered his name. The wet sounds of you fucking, the way he held you still, big hands on your waist as he bucked up into you. The way your noises, your breathing stuttered as he thrusted harder, as he dropped you lower. The fogged windows, low bass from the bar, how you clenched and fluttered around him as he wrung two orgasms from your pretty body before spilling himself inside you.
Heâs been finding trouble ever since.
Finding reasons to help you grab drinks, bring out nibbles at your dadâs Halloween party. Finding excuses to have you backed up against the tool bench in the garage instead, his hips between yours, soft lips against chapped or your hand tight against your mouth to make sure nobody would find you. Heading back out into the garden with his cock still swollen, tucked into his black slacks, feeling your slick around its base still, your fake blood smeared on his dog collar, watching as you pressed your thighs together in your seat, knowing you could still feel him trickling out of you. He could hear your teasing through the glint in your eye - some priest you are, father.
Driving you home from the bar after a night of dancing around each other, after glances were snuck whenever they could be - over his brotherâs shoulder, between your friendsâ laughter. The crackle of electricity in the truck cab as the warm air threaded itself between you, your sparkling eyes, devious little laugh.Â
Walking you to your door, keeping you safe, don't wanna disappoint your old man.Â
Jamming his foot between the wood and the frame to come in when you told him he wasnât home.Â
The mornings when Sarahâs waking up, still sugar-high after a sleepover, in a house the other side of town. The mornings heâs awake first, drinking coffee at his kitchen table when you hop down the stairs in his t-shirt from the night before, sleep-stained and perfect. The mornings that start with you in his lap, with kisses pressed to temples, lips, necks, his wide palms snaking under the material, fiending warm skin, finding it, cradling it. The firm weight of your breasts in his palms, the pebbling of your nipples beneath his thumbs. The soft rock of your hips against his hardening length, his fingers reaching to pull your panties to the side, finding you soaked like that first night. How you whine and huff against his shoulder as he sinks one, two, three digits into you, as he twists them, pumps them, as he uses his thumb to toy with your clit. The wet patch you leave, darkening the grey tenting below you, the outline of him something you want to press your face against, nuzzle, mouth at until heâs begging this time.Â
Mornings when he takes you apart deftly, until you hover above him, pulling his hard, leaking cock over the top of his sweatpants, savouring that delicious stretch around him, the way he thickens out at the base, the way the wiry hair there catches on your clit. When you can enjoy the way he holds you there afterwards, talking about your days ahead, nibbling at your ear as his cum slips from you along with his softening cock.Â
All these moments, and theyâre never enough.
Because despite how often they happen, how often he might be able to hold you, kiss you - you make Joel Miller feel like a fucking teenager.Â
Itâs been years since heâs woken up to the cooling evidence of a wet dream in his boxers. Heâs having them nightly now in his thirties; sick and tired of waking up wet and aching and sticky, sick and tired of wishing it was you, not his hand, helping to solve the problem.
He wants you here so much more often than he does. The tip of his tongue on the evenings you call, sunlight fading through the window, orange on his sheets. He wonders, as you talk, what it would look like painted onto your skin.Â
He wants Sarah to actually know how he feels about the woman who babysits her every so often, wants Tommy to understand the reason why he turns up smiling to the site every day. And he wants your father to know his daughter has found someone whoâll treat her right, whoâll hold her hand through the bad days and give her all he can to make her smile.
The more he thinks about it, the more he wonders whether you have, too.Â
Whether youâd confess to your father the crush you have on the contractor, ask if he could put in a good word for you. There isnât much between you - it would only take some careful wording, an evening where he can present the flowers heâs been dying to give you at your door.
Heâs sure your father wouldnât mind.
But this secret, the sneaking around - he canât deny the thrill of it. Stolen touches, kisses, whispers in the moonlight. Quiet jokes between the two of you, the looks exchanged around others, the show of you putting your hand on his shoulder - can I get you anything else, Mr Miller?
Youâve only come close to being found out once. Just the once. By Tommy - who else could it have been?Â
Tommy, who couldn't hide his delight when he found the underwear youâd left behind in Joel's truck one morning, wheezing with laughter as Joel stuffed your soft, cotton panties into his back pocket. His cheeks aflame, he swore under his breath that heâd kill his little brother if he ever flicked a womanâs underwear at him like that again instead of doing the right thing - kicking them under the seat and pretending he hadnât seen anything.Â
Between gasping breaths, Tommy had managed to make a good point. At least it wasn't Sarah whoâd found them.
You gonna tell me who the lucky lady is, big brother?
He didnât. Not yet.
Itâs been so unbearably hot all day.
Too hot to work in the open air, and though Joelâs not grateful for the heat, he is grateful for the chance to stay at home. A chance to catch up on chores while Sarah basks in the AC at school, a chance to work his way through bills and invoices, fighting to keep his head clear of any thought of you and what you might be up to in weather like this.
He keeps his eyes carefully trained on numbers, figures, dates, unaware of the clock, unaware of the calls heâs missing. Only catches himself daydreaming when the lines start to blur.
He makes it to just past lunchtime when he hears a car pull up in the driveway. He knows the rattle of that engine, the heave of noise it makes as it turns off.
He stands from the table, blood racing in his chest.
âGod- motherfuckinâ shit,'
Joel lets the front door hang open behind him, folding his arms across his heart as you try and jam your wing mirror back in place.
âYou kiss your grandma with that mouth?â
You grin, flipping him off as you slam the door closed. The mirror sticks.
âYeah. Suck your dick with it, too,â
His lips quirk, watching as you stand with your hip against the front of your car, a box in one hand, the other shielding your eyes from the sun. Staring at each other, a little game you play. You watch his smirk grow, feeling the trickle of sweat down your spine.
âThere a reason why youâre here?â
You roll your eyes, like it should be obvious. And it is obvious, but -
âFreezerâs fucked,â you huff, and Joel raises an eyebrow. âCan I put them in yours?â
You hold the box up to him.
âPopsicles?â Joel frowns. You roll your eyes at him.
âPlease, Joel. Theyâre literally the only thing keeping me sane,â
He scratches at his jaw, pretending to contemplate.
âI dunno, darlinâ,â he says, âThe only thing? Surely that AC of yours is doinâ a fine job,'
You scoff at him, folding your own arms.Â
âThat old piece aâ shit ainât doinâ nothinâ and you know it,â
He chuckles, letting his arms drift to his sides.
âGuess I can take care of âem for ya. Anythinâ else?â
You bite your lip, eyes glinting in the sun.
âCan I come in?â you ask. A slow, smug smile grows across Joelâs lips.
â'N do what, exactly?â
You pout at him, fluttering your eyelashes. His cock twitches.
âJust wanna swim in the pool. Promise I wonât do nothinâ else, Mr Miller,â
âNothinâ else, baby?â He says, lowly.
You shake your head, eyes wide. Picture of false innocence.
âNothinâ else,'
If there are two things Joel has come to know about you in the last year, itâs that youâre a great fuck, and a bad liar.
He steps back into the open door behind him, grinning as you skip past him into the hallway. He watches, snicking the catch and lock as you make your way into the kitchen, swinging open the refrigerator door, finding a spot for your iced treats. He follows, leaning against the doorframe, watching as you stand in the cold air flowing from the appliance for a moment, your eyes closed.
Heâs looking at your legs when you turn to speak to him, snapping to meet your gaze as though heâs been caught doing something he shouldnât. That ship sailed long ago. You grin at him.
âWhatcha been doinâ?â
He exhales, stepping closer.
âWorkinâ,â
You hum, meeting him beside the kitchen table, surveying the stacks of paper.
âNot too hard?â
âHard to, when I'm thinkinâ âbout you,â
You grin, twisting to look at him.
âYou sweet on me, Miller?â
He shrugs.
âBout time you noticed,â
His hands find your waist as yours make their way up his chest, his shoulders, winding around his neck.
âI had my suspicions,â you whisper, before pressing your lips to his. He smiles into it, parting his lips to invite you in, rocking you back and forth in his arms.
âMissed you,â you breathe, and he hums in response.
âMissed you too, baby,â
Youâre salty sweet; warm scent of your skin, your sun lotion, your perfume, your sweat. When heâs satisfied, done licking lazily into your mouth, exploring the taste of your lips, he moves to your neck. Laving kisses there, biting, sucking, nibbling as you sigh against him. He bites harder, earning a particularly needy whimper, hands moving to knead the flesh of your ass through your dress.
âJoel,â you murmur, âYouâll leave a mark,â
He hums, trailing kisses up your neck to the space behind your ear, along your jaw, before finally meeting your lips again.
âDonât care.â
Heâs grasping your hips to turn you so youâre pressed against the table, your back to his firm chest. You canât help the gasp, the giggle that floats from you as he tugs you closer, as you feel the heft of him pressed into the small of your back. You shift your hips, brushing against him, slow and purposeful.
Joel groans - a long, drawn out, hungry sound. He pulls your hips tighter to him, moving against you just the same before his hands slide up to your breasts, holding the weight of each in his palms, squeezing and rolling a nipple between his thumb and finger. You tip your head back against his shoulder, and he hums approvingly as you begin to grind against him in earnest. He pauses only for a moment to pull your straps from your shoulders and work your dress down to expose your tits, and then heâs on you again. Teasing and stroking and pinching, your hand gripping his forearms as you huff and whimper, caged between him and the table. You moan his name, bleeding every once of want you feel into it, hoping he can hear just by the sound of your voice how wet you are for him. Â
âDreamt about ya last night,â he rasps in your ear, and you flash him a dazzling, breathless smile.
âOh yeah? âN whatâd ya dream about, cowboy?â
You whine as he crowds you, leaning down to suck another bruise into the junction between your neck and shoulders, whiskers bristling against your skin, hands hot and heavy everywhere they can find purchase.
âMuch rather show you,â he rumbles.
You nip your bottom lip between your teeth, shooting him a wicked look over your shoulder. His eyes crinkle, and as he spins you to face him again, he moves to pinch your jaw, just rough enough to curb your inevitable wise ass response. He watches as your eyes glaze a little, soft slump of your shoulders as he gives your head a little shake. His cock is achingly hard.
âUpstairs. Now,â
As soon as he backs away from you, youâre sprinting towards the stairs with a shriek. Joel is close behind, and you can feel the heat of him, enough to set your heart galloping in your chest. Something primal urging space between you, something base wishing there was none.
You clatter through his bedroom door, whirling to face him - bare chest heaving, lips curled. He pauses in the doorway - so tall and broad, so imposing - shoulders straining against his t-shirt, curls frayed from your hands. He steps in, swings the door shut behind him, and then heâs closing the space easily - one, two, three - gathering you in his arms until youâre on tiptoes, pawing at the flesh of your ass through your sundress. Obsessed with it. You on him, him on you.
He needs this like air.
His breath is hot against your lips, mouth needy and wet as you open yourself to him. He licks into your mouth, kissing you like itâs something you need to take from him, like thereâs something you need to understand through the action alone. He fiddles with the flimsy material of your half-removed sundress, pulling at it a little.
âTake this off,â he growls, nipping at your lips.Â
You step back from him as you push it past your hips, the fabric pooling to the floor in seconds, leaving you in your panties. He bites his lip, murmuring a fuck before stripping himself of his t-shirt. Glorious tan chest, slightly lighter than his strong arms, shoulders seeming even broader, smattering of hair that leads down past his navel, his smooth belly, the constellations of freckles that join beneath your fingertips.
You busy your fingers with his belt as he cups your face once more, pressing kisses to your hairline, your forehead, your cheekbones. Youâre giggling, trying to see what youâre doing through the blur of his face and hands, but then his palms are moving lower, groping at your breasts again, swiping his thumbs against your taught nipples, groaning against your mouth as you dip your hand past his unfastened belt and fly, into his boxers to cup his silken skin.
âHowâd that dream go again?â
Joel smiles against your mouth, giving a harsh twist to each peaked bud before beginning to push his jeans further down.
âKneel,â he commands.
You drop to your knees in one swift motion, biting your lip at him as he whips his belt from its loops and throws it to the corner of the room. Your eager fingers curl under the waistband of his jeans, inching them and his underwear down.Â
âDonât know how youâre wearing jeans in this weather -â
âCos I knew youâd be here some point to take âem off me,â
You smirk, blinking up at him through your eyelashes.
âWho, me? I donât know what kind of girl you take me for, daddy, butâŠâ Youâre chewing your cheek to try and temper your look of amusement, but Joel gives in immediately. Goofy smile, all teeth, eyes crinkling at the edges. He cups your jaw as you wrap your hand around his base, pulling him out of his underwear, soft black material barely holding him in.Â
His body moves with the first pump of your tight fist, the swirl of your thumb when you reach the head, spreading the pearl of precum beading there as he hisses. Thick and pulsing in your hand, velvety smooth, you trace its lines, veins with a delicate finger, press a kiss to his tip. Joelâs nostrils flare.
âSo pretty,â you murmur, and that smirk tugs at his lips again.
âI say you could touch it?â
You roll your eyes, quirking your head at him.
âDidnât think you had to,â you shrug, âKinda comes with the territory of tellinâ me to get on my knees -â
He scoffs.
âAlright, smart ass,â tangling his fingers in your hair, âMake me proud.â
You smile broadly, before inching closer, moving your mouth with your hand to chase down his length. You always know how to shut him up, and right now, the sight, the sound, the feel of you taking him all on the first try makes him fucking dizzy.
Hot and wet, the ridges of the roof of your mouth like satin around his cock, jumping as it hits the back of your throat and further, twitching again as you hum around him, opening your eyes - doe-like, watering already, the pinch in your brows telling him what you need to hear.
âGood girl,â he groans, âGood fucking girl,â
Itâs the encouragement you need, moaning again as you pull back to the tip, taking him back in again as you bring one hand up to scratch at his thigh, the other moving from his length to his balls, cupping them softly, squeezing, rolling, and heâs on fucking fire. If there was ever a chance he was going to hell before, heâs sure the way you make him feel will send him there regardless.
Youâre taking it slow, steady, making him feel every inch of your mouth as you moan and breathe, so intense that he can feel his tip heating - a kind of overstimulation - as he lets little moans slip more freely from his lips. Sighs and mutterings, breathless praise, wrecked groans as you start to move faster, jaw falling open. A steady stream of salt on your tongue, the taste making you keen for him, press your nose to the skin above his cock, making you forget anything outside the taste of him in your mouth. The hand on his thigh moving to work his length as you pay special attention to his head, your hips bucking unconsciously. His stomach jumps, lungs heaving as he massages your crown, as you kitten lick and swirl your tongue down the vein on the underside, rewarded with a sharp, wanton gasp as you pull back to slap him against your tongue.Â
You watch as his pink tip flushes a darker shade, as it dribbles even more, feeling him jerk in your hand. Spellbound, slack-jawed at the way you take him, at the way you want him, like the taste and the pressure is never enough. How you always need more, more, more, and heâs getting closer, closer, closer -
He pulls you off with a deep, guttural groan - missing your mouth the minute itâs gone, resisting the temptation to shove himself back past your lips and come down your throat.Â
You gaze up at him, pouting, straining against the hand in your hair.Â
âWhat? Didnât I make you proud, cowboy?â
He tightens his grip, tips your head further to meet his gaze.
âBed,â he commands, relinquishing his hold, ridding himself of his remaining clothes as you do yours, clambering up onto his bed, settling yourself on your knees again, wiggling side to side, your wide eyes rapt, wired. Chin wet, chest heaving, fingers twitching in your lap, he makes his decision almost instantly. Steps forwards, fingers brushing against the inside of your knee. Your legs part automatically, and he follows the contour of soft skin in the inside of your thighs right to the very top, no grace in the way he swipes his fingers through your folds, collecting the wetness there. And thereâs so much of it, so much you feel proud of the way his eyes darken when he feels it.
âWhatâs this, baby?â He coos, repeating the motion as you whimper, as your shoulders hunch and your chin tips down. He lifts it with a finger and thumb, before cupping your face. You nuzzle into the touch, eyes hungry. âOh, pretty girl,â he murmurs, smiling again, âThis happen while you were down on your knees sucking daddyâs cock?â
You snort softly, forehead knocking against his as he crowds closer.
âFucker-â you start, but itâs cut off by your gasp as he easily slips in two thick fingers. He tuts.
âTry again,â
âYes,â you whisper, âFuck yes, it did,â
He kisses your nose, pumping the digits slowly.
âGonna have to do something about that then, arenât we?â
âPlease,â you breathe, and he removes his fingers, slipping them into his mouth with another groan, tasting you - fuck.Â
âHands and knees, baby,â he says roughly, and you obey.
He pushes you forward so your chest is pressed into the sheets, nipples catching on the fabric, sweat soaking, cooling against the bed. Your breath catches in your throat - good girl, like this - and heâs pulling your hips up towards him, gripping the flesh at the backs of your thighs to spread you. Your knees slide, pliant with the need that scorches through you, and you press your cheek into the duvet, trying to angle your head so you can watch him watching you.Â
And fuck, is he watching you. Eyes blown, lips bitten, a depraved intensity settling in the way his jaw flexes. You bunch your hands into fists on the cotton, shuddering as his palms run over your curves - hips, waist, hips, ass, thighs - before they stop, parting you for him again. You canât help the way you present yourself to him, the way your hips tilt when air meets your bare cunt.
âAtta girl,â he mumbles, âLook at all that. You makinâ a mess fâme, baby? This pretty little pussy achinâ for what I wanna give her?â
You muffle your response, so fucking desperate, against his sheets, clutching the material tighter. He swipes both his thumbs through your folds, tracing the seam of your cunt, spreading the slick there to shine against your skin, teasing one digit at the entrance of your hole, the other inching its way - agonisingly - towards your clit. You throb, and he watches a bead of slick dribble down your folds, grinding himself against the bed as his cock jumps.
