#silhouette painting easy

[aveartz]

Golden hour fishing 🎣 🧡

[moonsaver]

Dr ratio in love, in my opinion, would be kind of comical to see.

He's so dramatic about it, groaning, head in hands, papers splayed out on his desk... ugh, why you of all people? He thinks at the forefront of his mind, but oh, Aeons, who else could it be but you? Does he even want that? He's dying to be so loving and soft with you. No one else can replace the reflection of your silhouette in his eyes.

It's like.. you know the overdone tsundere trope in most animes? He's just that. He swears you're an imbecile, harshly rubbing the corner of your mouth with his handkerchief when there's food on it, demanding you to return it to him tomorrow, just so he has an excuse to see you. Whenever you pass by, he sees you from the corner of his eye, he's on your case about your "lack of experience and expertise in practically everything!" Pulling you towards his desk and sending you back with bulks of study materials. He's not pleased that you only end up reading or even learning 2/5ths of the material he sends, but he's also fairly easy on you, telling you that you at least tried. His alabastor head is on once again, as he feels a giddy spark in his chest that you actually made an effort! He's just excited!

He huffs whenever you come around him, his face immediately shifting into a scowl, but no one misses the slight tint of red on his cheeks. If anyone even dares to point it out (ahem, Aventurine), he'll deny, deny, deny, putting it down as just a bit of smudged red paint from his eyes.

And... please don't take it the wrong way. He does like you, as much as it's possible for him to. His heart is stiff and hard but it's so clear and easy to read. Sometimes when you get an answer correct, or show genuine interest and manage to hold a long conversation on a topic with him, a subconscious, soft smile creeps up on his face, the sharp edges of his eyebrows finally relaxing. Sometimes, quite rarely, you might hear him softly chuckle under his breath. Don't point it out, or his face will immediately shift into a forced and harsh scowl. Just savor the moment, instead.

[esouliie]

WILL YOU SLEEP ALONE TONIGHT?

(rio vidal x reader) (agatha harkness x rio vidal)

synopsis | you finally see her again, after what feels like a century apart. but she's not the person you remember—her smile is wrong, her eyes colder, and her voice carries an edge that cuts through nostalgia. something is off, something you can’t name, like death painted in the wrong shade of blue: unfamiliar, unsettling, and hauntingly beautiful.

tags | angst, hurt/comfort, unrequited love and ohh it burns, it’s set after end of agatha all along sooo, open ending, everyone’s crying :(

word count | 2k

authors note | i’ve not written in a while but this lil thing was inspired by my recent obsession with aubrey plaza & my friend’s constant need to bombard me with sad agathario edits - @cuinaminute229

The air was heavy with silence, save for the faint hum of the single streetlamp casting a pale glow over the cracked pavement. You clutched your keys tightly, the cool metal digging into your palm as you walked across the empty parking lot, your dingy car left on the other side. The forest loomed at the edge of your vision, a wall of shadows that seems to lean closer the longer you look at it. The lamp flickered once, then twice, as if unsure of its purpose.

She’s not hard to miss, sat on the weathered bench beneath the light, her silhouette fragile against the darkness. Her face is pale, almost ghostly, and her eyes—a vivid, unnatural red—glint like dying embers. Old tears tracks carved glistening paths down her cheeks, catching the light like molten silver. You stopped mid-step, unsure whether to approach or retreat. This was something completely new to you. Rio was never one to let her emotions spill out, never the type to wear her heart on her sleeve, her true form bare for all to see. With you, especially, she was a fortress: stone walls, guarded gates, and windows so shuttered even the light struggled to slip through. Your time together had always been private, locked away behind closed doors and tangled in the heat of shared breaths and whispered sighs. It was nothing serious—that had been the deal from the start. No expectations. No promises. You’d both agreed to keep it light, easy, uncomplicated. It worked for her, and you thought it would work for you, too. After all, you weren’t exactly searching for a fairy tale with a happily-ever-after. But Rio had a way of upending expectations without even trying.