âIs she, baby?â
You gasp, turning your head to him again. His eyes meet yours, dark, burning.
âYes,â you half-moan, half-sob.
He hums in response, before turning back to your spread cunt. The thumb making its way towards your clit disappears, and you scrunch your brows together in disapproval, mouth working around a strangled please- before the sensation is replaced by his warm breath, then his firm tongue as he licks you from your clit to your hole.Â
The cry that forces its way past your lips is strangled, choked, stuck in your throat as you clench around nothing at the contact.
âOh, fuck -â
And he chuckles against you, at the way your legs almost give out, wrapping his strong arms around your thighs in an effort to hold you upright. You squeeze your eyes closed as he licks further - Joel, fuck - seeking your clit again, pulling it between his lips, dragging his face against you, like he needs it, like he canât be apart from you.
He sucks a little harsher, and at the very same time, you feel the tip of his nose edge against your cunt. You moan, a fractured sound, and he pulls you towards him again, pressing the curve of it further inside, moving his tongue in circles. Youâre seeing fucking stars.
Breath shuddering out of you in high pitched gasps, toes curling against the pressure that builds so quickly already in your gut, unable to move, to find any relief as he mouths at you - ravenous, cramming his face, his fucking nose, as far into you as he can, slurping and sucking, letting his teeth graze you gently when you try to protest - too much, close Joel, âm close, fuck -
He pulls back just as suddenly as he came near, swatting your ass quickly, once, twice, before leaning back in. You barely have time to register the sting, how it flares goosebumps up your back, what it means, drunk on the feel of his mouth on you. He begins the same onslaught, sucking, licking, groaning at your taste before the knot tightens again.
âYes, please, Joel, please -â
But heâs gone again, that same firm hand landing on your backside as he pushes himself up, loosening his arms from their vice grip on your thighs.Â
âNot yet,â he rasps, âNot yet, gonna come on my cock, yeah? Get it nice and wet, show me how much you like it?â
You rock your forehead against his mattress, waves of pleasure rolling through you, cunt fluttering, still so exposed to him. You take too long to answer, moaning loudly as he taps his palm against your soaked folds. You jolt, hips moving instinctively, finding nothing. You shudder a breath.
âYes, wanna come on your cock, I need it daddy. Need you inside me, need you to fuck me, need to come, Joel, please -â
He pulls you by the hips to the edge of the bed again, one palm kneading the flesh there, the other sliding three fingers through your arousal, bringing the wetness to his cock, slicking himself up. You raise yourself up on your elbows, looking back at him, and Joel's heart almost gives out. That perfect little pout, the sweat dripping down your forehead, the bead of it that travels down the valley of your spine, shining against your skin. Every inch of you so perfect, glossy in the heat, his. The patch he loves so much at the bottom of your back, just before the swell of your ass, even better, impossibly, from this angle.Â
He holds you still with the grip on your hip as he nudges the tip of his cock against your entrance, and your breath stills in your lungs. That first press, the pressure, the beginning of the stretch, the way you contract around the promise of it, waiting, waiting -
Waiting.
Joel smiles, though you canât see it. His body pulled taught, barely resisting the urge to push himself further into you.Â
âGo on, pretty girl,â he says, âWanna see you fuck yourself on it. Show me how bad you need it,â
You hear his breath catch the moment you begin to slide down, and then the room is silent, save for the buzzing of his fans and the sticky sound of you pulling him inside. When you reach his base, nestling against the hair there, you both let out an honest, drawn out groan of relief. Youâre so full of him, the stretch welcome, pressing against a sweet spot deep inside you, just enough to leave you breathless. You can feel him pulse in time with your heartbeat, feel yourself grow wetter, begin to drip down your thighs as you breathe heavily, as his grip grows firmer, as his fingers slide to the crease between your thighs and your stomach.
âMove, baby,â he pleads, sounding just as wrecked as you feel.
So you do. Slow, methodical, so you can feel all of him. Every inch, every vein that makes you clench around him, that makes him groan low in his throat. You know he wants it faster, that this time he wants more, but youâre too busy indulging yourself, focused on the drag of him against your walls, showing him how he takes care of you, making sure he watches how he fills you, how well you take him.Â
When the pressure begins to grow, when he coos at you a little more, you move with more force, fucking yourself back, your noises coming louder, higher pitched, while his grow lower, as he babbles to you more and more.Â
âFuck, look at you, baby. Look at you. Take me so good, take me so deep. Perfect pussy, made fâme, ainât she? So pretty baby, so pretty the way you stretch, feel so good, so good, darlinâ, fuck -â
Heâs almost too caught up in the way your ass recoils against his thighs, the way your pussy moulds itself to him, that he misses the tell tale signs of you about to come. The way you gasp, the way you tighten and throb, the way you fist the sheets around you, the way your body begins to lock up -
âNo. Not yet,â he grits out, pulling his hips back, pulse pounding in his ears as he watches your body try to chase his before he grips you again, turning you onto your back.
Youâre sobbing around your plea - please Joel, been so good, just wanna come around you, please baby - but heâs steadfast.
He wants to see your face when you let go. Wants to watch your eyes roll, wants to watch you arch, wants to see the way your stomach lurches -
You scrabble for him, slurring your words, so fucked out - please Joel please, please baby, god, I just need - as he arranges your legs so your knees are bent, so your pretty little pussy is exposed completely to him - need you, please fuck me - before he swipes his thumb against your clit again, just to hear your broken whine, the hiccuped sigh, the way your body twitches, so close.
He pauses, holds your thighs wide open before him, towering above you. You reach to skate a hand up his tan belly, fingers scraping through the hair there, the muscled lines leading down to his cock, enjoying the thrum of his heart beating through his skin before he knocks it aside, pursing his lips and spitting straight onto where you are connected.
It turns you half-feral, rearing up towards him as he speaks.
âThere we go, baby. This what we need,â
The first thrust in takes your breath away.Â
And he doesnât give you any chance to get it back.
He sets a punishing pace, feeding you his cock with dogged precision, consumed by how you look spread beneath him, with how puffy and slick and shiny your pussy is, how it splits around him.Â
Thick heft of him sawing in and out, the way you clutch at him, sucking him back in, tighter and tighter each time, like your body is already missing him. So wet slick is smeared around your thighs, soaking Joelâs lap, leaking down into the cleft of your ass. He kisses you, slow and deep, gasping and panting against your lips. Guttural moans from him, needy little whimpers from you, the sloppy sound of pleasure.Â
He breaks away from you when the kisses are splintered by gasps of air, fixing his mouth to your neck, inhaling deeply there, pressing his lips to your shoulder, lower, the top of your breast, your sternum, before closing them around your nipple. You keen as he scrapes his teeth over the sensitive bud, hands flying from his flexing forearms to his hair, scratching his scalp, moaning his name, chanting it - Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel.
He sucks harder, tongue working around the flesh before he does the same to your other breast, fingers slipping down over the damp skin of your belly towards your sex, seeking that last nudge you need to send you flying over the edge.
Tighter, wetter, arching to meet his mouth as you gasp and plead - gonna come Joel, gonna come, please can I come, please, please -
You barely register his nod against your chest, barely hear him gasp âGive it to me baby, good girl, thatâs it,â before the flood overwhelms you, clawing through your body, ripping through you like flame. Your body tenses, jerks, hips stuttering against him, pussy throbbing as you cry out, pleasure flushing through you all the way to the top of your head. Aftershocks flare like fireworks behind your eyelids, hips moving frantically with his to chase the very end of your orgasm.
Joel watches, chest hot, stomach tightening with that tell tale taughtness - oh, shit baby, yeah, s'that good? - before his own eyes squeeze shut, his body faltering, pushing all the way up against your cervix as he pulses inside you, filling you with warmth, spilling himself until it begins to leak between your thighs.
He gives a couple of softer thrusts before he groans again, hearing you whimper, ears ringing, pulling out just to watch himself drip out of you. The sight makes him greedy, makes him press it back into you even as you hiss in protest, too sensitive. He looks up just as you crack an eye open, an arm swinging across your forehead.
âJesus fucking Christ,â you mumble, a smile growing before he breathes a shy laugh at the ceiling. He loves the sound of your giggle as you watch him.
He crawls back up your body, ignoring how the heat begins to creep back in, become formidable again. He presses kisses to your collarbones, your neck, your cheeks, and you thread your spare hand back through his hair, enjoying the way it looks, mussed by you.
His sweaty forehead presses against your sternum, laving affectionate, wet kisses there as you come down from your highs, panting in the warm air of the room.Â
You continue to card your fingers through his damp curls, staring up at the ceiling fan as it whirs and spins above you. Your eyes flutter closed, content.
âYouâll have to get Sarah from school soon,â
He grunts in acknowledgement, nuzzling into your ribcage, licking at the salty skin before nipping it between his teeth. You giggle, body lurching away slightly before itâs fixed in place by his wide palms at your hips. âAnd I have to be home before four,â
He groans, pressing a kiss to the underside of your breast.
âCome over for dinner,â he murmurs, âTell your dad we're hanginâ out, gettinâ to know each other. Iâll grill some stuff. You bring some more of those popsicles,âÂ
You snort at him, huffing something about how nothing will get grilled if youâre watchinâ me suck on a popsicle, even as your chest and cheeks heat, before he slumps on top of you, plush lips crushing against yours in a searing kiss, tongue licking into your mouth, setting you ablaze again beneath him. You moan as he moves to your neck, sucking and biting and bruising.
âCome,â he groans into your skin, âPromise youâll come. I'll make it worth your while,â
You offer him a breathy laugh, a sure at the double entendre with sparkling eyes. Your back arches, hands gripping his biceps as he languidly moves lower, taking your nipple in his mouth. He swirls his tongue around the raw bud, grazing it with his teeth before sucking gently.
âJoel -â you gasp, clenching your thighs together as you wriggle beneath him, meeting his warm brown eyes as he looks up at you through his eyelashes. âWe need to -â
He cuts you off with a sharp nip at the puckered flesh. He turns his head to the side, checks the watch heâs still wearing, and fixes you with a dark, hungry look.
âReckon thereâs time to go again.â
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#joel tlou#joel miller fanfiction#tlou fanfiction
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i was in bed in the morning just checking to see if lana posted on ig and i was like âawe shes so pretđ<333â and i swipe and HOLY FUCK ??? SHE KNOWS ??? WHATS SHES DOINF ???
Lana Parilla promoting Regal will be the death of me.
#t shirt sales are about to go UP#shes catering to the gays#she was honestly so wild for this like jesus christ#have mercy#EVIL marketing tacticđđ#capitalismđđ#im falling for it anyway im too in love with her work not to be in love with her oh god#lana parrilla#ouat#regal#HELP ME
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It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader
[Chapter 24] || [Chapter 26]
Pairing: 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.2K~ cw: not smut but a bit of sexual tension Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: ahem ahem ahem ahem
thanks to @lyralein for helping solve a problem I was having during this chapter
and also @st-el-la-luna for THIS brilliance that although I didn't copy or anything, still got stuck in the back of my head and made me giggle and inspired me a little!
Chapter 25: Soap............?
you: simon. you: save me pls. Simon: Location. you: that felt ominous as fuck. Simon: You texted me to help you. Simon: Location. you: oh gosh no simon its not urgent. you: its not even like you: a panic thing you: no danger Simon: Donât ever text me to save you when it isnât an actual emergency. you: iâm sorry!!!!!! you: did i scare you that much??? Simon: Yes. Simon: You had me ready to steal a HUMVEE to get to you. you: IâM SORRY! you: iâm just out with my friends for brunch and kyle and johnny came and theyâre embarrassing me and i need help Simon: So thatâs where they went. Simon: Youâve got this. you: SIMON, THEYâRE TALKING ABOUT OUR SEX LIVES! you: DONâT LEAVE ME TO DEAL WITH THIS ALONE. you: HELP? Simon: Darling youâre dating them, youâre gonna have to get used to this sooner or later. you: I KNOW BUT STILL you: SIMON PLEASE Simon: Iâm in a meeting, darling. Simon: Youâve got this. Simon: đ€ you: SIMON?! you: awwww you sent me an emoji! you: BUT SIMON?!?!?!??! you: donât leave me like this!!! you: how dare youuuu
He stopped responding so you sighed dramatically and put your phone away, your eyes flittering over the table.
In just 15 minutes, Johnny and Kyle had gone from bickering to regaling your friends with sexcapade stories to talking about your dates, about each other, about the rest of the guys, about work.Â
Your friends are, of course, eating it up, how could they not? The lads are charming, funny, interesting, hotâŠ
You want to pay attention to the stories Johnny is regaling your friends about, as well as Kyle, with the retelling of his helicopter upside-down cruise, but⊠you canât. Youâre still mortified, long after they moved away from the sex talkâŠÂ
And it doesnât help that Kyle has taken your chair and made you sit on his lap while the five of you talk.
Sure, youâve graduated to regular talk, but that doesnât solve the fact that Kyleâs cock is hard, straining against the fly of his grey jeans, and slotted right between your ass cheeks, his hands gripping you around the hip to keep you sat still.
Thank God for the existence of Simon Motherfucking Riley (memo to self: ask him and the rest of the lads what their middle names are)...
The door opens after what felt like a torturous amount of time and in strolls a 6ft4 mountain of a man in all black, as usual.
âL.T.!â Johnny shouts and waves him over, as if somehow Johnnyâs raucous laugh was missable and Simon might not know where he, and the group, is.
Your friends, of course, immediately look over, their jaws proceeding to drop in unison at the sight of Simon.
His sexy little black leather jacket, black jeans, black t-shirt, black boots⊠No mask in sight⊠And, for once, his hair is lying flat over his forehead, loose blond strands just barely reaching his thick eyebrows.
He has to have done it on purpose.
âHiâŠâ You greeted Simon softly, your face warming up a bit at the sight of him. He nods at you and cocks an eyebrow, the left corner of his mouth rising in a smirk.
Just as youâre wondering where he came from, how he knew where you were, and wasnât he in a meetingâŠ
âFinally. Texted ye the address like 30 minutes ago.â Johnny quips next to you.
âPiss off.â Simon replies as he keeps looking at you. He doesnât even bother to introduce himself to Leah and Mia.
âHear youâve been embarrassing our partner.â Simon says, his brown eyes slowly sliding up to Johnny then to Kyle behind you.
âYe did?â Johnny asks and turns to look at you. âYe told on me?!â He asks dramatically, as if it was the biggest betrayal.
âDonât look at âem, look at me.â Simon quips as he leans forward and rests his hand on the back of Kyle and your chair, glaring right at Johnny.
âOh, please, L.T., itâs all good-natured.â Johnny says dismissively with a playful smile on his lips.
âIs it?â Simon retorts.
âWhyâs it feel like Iâm watching a big brother confront a school bully?â Kyle quips.
âDonât start too, Garrick, youâll get your dose soon.â Simon adds.
âSi⊠PleaseâŠâ You remark and laugh nervously as you look around, your face already burning hotter and hotter. âWeâre making a scene.â
âYou asked me to save ya, darlinâ, thatâs what Iâm doinâ, hm?â Simon tells you before leaning close and planting a kiss on the corner of your mouth, his eyes still glued to Johnny. âSo, how about it, Johnny?â
âHow about what, L.T.?â Johnny asks, though, you donât miss the way his eyes are shining at the sight of Simonâs protectiveness⊠or the way Kyleâs breath hitches right behind your ear, his cock throbbing against your ass.
âIf youâre so keen on embarrassing people by revealing private matters⊠How about we tell everyone about the reason your callsignâs Soap?â Simon quips. Then, he turns his head and, staring right at your friends, he continues.
âA callsign is like an alias we use over the radio.â He explains. âAnd Johnnyâs here is âSoapâ... wanna guess why? Iâll tell youâŠâ He turns his head and looks right at Johnny again.
âItâs because heâs dropped his in the shower more often than one can stand to bloody count, if you catch my drift.â He remarks, then, he shoots you a little wink.
âThatâs nae- You know itâs- You-â For the first time in what must be his whole life, Johnny was left a blubbering mess, stuttering over himselfâŠ
âDamn⊠didnât know friendly fire was turned onâŠâ You quip, trying to clear the air a bit. It seems to work, because all three of the men around you chuckle at it.
Your eyes then lock with Simonâs, then Johnnyâs⊠and meanwhile, Simonâs also looking at Kyle behind you. The sexual tension is almost palpableâŠ
âI think we should go home, so we avoid any more embarrassment, hm?â Simon suggests and pulls you up to your feet by the forearm, causing you to squeak in surprise at the suddenness of it.Â
âI agree.â Kyle says as he stands up too.Â
âWell said, L.T.â Johnny adds.
Simon pulls out his wallet and drops a few bills on the table. âFor the check.â He tells Leah and Mia. âNice to meet you.â Then, he drags you out of the bistro.
âIt was very nice to meet you!â Kyle tells the girls, making no attempts to cover the bulge in his pants as he rushes after you and Simon.
âSorry, duty calls. But we need to do this again.â Johnny adds as he scoots across the gap in the chairs and winks at the girls before setting off after the three that have already left. âIâll make sure to tell you all the hot gossip next time!â He adds loudly before leaving out the door.
Leah and Mia are left sitting there flabbergasted, eyes blinking slowly, before exchanging a look with one another.
âThe candle worked too well.â Mia states blankly.
âIt did.â Leah agrees. âDo you⊠have another one?â
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taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):
@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @cod-z , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @xxshadowbabexx
@severenswife , @enarien, @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket
#ikea writes đ#it's a match! fic#cod modern warfare#cod fanfic#captain john price#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#simon ghost riley#text story#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#cod smut#141 x reader
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đ Pairing: Damian Priest x f!Reader đ Summary: Damian and his girlfriendâs relationship is on the edge of collapse, and they discover a new, interesting way to reconnect. đ Warnings: NSFW. Angst, alcohol, cockwarming, dirty talk, unprotected p in v, cum 18+ đ Notes: Spanish translations are at the end of the story. I do not speak Spanish, so if anything is incorrect, please let me know and Iâll fix it! â€ïž It's super long, so I marked where the smut begins for my feral beauties â€ïž đ Taglist: @pittieprincess22, @cyberdejos2, @brideofinfamy, @rainbowdreams-x. If youâd like to be added, please click here! đ Requested By: Anonymous. Hope you enjoy!
Staring at the label on the empty bottle of beer in her hand, she heard Damianâs boisterous laughter across the bar. She remembered a time not long ago when her own giggling would have been mixed in, but instead, here she sat, abandoned by her boyfriend so he could watch some stupid baseball game on the TV behind the bar with a group of other drunk guys heâd only just met this evening. She glanced over her shoulder at him, the tallest guy in the place, hair in a wet ponytail, dressed in his Yankees jersey, band t-shirt, and ripped jeans. Sexy as everâthe man only got more attractive with each passing year. His gestures were big as he entertained the circle around him, probably regaling them with stories from the road as a WWE superstar. She rolled her eyes, returning her attention to the beer bottle. She considered getting another one, but how much fun was it really going to be to be pissed off and drunk?
âYou look lonely.â
She glanced up, eyebrow cocked, and found not a bad-looking man standing next to her table, but a man just the same, who was not her boyfriend. She cast her eyes back to Damian, and he was still otherwise occupied.
âIâm really not,â she replied.
âSure you are,â the man argued, taking it upon himself to sit across from her. She inhaled deeply through her nostrils and all she could do was hope Damian remained oblivious. âI saw your man leave you over here like an hour ago.â
Had it really been that long?
âWell, maybe Iâm just not very good company,â she deadpanned.
âI donât believe that,â the man said. âA pretty girl like you? Youâd be the best company, and I sure as hell wouldnât leave you alone all night.â
âListen, I appreciate the interest, butââ
The manâs eyes lifted, focused on something behind her, and she didnât need to turn around to know what was happening, or about to happen.
âSomethinâ you need?â Damianâs hulking presence was beside her, and she took another deep breath, leaning against the back of the booth.Â
âHey, man,â the guy seated in front of her said, lifting a hand a beer bottle, ânobodyâs doing anything wrong. Just havinâ a conversation.â
âOh, okay, cool,â Damian said, leaning his fists on the table, muscles and tattoos rippling beneath the sleeves of his jersey. âLetâs have a conversation.â
The man across from her tilted his head and told her, âGood luck,â before beginning to climb out of his seat.
âThe fuck is your problem?â Damian commanded, shoving the guy with one hand as soon as he stood up, freely knocking him off balance and to the sticky floor.
âDamian, relax,â his girlfriend yelled, slamming her bottle of beer on the table. âWe were just talking.â
âWell I got some things to say, too,â Damian growled.
âGreat,â she said, climbing out of the booth. âYou guys talk it out, and Iâm gonna go home.âÂ
Damian paused the stalking of his prey to focus on her for the first time since the incident began. They watched one another for a moment that lasted a lifetime, and she remembered falling in love with him the first time she saw him, she remembered feeling him the first night theyâd had sex. She remembered holding hands and whispered secrets and promises of the future. Heâd pledged to give her the world. Had he been lying when heâd sworn or had their relationship simply come to an unfortunate end? She didnât know him well enough anymore to know the answer to what should have been a terribly straightforward question, and it horrified her, but she thought maybe if she could hold his concentration on her, he would recall all of those things, too. The good things. If he would just look deeply enough âŠ
Damian severed their connection by turning back to a man and a situation that didnât matter, and her heart disintegrated. Dusted, like in the Avengers. She grabbed her purse from the booth and had the Uber app pulled up on her phone before she even reached the door. She fought herself from looking back, repeating in her head that he wasnât worth itânot anymoreâin a futile attempt at making what she was about to do just a little easier. Yeah, right.
Once inside the Uber, her boyfriend having never once come out to check on her while she waited, she had another battle concerning whether or not to glimpse back. She kept her eyes forward until the vehicle was about to make a right hand turn, and suddenly there was a tug in her chest where her heart had once been. Like there was a string tied around the veins and arteries still remaining and it was connected to something sheâd left behind. Clutching her aching chest with one hand, she pressed her other hand to the door to help her turn around, and she gasped, tears cascading down her cheeks. Damian was standing outside the bar, ponytail whipping this way and that as he searched desperately, perhaps finding what he was looking for in the back of the very vehicle she sat in as he promptly launched into an all-out sprint on the sidewalk, chasing after her. She slowly covered her mouth, weeping at the agony etched on his face, and she slid down in the seat, closing her eyes.Â
She loved him. By all that was good and gracious in the world, she loved him with her entire being, but she couldnât fucking do it anymore. She finished crying over the rest of the ride home, to their home, and she mumbled a thank you to the driver before getting out, closing the door behind her. The car sped off, she watched it go, and she imagined the scene was much like the one Damian had witnessed just a short bit ago. Her eyes slid to their front door, and she wrestled more tears as she plodded inside.
Damian arrived home faster than anticipated, but sheâd had enough time to get herself together, to expel all the tears and soothe her trembling body by the time he came bounding through the door. Seeing her standing in the middle of the living room, he all but skidded to a stop. âI didnât thinkââ He gestured at the door and held up his keys.
âWe need ⊠no, you need to figure out what you want, Damian,â she interrupted.Â
He walked slowly around the couch, approaching her as if she were a lioness that could and probably would strike at any moment, rip him to pieces and devour him. When he was within a few feet, she took a step back. She knew what he was trying to doâhe did it all the time. Get close enough to touch her, kiss her, hold her, coax her into believing she wasnât mad about what she was really mad about. Her reaction stopped him dead in his tracks, and she watched his throat work as he swallowed.
âI donât knowââ he started.
âOf course you donât know,â she interjected again, more tears pricking the corners of her eyes. So much for all cried out. âWhy would you? Itâs all about Damian. It has been ever since the beginning of this relationship, but I was too âŠâ She sniffed, shrugged. âToo in love, I guess.â Her chuckle was pathetic as Damian breathed deeply through his nose, chest expanding and deflating. âAnd I thought you were in love with me âŠâ
âWhat are youâ? Of courseââ
âDo you remember how we used to be?â she asked pitifully. âYou were the Mickey to my Mallory âŠâ
âBabyââ
âWe actually made love for hours. We didnât just fuck to cum like we do now.â
âPlease listen to me âŠâ
âNo,â she stopped him one final time, her tone so soft she wasnât sure sheâd spoken at all. âIâm done listening.â She wiped fresh tears from her cheeks. âI put all your stuff for Raw by the door.â Damianâs brows furrowed and he turned to look at the door heâd just come through. His suitcase-on-wheels was lying on its front, a small duffel bag nearbyâheâd blundered right past them. His eyes, now for the first time this entire evening beginning to show worry, returned to her, and they both knew how his luggage had gotten there from where heâd left it in their bedroom on the second floor. âI know youâre not supposed to leave for a day, but I just ⊠I need you to go now.â Damianâs eyes fluttered closed and he scrubbed his huge hands over his face. âAnd while youâre gone, maybe youâll remember what we used to have. How happy we used to be.â
âIâmââ
âIf you say youâre happy, I swear to Godââ She trailed off with a strangled chuckle.
âOh, so you know how I feel?â Damian retorted.
She blinked up at him, and in his eyes, the ones that had once been so alive and so full of love, she could see misery and turbulence, and yeah, she could easily say she knew how he felt. She cleared her throat, brushing more tears from both cheeks quickly, as if she did it fast enough, he might not see how utterly broken she was. Maybe thatâs what he needed to see. âIâm going upstairs,â she whispered, âand if you do love me, if you do care about me ⊠youâll leave.â
âMi vida, please, just tell meââ
âYou left me alone for an hour tonight!â his girlfriend suddenly erupted, and Damianâs eyes rounded. âWeâve seen each other four days in the past two weeks, and some fucking Yankees game has your attention? You try to fight some guy who didnât know we were together because you left me alone for an hour?â Damianâs lips pursed and he remained silent for once. She sighed. âGoodbye, Damian. Have a safe trip.âÂ
She gave him a wide berth on her way to the stairs, stepping over his luggage as she headed up. Hurrying into their bedroom, she closed the door and locked it behind her, and by the time sheâd slid down the wood until her ass met the carpet, she was a blubbering fool, covering her mouth to keep from crying out, to keep from hollering for Damian and telling him she was just kidding, and could he just hold her for a while and then everything would be okay? In time, she heard the front door open and close again. She could almost feel his presence, his very soul, drifting further away from her, that tugging in her chest returning, and she collapsed in slow motion, floating to the floor on her side, hugging her knees to her chest.
She awoke some time later in the same fetal position, suspecting sheâd passed out from sheer exhaustion. Lifting her head, her spine screamed from the base of her skull all the way to her tailbone, and the carpet stuck to her cheekâshe could only imagine the pattern etched into her skin as she lurched into a sitting position. Sheâd left a lamp on in the corner of the room, the soft glow illuminating the empty space, the unmade bed she wasnât sure sheâd be able to sleep in at all, and as the quiet enveloped her, she wondered if there would ever be laughter here again. She looked at the chaise lounge opposite the lamp, a small smile quirking her lips when she could almost see herself straddling Damianâs lap there, and she could almost hear her voice whisper that she was in love with him and had been since shaking his hand on her first day at WWE.
She rolled her eyes, refusing to permit any more tears from staining her cheeks, but that didnât stop the intrusive thoughts in the back of her mind. Did Damian remember these things? Did they mean anything to him? Did she? Or was it his career he was now madly in love with? Sheâd sent Damian away to decipher the answers to these important questions, but she wasnât certain sheâd be strong enough to hear the answers. She climbed to her feet, limping across the floor to grab her phone from her side of the bed. As she reached for it, she paused, rubbed her fingers along her palm, and took a deep breathâall she could do to prepare for what she might find waiting for her in her notifications.
The missed calls and text messages were both in the double digits, along with a few voicemails, all from Damian, and she swallowed a softball size lump in her throat as she opened the text messages. She knew damn good and well there was no way sheâd be able to listen to his voice without breaking down once more, and she was so damn tired of crying.
She sat slowly on the bed, the earlier suspicion she might not be able to sleep here blotted out by the overwhelming need to somehow be near Damian even though sheâd just sent him across the country a day earlier than either of them had anticipated. Her dying phone slid from her hand, thumping on the carpet, as she backed across the king-size bed until she was on Damianâs side. Somehow the man slept with only one very thin pillow, so she grabbed one of hers and added it underneath before slipping her legs under the blanket and sheet. She was instantly inundated by the scent of Damianâs leave-in conditioner, but most importantly, the spice that was simply him drifted inside her nostrils and she was both allayed and shattered at the same time. Still depleted, now more than before, her heavy eyelids fell and she drifted off into a land of nightmares.
As Damianâs plane bound for Washington crashed above her into the side of a mountain, she was jolted awake. Her upper body careened forward, hair flying, arms reaching out because maybe if she could just catch the plane ⊠A hand on her shoulder brought her fully out of unconsciousness, and she jumped again.Â
âItâs okay! Itâs just me!â Tiffy. Beautiful, sweet, perfect Tiffy, but all Damianâs girlfriend could think about was the fact that Tiffy had Ludwig and Ludwig had Tiffy and they were disgustingly happy and she was wildly envious.
âTiffy,â she whispered. âWhat are you âŠâ She scratched her head, looking up at Miss Money in the Bank, eyes mere slits. âHow did you get in here?â
âDamian called Ludwig,â she explained. âHe said he hadnât talked to you in hours and your phone was going straight to voicemail.â Damianâs girlfriend nodded, though not wholly comprehending. âHe told me where the spare key was.â She held it up.
âI see,â the dejected woman in bed said. âWell, Iâm fine.â
âObviously,â Tiffy rolled her eyes, âjust like Damian is just fine.â Her pink manicured nails formed air quotes.
âTiffany, I really donâtââ
âLook. Itâs almost one oâclock, so I brought two of theseââ She lifted the neck of a bottle of wine out of her glittery tote bag. âLetâs talk.â
Damianâs girlfriend was really getting tired of people demanding she speak to them, but she supposed this was different. Maybe she needed another perspective. She sent Tiffany to the patio by the pool while she changed out of the clothes sheâd worn to the bar the night before and then had slept in, brushed her teeth, and as she was headed across the bedroom toward the door, she spotted her phone still lying on the white carpet. She feared what sheâd see upon bringing it back to life, so she left it where it was, closed the door after her, and met Tiffy by the pool.
Nursing a hangover on Sunday and into the evening on Monday thanks to Tiffy Time, Damianâs girlfriend was again in bed, on his side, iPad in her lap, Monday Night Raw on the television. Tiffany had succeeded in making her feel at least a little better, agreeing that things had gotten bad enough between them that sending him to Washington early was probably the best way to get through to him, although, she added, it seemed a bit harsh. She recalled a similar situation between herself and Ludwigâtheir schedules had been completely opposite, they never saw each other, and their connection had started to dissolveâto which Tiffany had responded in a completely different manner. Instead of kicking him out and sending him across the country, sheâd done internet research and consulted various friends in search of a way to reconnect with her boyfriend.
And the route of reconnection Tiffany had discovered was now in the search bar of Safari: cockwarming. Damianâs girlfriend had heard of it, but never given it much thought, assuming it was just one of a million other ways to please a man, but Tiffany had assured her that cockwarming wasnât about giving or receiving pleasure, it was about being present and intimate with someone you loved, building or rebuilding a physical and emotional relationship by linking together in the closest way possible. It made sense, and she was willing to try anything.Â
She glanced up at the muted television, heart skipping a beat when saw Damian in the middle of a match. He looked tired, and maybe he was hungover too, and he just didnât seem as on point as he normally was. A little slower, a little careless, a little like he didnât give a fuck. She turned the TV off, rubbing at her forehead. She was responsible for his distraction, and she hadnât meant for their problems to interfere with his work, but sheâd acted so rashly in kicking him out, she hadnât considered any effect it would have on his live television performance. She hadnât considered him at all, if she were being honest, so what did that say about her? Maybe Damian wasnât the only one who needed to figure things out.
Without warning, a bolt of lightning shot through her entire body, a current of electricity coursing across her skin, and she jumped out of bed. She looked at Damianâs side where sheâd been sitting, her pillow under his, and it wasnât right. She glanced at the TV and Raw wasnât on and she wasnât cussing at whomever Damianâs opponent was, and it wasnât right. She hadnât kissed him goodbye and he hadnât slapped her ass for good luck, as was their routine, and it wasnât right. The way sheâd made him leave, ignoring himânone of it was right. Her eyes cut to her phone on the bed, to her purse on the chair, ending on a pair of sneakers in the corner of the room. Her brain shut off, leaving her heart in control, and her legs were moving. She grabbed the phone and the purse, slipped her feet in the shoes, and jogged downstairs. She grabbed her keys from the table and slammed the front door behind her.
She found herself at the airport, still on autopilot, and she bounced from one foot to the other as she waited in line to purchase a ticket. When she finally reached the desk, she placed her wallet on the counter. âHi,â she said, âI need to get to Seattle tonight. Right now. One way.âÂ
The lady behind the computer punched several keys. âWell, itâs your lucky day,â she beamed, and Damianâs girlfriend suppressed the urge to punch her. âI have one seat left on a flight leaving in thirty minutes.â
âGreat.â
âItâs $1,798.â Of course the only seat left would be first class.
âThatâs fine,â she said, rummaging through her wallet for her credit card and identification. Damian was worth it, their relationship was worth it.Â
Aboard the plane, she tried to sleep, but it was impossible. She tried to read a book on her phone, but she couldnât concentrate. She ended up spending most of the flight reading and rereading Damianâs text messages, self-loathing growing with each pass. Yes, he was responsible for their abrupt separation, but she was just as much to blame.Â
Landing in Washington, she checked her messages again, this time tapping on the thread with Rhea, whoâd responded to her question while sheâd been 37,000 feet in the air. Armed with the information provided by Damianâs closest friend, she ordered an Uber and gave him the address of Damianâs hotel. She rode the elevator to the top floor, wondering if heâd had to pay extra for a last minute booking, which, again, would have been her fault. Same with the price of his plane ticket. Of course, whatever sheâd cost them monetarily paled in comparison to the time sheâd cost them.Â
SMUT Standing in front of Damianâs hotel room door, she knocked softly. Moments later the door opened, and there he stood, the love of her life, the Mickey to her Mallory, the very face she wanted to see before she died. He was in a black sleeveless shirt and black basketball shorts, and he looked burnt out and used up, and was she accountable for that too? But when he realized who was standing in front of him, those dead eyes reanimated, and his hunched shoulders squared. They gazed at one another for an extended moment, a silent conversation passing between them, an ask of permission and consent granted.
Damian stepped into the hall, and his girlfriend raised her elbows so he could position his big hands under her armpits before slowly, tenderly, lifting her in the air, not unlike picking up a crying toddler. Her arms slipped around his neck, her legs around his waist, and he completed their puzzle by enveloping her in his protective embrace. She tucked her face into the crook of his neck, crossed her feet behind him, and she was home. He held her for a while in the hall before stepping back inside the hotel room, the mechanism at the top of the door closing it for him, and then he held her some more, still standing, placing a hand on the back of her head. Eventually he took a seat in the chair beside the bed, his girlfriend repositioning her legs so she was straddling him, sitting back on his thighs, and they were able to look at each other again.