To you, she wasn’t just beautiful—though she obviously was. It wasn’t just her sharp jawline, her dark, stormy eyes, or the way her lips curved when she was amused. It was how she moved through the world: always untouchable, always unbothered, and entirely herself. Rio was the kind of woman who could make you feel insignificant and seen all at once. You told yourself it was harmless, that the smirk she gave you when you made her laugh didn’t mean anything. That the way she pulled you into her arms each night, her hand firm on your wrist, wasn’t your undoing. But oh, how wrong you were. She’s not the type to play fair, and you knew that from the start. Still, you let her draw you into her world, a place where shadows whispered secrets and the nights stretched endlessly. Every time she tilted her head and smiled at you, the world narrowed until it was just her, framed in smoke and fleeting light.

You weren’t supposed to fall for her. You should’ve listened to her warning. But you’ve always had a reckless streak, haven’t you? Life, after all, has a funny way of dancing with Death herself. And to you? She’s never been more beautiful.

“Go away.” she said, her voice stripped of its usual playfulness. The sharpness of her tone stung more than you’d like to admit, being the first you had heard from her in a century, but you stayed put, feet rooted to the cold pavement. She’s sat there, trembling, her arms wrapped tightly around herself like they could somehow block out the chill setting in her bones. Her shoulders hunched forward, defensive and small, nothing like the powerful witch you once knew.

Without thinking, you untangled the scarf from your neck. The soft beige fabric still holds the faintest trace of warmth as you gently draped it around her shoulders. She doesn’t resist, but she doesn’t thank you either. Her dark eyes flicked up to meet yours, just for a moment, guarded and unreadable, before dropping back down to her pale hands. Those hands clasped together tightly, her knuckles white from the effort, as if she’s trying to trap the heat that’s rapidly escaping her. You sat beside her on the bench, closer than she probably wants, until your knees press together. She doesn’t move away, but her silence felt heavier than the night air. Carefully, you reached out, cupping her cold fingers in your hands. They’re frozen to the touch, long and elegant as always, despite the way they’re trembling slightly, itching to flee from your touch, and yet, desperate for the heated comfort.

“I don’t have any gloves,” you murmured, a poor excuse for an explanation. Not that it matters. Your hands were always warmer than hers and always managed to make their way into hers.

“What’s wrong?” you asked. Her shoulders softened, just barely, and you think you might feel her fingers shift slightly against yours, hope you might feel her palms twist to wrap her fingers around yours.

But she didn’t.

“You shouldn’t…” she started, her voice quiet, fragile, but the words trail off into the cold.

You shouldn’t be here.

“I know,” you said softly, cutting her off. “But I am.” You saw the look in her eyes—the shift of calm waters against the storm brewing beneath her tightly clenched jaw, her ragged breath betraying the composure she so desperately tries to hold.

“Rio, what’s wrong? Where’s Agath—”

Before you could finish, she snatched her hands from yours as though your touch had burned. The abrupt movement knocked you against the back of the bench, as if she had actually pushed you away. Without another word, she spun on her heel and stormed off, her pace frantic, shoulders trembling. “Rio? Wait!” Your voice cracked as you called after her, your legs already moving to close the growing distance, “Rio, please! What’s happen-“

”Shut up,” Rio spat over her shoulder, her tone cruel enough to freeze the words in your throat. But as she glanced back, her eyes betrayed her; and there lied the truth. Her cheeks glistened in the dim light, a fresh stream of tears cascading down her face like a quiet admission of defeat. “Rio,” you said again, softer this time, cautious, of the wounded woman.

“Don’t call me that,” she hissed, her voice shaking. “Don’t say it like that.”

You know what she meant.

Don’t say it like you care for her.

Like you’re in love with her.

Her steps faltered, and she turned to face you fully, her arms crossing over her chest like armor hastily thrown up against your probing gaze. She looked like she wanted to fight you, to lash out and drive you away as she hid herself behind walls, but the anger in her eyes was tempered by something else—something fragile and crumbling. That part of her soul she had shared with you once before. This wasn’t the first time you’d witnessed Death’s cruelty, the way it tore through lives and left people hollow. You had seen it before, but this time, you weren’t going to let it win. Not with her.

“Don’t do that,” you whispered, stepping closer, nimble fingers hesitating, waiting for the slightest indication she’ll let you in, for the remnants of her walls to fall down.

“Don’t hide from me, Rio.”

Her breath hitched at the sound of her name. The way it left your lips felt like a one last touch, one last plea, one last kiss. For a moment, you thought she might lash out again, her walls snapping shut, impenetrable. But then something shifted. Her shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of her like a tide retreating from the shore. She stared at your hand, her eyes flickering between your outstretched fingers and your face. You don’t wait for her to make the first move, hands pulling her face into the crook of your neck, her shuddering breath warm against your skin. Her whimpers are quiet, but they echoed loud into your chest, her heartbeat rapid and raw against yours.

You heard her muffled words against your skin, faint and broken, and pulled her away just enough for your eyes to meet. Your thumbs brushed against her wet cheeks, coaxing her to speak again, though the tremble in her lips warned you of the weight of what she was about to say. “She’s gone,” she whispered, voice cracking under the pressure of holding herself together. You tightened your hold on her, pulling her closer as though your arms could shield her from the grief threatening to consume her. Your hands continued their futile attempts to wipe away her tears, even as fresh ones cascaded down. You pressed your forehead to hers, a silent plea for her to keep going, though you knew a part of you already dreaded what she would say next, of what really happened to those close to Death.

“I killed her.” The words ripped from her lips in a guttural sob, the kind that seemed to tear her apart from the inside. She collapsed into you, her weight nearly buckling your knees as she clung to you with desperate force. Her face buried itself into your neck, her tears soaking through your shirt as she poured her anguish into you, her cries now raw and unrestrained. You stood firm, steadying her as best as you could despite the waves of emotion raging between you, and for the grieving woman before you. Your hand found her dark curls, stroking them in soothing motions, while the other rubbed slow circles against her back all the way to her neck. “I’m sorry,” you murmured over and over again, your apologies feather-light against her crown. They felt insufficient, hollow even, but they were all you had to offer.

You weren’t entirely sure of the relationship between Agatha and Rio. She had never explained it fully, and you had never pressed her. From the outside, you had assumed it was similar to your relationship with Rio—intimate in a way that didn’t require a label but never crossed certain boundaries. But then you started to notice things. The way Rio’s eyes lit up whenever Agatha entered the room, as though her very presence ignited something within her. The subtle changes in her voice when she spoke to Agatha compared to you—softer, warmer, tinged with something more. And the way she leaned into her touch, like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth. The only thing worth spending an eternity on this plane for. You had tried to dismiss it at first, the ignorance extending beyond your grasp, but now, holding her like this, the depth of her devastation told you there was more to it. Agatha wasn’t just someone Rio cared about—she was someone Rio loved, the only person she ever truly loved.

Rio’s sobs continued to shake her tall frame, and you held her tighter, even through your own suffering, as flashes of your last moments together crashed into you. It all made sense now. The distance. The arguments that spiraled out of nowhere. The way she’d simply disappeared, leaving you with questions that burned like open wounds, and a heart wounded by her cruelty.

She had fallen in love.

She had fallen in love with someone else.

The thought sliced through you again, sharper this time, and you had to fight the urge to pull away. To protect yourself. To let the hollow ache in your chest guide you into a defensive shell. Instead, you stayed. You held her. Because even if her heart had chosen someone else, yours still belonged to her. And you wanted to say something, anything that could offer solace. Words teetered on the edge of your tongue—a joke to lighten the air, a reassurance that she’d be okay, a confession, never able to see the light of day, that you’d buried deep for so long you weren’t sure it could ever surface. But the words lodged in your throat, too heavy, too tangled with your own grief.

So you stayed silent. This wasn’t the first time you had carried her pain over yours, and you suspect it won’t be the last. Her tears soaked through your shirt, hot and unrelenting, and her sobs turned to shuddering gasps. She clung to you as if you were the last solid thing in a world crumbling beneath her feet. And maybe, you were. Right now, you’d be whatever she needed. You pressed your lips against her cold cheek, arms still wrapped around her trembling form, “I’m here. Always.”