âIâm sorry,â he spoke first, cupping her face. âYouâre right. I took you for granted. I took everything we have for granted.â He shook his head, eyes round and clear and the most delicious shade of chocolate. âI know what we were before ⊠and I know ⊠weâre notâweâre not that anymore. Just tell me how to make it right.â He brought their foreheads together, and her hands braced herself on his hard chest. âTell me how to fix it. Because I ainât quitting, and I ainât letting you go.â
His girlfriend smiled for the first time in days, but it was fleeting. âI shouldnât have kicked you out. Iâm sorry, too.â
Damian shook his head, eyes searching her face. âNo more apologies.â He kissed her forehead, and she laid her head on his chest. âSo what do we do?â he mumbled against the top of her head.
Her eyes opened. âI just think we ⊠need to reconnect,â she said. âAnd ⊠I might have an idea how we can start.â
She explained cockwarming with a hell of a lot less grace and knowledge than Tiffany, and a hell of a lot more embarrassment, if her superheated cheeks were any kind of clue. But Damian listened, and his focus was solely on her, and he didnât make fun of the idea, and they were already headed in the right direction. They agreed to give it a try here and now, as there was no better time than the present, and they were both too exhausted to engage in much else. The couple made their way to the bed, Damianâs girlfriend toeing her shoes off before they removed each otherâs clothing, and they climbed under the blankets.
The experience was supposed to be more about intimacy and less about having sex, sheâd illustrated, but, to make it easier for him to slip inside her, sheâd have to get at least a little damp. It was no secret what Damian did to her simply by existing, so he smirked, brushing her hair from her shoulder so he could cradle her neck, thumb caressing her jawline. He pressed their lips together, the couple sharing a sigh of relief, and she rested her fingers on his wrist as they kissed. All the fear and worry and stress melted away as her arousal grew, and as theyâd both suspected, it didnât take long for her to become wet and ready, and, consequently, for Damian to become hard.
âSorry,â he said.
âThat is something youâre never gonna have to apologize for,â his girlfriend assured him. They shared a smile. âJust try to keep from, you know ⊠fucking me.â
âEasy for you to say,â Damian commented, and they snickered. âHow do you wanna âŠ?â
She rolled over to her other side, backing up against him, semi-hard dick slipping between her ass cheeks. Damian whispered in her ear to be careful, and she couldnât help the smile. They were going to get through this. He positioned her how he needed, making sure she was comfortable before slowly sliding inside her. He moaned, playing it off by clearing his throat, and she was barely able to mask her own whine. His arm slid under her pillow, gripping her hand that was already there, his other arm wrapping around her, and she held that hand with hers against her chest. He twitched inside her, and her pussy instinctively clenched around him, and their holds tightened on each other.
âYou know itâs been, like, 50 hours since I left,â Damian said, following a moment of adjustment and silence.
âDamian âŠâ
âNo, IâI just mean ⊠that was 50 hours without you. 50 hours to think about everything, all of it. So I donât want you to feel bad for kicking me out. You were right. I needed time to figure things out.â
âAnd what did you figure out?â she asked. Considering he was inside her and holding her and he hadnât slammed the door in her face, she knew his answer was at least a little positive.
âI havenât been there for you,â he said, voice so deep, his girlfriend could all but feel her pussy producing slickness. âI made my job and everything else more important than you. And Iâm sorry.â He pulled her closer, his cock slipping that much deeper within her. His biceps were unforgiving but protective, and the steady rise and fall of his chest comforted her on a level sheâd never experienced before. âBaby, Iâm so sorry.â
âIâm sorry, too,â she said, squeezing his hands.
âYou donâtââ
âDamian, there are two people in this relationship. What if I had just talked to you about how I was feeling weeks ago? We could have avoidedââ
âI know me, you know me. It wouldnât have had the same effect as kicking my dumbass out of my own house had.â
She sighed, believing what he said, but there would be no way to erase the guilt she still felt.Â
âI love you, querida,â he uttered into her ear. âEres mi vida, mi alma, mi todo. Siempre.â
Her body shuddered, Damianâs arm tightening around her. âI love you, PapĂ.â He pressed his face into the back of her neck, and the couple was physically as close as they could possibly be to one another. She felt her heart rebuilding, she felt their connection rejoining, and she knew just this one night wasnât going to solve all their problems, but they were making an effort, and that was enough for now. âI love when youâre inside me,â she breathed, eyes closing.
âI know,â Damian whispered.
She awoke sometime later, eyes slowly blinking open. The sun was beginning to rise and her body was moving, ever so gently, her head sliding up and down the pillow. Regaining consciousness, she realized that where Damian had been semi-hard and comforting inside her before falling asleep, he was now solid and thick, filling her to the brim, and his hips were thrusting somewhat casually against her. And then she heard a faint snore from him, and that explained everything. She thought about waking him, she really did, but he felt too fucking good and sheâd missed him too fucking much, and it had been a long fucking time since theyâd been so intimate. There was no way she could fight this.
She let him continue, his pumps erratic and varying in strength, but she didnât care. His hand rose from the mattress, sliding past one nipple to cup the opposite breast, which he instinctively squeezed, groped, and that particular pump was hard and deep. She cried out, smacking a hand over her mouth, but it was already too late.
âShit,â Damian breathed. âIâm sorry, I thought I was dreaminâ.â
She reached back, grabbing at his hip over the blanket. âNo,â she whispered, âplease donât stop.â
âButââ
âPlease, PapĂ,â she begged.
Damian attacked her neck, sucking, biting, and she moaned into the pillow, imagining proudly wearing his marks for all to see on the way home. His thrusts became steadier, more powerful, and his hand returned to her breast. He brushed the cool metal of his rings along her nipple before pinching and pulling, and her back bowed, pulling him deeper inside her pussy.
âThis isnât âŠâ he trailed off, panting, and she recognized the sounds he was making, the words he was repeating.
She lifted her hips away from him, allowing him to carefully slip from inside her. Rolling over, she climbed on top of him, stroking his big cock a few times before lining her pussy up with the head. Meeting Damianâs gaze, she sank down onto him at a snailâs pace, watching as his eyes averted to witness their bodies join together, lasting longer than she expected before he laid his head back on the pillow, eyes closing, mouth uttering a string of obscenities. Biting her lip, she massaged her soft hands along the firm planes of his tattooed pecs until she found a suitable position that would allow for optimal riding. As she was about to lift her hips, Damianâs fingers encircled her wrists and raised her hands, melding their palms together, their fingers intertwining, his elbows anchoring them to the mattress.
âRide it, baby,â he growled.
Grinning, his girlfriendâs eyes closed and her grip tightened on his hands and her hips started to move. She was instantly reminded of his size as she rose, her pussy shrinking back to its normal proportion the further he was removed, only to be stretched again with the next downward thrust.
âFuck, thatâs it,â Damian moaned, as she repeated the action over and over.
âI missed you so much,â she breathed, impaling herself fully and then grinding her clit against him. She freed her fingers from his and put them back on his chest, her entire body moving with her hips.
âI know,â Damian whispered. He grabbed two handfuls of her ass and took control of the pace. âFuck, yeah, bounce on it. Bounce on my cock, baby.â
She obeyed, though he was doing most of the work, which ended up with him holding her still and his cock hammering up into her. âOh, God,â she squeaked, his pounding hitting that secret spot inside her. âIâm gonna cum, PapĂ.â
His hand wrapped around the back of her neck and he jerked her down until their lips smashed together. âSay my name,â he breathed. âSay my fucking name.â
âDamian,â she wailed, pulsing around the battering ram that was his dick. Their lips smacked and their teeth clacked, and her throbbing cunt milked his own orgasm. The kissing continued as they rode out the waves of pleasure, as every ounce of stress and heartache and worry melted away, to be replaced by hope and love and positivity for the future.
Sleep was knocking, and she slowly descended until her cheek was on his chest, his softening cock staying warm within her. âI love you,â she whispered, almost like an afterthought, and Damian chuckled, placing a hand on her head.
âI love you, mi vida.â
đ Mi vida â My life đ Mi alma â My soul đ Querida â Dearest/Beloved, term of endearment đ Eres mi vida, mi alma, mi todo. Siempre â Youâre my life, my soul, my everything. ForeverÂ
#damian priest#wwe fanfiction#wwe imagine#wwe x reader#damian priest x reader#smut#damian priest smut#damian priest kinklist#damian priest imagine#damian priest fanfic#wwe fic#wwe fandom#wwe smut
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fuckboy!suguru x reader
a/n-something I wrote in like two days, :p
cws- geto is fr a douche, nipple play, nipple piercing, tongue piercings, unprotected p in v, 18+, geto with tattoos, mention of bodily fluids, slight coercion, reader uses she/her pronouns
fuckboy!Suguru who was the sweetest boy through your years of high school.
His hair was relatively long and his face was still developing, heâd offer to help you study for upcoming quizzes and would often invite you out for coffee study dates.
The summer after graduation Geto had cut contact with most of his friends (other than Gojo and Shoko) you didn't look too deep into it, I mean he was cutting social ties starting fresh, turning over a new great leaf. Oh how wrong you were
That fall you attended your local college excited to enter a new chapter, a few weeks into your first semester everything had gone calmly until you saw him.
He was more sculpted, his raven hair cascaded down his back and, how did he get jacked in a matter of months? Although to be fair he always wore baggy clothes. To add onto his new look was a long dragon sleeve tattoo and a cool metal ball pierced through his tongue.
You wondered where this pivot came from until the rumors and whispers began, many people regaling with tears how he fucked, led them on then broke it off with swift quickness.
A pang of disappointment rang through your body, over a boy you hung out with a few times was crazy your mind told you but you couldn't care.
fuckboy!Suguru who approached you in the dining hall with a sickeningly sweet smile and his usual hushed tone, âY/N, long time no see.â a fake smile generated on your face as you listened to him try to powder and egg you on.
âI think we should catch up this weekend whaddyaâ think?â
âI don't know..â
âCome on pleasee, it'll be like old times.â
âFine,â
âSaturday at five good?â
Fuckboy!suguru picking you up in his surprisingly nice black Jeep, for being a douche he had a suspiciously clean car. He wore baggy jeans and a tight black t-shirt, his muscles looking as if they're trying to bust out the tight fabric but your eyes are brought to his chest.
Four small metal balls on either side of his nipples and you were gobsmacked.
âIt's rude to stare, angel.â
You were bought out of your gaze, a heat creeping up your neck, you hadn't registered the nick name he gave you.
The date with Suguru had gone surprisingly well, you held your breath for the level of sleaze he could give off but so far nothing came.
So how come you found yourself on his couch sloppily making out with him?
His lips attacked and bruised yours aggressively, his large hands running over the slight exposure of your skin, small grunts came from his mouth as you wrapped your legs around his waist.
In the back of your mind this went against all your morals but at the moment you didn't care.
Fuckboy!Suguru who had you ride his thick, aching cock in the comfort of his bed, you whimpered as you struggled to slam your hips down completely on his length.
His amber eyes scanned your body as his muscles tensed as he felt you clench around him. Rough hands came to your soft bouncing breasts as he squeezed a nipple aggressively in-between his fingers, âFeel how hard you make me angel?â he cooed using his other hand to slap his hand harshly on the fat of your ass.
âLetting me fuck this tight pussy on our first outing too? tch.â he clicked his tongue latching his mouth onto your erect nipple, he swirled the tip of his tongue around purposely moving the cold metal around the space.
Whines escaped from your mouth as you pleaded, âS-Sugu, let me cum please,â you moaned continuing to bounce off his cock.
âMm should I?â he mumbled pulling off your nipple to smirk at your sweaty face, âDon't know if you earned it,â the grip on your ass getting harsher each second.
Fuckboy!suguru who edged you for about two hours that night but came about four times all over your face, tits, and ass.
Fuckboy!suguru who left you naked in his bed to smoke outside as he ran into his white haired roommate hair tousled, âSuguru, do you always have to do this shit here? I'm not getting any sleep.â he groaned, rubbing his eyes.
Suguru smirked, holding a cigarette in hand as his sweatpants hung dangerously low on his hips, âYou'll be fine.â
âWhoâs on the roster tonight?â
âCute girl, met her in the dinner hall.â
âHuh, mightâve been the quickest fuck you've gotten usually you wait a week or two what's different?â
Suguru shrugged while walking towards the balcony, âNo idea, just met her this week.â
Satoru raised an eyebrow with a grin, âSugu~ yâknow you're a terrible liar right?â
I feel like I could've gone a lot more extreme but I didn't wanna hurt my own feelings)
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu x reader#x reader#jjk x reader#jjk imagines#geto suguru#geto x reader#geto angst#suguru geto x reader#suguru geto#geto smut#jjk smut
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Maroon (part one)
modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader
The burgundy on my T-shirt when you splashed your wine into me
And how the blood rushed into my cheeks, so scarlet, it was (maroon)
themes: fluff, Aemond and the reader being friends first, shy reader, red wine antics, language + Aemond does not have his disability/lost eye in this one (but I plan to write it in for a potential part two)
word count: 3.8k
series masterlist âȘïž main masterlist
The reader has always admired Aemond Targaryen from afar, the brother of her best friend Helaena. Little does she know, she has caught his eye as well. Something is revealed one night, encouraged by a sudden splash of maroon.
"You've been awfully silent tonight," Aemond says, "and more so after Helaena went to bed. Is something wrong, y/n?"
Your fingers tighten around your wine glass, unsure of what to say. Perhaps you have withdrawn back into your shell when your best friend Helaena decided she was going to bed early. She is quite the lightweight, after all. A few sips of wine and she was out.
You didn't mind. But she left you here with Aemond, sprawled out on the expensive carpet in their living room. He gracefully leans against the couch, remaining poised. One thing you admire about him is the way he carries himself, almost with a sense of regal austerity that makes him intimidating to most people. Add that to the fact that Aemond is one of the heirs to the Targaryen business empire, the richest family in the city.
But for some reason, he is gentle with you. Treating you differently than he does anyone else. Almost with reverence. Helaena once joked that he shouldn't go easy on you too much, with you being tougher than you look. Aemond just laughed it off, but you stood there awkwardly, unable to hide the way your face grew flushed all over.
Your crush on Aemond Targaryen has only gotten worse since then.
"I'm not silent," you find yourself blurting out in a defensive tone, "I'm... just... nursing my wine, that's all."
Get your shit together, y/n.
A small smile appears on Aemond's lips, as he notices your increasingly flustered state, "Okay, I believe you."
"Good," you look down at your glass, swirling it around. What should I say next? What should I say next?
Aemond interrupts your nervous train of thought, continuing his sentiment slowly, "Because, you know, I would hate to think if there's anything wrong, or if you feel uncomfortable in any way. We are friends, y/n. I want you to feel that you can be free around me, as you are around Helaena."
He just knows the right words to say, doesn't he?
"I know," you respond, in a calmer tone that even surprises you, "and I appreciate that, Aemond. I apologize if I come off as aloof sometimes - "
"Don't apologize," he laughs dryly, "if there's anyone who knows what it's like to come off as aloof, it's me."
"True enough," you smile, taking a sip of your wine. You don't notice Aemondâs eyes follow your movement, fixating at last on the way your lips curve against the glass.
"Tell you what," he says, "how about we play a game? Break the ice even more and all that."
"A game?"
"Yeah, like, I haven't a clue... truth or dare?"
You gulp, your mind racing with the possibilities of what that game usually entails when played out, "I don't think that works with just two people, Aemond."
"Why not?" he slides a bit closer to you on the carpet, and your heart races ever faster.
"It just... it just doesn't!" you shrug, breathing out in a slight huff. He's so close. So close.
"I say it can work, y/n."
"Really, now?" you raise your eyebrows, "I'm not built for doing dares."
"We'll keep it simple. Nothing too ridiculous. And if we don't want to tell the truth, or do a dare, we just have to take three sips of wine."
"Hmm..."
"Or even soda, or water. If you prefer. I don't want to feel like I'm making you drink. Helaena would murder me if you get too drunk whilst in my company." Ah, Aemond. Always so considerate.
"I'm okay," you smile, "I'll stick with wine."
"So you accept my offer?"
You take a deep breath, in an attempt to steel your nerves. Before you can chicken out, and change your mind, you say, "Fine. Let's play."
"Wonderful," he smirks, "So, darling... truth or dare?"
"Truth," you croak, the way he addressed you as darling still echoing in your ears. There's no way you'll jump right into a dare.
"Okay. What was your first impression of me?"
"Oh," you rack your brain for an appropriate answer. One that can be said out loud in front of Aemond anyway.
"I, uhm, I thought you were polite."
"Polite?" he laughs freely, "glad to know I make that much of a lasting impression."
"I mean, not just that," you lean forward, "you were well put together, I guess. Quiet, but not shy. I got the sense that you know exactly who you are. You've got a strong sense of self, and as a result, you know how to take care of yourself, and your family. It's admirable, really." You also thought of running your fingers through his astonishingly silver hair, craving to know what it felt like, but he doesn't need to know that now.
"Hmm," he smiles softly, looking down, almost wistfully, "there was a time when I was quite different, you know. I was so insecure, and so angry. It's a miracle that I've grown into who I am now, but I am proud of myself for it."