Even so, you couldn’t offer her what she sought, the life she once had with Agatha. That kind of love was never yours to give, never wanted by the woman in your arms. Death was never yours. But you knew you could offer her this: the steady, unwavering presence of someone who cared.

Someone who has and will always love her.

[leth-writes]

cocoa

Summary: You've been dating Tim for a while, and it's time to meet his family.

Yandere Tim x reader and yandere platonic batfam x reader

Warnings: While my blog is 18+, this piece doesn't contain any explicit material. Normal yandere warnings apply.

It all started when you met Tim Drake for the first time. You were a lowly worker at the Wayne’s company, just a simple personal assistant, but for the first time ever you’d been asked to go directly to the highest floor and deliver some paperwork to Tim directly. He looked different in real life, paler and sicker looking than you’d expected, with bright luminous eyes that seemed to never blink, staring directly into your soul like he knew every secret. He seemed only half-conscious, nodding off where he sat behind his massive desk, though he seemed to snap to attention when you brushed your fingers along his accidentally when handing over the folder. He seemed to focus entirely on your hands, completely zoning in on them, as you stood there awkwardly. Finally, you cleared your throat and turned to leave. He didn’t try to stop you, though he did seem upset judging by the glimpse you caught of him through the glass of the door.

From that moment on, it seemed your entire job was to give Tim paperwork, to the point that all other duties completely dried up. Whenever you weren’t able to give him anything, he started requesting you stay in the room, just in case. So, you started spending hours on end just reading in his office. The two of you gradually grew closer, and you discovered he had a dry sort of sarcastic wit that you hadn’t ever heard about. You began to discover the man behind the intimidating silhouette painted by the media, learning he was kinda dorky and enjoyed photographing nightlife. He even showed you some of his photos, which were of course stunning; he seemed to see Gotham in a way you never had, pulling out its gloomy beauty where most would only see the smog and the crime. Tim seemed to appreciate your almost naive perspective, enjoying the kindhearted way you reminded him of the good in humanity. When he got too cynical, you were able to convince him to give others the benefit of the doubt. It was almost cute, he thought, the way you never seemed to truly understand the kinds of personalities making up most of Gotham’s business scene.

You even served as his very own assistant when he broke a leg in a hiking incident, which apparently happened during a family camping trip. You hadn’t even known he could hike, though you assumed he wasn’t very good. Still, he spent ages just showing you pictures of the wildlife he’d seen, knowing you loved his photos. The tedious task of painstakingly searching his photo archives for pictures of cute animals was worth it, just to see your smile.

Still, you could tell Tim tended to make others uncomfortable. You could understand, he did have a way of staring right into you, but it seeemd to just be something he did. You weren’t aware, of course, of the fact that Tim only ever turned that soft gaze toward you, preferring to glare at anyone that so much as approached the two of you. Your naive disposition did have its uses, after all, as it prevented you from getting suspicious… There was a reason why no one would approach you at work, and why all of your bosses seemed nervous around you, and why you got sudden pay increases. You just thought you were a good worker, completely oblivious to everything else going on.

If Tim thought threatening off any love interests was easy, bugging your apartment was even easier. He was able to simply slip in through an unlocked window as Red Robin and place cameras all over, giving him 24-7 footage of your living room and kitchen. he avoided both the bathroom and bedroom; he didn’t want to be too creepy, after all, even if Jason did seem to want the bedroom to be bugged, in case someone else was able to slip in. You weren’t the best at securing your apartment, and he worried about your safety, okay? As a result of his anxiety, Jason began patrolling more and more around your house, not that you’d ever notice; they’d have to teach you to start looking up at the rooftops more, after they fully brought you into the family, of course.

Using the information he gained from the cameras, Tim was only able to get even closer to you. He was able to research your interests, your opinions, your hobbies… He was able to learn anything he couldn’t get from hacking your laptop and phone. It was different, hearing your little rants at the tv screen as you watched your favorite show; reading your search history just didn’t give him enough information.

Finally, with the help of Cass of course, he was able to ask you out, after ironing out the perfect plan. He took you out to the movies and then dinner, finally ending up at your apartment, watching your favorite movie while cuddling on your couch. It was there you first kissed.

Dating your boss was definitely an adjustment, but honestly the two of you were so close it didn’t seem to change anything. The best part for Tim was finally being able to touch you, to hold your hand, to gently cup your cheek and plant a kiss on your lips… To be able to hold you in the way he’d always dreamed.

Yet, he found himself inundated with requests at the mansion and through the groupchat, as every family member clamoured to get to spend time with you. He started spotting Dick and Jason and even Cass in shoddy disguises while on dates, and he knew it was time to introduce you to them. So, he invited you for dinner.

When you first walked in, you were greeted with Alfred, the stoic butler Tim had always described. He seemed nicer in person, none of the dry wit you’d ben prepared to face, and he took your coat gently and with grace.

Next, you were introduced to Tim’s quiet sister Cass, who wrapped you in a big hug and patted you on the back. She was nice, if hard to read, and seemed to love touching you; she kept gently patting your back, even throughout the night, as if she couldn’t bare to go another moment without keeping close to you.

Then you met Jason, who was busy cooking in the kitchen, Dick sitting on the counter and sneaking carrots when Jason’s back was turned. The two were incredibly kind, though intimidating, as you knew their opinions mattered a lot to Tim. Dick picked you up in a big sweeping hug, seemingly even more touchy than his sister.

Jason was quiet, weirdly so according to Tim, and spent a lot of the night just… staring at you. Maybe he felt uncomfortable being around you? You could imagine having a sibling introduce their partner would be awkward, and you knew the Waynes had had their fair share of terrible romances. later on, when you voiced your worries to Tim, he waved them away; Jason was just trying not to freak you out, he insisted, sure that his older brother would never be able to hate you.

The final brother you met was Damian, who was curled up on the couch with a cat in his lap and two dogs at his feet. He was a quiet child, a seemingly permanent glare on his face only softening slightly when it landed on you. The only way you knew he didn’t hate you was the fact that he let you pet his cat, who was apparently named after the butler.

You only met Tim’s elusive father at dinner. He was kind, if a little ditzy, and quite welcoming. All in all, the family was polite, and you felt truly welcomed for the first time in your life. It was like you’d known them for years, you seemed to just… click!

Of course, looking back, you could see how they knew you so well.

It had happened out of the blue. You’d been drinking some hot chocolate after winding down with the family, watching a cute cartoon on their large tv, and the next thing you knew was that you were waking up in a dark room. Tim was sitting next to you in the bed, laptop illuminating his pale face, highlighting the dark eyebags.

“Oh good, you’re up!” he said, setting his laptop aside and turning the bedside lamp on. You sat up, confused, rubbing at your throbbing head. You felt like you hadn’t drank water in three days. When you asked what had happened, he only smiled.

“It’s alright, don’t worry, we can talk about that later.”

Now feeling slightly uncomfortable, you stood up. Tim shifted slightly, following you and placing himself between you and the door. “Hey, let’s just sit back down, okay? I don’t want you to be too stressed, the dose was a little higher than I expected…”

Dose? When you questioned him, he laughed sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his head. His eyes blinked back at you, seemingly innocent despite your terror.

“Well, we needed time to get you all set up, and we couldn’t have you fighting when we sent in your resignation…” He said, smiling gently.

Shit. Shit! He’d fucking kidnapped you!

You went to dodge around him, but he moved faster than you were able to even anticipate, grabbing you around the waist and hoisting you into the air.

He plopped you back onto the bed, quickly pinning you down. “Hey, calm down!” He said, voice even, as though he wasn’t currently fighting to keep your hands from smacking at his face.

“I promise it’s okay, we won’t hurt you!”

Then, the door slammed open, and in walked Jason. His combat boots thunked against the shiny wooden floor, and he seemed nonplussed. “why aren’t you stopping them?” He questioned, leaning against the wall next to the bed. He pulled out his phone and quickly sent a text, fingers flying across the keys. He ignored your calls for help.

“I’m trying!” Tim huffed, finally able to get your hands under control, quickly tying them with thick, velvety rope.