Aemond is opening up to me? You get a sense of innocence with the way he spoke, and a sincerity, with all pretenses put away. Here, he is just Aemond, not this great heir or this renowned scholar. âThat truly is something to be proud of,â you profess, âI, for one, am proud of the person that you are.â
His eyes light up as he looks at you, âThat means a lot coming from you, y/n.â
âDoes it?â you ask. Why would it? Since the first time you met, over a year ago, you have not had many lengthy interactions. The handful of times you were brought together, with only the two of you, were purely coincidental. Like this very moment. You did not expect to be drinking wine with him on the carpet tonight. You had actually considered heading home after Helaena went to bed, but Aemond took your hand, pulling you back down to sit with him, imploring you to please stay. Just a while longer.
And you are glad that you had.
âIt does,â is the only thing that Aemond says in response, and as much as you want to press on, you decide to let it go.
âOkay, Aemond. Truth or dare?â
âDare,â he takes a sip of wine. You think of how pointless the whole condition of only having to take a drink when refusing the challenge has become. You two continue to drink, either way.
âI dare you to⊠uhm, tell me something in High Valyrian.â Youâve always been fascinated by the Targaryensâ native language, them being originally from the faraway country of Valyria. It is truly a place on top of your bucket list, and you secretly wish that Aemond would take you there one day.
âThatâs easy,â he smiles, then pauses, looking at you directly in your eyes. He takes a deep breath, as if mulling over what to say. Then you hear it.
âIksÄ gevie.â
You swallow nervously. The way his voice deepened went straight to your head, making you feel slightly faint. You whisper, âThat sounds⊠lovely. What does it mean?â
âIâll let you figure that out on your own.â
You punch him lightly on the shoulder, your confidence gaining a significant boost from the wine, âCome on. Just tell me. What did you say again? Ikse gevya... gevy?â
He beams, amused by your pronunciation, âIksÄ gevie,â he repeats, âEek-sah gev-yeh.â
âRight, right,â you nod, taking another sip of wine, âJust you wait until I type that in Google Translate. It better not have been anything rude.â
âOh, it wasnât,â he promises. âTruth or dare?â
âEh⊠dare,â you say, but you immediately change your mind. âNo, wait, truth! I choose truth.â
âAre you absolutely sure, darling?â Aemond croons, tilting his head.
âTruth.â
âAlright, then. Are you seeing⊠uhâŠâ he pauses, clearing his throat, âare you seeing any⊠any chance of you working for our company in the future?â
Are you seeing anyone? He had wanted to ask instead. Aemond internally kicks himself for pulling back.
You notice how weirdly he phrased that question. You choose your answer carefully, âWell, itâs definitely something I would consider. You know how much I admire your family. But, I donât want anything handed to me on a plate. If I were to get a job there, I want it to be on my own merit. I donât want you or Helaena or anyone to vouch for me, or put in a good word for me, just because Iâm your friend.â
âI understand, darling.â He smiles at the determined way with which you spoke. His stubborn girl. âBut if you ever need any help, Iâm here.â
You reach out to squeeze his hand gently, as a sign of your appreciation, âThank you, Aemond. Youâve always been kind to me.â
He looks down at your hand around his, and he clutches yours in return. When your eyes meet, you see that his gaze is so warm, so gentle. You feel as if you are being held. Like youâre safe.
You finally let go of his hand, âSo, truth or dare?â
And so, the game continues for another half hour, the two of you growing increasingly inebriated by the minute. The wine glasses have been put to the side, the two of you opting to take turns with drinking out of the bottle instead. You answer all sorts of questions from Aemond, such as âWhich of the Targaryen siblings do you think should run the company?â, âWhoâs your preferred drinking partner, Aegon or Daeron?â, and âDo you like my hair better short or long?â
You ask him your fair share, but one thing that sticks to your mind is what he answers to âAre you interested in anyone at the moment?â
âYes. I think so.â He says, and you can tell that he is being honest. Your heart sinks at that. Of course, there would be someone who already caught Aemondâs eye. He is one of the cityâs most eligible bachelors, after all. Women everywhere are vying for his attention. It only makes sense that he would eventually meet someone he truly liked.
âThatâs great. Iâm happy for you.â Your smile doesnât reach your eyes, and Aemond astutely picks up on what you may have assumed.
âDarling, I - â
You cut him off bluntly, not remembering that itâs his turn to ask, âTruth or dare, Aemond?â
âHmm,â he stands, your question hanging in the air, with his hand outstretched for you to take, âcome with me. I want to show you something.â
Taking the wine bottle, you stand and interlace your fingers with his. âWhere are we going?â
He guides you out of the expansive living room, turning right at the end of a long hallway. He pries open a glass pivot door, revealing the private stairwell of their penthouse. Without a word shared, you climb up the flight of stairs together. One floor, two floors, three. Until you reach what can only be the roof of the high-rise building they live in.
The cool, midnight air is a refreshing assault to your senses. Immediately, you feel more awake, less drowsy from the wine. The rooftop is spacious and has been outfitted with a seating area, plenty of potted plants, dainty lighting fixtures that hang from the posts, as well as an exposed room littered with bust sculptures. The balcony stretches all around its perimeter, made out of ornately carved bronze.
âWow,â you say, after taking it all in. âIâve never been up here before.â You turn to look at him, and he seems pleased at your reaction. You add, âAnd you live here? Imagine. My entire apartment must only be a quarter of this rooftop, if not less.â
âHmm,â he smiles, looking around, âI like to come up here to think. This rooftop is rarely ever in use, since my family all prefer to huddle downstairs. And well, Aegonâs afraid of heights.â He sneers at the end.
âIs he now?â you hand him the bottle of wine, âRemind me to bring that up the next time we see him.â
âLast time he was up here, he threw up over the balcony.â
âOh, god,â Aemond laughs at the way your face scrunches up in disgust. âThatâs quite a long drop. I hope he didnât hit anyone on the sidewalk with it.â
âWhat a shame, really. That would have been the most interesting lawsuit.â Aemond remarks, before motioning with his head for you to follow him.
He reaches a plush seat facing the balcony, and the two of you sit in relative silence for a while. The whole city seems to be sprawled out below you, and the stars above also gleam much closer, like they are just within reach. Your wandering eyes take everything in with awe, but Aemond only watches you.
Instead of the stars, he thinks of how you are within reach. If only he would just let you know how he feels.
When you turn to finally look at him, you are surprised to see that he has been watching you. âAemond,â you say, âwhy are you so nice to me?â
âWhat do you mean?â
âI mean, why are you so nice to me? From what Iâve seen, you are indifferent to most people. It canât just be because I am Helaenaâs friend, is it? You donât have to treat me like Iâm some fragile doll, you know. I wonât break, I swear.â Your voice takes on a sarcastic tone, and the corner of his lips lift in a smile.
He looks away, facing the tops of the buildings in the sprawling city that his family empire practically owns. Prince of the city, some people call him.
âI know that, darling.â He tilts his head partially towards you. âI like that youâre⊠different. I mean, trust me when I say, the crowd that the lot of us are exposed to tends to be entitled, shallow sycophants.â
âBit harsh, Aemond.â
âPerhaps,â he smiles sardonically, âbut anyway. Iâm used to people only being interested in me because of my last name, or the family legacy. No oneâs ever bothered to see me for who I truly am, save for only a handful of people. Because of this, I get quite protective of Helaena, since she can be overly trusting. She only chooses to see the good in others.â
âThatâs what I love the most about her,â you say sincerely.
âHmm, yes. But it also makes her more vulnerable. Sheâs had friends before, who were only clearly hanging around her so they might leech off of her higher status.â
âAemond, Iâm sorry to hear - â
âBut not you. I am aware that Helaena tried to help you before. Tried to get you a better apartment, or get you a high-ranking job with us. It would be easy, just like that. But you refuse, time and time again. You donât mock us either, simply for being who we are, and having this much privilege. You see us as people, and unfortunately thatâs a rare thing. I can tell that you truly care for Helaena, otherwise I wouldnât let you hang around her at all,â Aemond smiles, nudging your shoulder, then drapes his arm on the back of the seat behind you.
âOverprotective brother much?â you taunt lightly.
âItâs an affliction I choose to bear,â you notice how he has leaned closer, his breath warm on your face.
You swallow nervously, âSo, I guess you answered my question.â
âPartially,â he shakes his head slightly, âdarling, Iâve got a long list of reasons why I like you, and thatâs only scratching the surface.â
âOh.â If you thought you felt faint before, then you were just about ready to pass out now. Panicking, you raise the wine bottle to your lips, taking a long drag. But when you pull the bottle away, you must have done it in a nervous rush, causing it to tilt in a way that wine spills out and splashes on your shoulder.
âSteady, y/n.â Aemond takes the bottle from you, setting it down on the stone floor.
âFuck.â You look down and see the wine stain on your shirt, seeping wider, a shade of scarlet so deep it could be mistaken for maroon.
Suddenly, Aemond laughs. You want to act incredulous, or annoyed, but the sound of his laughter is so hearty and genuine. And so rare, that you find yourself smiling at the sight of his dimples deepening, and the faint lines around his eyes bursting free.
âWhatâs so funny?â you ask.
âNothing,â he shrugs, shaking his head, âItâs just, at the rate youâre going with the wine, you could be giving Aegon a run for his money.â
âHa-ha,â you dab at your shirt with your hand, but it doesnât do much good.
âCome, I can lend you something to wear.â He takes your hand, leading you out of the rooftop.
âItâs alright, Aemond. I can just borrow one from Helaena.â
âSheâs already asleep,â the two of you descend down the stairwell, stopping at the first floor below.
âIâm sure she wonât mind.â Where is he taking me? Must be the laundry room, or a guest room?
âI insist,â he declares, dropping your qualms altogether.
You come to a halt in front of a wooden door, painted a brushed forest green. Before you could ask anything, he holds the door open for you, âThis is my room.â
You look at him expectantly, unsure of whether you should enter. He only smiles, âAfter you, darling.â
With your heart pounding in your chest, and the maroon patch still vivid by your shoulder, you step inside Aemondâs bedroom. Itâs massive, predictably, just like every other room in this penthouse. The walls are a comforting, deep shade of forest green, just like the door. There are also accented panels of dark gray, to avoid a monotony of colour. The furniture is simple, clean, modern. Yet each one possesses intricate detailing. His bookshelf covers the entire eastern wall. His bed⊠well. You compose yourself, trying not to let your mind wander.
You feel him standing behind you, waiting.
âNice room,â you say.
âHmm,â you can practically hear the smile in his voice, âthank you. I donât really bring anyone in here.â
âOh, I donât mean to impose - â
âStop. I asked you to come in here, y/n.â He walks over to a sliding door to the left, revealing a large walk-in wardrobe. Of course he would have one of those.
He disappears inside for a moment, before returning to you, a dark green sweater in his hand. The same shade as his bedroom walls. Hmm. Aemond seems to have an affinity for green.
âHere, put this on.â He hands the sweater to you. âThis should be comfortable enough to sleep in.â
âThanks,â you take it, feeling the material in your hands.
âNo problem,â he continues to look at you, and you have to ask, pointing to the walk-in wardrobe, âCould I maybe change in there?â
âRight, sorry, I should have offered,â Aemond smiles, looking down.
âOne second.â
When you gently slide the door shut, you lean back against it, taking the deep calming breath youâve been holding in. Being around Aemond makes you feel as if your very skin is on fire. The attraction you feel for him becomes so palpable, making you somewhat a nervous wreck. Thereâs no need. Like he said, he is your friend, y/n.
You sit on the bench in the middle of the room, taking your shirt off. Hurriedly, you put on his green sweater, and heâs right. It is so damn comfortable. And it smells exactly like him.
âEverything alright in there?â you hear him from behind the sliding door.
âY-yeah,â you say. Taking your stained shirt in one hand, you stand, and meet him outside.
He studies you, admiring the way his sweater hangs off your torso. âHmm,â he remarks, as he always does, âyou look better in it than I do, y/n.â
âWell, thank you,â you say sincerely, before adding, âbut I have to disagree.â
âYou look beautiful.â He suddenly says, the words immediately taking root in your heart, âYou are beautiful.â
âWhat?â you croak, your voice coming out in an astonished whisper.
âThat is what I said earlier,â he continues, âThat is what iksÄ gevie means.â
âOh.â
Aemond crosses the few steps needed to erase the distance between the two of you, plucks the shirt from your hand, and deftly tosses it to a nearby chair. Then, he takes your hands in his. He gazes into your eyes, and his expression is a mixture of longing and reluctance. He then traces your cheekbone with his fingers, delicately, as if you will crumble under his touch. And you just might.
âAemond - â
âIksan jÄre naejot vĆ«jigon ao sir.â
You feel the urge to ask him what those words mean, instead you choose to simply let it be, and just bask in the sincerity in his tone. In the way he does not drop your gaze when he spoke them. In the way his hands slowly find themselves on your waist, pulling you close.
He leans in, slowly. And the whole world ceases to exist around you. The ringing in your ears becomes silenced, and there is only Aemond. Youâve always wondered what it would feel like, his lips pressed against yours. His devotion reserved only for you. It seemed like a dream, but now, it is well within reach.
But the dream is shattered when a heavy knock echoes throughout the room. Three, brief, raps on the forest green surface. That was all it took to break the spell.
Aemondâs brows furrow in frustration, his hands still on your waist. There is an anger in his voice when he calls loudly over his shoulder, âYes?â
âItâs me, sir.â You recognize the intruder to be Criston Cole, the head of their familyâs security team.
âWait here, darling,â Aemond says, running his finger over your lips, over what he could have taken if you had not been interrupted.
Aemond opens the door, and you briefly meet Cristonâs eyes from across the room.
Your presence in Aemondâs room seems to catch him off guard, but he straightens quickly, âAemond, there is someone here for you.â
âAt this fucking hour?â
Looking at you once more, Criston lowers his voice when he replies, but you hear it anyway. âItâs Alys Rivers. Sheâs waiting for you downstairs as usual.â
As usual. Alys Rivers. The famous model and socialite. You knew of her from the magazines, the internet. There have been tabloid articles of her and Aemond, but you knew better than to pay any attention to them, not believing that there could be any truth to such lowly forms of media. Or at least, that was what you assumed. But if sheâs here, in this ungodly hour, thenâŠ
âI think I should get to bed,â you walk towards the doorway, âto Helaenaâs room, that is.â
âNo,â Aemond stops you in your tracks, grabbing your arm, âwait. We arenât finished yet. I just - â
âYour guest is waiting, Aemond.â You cut him off, not meeting his eyes.
âIâll see you in the morning,â he says, while he tries to get you to look at him, but to no avail. Youâre worried that if you do, you might not be able to leave.
Criston shuffles out of the way to let you through, greeting you with a cordial, âGood night, y/n.â You notice how there might even be a hint of regret in his eyes.
Each step feels heavy as you make your way down the hallway to Helaenaâs room. Compared to how you felt, mere moments ago, as though you were floating on air.
Sleep doesnât come easy to you that night, your thoughts racing on what might be happening down the hall. Who is Alys Rivers to you, Aemond? Why did she have to ruin what would have been a perfect night? Are you just stringing me along?
When you finally succumb to slumber, you fall into a dream.
Of who else but Aemond? Of who else but the one whom your heart desires?
Ok ok ok. This will be the last thing posted before part 5 of Heart on Fire. I think. đ€
âIksan jÄre naejot vĆ«jigon ao sir.â - "I'm going to kiss you now." - Aemond đ€
Maroon just had to be multi-chaptered. It might be my favourite track from midnights.
Apologies to those who have sent requests. I do see them, but I'm just a bit bogged with uni/life at the moment. Hopefully will write a lot more soon!
Also, thank you thank you for all the kind remarks/messages. You guys are amazing. Any suggestions for part 2? Let me know in the comments đ€đ€đ€
Aemond/HotD taglist: @aemcndtargaryen @cryztalline @fairaardirascenarios @blackravena @vensidia @xinyourdreamsx @mrswhitethornbelikov @mikariell95 @thermiting @witchofthenorthstar @m00n5t0n3 @booknerd2004 @throughgoeshamilton @xcallmetaniax @wrendermeuseless @m-indkiller @graykageyama @nsainmoonchild @milemarianne @immyowndefender @moonmaiden1996 @caspianobsessed @schniiipsel @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @random-human02 @icarusignite @flourishandblotts-inc @siriusdumblittlepuppy @just-a-harmless-patato @moni-cah @boofy1998 @huntycola @angel6776 @sanguinalia @thelastcitysposts @daeneeryss @wondergal2001 @huntycola
#aemond targaryen x y/n#aemond targaryen imagine#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#ewan mitchell#modern!aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen fanfiction#midnights
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Prompt 14 - Secret Identity
@wolfstarmicrofic July 14, word count 948
Because of his family, Sirius often used another name when dealing with people he didn't know. Especially when dating. Once they heard Black, that was it, they were suddenly obsessed with being introduced to his parents. Heâd grown his hair long, and he avoided suits like the plague. If you put him next to a picture of his younger self, it would be hard to guess they were the same person.Â
He was being set up by a friend of a friend. Heâd been adamant that his real name wasnât mentioned. He had a rule that he only revealed his actual name if he thought it would go anywhere and, so far, that hadnât happened.Â
He was nervous. Something about this date was making him jumpy. He tried to shake it off and think about the nice meal he was going to have tonight. Heâd chosen his favourite restaurant, all the staff knew him and knew not to call him Sirius or Mr Black.Â
A tall, thin man in faded blue jeans, a slightly rumpled white shirt and an honest-to-god brown cardigan. Sirius looked around the restaurant to see who he was meeting. The man leaned in to ask the host something and, to Siriusâs astonishment, Celeste led the man over to his table. He jumped out of his seat when they stopped beside him and the man looked at him expectantly.Â
âThank you, Celeste,â He held out his hand to his date. âSimon White,â He introduced himself.Â
âRemus Lupin,â Remus replied politely. They sat down and opened their menus.Â
Sirius already knew what he was ordering, so he observed Remus instead. He was very handsome now that he was closer, with gorgeous sandy hair that wound into cute little curls. If only he had a sense of style, heâd be batting them off instead of going on a blind date with him.Â
They made polite conversation and Remus seemed very nice, but Sirius was bored and not for the first time he wished he hadnât come. Then Remus came out with the most outlandish, unexpected thing.Â
âYou look like a good shag, wanna have a bit of fun?â Sirius spit his water out across the table.