“Do you need help getting them downstairs?” Jason sighed, tucking the phone away.

“Nah, I got it,” Tim said, standing up and heaving you up and over his shoulder. With that, Tim and Jason made their way downstairs, you tossed over Tim’s shoulder and struggling all the way. It fewlt particularly humiliating, the way that your struggles weren’t even acknowledged, much less viewed as a threat.

Finally, you were brought into the living room and plopped down, Tim and Jason quickly sitting down on either side of you. Jason quickly picked up your legs and slung them across his lap, keeping you from wiggling away.

Bruce sat down on the other side of the room, sinking into the green armchair. The other siblings scattered across the room, all staring at you with a similar gleam in their eyes.

“So, let’s go over some ground rules.” Bruce said, beginning the next phase of your life.

[ahlore]

happy new year, ekko.

ekko x piltover! fem!reader

↳ in which a new year’s eve countdown leads to a first kiss and the start of something more between you and ekko.

The streets of Zaun pulsed with chaotic vitality, the air alive with the scent of fireworks and the faint metallic tang of smoke. Lights of every mismatched hue dangled precariously between crooked buildings, their glow battling against the deep, suffocating shadows of the Lanes. The hourglass-shaped smear of paint stretched across Ekko’s face seemed to glow in the dim light as he leaned against a wall, arms folded across his chest. He had the air of someone comfortable in the chaos yet tethered by something unspoken—something heavier than the night’s festivities.

You stood at a distance, your gaze tracing his silhouette as if committing it to memory. His oversized jacket, adorned with streaks of neon graffiti, hung loosely on his wiry frame, and his white hair—bundled into thick, rebellious locks—reflected the faint light like shards of bone. He was impossible to miss, and yet, there was a kind of guarded solitude in the way he carried himself, like a lantern only half-lit.

What were you even doing here? The crowd was far too loud, and the air pressed against your lungs like smoke, making it hard to breathe. You didn’t belong in a place like this, yet Ekko had invited you, in that casually dismissive way of his, as though he didn’t care whether you came or not.

But you’d come. Of course, you had.

The countdown loomed closer, a cruel reminder of the minutes slipping away. You clenched your fists, the fabric of your sleeves rough beneath your palms. Why had you agreed to this? The flicker of doubt in your chest mirrored the neon signs above, flashing erratically. You told yourself it was enough to simply exist here, to hover on the edge of his world like a specter, but your heart betrayed you. It ached to know if this thing between you—the glances, the fleeting touches, the easy companionship—was real, or just a construct of your overworked mind.

The crowd surged suddenly, and without thinking, you moved closer to him, the soles of your boots scuffing against the cracked floor. He glanced up at you, the sharp intensity of his dark brown eyes softening into something unreadable.

“You okay?” His voice was low, almost swallowed by the noise, yet it carried the weight of concern.

You nodded, your lips pressed tightly together. “Just needed some air.”

His mouth curved slightly, a shadow of his usual smirk. “Not much air to breathe in here.”

You looked away, pretending to be captivated by the makeshift decorations—wires strung haphazardly, baubles barely clinging to life. A silence lingered between you, not uncomfortable, but charged.

“Thanks for coming.” His words were quiet, tentative, as though he wasn’t sure they needed to be said.

You blinked, startled. “What?”

“I know this isn’t really your thing,” he added, tilting his head toward the swirling crowd. “But it’s… nice. Having you here.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, its rhythm thrown off-kilter. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t trust yourself to speak without revealing too much. Instead, you let the moment hang in the air, fragile and precious.

11:59.

The countdown began, the crowd’s voice rising in unison. Ten seconds.

Nine.

Eight.

You glanced at Ekko, your gaze catching on the faint flush of his cheeks, the way his fingers tapped against his arm like he was working through some invisible calculation. His jaw tightened as the numbers dwindled. Was he nervous?

Seven.

Six.

The light overhead flickered, casting his face in alternating bands of shadow and illumination. You studied him, memorizing every detail—the sharp angle of his jaw, the faint crease between his brows, the way his lips parted slightly as if preparing to speak.

Five.

Four.

A wave of doubt surged through you, the weight of unspoken feelings threatening to drown you. What if this ruined everything? What if—

Three.

Ekko turned toward you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. The world around you seemed to fall away, the cacophony fading into a distant hum.

Two.

His hand brushed yours, a fleeting touch that grounded you in a way nothing else could.

One.

You leaned in, closing the distance, your breath mingling with his as your lips met. The kiss was tentative, unpolished, but there was a warmth in it, a quiet promise that spoke louder than words.

The cheers of the crowd erupted around you, but all you could hear was the sound of your heart, its frantic rhythm matching the pulse of his fingers curling against yours.

When you pulled back, he was staring at you, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he smiled—a real one this time, soft and unguarded.

“Happy New Year,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the noise.

You smiled back, your chest light for the first time all night. “Happy New Year, Ekko.”

✦ author’s note: happy new year’s eve everybody, and i hope you all have an amazing new year.

[alwaysmicado]

keep you warm

1.3k | Joel Miller x f!reader

post-outbreak, established relationship, pregnancy Summary: You reveal to Joel that you are carrying his child. He vows to keep you both safe and warm, always. A/N: This fic is a bit different from the things I've posted so far and it was so much fun to write. I put my heart (and tears) in it and I hope it will bring you as much comfort as it did me. 🤍 series masterlist

There are darknesses in life and there are lights, and you are one of the lights, the light of all lights. - Bram Stoker, Dracula

The car engine growls softly as it cruises down the winding road, surrounded by a kaleidoscope of autumnal hues.

Joel has his hands placed firmly on the wheel as he glances over at your sleeping form, your silhouette painted in the warm glow of the sunset. The air inside the car is filled with a comfortable silence, the weight of your continued journey hanging in the atmosphere.

As you navigate through the autumn landscape, daylight begins to fade, casting long shadows that sway with the curves of the road. Joel steals a glance in the rearview mirror, squinting against the diminishing light. The forest on either side of the road stands like a wall of rust and amber, a silent observer to your passage.

You stir in your sleep, a soft moan escaping your lips. Joel reaches, caressing your cheek gently, tracing a promise with tenderness he thought long gone. 

Until he met you.

A few miles ahead, Joel spots a fitting spot by the edge of the forest. He eases the car to a stop, gravel crunching beneath the tires. The engine hums into silence, leaving only the rustling of leaves and the fading whispers of the day.

“We’re here, darlin’.” 

Your eyes flutter open to Joel’s soft touch, his hand brushing away the remnants of sleep. You both step out, the cool evening air enveloping you like a gentle embrace.

Setting up camp unfolds as a familiar routine. Joel sparks a small fire, the flames dancing in the encroaching darkness. The scent of burning wood mixes with the crisp fall air, creating an ambiance that is both comforting and hauntingly beautiful. You arrange your sleeping bags near the fire, a makeshift sanctuary in the wilderness.

As you sit by the fire, the warmth casting a soft glow on your faces, Joel pulls out two cans of beans and some beef sticks. You eat in companionable silence, the crackling of the fire punctuating the stillness.

Yet, Joel can’t help but notice the subtle changes in you—grimaces and absent-minded belly rubs.

He sets his half-eaten bowl down, a subtle tension settling into the contours of his expression as he watches you closely. “You ain’t lookin’ too good, honey,” he notes, his voice laced with concern, slicing through the ambient crackling that reverberates in the air. “Somethin’ not sittin’ right?”

Gazing at Joel across the fire-lit expanse, his weathered face bathed in the flickering glow of the dancing flames, your heart swells with love—and dread.

You clutch your belly as you double over, a sudden, strong wave of nausea overcoming you. Startled, Joel’s eyes widen, but he reacts instinctively, abandoning all else to rush to your side.

With a tender urgency, he crouches beside you as you vomit, his hands moving intuitively to cradle your back. His voice, usually rugged and steady, softens into a soothing cadence. “Easy now, darlin’,” he murmurs, rubbing comforting circles on your back. “I’m right here.”