âOh my god, Iâm so sorry.â He mopped up the spilt liquid as best he could. Remus put his hand on top of Siriusâs.
âSimon, calm down, itâs only water. Now if it had been red wine I think the staff might throw you out,â He stage whispered.Â
âNah, they love me in here,â Sirius waved him off.Â
âDo you come here often?â Remus asked, his brow furrowing.Â
âEr, yeah, itâs my favourite and I donât cook soâŠâ He didnât dare say it was where he brought all his dates.Â
âSo, Simon, what do you do?â Sirius felt like squirming, he hated that Remus was calling him by his fake name.Â
The man was growing on him, and he could almost see a possible future with this man.Â
They were tucking into their desserts. Sirius had ordered the lemon cheesecake and Remus had the chocolate fudge cake. Remus was regaling him with a prank heâd pulled at his boarding school that nearly got him kicked out.Â
âThe toilets blew blue water everywhere, and they had to get in a line of portaloos on the front lawn to accommodate all of us while the plumbers tried to sort out the mess I made.â Sirius laughed a genuine laugh. He had tears in his eyes and was finally enjoying himself. âDid you ever get up to mischief when you were younger, Simon?â Sirius did shudder that time. Remus looked at him concerned. âAre you alright?â Sirius swallowed and braced himself.Â
âSirius,â He said, screwing his eyes shut.Â
âHuh?â Remus asked, confused.
âMy name isnât Simon, itâs Sirius. I use a fake name on dates or else people want to know about my parents or the rest of the family and I canât deal with that.â He confessed.
âSo what is your real name?â Remus asked him.Â
âSirius Black,â He watched as Remusâs eyebrows crept up his forehead.Â
âOh,â He said. Sirius closed his eyes, a bit disappointed that he wouldnât get to see Remus again and just when he was starting to have fun. âWell, I can happily say I have absolutely no interest in your family. No offence but theyâre terrible,â Siriusâs head snapped up. Wait, what?
âYou really donât care who I am?â Sirius asked in wonder. Remus shook his head.Â
âWho cares where you come from? Itâs about who you are that matters, and I can tell youâre nothing like them. A bit lonely, but you show me a single person who isnât.â Sirius could have cried. Where had this amazing, caring man come from and how could he have ever wanted the date to be over because he was boring? Remus Lupin was anything but boring.Â
âWant to finish up here and come back to mine for coffee?â He dared to ask, putting himself out there in a way he never had before. Remus grinned a smile so big it took Siriusâs breath away.Â
âTurn it into a hot chocolate, and Iâm yours,â Remus joked. Sirius felt his stomach doing summersaults. Heâd never eaten a cheesecake so fast in his life. The bill was charged to his account, and they left. Sirius grabbed Remusâs hand on the way through the door and Remus linked their fingers together. Sirius felt like he could fly right now. It was ridiculous. He made a mental note to thank Marlene for the set-up. But for now, he had hot chocolate to make, he was just glad that he had the good stuff in.
#wolfstar#wolfstar microfic#wolfstar fic#wolfstar fanfiction#wolfstar au#sirius black#remus lupin#sirius orion black#remus john lupin#marlene mckinnon#sirius x remus#remus x sirius#sirius and remus#remus and sirius#blind date#sirius is nervous#remus and his cardigans#remus doesnt care who sirius's family is#holding hands#hot chocolate#secret identity
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Watercolors
Summary: Emily is pregnant and you decide to draw her.Â
Word Count: 1288
Pairing: Emily Prentiss/Reader
A/N: Minors DNI
Ao3
You were blocked.Â
None of your art for the past few weeks had turned out the way you envisioned it, and it was driving you crazy. It was like your ideas were getting lost in translation between your brain and your paintbrush, and by the time your paints hit the canvas, you didnât recognize the result at all.Â
You groaned, slamming your paintbrush down, which sent a splatter of colors flying around you.
âHowâs it going in here?â Your wife, Emily, leaned her head against the doorframe of your studio, a sympathetic expression on her face.
âItâs official,â you sighed. âI suck.âÂ
Emily chuckled, striding toward you. âYou could never suck.â
Your wife was a vision, and it didnât help your art block that all you wanted to do was look at her. Touch her. Pleasure her.
Youâd never seen Emily in a dress before she became pregnant. But ever since she started showing, when she wasnât in the office, she solely wore oversized t-shirts and flowy dresses, claiming it was the only thing that she was comfortable in.
Today, she wore a knee-length, white sundress with flutter sleeves. Her feet were bareâher ankles had started to swell a few months ago, and now she avoided wearing shoes whenever she could. Her black hair hung just above her shouldersâsheâd cut it after finding out she was pregnant and had kept it short since, and her bangs were brushing against her eyelashes. You would need to cut them for her soon.Â
Emily wrapped an arm under her bump, and you smiled. Your wife was seven months along with your daughter, and there was a permanent glow to her features, even when she was scowling in discomfort.Â
You closed the gap between you, resting a paint-covered hand on her belly. Your daughter shifted beneath your wifeâs skin in response.
âIâll never get tired of that,â you mumbled.
âYou try carrying her around 24/7 and see how you feel then,â Emily teased.
âTurn around,â you said, knowing just what she needed.
She assumed the position, her back leaning against you. You brushed a kiss on her neck, and she shuddered.Â
Emilyâs head leaned back, her raven hair spilling across your shoulder, and you interlaced your fingers beneath her belly.
When you were sure your grip was steady, you lifted up, relieving your wife of the pressure of carrying your daughter.
Your arms shook from the effort, but the little moan Emily let out each time you did this was all you needed.Â
âI love you,â Emily sighed.
âI love you,â you said.Â
When your arms couldnât hold much longer, you gently returned the weight to your wife. When she turned to face you, there were multi-color handprints on her dress around her bump.
âI mightâve ruined your dress,â you said, blushing.
But your wife only shrugged. âI donât know; I think it could use a little more color.â
You shouldâve known your wife would be the key you needed to remedy your artistâs block.Â
âLay on that couch,â you said, nodding to the thrifted furniture on the other side of the room.Â
âDonât have to tell me twice,â she said, making her way over and carefully swinging her legs up. She turned to face you, one arm on the armrest, the other wrapped around her bump.Â
You knew you couldnât ask her to hold that position for long, so you picked up your paintbrush and began painting furiously.Â
Each brushstroke was like a careful caress of her skin. You captured her midnight hair against her ivory skin, the stark paint colors against her white dress, the way her stomach bulged. Her pink, rosy lips, her chocolate eyesâeach color had to be just right.Â
You took a step back to admire your work and couldnât fight back the growing smile on your face. Finally you had painted what youâd pictured.Â
âCan I see?â Emily asked shyly.
You turned the easel so the painting faced your wife, and her face lit up at the sight of it.Â
âI canât believe thatâs me,â she marveled. âI look so much more⊠regal than I feel.â
You made your way across the room to join her on the couch, and she swung her legs down to make room for you.Â
âYou are a goddess,â you said, leaning in to kiss her.
Her touch was electric, and immediately, you were hungry for more. Emily laid back and you positioned yourself above her, planting kisses from her lips, to her neck, and down her bump.Â
âPaint me,â Emily said. When you looked up at her, her eyes were hungry.
You giggled, placing another kiss on her belly. âI think I just did.â
âNo,â she said, taking your paint-covered hand and running it across her skin, leaving a trail of pink and white in its wake. âPaint me.âÂ
A thrill ran through you. You hurried across the studio to grab the first paint cans you could find before rejoining your wife. You submerged one hand in pink and the other in white and got to work.Â
You pressed your palms against her breasts, squeezing gently. Emily moaned with pleasure, and you slid one hand under her dress to feel her skin against yours.Â
You ran your hands up her neck and to her cheeks, so you could press another passionate kiss against her lips. When you pulled away, she pouted, so you pressed a finger against her nose, leaving a circle of pink behind, which made her giggle.Â
Emily pulled at her white dress, and as soon as you understood what she was doing, you helped her lift it over her head and toss it on the floor behind you.Â
Her naked body was its own masterpiece. Stretch marks danced across her bellyâsomething she was self-conscious about, but you could stare at forever, the perfect pattern they created against her skin. Her belly button popped out, and you ran your hands over her bump, taking in the smooth skin and your dancing daughter beneath it.Â
Her breasts were peaked, and you palmed them once more, marveling how perfect her skin felt against yours.
You braced a knee between her legs, and your wife hungrily ground herself against it, already slick with anticipation.Â
Your wifeâs increased sex drive had been another perk of this pregnancy. You couldnât get enough of her, either.Â
Your mouth met hers once more as she searched for her pleasure. You were desperate to be more hands-on, but the wet paint posed its own issue, and you werenât about to leave her to go wash it off.
She moved faster and faster, panting in between kisses, until she let out a shuddered moan and released. Not wanting to overwhelm her, you pulled back, leaving only your hand on her belly. You couldnât sit this close to your wife and not touch her.
Emilyâs cheeks were flushed, and she bit her lip, her bare chest rising and falling quickly as she caught her breath.Â
âWow,â she breathed. âI canât believe we didnât think of this sooner.â
You threw your head back in a laugh. âBelieve me, if Iâd known painting you would have this result, Iâd never leave the studio.â
Emily struggled to sit up, so you leaned forward to put an arm around her to help her up.Â
âI think⊠we need to take this to the bedroom,â she said. âItâs your turn.â
You leapt to your feet, not needing to be told twice.
Over her shoulder, Emily glanced back at the paint and nodded to it. âBring that.âÂ
You picked up the pink paint bucket, already shedding your clothes with your other hand.Â
Emily Prentiss. Your soulmate. Your wife. Your muse.
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Malleus Facts Part 7: Lilia (pt4)
When Lilia asks Malleus to decide on the theme for Diasomniaâs Halloween costumes Malleus is reluctant, asking if there is not someone more suitable to whom Lilia can turn.
Lilia insists that the heir to Briar Valley's royal throne choosing the theme would pique the interest of the students, and his own as well, and Malleus relents.
After Phantom Bride it is Malleusâ idea to escort Lilia and Sebek home, and his idea to design and craft a tuxedo for Lilia out of magic, as a token of appreciation.
Lilia says that he has heard Malleus perform countless times, but the melodies that Malleus played to celebrate his birthday were âdifferent from his usual style.â
Other presents for Lilia from Malleus are âmore gifts than (he) can hold in both armsâ from Fleur City, including a picture of Sebek and Silver in costume.
(Malleus: âI can see the look of delight on Lilia's face now. It seems I've gotten a souvenir for him already.â)
Malleus looks pleased to hear that Idia prepared a gift for Silver to give to his father, but appears unamused by the revelation that Idia doesnât intend to give him anything (Idia: âDonât see why I should go out of my way to be niceâ).
Malleus concedes to taking a picture for Lilia during Firelit Sky (despite initial reluctance) and says his goal is to feel like he has truly visited so he can tell Lilia about it later.
Malleus struggles to find a souvenir for Lilia, as he has never shopped for one before.
Malleus settles on a shirt with a showy design, saying that it is âperfect for Lilia, and it suits how expressive and lively he is.â He says he would âlike to wear matching shirts with Lilia sometime,â and must thank Lilia for giving him the opportunity of the outing.
Malleus welcomes the entire Firelit Sky group to Diasomnia to regale Lilia with tales about the trip.
Lilia says that he would often buy pennants for Malleus from tourist destinations when he travels, which Malleus loves hanging on his bedroom wall as Malleus âcanât exactly travel abroad on a larkâ himself as the soon-to-be ruler of Briar Valley.
As pennants have begun to go out of style, Lilia decides that he will start buying Malleus T-shirts, instead.
Malleus himself says the he always looked forward to the souvenirs that Lilia would bring him and wants to get Lilia a pennant from the Scalding Sands, but he is not able to find one. (He gets Lilia the shirt instead.)
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i love your writing!! i wanted to ask what are your favourite cards for each character? and why?
you can ignore if its a long answer and if you're busy! I thought it's be fun to comapre our tastes.
thank you so much đ«¶
there are spoilers for jp only cards below the cut!
Riddle: Halloween
The black lips? the pose? this card almost put me in my grave when I first saw it 10/10
Ace: Playful Dress
Deuce: Starsending robes
I adore the composition of this card and the ribbons and pose give me a slight marionette- feel and I love it
Deuce in general is very pretty but I found him extra pretty in this card.
Trey: Nightmare Suit
He's so *barks* Where do I even begin, the suit, the expression orz
Cater: New Year's Attire
I just love seeing him so confident idk this card just ticks the boxes for me
Leona: He has so many pretty cards where do I even start. The new nightmare suit is AMAZING but I gave a soft spot for Liongarb Leona
He looks so regal??? and cool??? I spent everything I had for this card. absolutely worth it
Ruggie: Port Wear
He's so cute in this and his ears sticking out of his little hat. I'm gonna die of cuteness aggression.
Jack: Sleepwear
He looks so soft and fluffy already and his tail adds to that. 10/10 would hug
Azul: Luxe Couture
The expression??? the glasses?? THE HAIR??? hell yeah
Jade: Mermaid Fin
This is an insane card in general (I'm so normal about this) It's so !!!!!
Floyd: Mermaid Fin (again)
He looks so unhinged I'm so into it
Kalim: Playful Dress
Again, the marionette vibe and his serious expression instead of his usual smile does it for me
Jamil: I love Nightmare Suit but Luxe Couture
The attitude?? the posing??? orz
Vil: I'm extremely biased and I love all his cards but: Silk Adorned
Ever saw a man so beautiful you cry? Because I sure did. He's so pretty I cannot begin to describe. If he looked at me like that I'd just die jfc
Rook: Savanaclaw Dorm
Rook before he became French /j but forreal, its so different from how he usually is and I love that.
Epel: Platinum Jacket
i LOVE the expression he has and idk i just love the general vibe of all the platinum jacket cards and I like this one quite a bit.
Idia: I'm biased here again because he's so pretty to me. It's a tie between suitor suit and masquerade for me but masquerade just has the edge for me.
hes just so pretty man orz
Ortho: Fairy gear
The pink??? the butterfly motifs??? so peak. absolutely one of my top 10 cards
Malleus: Extremely biased because I love my dragon so I find them all pretty but Tsumsitter
Mostly because the whole family is here but I adore the expression he has on. (the diafam together is my weakness)
Lilia: Pop Music T-Shirt
The hair?? the ripped jeans??? the fishnet underneath??? 1000/10
Silver: Platinum Jacket
Love the expression, the implications. Amazing card 10/10
Sebek: Armor of Eternal Night
The tear in his eye? the context of the card? beautiful. book 7 broke me.
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Ghost in the Machine Part 2 (Eddie X You)
A/N: It seems I need Daddy Eddie lately <3
Warnings: Daddy Rockstar Eddie and Fem Stripper Sub Reader, SMUT, degrading, dirty talk, FLUFF, ANGST, reader mentions that she doesn't talk with her parents, fears about releasing control, Eddie doesn't push her (He's a sweet boy), mentions of their jobs and the negatives. Nothing too dramatic in this one.
They do have a text conversation in the beginning and Eddie's is in red.
Word Count 4511
Part 1 Here
âGood morning, pretty girl. Or afternoon rather. I donât know. All I know is Iâm up.â
âAnyway, I just wanted to say I hope you have a good day and we should be finished by about 7. See you later!â
You smile at the messages Eddie had sent you wondering if you should reply. You didnât want to seem too eager but you didnât want him to think you didnât care.Â
Ugh! What is it about this man that is making me think shit like this?
Throwing your phone aside, you decide to not respond and go about your day like you normally would. The problem was you didnât have anything to do. After taking a shower and making lunch you found yourself sitting on your couch zoning out as you scrolled through the tv. After a while you gave up, throwing the remote on the table, and grabbing your laptop.Â
I shouldnât look him up. Weâre going to talk later and whatâs online probably isnât all true anyway.Â
Sighing, you guiltily type his name in the search bar and browse what comes up.Â
As to be expected, a lot of information about Corroded Coffin came up first. You skimmed through regular bio pieces about how they formed and how excited they were when their first single became popular. A few had videos attached that you played, watching how Eddie behaved. He was slightly reserved during each interview, trying not to sound nervous as he spoke. When you found some videos with fans, however, his whole demeanor changed. He became so much more animated and smiled wide as he talked to people especially little kids who had on Corroded Coffin t-shirts.Â
There were a few tabloid reports about actresses he supposedly dated or slept with. One article had a blinding white light flash in his face as he tried to shoo away the people taking the photo. One of the articles had a video of him being thrown into a cop car, sticking out his tongue as they drove away.Â
Is this who he really is?
You began feeling yourself get antsy forcing you to click away from articles like that and scroll through his social media. It looks like the only thing he had was an Instagram he barely used however a lot of the pictures he did have made you smile. There was one fairly recently with him standing next to an older gentleman who was wearing a shirt with their band name as they both stood backstage at what you assumed was one of their concerts. Eddie was holding up the rock & roll symbol as the other man was mid laugh.Â
Your phone suddenly dinged as a message came through.Â
âHey sweetheart. Weâre taking a little break here but weâre almost done so I should be there in about an hour or so. Is that ok?â
âYeah, Eddie. No problem.â
Closing your device, you began to get ready for your visit from a famous rockstar.Â
#####
Eddie smiled wide as you giggled at his story about the shoot. When he showed up, his hair was relatively styled and he was wearing some light make up they put on him. While you two ate the food he brought, he regaled you with stories of other photo shoots that had been way more chaotic as well as some stories from the road.Â
He did make a mental note that you didnât respond with stories of your own or even say anything really. You continued to grin as you sat there nodding your head and intently listening in as you hung on to his every word.Â
âWell, sweetheart, as much as I enjoy talking about myself, Iâd love to know a bit more about you.â
âOh, there isnât much to tell.âÂ
His eyes scanned over you as you took a sip of your drink, avoiding his gaze. âWhy do I doubt that?â
âGood question because you shouldnât.â The metalhead tilts his head to your remark, relishing your sassy tone. âHonestly, there isnât much to me. I moved here, I strip. Iâm broke so I signed up for the âside businessâ and now Iâm here.â
âMhmm and before you moved here?â
âI lived somewhere else.â
âWhere?â
âNone of your fucking business.âÂ
This time Eddieâs eyes narrowed as he glared in your direction. Sass, he loved, but out right disrespect was something completely different.
âLook at me. I said look at me, little girl!â His voice raised as you turned away from him at his first request. âI can handle your attitude but you will treat me with respect and not fucking talk to me like that. Do I make myself clear?â
âYes.â, you sneer through clenched teeth.Â
He weighs the options of forcing you to say it correctly. You werenât technically his yet but you had let it flow so freely from your lips last night that he considered giving you a bit more of a taste of what a relationship with him would be like or at least the kind he preferred.Â
âGood.â, Eddie exhales. âY/N, Iâm not trying to pry but Iâm not one of your clients or whatever. I genuinely just want to learn more about you.â He notices you soften slightly so he jumps on the opportunity. âHey, I have an idea. Why donât we play a game.â
âGame?â
âYeah, a game. Think of it like twenty questions. I imagine you did some snooping today before I came over which I also assume has you wanting to ask some questions of your own. Ask me anything you want and I swear Iâll answer but in return I would like you to do the same.â
When your eyes find his chocolate ones again, you canât help but smile at him. He seemed so sincere and you already told him you struggle with releasing control like that so you thought he would know how to guide you through while getting you to slowly open up. You finally nod and his grin grows.
âLadies first.â
âOh, I feel special.â, you smirk. âOk, um, on your Instagram thereâs a picture of you backstage with an older man. Is that your dad?â
Eddie blinks as he scoots a little closer to you. âInteresting. Before I answer, may I ask why out of all the questions, THAT is your first one?â
âYou seemed different next to him, happier. It made me the most curious.â
âFair enough. Wayne was very much like a dad but heâs my uncle. He raised me for a good chunk of my life.â He gnawed on the inside of his cheek. âDo you get along with your family?â
âDefine âfamilyâ.â
âHow about we stick with mom and dad for now?â
Swallowing, you push down the urge to tell him to fuck off. âMy parents and I havenât talked in a very long time.â
He nods before taking a sip of the beer in his hand. âYeah, I know how you feel.â
Eddieâs eyes briefly flash that same glint of loneliness you noticed after he gave you his phone to put your number in. Your brain runs through multiple topics to ask, fearing that if you stay on your current one, heâll want to dig more into your history or heâll continue to be hurt by his own.Â
âYour turn, sweetheart.â
âIâm scared.â
His eyes immediately locked with yours as he searched with concern. âOf me?â
âNo. I told you last night I struggle with letting go of control. A lot of my historyâŠmy lifeâŠIâve kept to myself and never really talked about it. I get the vibe that your kind of the same. I donât want you to be hurt or force yourself to tell me things.â
Eddie turns his body a bit more to face you as he speaks. âY/N, youâre right. I donât go around talking about my history because itâs not something people need to know especially since 99% of the people that walk into my life walk right back out again. ButâŠI donât know, baby. Maybe Iâm just really hoping youâll stay.â
You pleasantly sighed at his last sentence and he smiled in your direction.Â
âHow about this? How about we talk shop. I tell you what Iâm looking for in a relationship and vice versa.â
âCan we still do the questions? Because I have a few there.â Eddieâs grin grows as he nods. âYou said you want to talk care of me. What exactly would that entail?â
âEverything, I guess. I want to talk with you about things like our days or anything really. I want you to feel comfortable being open with me not just emotionally and mentally but physically.  I want to kiss you till your lips are numb. I want to make you cum till you beg me to stop and then some. I really want to handcuff you to my mattress and fuck your tight little pussy till you canât walk straight.â
Your eyes closed as you tried to control your breathing.Â
âWas that too much?â
âNo, no. I, um, so this wouldnât beâŠintimate?â
Eddie blinked again as his head tilted. âDefine intimate.â
âAre you going to get jealous about men at my job?â
âAre you when it comes to mine and other women?â You shake your head and he nods. âNo I wonât get jealous but I want you to know thatâŠyou at least donât have to do that âside businessâ anymore. I can help you if you need money for anything.â
âEddie, I canât take advantage of you like that.â
âHow about you think about it this way? Instead of fucking multiple men, youâll only be fucking me. I can give you however much you usually make in a night and then some.â
Itâs your turn to nod as you push some hair back behind your ear.
âIs there anything you donât like, Y/N? Something I should steer clear of.â
âDonâtâŠhurt me. I mean I like it rough but not too rough you know?â
âGotcha. So no canes, flogs, or any of that other stuff?â, he playfully smiles.Â
âI donât even know what that means.â
âWhat?! Pretty girl like you in your field doesnât know about that side of the BDSM spectrum?â, he asks in a lighthearted tone making you laugh.Â
âWhat about you? Anything I should avoid?â
âA couple. One Iâm a little steadfast on, the other has some wiggle room.â Eddie takes a sip from his drink before placing it on your coffee table. âI, um, I struggle with being touched. I spend so much time getting grabbed on day in and day out sometimes I just need a minute.â
âI understand that.â His eyes shift to you as he watches you speak. âI mean, obviously, as a stripper men think Iâm free reign. When I have a bad day or something I just need people to go away. Can you let me know? Like whenever we see each other, if you donât want to be touched just tell me and I can fuck off.â
Eddie laughs at your choice of words and it makes your smile widen. You liked his tooth filled laugh; it seemed genuine.Â
âOf course. But I expect you to do the same.â, he scolds with joke filled eyes.
âYes, sir.â, you giggle. âWhat was the other thing?â
âDisrespect. I can handle sass but disrespectâŠâ
âDefine disrespect.â
âThe way you answered me before. âNone of your fucking businessâ.â, he mimicked making you blush. âI donât like that. Donât talk down to me either.â
âAw, poor rockstar. You donât like being talked down to or put in your place?â You knew what you were doing and so did he. When he glanced your way again, you could see the fire. It wasnât necessarily angry but more like he was amused. Now if this is what that looks like, youâd hate to see fury because his beautiful brown eyes were currently burning holes into your own.Â
âI donât know, whore. Do you?â Your mouth fell open at his response as he slung his arm over the back of your couch and scoot so close to you that his knee was touching yours. âIâm not like the other men you fuck, Y/N. Iâm not going to throw a tantrum because you talk back or leave because you hurt my feelings. I have no problem playing your game and putting you in your place.â
âSaid the man who struggles with âdisrespectâ.â You say the last word in a deep, sarcastic dad tone as you grin wickedly in his direction. The chuckle that leaves his lips, however, startles you as he looks away and runs his hand over his shirt, pretending to straighten it.Â
âOh, baby. I canât wait for you realize sentences like that have consequences.â Eddie continues to look anywhere else that isnât your face and it kills you. You desperately want his attention again. âYou said nothing too rough but what about things like choking or hitting?â
âI donât mind either. The, um, the way you choked me last night was okay.â
âDo you have a safe word?â
âNo. Iâve never done this before.â
âOk, we can utilize the stop light system. If I ask you what color youâre at, green is good, yellow is slow down, and red is stop. Just say red if you feel uncomfortable.â
âAlright, Eddie.â  You growl in frustration as his eyes remain downcast. âEddie? Please⊠can you look at me?â
âOh? Little girl wants my attention? After being a brat a moment ago, I donât think you deserve it.â
Your instinct is to touch his chest and curl up on his lap, cooing in your high pitch voice you use on the job to get him to do what you want but after his confession about being touched you donât want to make him uncomfortable. Plus, you have a feeling your normal tactics wonât work on him here. Â
Sliding onto the floor, you place yourself on your knees next to his leg.
âPlease, Daddy.â
Eddieâs chest deflated as his eyes closed, trying to hide the pleasure hearing you say that gives him. When he opens them again, they meet your big doe ones as he leans forward with his elbows on his knees.Â
âI really did just come over with the intention of talking to you.â
âI know. We can still just talk if you want to or maybe we can watch a movieâŠâ As you glance towards the tv, he places two of his fingers under your chin, and turns your face back to look at him.Â
âWeâre not going to watch a movie, sweetheart.â
âOh, um, ok. Do you want to maybe see my bedroom?â
Eddie nods and as he rises to his feet, he extends his hand for you to take, helping you off the floor.Â
âWhat do you say?â
âThank you.â
He steps into your personal space and just like last night you can feel his cigarette smelling breath warming your lips as he hovers just above them.Â
âThank youâŠ?â
âThank you, Daddy.â, you whisper.Â
âGood girl.â
When you donât move his smile widens as he gestures down a hallway with his eyes and you laugh nervously before leading him to your room.Â
âAw, this is cute.â, he grins as he looks around taking everything in.Â
âWhat did you expect, Mr. Munson? Some neon lights with a stripper pole in the middle.â
You watch him as he continues to explore, ignoring your sass as he scans through your music.
âGeez, I didnât think people bought albums anymore.â
âI do. I like the way they sound.â Walking over to where he was standing, you run your fingers through you collection and pulled out one he definitely recognized.Â
âWell shit. I didnât know we sold any physical albums either.â Taking the Corroded Coffin album from your hand, he quickly gave it a once over before handing it back to you. âSeems like you donât listen to it very much.â
You shrug as you place it back in with the others. âWhat album gets you in the mood for work?â, he asked.
âHuh?â
âYouâre getting ready for the evening to go to a clientâs house or to the club where you dance. You know itâs going to be a long night of hoots, hollers, and flirty touches with drunk assholes until 3am. What do you listen to, to get you mentally in that headspace?â
âI donât know to be honest. I think it just depends on my mood.â
âLet me ask you this then. Did you listen to music when you got ready to come over last night? What did you put on?â, he asks when you nod.Â
Lightly moving him to the side, you grab the album on top of another stack by the record player and set it up before carefully dropping the needle on the record.
âYou keep dreaming and dark scheming Yeah, you do You're a poison and I know that is the truth All my friends think you're vicious And they say you're suspicious You keep dreaming and dark scheming Yeah, you do.â
Eddieâs eyes meet yours as the man begins to sing and he can see the music already affecting you as you begin to lightly sway.Â
âItâs a band called Two Feet. Theyâre rhythm and lyrics justâŠâ Your voice trails off as he continues to watch you. He doesnât move or say anything and his strong, powerful demeanor is making you wetter by the second. This time you move, pushing your body so close to his you can feel his heartbeat against your own chest. His chocolate eyes scan your face before landing on your lips.Â
âI feel like I'm drowning I'm drowning You're holding me down and Holding me down You're killing me slow So slow, oh no I feel like I'm drowning I'm drowning.â
âPlease, Daddy.â, you whisper, desperate to feel his mouth on yours.Â
Eddie obliges tilting down to kiss you firmly as his fingers tangle in your hair to bring your face as close to his as possible. Walking you backwards towards your bed, he falls on top of you as his lips continue to dance with yours.Â
âY/N...I need to hearâŠhear you agree toâŠwhat Iâm asking for.â, he pants out between each peck and heavy breath.Â
âIâwe can end it at any time?â
âOf course. Of course, sweetheart.â
âOk. Ok, Eddie.â
He softly smiles as his fingers caress your cheek. âCan I see your body? Can you show it to me, please?â
âPlease? I wasnât expecting that.â
âYou treat me with respect and Iâll do the same.âÂ
Rolling to his side, he allows you space to remove your shirt and pull down your jeans with your panties.
âNo bra? Naughty little girl.â, Eddie teases as runs his hands along your legs. âYou really are beautiful, princess.â Guiding your leg over his waist, you licked your lips as you felt the tips of his fingers glide ever so gently up and down your inner thigh. âLook at you. I havenât even touched your pussy yet and youâre making a mess already.â, he chuckles with slight condescension that has you pouting.
âOh, come on now, pretty girl. Donât make that face. Is all of this for me?â When you only nod, his palm lightly but firmly slaps down against your folds making you yelp. âProperly, please. I want to hear you. I always want to hear you.â
âY-yes, Daddy. Itâs all for you.â
You both groan as he slides his fingers between your lips, the sound of your slick causing the bulge in his own jeans get tighter as it pressed against the denim.
âFuck me, baby. Can Daddy taste you? Are you going let Daddy make you feel good?â
âYes, Daddy. Please. I need you to.â
After yanking his shirt over his head, he tosses it to the floor and slides his body between your legs, tenderly kissing parts of your skin along the way. When his tongue licks a long stripe through your folds, your eyes roll back as you loudly moan.
Eddie canât help but laugh under his breath at the sound.Â
âDo you like how my tongue feels, pretty girl?â
âS-so wide. Please donât stop.â
He does as you ask and your whole body comes to life as he explores every part of your cunt; making mental notes at what makes your whimper the loudest. Coming off you, he gathers some of your arousal with his fingers and slowly pushes two of them into your entrance.
âGoddamn it, sweetheart. You are so fucking tight.â His mouth eagerly wrapped around your clit as he pumped his digits inside you. Eddieâs eyes remained on your face as he watched you squirm and play with your breasts.Â
âYes, Daddy! Pl-please! Iâm gonnaâŠâ
âThatâs it, baby. Let go and cum for Daddy.â
Practically screaming, your body shook as you came, your hips grinding against him. Eddie continued to lick you, smirking as he felt your body twitch with the aftershocks of your orgasm.Â
Kissing his way up to your lips, his smile grew wider as you beamed up at him with hooded eyes.Â
âYou did good, princess. You taste so good and your pussy is so tight. Iâm going to ruin you when I fuck you.â
âYouâre not going to fuck me now?â, you whine.
âNo, Y/N. Not tonight.â
âDo I get to at least make you cum?â, you ask gesturing towards his groin.Â
Leaning against your headboard, he collects you to his side till your head was on his shoulder with his arm wrapped around you as he kissed your forehead.Â
âYou want to make Daddy cum, honey? Go ahead and take out my cock.â
Your eyes remain on his as you tug at his belt with one hand before unbuttoning his pants and guiding them down his hips enough for his cock to spring free. You had felt him the night prior but seeing him now made your eyes widen. He really was going to ruin you.
âYou can touch me.â, he murmured.
Licking your palm, you reached out to hold him and his dick twitched at the contact. Your mouth salivated as your thumb grazed the pre cum already dripping from his slit. Eddie deeply exhaled at the action but as you leaned forward with the intention of choking on his cock, his hand grabbed your shoulder and pulled you back.Â
âNu uh. I said you could touch me not taste me.â
âPlease, Daddy. I really want to.â He shook his head and you whined. You actually whined like a child as you crooned your face into his neck.Â
His fingers roughly tugged on your hair, forcing your eyes to meet his.Â
âWhoâs in control here?â Your lips formed into a thin, defiant line causing him to yank harder making you moan at the action. âAnswer me.â
âYou are, Daddy.â
âIf you want to keep giving me that fucking attitude, Y/N, I can jerk myself off while you watch. Be grateful Iâm allowing you to do anything.â
âCan I at least spit, please?â
Taking hold of your palm, he brings it to his lips as he lets a glob of spit fall into it and places your hand back around him. Watching his face, it killed you that it was now contorted in annoyance. You wanted him to feel as good as he had made you feel.
As you began to stroke him, you curled your body closer to his and tenderly kissed his cheek.Â
âIâm sorry, Daddy. I didnât mean to give you attitude. I just want to feel you in my mouth so badly.â Eddie moaned at your confession as your hand twisted around him, your thumb occasionally grazing his tip. âI want to feel you in the back my throat. I want you to feel me gag around you and make a mess over your cock.â
His calloused palm ran down your side till you felt his fingers pinch your nipples making you mewl in his ear.Â
âThatâs right, Daddy. Touch me. Use me to cum.â
âFuck. F-faster, baby.â
âIs that you need, Daddy?â, you coo as you pump him quicker, squeezing your hand tighter around him.
Eddieâs lips land on yours for a passionate kiss as his tongue massages your own. You mewl at the taste of yourself as his mouth travels down your cheek to your ear.
âYour hand feels so good on me, sweetheart. Fuck⊠maybe if you beg meâŠD-Daddy will let you swallow his cum.â
As his lips and tongue caressed your throat, his ear hovered just close enough to your mouth for you to whisper you pleas to him as he groaned at the sound.Â
âPlease. Please let me taste you, Daddy. Iâll be a good girl. I promise. PleaseâŠâ
Eddieâs jaw went slack and you felt his face scrunch against your skin. Roughly gripping the back of your neck, he guided you over his cock and you opened your mouth just enough for him to thrust himself inside of you.Â
âFuck me, babygirl. Your mouth is so fucking warm. Donât move. Daddyâs going to give you what you want.â
After a few more sloppy movements of his hips, he grunted above you as you felt ropes of his release hit your throat. As soon as his hands fell, you utilized the opportunity to run your tongue along his tip, licking him clean.Â
Gently kissing up his stomach, you laid your head on his chest as you listened to him breathe. It took him a while before his fingers finally reached up to play with your hair as he laid his arm on top of the one you had strewn across him.Â
âEddie? What are the rules for after?â
âThatâs up to you, sweetheart. Do you want me to go?â You didnât see but he softly smiled as you held him tighter.
âNoâŠbut I donât want you to be uncomfortable.â
âIâm actually quite comfortable if Iâm being honest.â
âMe to. Which is new for me.â He cranes his neck to look at you and you lean back a bit so your eyes can find his. âIf Iâm being honest.â
âI donât know if this needs to be said, Y/N, but youâre safe with me. If at any point you do feel uncomfortable or you need tell me something please feel free to be open with me.â
Nodding, you smirk as you sit up, grabbing the bottom part of his jeans at the legs and tug them off before throwing them aside. Eddie watches you with amusement, grinning as well as you tug his shirt over your head and climb back into bed to pull his boxers back up over his hips.Â
Turning off your bedside lamp, you take his hand, and place his arm over your waist as you melt your body into his own. Sliding his other arm under your pillow, he leans forward to softly kiss your shoulder as he brings you closer to his chest.
âGood night, pretty girl.â
âGood night, Daddy.â
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#dom eddie munson#daddy eddie munson#eddie munson#joseph quinn#stranger things#eddie fanfic#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson smut#eddie stranger things#joseph quinn smut#fan fiction#eddie x reader#joseph quinn fluff#spotify#eddie x y/n#eddie x you#eddie x fem!reader#joseph quinn fanfiction#joseph quinn stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#Spotify#sub reader#brat reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson angst#rockstar!eddie munson
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L'amour et la Mort
Chapter 1
The years of King Arthurâs reign had been, so far, a largely peaceful time. Granted, the first half-decade or so after Utherâs death had been wrought with strife, remnants of his cruel regime which stained his sonâs hands red. The battle of Camlann, and the defeat of Morgana, had marked a distinct shift in the balance of the world. Light began to pour where darkness had festered for a lifetime, seas too treacherous to sail once again gentled, poisoned fields were found to have nutrient-rich soil; nature itself had begun to heal. Some of the more faithful scholars, ones who still followed the Old ways, believe that this change had been paid for in blood, could have only ever been paid in blood.Â
Followers of the Old Religion have held many beliefs throughout the ages, some less sensible than others. They preach that royal blood, truly royal, holds a certain weight against the natural order of things. One rulerâs death will plunge kingdoms into centuries of depravity, while another might pave the way for an age of enlightenment. After all, the weight of royal words, of royal actions, hold much more power in them than any other personâs. Where else should that strength come from, if not their blood? Camlann had soaked its fill of Pendragon strength, between Arthur and Morgana, and the world had flourished because of it. Even in the long, terrifying months of the kingâs recovery, no attacks had been waged on Camelotâs borders, the other nations of Albion instead vying for favor with the young ruler.Â
The first few days after Camlann were not easy for anyone in the realm. Merlin and Arthur had arrived weeks before the army returned, on a damned dragon. Only the sight of their wounded King being carried in thinly-muscled arms had kept the castle guards from striking against the creature. Several hands had tried to pry Arthur from his manservantâs grasp, none successfully, as Merlin carried his friend to Gaiusâs chambers.Â
âWhat happened,â the old man had gasped at the sight of his bloodied apprentice, seeing through the dirt and grime to the naked fear on his downturned face. He immediately motioned for the guard who had followed them to clear the workbench, knowing that the next hours would be long and uncomfortable for every party.Â
âHe was stabbed.â The words fell from Merlinâs chapped lips like a death sentence, eyes never leaving his Kingâs face. A single tear dropped onto Arthurâs cheek, trailing down his cheek as if produced from his own sorrow. Gaius raked his eyes over Arthurâs body, finding that the blood was covering too fully to see where the wound lay. He pointed a bony finger to the table, now cleared, a gesture which Merlin had never needed before. Usually, after so many years of working side-by-side, his apprentice moved almost before he even knew which direction to tell him.Â
âMerlin, you must let go.â The words seemed to float by Merlin unnoticed, his focus on the King unwavering. âMerlin, I cannot help Arthur if you do not put him down.â
âI canât,â he whispered, voice breaking over the syllables like waves on a rocky shore. âIâm not sure I can keep him alive if I let go.â Gaius felt a sharp intake of breath as wide, golden eyes met his. This was much worse than he had feared.Â
âYou must,â he pleaded, âset him down, hold onto him if contact is needed, but I cannot work if I cannot see the damage.â The words, at last, seemed to convince Merlin into action. He took short, unsteady steps to the table, and laid his King down without letting go entirely. Arthurâs gloves had been removed, at some point, and Merlinâs first clenched around limp fingers like a prayer. At once, Gaius began ordering the guard to help remove his Kingâs armor, cutting his shirt off entirely so as to not disturb whatever fragile stasis Merlin had upheld this long. âWhat happened, my dear boy?â
âCamlann was worse than I imagined.â His voice was still shaky, but seemed to steady itself as he regaled the battle. Gaius took his tale in stride, nodding along in encouragement as he cleaned Arthurâs skin enough to see the woundâs extent. He listened as graciously as he was able, barely pausing as Merlin recounted laying waste to Morganaâs army, and the lady herself, with lightning. His apprentice spoke of a sea of bodies, of barely arriving in time to be of any use at all, of being too late to help Arthur when he was most needed. âTheyâre dead,â the words shattered over thin air as Merlin spoke them, seeming to finally run out of whatever strength he had pulled out of himself.Â
âThis wound should have killed Arthur,â Gaius whispered, feeling every year of his life in contrast to his young King. He had birthed this boy, now a man, had held his squalling, naked body as Uther mourned his wife. The only thought which seemed to rise above the cacophony in his head was a prayer, to anyone who should listen, that his old hands would not carry Arthur into death as they had life. âMerlin, what exactly have you done to keep him breathing?â
Merlin let out a heavy, unsteady sigh, scrubbing his free hand down his face roughly. âIâm not sure, really. I called for Kilgharrah after Morgana found us in the forest. He brought us to Avalon, and Freya told me to place Arthur in the lakeâs waters. It took all three of us,â he swallowed against the words, trying to push past the lump which had lodged itself in his throat at the sight of Mordredâs sword embedding itself into Arthurâs stomach. âHe was just barely alive when I got there. If anything had held us for even a moment longer.â Merlinâs words trailed off, a haunted look marring his face. The gold still had not bled from his eyes, and it seemed, to the old physician, that the impossible magic his boy was performing had become second nature, much like anything else regarding Arthurâs safety. âWe did what we could, but he was still unstable. Freya told me that I already had the power to keep him from passing, and then I just started keeping him.â Gaiusâ eyes flicked up from where he had been examining the wound, now as clean as possible with the slow trickle of blood leaking onto the table. Merlinâs eyes were locked onto the gash across Arthurs gut, glowing impossibly brighter against the fading light filtering into the room. Gaius motioned for the guard to light the roomâs plethora of candles, so that he may continue to work as dusk fell. Instead, every single sconce in the room burst into flame simultaneously, Merlinâs concentration on the King remaining unbroken. The guard flinched towards the door, nodding curtly at Gaiusâs instruction to wait outside in case anything was needed of him. His eyes once again fell to the injury, widening as the candlelight threw the wound into more clarity. The skin was slowly stitching itself together, vessels and musculature repairing itself in a shocking feat of magic.Â
âMerlin, my boy, how are you doing this without an enchantment?â
âI donât know. I canât stop.â Another gulp, another shaky exhale. âEvery time I think itâs better he starts fading away.â The picture in front of Gaius suddenly sharpened into a horrific reality. The wound, as Merlin had described it, was given days ago. Even the greatest sorcerer of all time, and Gaius had seriously begun to doubt that even those words were enough to encompass all of Merlinâs abilities, could not uphold this magic for long. His mind raced, coming up with contingencies and platitudes that might convince his boy to release his hold on Arthurâs life.Â
âSon,â he began, âyou-â
âI canât do this for much longer, can I?â His words, more sobs than syllables, cut off Gaiusâs explanation. âI can feel it, magic was never supposed to best fate.â
âNo, my boy, I would imagine not.â The words lingered in the still air, riding the chill to sink into their very bones with the grim truth.Â
âHeâs not gonna make it, not just with medicine.â It wasnât a question, yet Gaius felt the need to answer anyway.
âThere is a chance, Merlin. Arthur is strong, and much has already been done.â
âNot enough.â
âIt could work.â
âNo,â he shivered, a brutish exhale ruffling rust-stained blonde strands. âIâve seen better odds rob men just as strong as Arthur of their lives, I cannot risk that with him.â
âYou cannot go on as you are, it is too slow, you could kill yourself in the process.â Gaiusâs statement seemed to shake something loose in his apprentice, a prayer angering the gods.Â
âIt doesnât matter, Gaius. I am nothing without him.â He did not shout, though Gaius had expected it. His words instead came like a wave, slowly building onto themselves until they grew strong enough to sink fleets. âCamelot cannot survive if he is gone. The Once and Future King, thatâs what Kilgharrah had said. Gods dammit, Gaius, that future will come to pass in my lifetime if I have to kill Death himself. He doesnât get to die like this, not here and not now. Arthur will die at the age of eighty, warm in this castle, surrounded by heirs, and he will not leave me.â Merlin finally seemed to break at the end, raking in a harsh gasp to keep himself from devolving into senseless wails of anguish.Â
A moment passed, maybe an hour, in which the only sound was Merlinâs sharp inhales and shaky exhales. Gaius knew, as much as he knew his own name, that this was something he could not sway the boy on. Merlin had always been reckless in his care for the King - Gaius had often wondered if either of them would ever pull their heads out of their arses long enough to see why - and in this, Merlin was surely unmovable. His mind raced, finally landing on a solution which seemed most likely to grant both of his boys to keep their lives.Â
âOkay,â he began, golden eyes once again snapping to attention. âYouâre right, this wound is still too risky to try and heal with science. Magic is the only solution.â He raised a hand as Merlin opened his mouth, to protest or add his own opinion. âListen to me. Whatever it is youâve been doing these last few days is too slow, and itâs not sustainable. You need to fix as much as you can, as fast as you can, and let me do the rest. It will be a slow process, depending on how much magic heals, but I cannot see another way.âÂ
Merlin looked back down to his King, his friend, his Arthur, and visibly tensed when he realized the planâs validity. He nodded, not breaking his gaze, and readjusted his grip on Arthurâs hand. His voice tore out of his chest, ancient words that he had never consciously learned filling the air like a dragonâs roar. A wind stirred in the room, sending pages of notes and vials flying into the tornado that had formed around the workbench. The light from Merlinâs eyes grew too intense for Gaius to look at, and he shielded his vision as his apprentice pleaded with Magic itself to save the man in front of them.Â
As instantaneously as it had been stirred into chaos, the room fell silent once again. The candles, shockingly untouched by the vicious wind, lit the mess left in magicâs wake with vivid detail. Merlin had slumped forward, unconscious, his head falling just beside Arthurs, hand still clutching the Kingâs. Gaius immediately moved forward to assess the damage to Arthurâs abdomen, calling for the guard to move Merlin to his cot. It was nowhere near the first time either boy had been under his care, but having them both unconscious, splayed in front of him and injured, made his chest ache in a breath-stealing way.Â
He could not afford to lose his focus, working with experienced hands to fix as much of the crevice in Arthurâs flesh as humanly possible. Merlinâs magic had done a lot of good, most of the dire internal problems repaired in an instant, but the blood started to trickle in steadier streams as arteries began flowing once again. Gaius flashed a look to Merlin, not liking the deathly pallor to his wardâs skin, or the apparent stillness of his chest.Â
âGuard! Wash your hands! I need your help.â The young knight squared his shoulders, peeling off his gloves and following orders deftly. Gaius instructed him to press and cauterize where it was needed most, all the while thinking how Merlin wouldnât have needed instruction to aid the physician. Gaius stitched muscle and skin back together, pouring tonic after tonic down Arthurâs throat in an effort to replenish as much blood as possible. He whispered a quick prayer to the Old gods as he worked, begging with the skies for the survival of both his sons. After several dozen minutes, seeing that the Kingâs wounds would hold for the moment, he moved to check on Merlinâs ashen form.
âMerlin! My boy,â Gaius wept, finding that against every science he knew, his body had grown cold in mere minutes. No breath filled his lungs, no pulse beat in his chest. Gaius allowed one solitary, earth-shattering moment to mourn the boy in front of him, pressing his wrinkled lips to a glacial brow, before moving back to the King. Â
As Gaius worked, and weeped, the kingdom held bated breath for news on their sovereign. Kilgharrah had flown back into the forest, knowing that his master would call when he was needed, and every soul which lived under the castleâs shadow had flooded the city. Time had seemed to trickle through the citadel as molasses, peasant and noble alike holding constant vigil outside the palace walls. Hours passed, dawn enrapturing the skies in a beautiful background to one of Camelotâs darkest days, before an announcement was made.
Gaius stood on the dais where Uther had condemned thousands, looking over the tear-stained faces that matched his own, and made his proclamation.
âThe King was mortally wounded in the Battle of Camlann. It is thanks, only, to his manservant, and my apprentice, Merlin, that he shall survive. He remains unconscious, but the blow dealt to his stomach would have killed any lesser man before the battleâs end. Merlin protected his King until his last breath, using the magic which the gods had given him to heal as much as he could.â Gaius paused, raking his eyes over the crowd to find familiar faces, who would all hold fond memories of his boy in their hearts. âMerlin has faithfully served the throne of Camelot since his arrival in the citadel nearly ten years ago, and has given his life to ensure the survival of the Pendragon line. King Arthur will have a long recovery in front of him, but he shall live.â Cries rang out, both in joy at the news of their Kingâs health and misery at the loss of Merlin, and Gaius felt his own eyes moisten at the thought of his body growing colder in the physicianâs cot. He could see many faces of shock at the admittance of Merlinâs magic, though Gaius supposed that riding in on the dragon had already clued most in on the worst-kept secret in Camelot.Â
The long walk back to his chambers gave Gaius time to adjust to the gaping void in his chest. He knew exactly how many years he had lived, how much loss he had endured, yet never before had the old man felt old. Now, in a world without Merlin, he could feel every second of his life weighing against his back, turning his movements sharp and painful. The council would need to meet, soon, to discuss how to proceed with the nationâs rule while their King remained unconscious, but Gaius did not dwell on these thoughts for long. He exhaled as he entered his chambers, still wrecked from the aftereffects of impossible magic, and abruptly halted where he stood.
âWill he live?â The corpse had pulled a chair over to Arthurâs side, once again grasping his hand in a white-knuckled grip. Gaius felt his heart stop and start in the space of a breath, and nearly fainted at the sight. Merlin, his Merlin, was sitting up, with enough life flowing through his veins to look worried over his Kingâs prone form. The physician held no reservations as he raced to envelop his boy in a bone-crushing embrace.Â
âMerling, oh Merlin, youâve come back,â he cried as Merlinâs arm came to wrap around him, hesitating for a brief moment of curiosity.Â
âWhat do you mean, Gaius? I was on the cot the entire time.â Slowly, the old man released his apprentice, searching his face with a haunted look. âWhat? Is Arthur going to be okay?â
âMy boy, the King will make a full recovery, in time, but you.â Gaius paused, not sure how Merlin would take the news that he had been dead for ten hours. âMerlin, you died. That spell, whatever you did, you were dead for an entire night and morning.â
Blue eyes widened, so large they might have popped out, and Merlin let out a noise of shock. âThatâs impossible,â he whispered. âYou must be mistaken.â
âYour body was cold almost immediately, Merlin. It was as if you had given your life to Arthur. You havenât had a pulse, nor a breath, in ten hours. You were dead.â Gaius could see the cogs turning behind Merlinâs brow, processing what this meant for him. The old manâs mind suddenly threw a memory to the forefront, of treating Merlin for the deadly serket sting which should have killed him. Their eyes widened simultaneously as the truth of the godsâ will revealed itself to them. âSurely, you donât think-â
âOh, I do think.â A thunderous expression crossed Merlinâs face, his fist clenching even tighter around Arthurâs as he glanced at the unconscious King. âWhen has anything about my life ever been normal? Why should my death be any different?â Gaius winced in sympathy, reaching to offer comfort with a hand on his apprenticeâs shoulder. They both fell into a contemplative silence, pondering the extent to which the gods would see their prophecies fulfilled, and watched as their King slept.
Suddenly, a chuckle burst forth from the physicianâs lips, causing Merlin to shoot a wounded expression his way.
 âAre you laughing? I cannot die and youâre laughing in my face?â
âIâm sorry, my dear boy,â Gaius began, stifling the unbidden humor as much as possible and forcing a calm expression onto his face. âIt does appear,â a smile cracked across his face, and he cleared his throat in a bid for sobriety. âI mean to say, that is, I might have just announced to the entire citadel that you nobly gave your life to save Arthur.â
A dumbfounded expression fell over Merlinâs face, before a sudden bout of laughter erupted, surprising both master and student.Â
âI did!â They fell into hysterics, both men clutching each other until their sides ached. Merlin supposed, at some point, the court would need to be informed of his apparent immortality, but at the moment he could not care less. Arthur was safe, Gaius was strong despite his growing years, and Camelot faced no immediate danger. Surely, the coming weeks would reveal heartaches and wounds not yet scarred, but for now, as the laughter slowly died and the only father heâd ever known moved to brew tea, he was choosing to be optimistic.Â
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