Your body tenses with each convulsion, tears mingling with the involuntary heaves, but Joel’s steady hands and reassuring words calm you.

As the waves of nausea subside, he eases you back, offering a makeshift cloth to wipe your mouth. His gaze holds a blend of worry and tenderness, the firelight flickering in the depths of his eyes.

“Thanks,” you manage, your voice still shaky.

“That’s alright, darlin’,” he replies, a crooked half-smile playing on his lips. “We look out for each other, remember?”

Nestling closer to the warmth of the fire, Joel wraps a comforting arm around you. The quiet forest listens, an unspoken witness to the vulnerability shared beneath the starlit sky.

“You gonna tell me what’s been goin’ on?” Joel asks, his voice a gentle yet firm prompt.

You swallow hard and nod weakly, lifting your head up from his shoulder to meet his gaze. His brow is furrowed as he searches your watery eyes for answers. “What happened, darlin’?” he asks, wiping away the lone tear that is tracing a delicate path down your cheek.

The unspoken secret sits heavy within you, a silent burden that has been shaping every whispered conversation and stolen glance over the past few weeks. Each passing day deepens the weight, a constant companion in your shared journey.

The fear of Joel’s reaction, the uncertainty of the world you are living in, and the vulnerability of bringing innocence into chaos weave a complex tapestry of emotions, a heavy cloak draped over the anticipation of a new life.

You have never been more terrified. 

“Joel, I–” your voice is shaky and you need to gather all your strength to not break down into a million pieces. “I think I might be pregnant.”

The revelation hangs in the air, momentarily freezing time. Joel’s eyes widen, a mosaic of emotions crossing his face—shock, concern, disbelief, and then a surprising warmth.

He reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently. “Pregnant?” he repeats, his voice softer now, tears glistening in his eyes.

“Mhm,” you sniffle, your vulnerability echoing in the quiet night. “I swear I wanted to tell you before, I just–” you hiccup and wipe away your tears with the sleeve of your jacket. “I’m so fucking scared, Joel.” You look into his warm eyes for reassurance, your lip quivering, your whole body trembling with anxiety.  

Joel’s expression softens further, a tender smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he puts his hands on your arms, his eyes boring into you. “It’s gonna be alright, darlin’.�� He pulls you into a gentle embrace, the firelight casting a comforting glow around you.

“We’ll figure it out together.”

As Joel’s reassuring words wash over you, a tangible weight lifts from your shoulders, carried away by the currents of relief. You allow yourself to breathe out a heavy sigh and let your tears run freely as you cling to the man who has saved you in more ways than he will ever know.

In this moment, beneath the vast canvas of the starlit sky, you find solace in each other—a fragile yet resilient hope kindling in the midst of your endless journey. 

Later, as you settle into your sleeping bags, Joel’s arm draped protectively over you, you feel a surge of gratitude. The warmth of Joel’s body pressed against yours creates a safe haven, momentarily replacing your fears with the undeniable comfort you both find in each other’s arms. 

“Sarah always wanted a little brother or sister,” Joel breaks the silence with a murmur, his warm breath ghosting your neck. “I wish she could be here to experience it.”

“I’m sure she’s going to look after her little sibling,” you whisper with a soft smile on your lips, tears silently pooling in the fabric of your sleeping bag. “Just like she’s been looking after you all this time.”

“I’ll do everything to keep you and our child safe and warm, my love. I promise.”

In the quiet cradle of the night, you drift into sleep, the rustling leaves and the forest’s whispers weaving a lullaby for your dreams.

Joel tenderly places his hand on your small bump, whispering promises to the precious life growing within, his words a secret shared with the quietude of the night. 

He lifts his head to look at your face, a soft smile gracing his lips as he cherishes the serenity painted across your features.

“You are the light of my life.”

-----

Series Masterlist | Joel Masterlist

[doumadono]

Hello, princess!

Since Sinful Sunday is here and its been a while from my last time spawing in your inbox... YOUR WOLF IS HERE 🐺💎🩵

As we all know: dragons are often showed with two 🍆 so...

I can't stop but think about our beloved Iudex of Fontaine, just giving his lovely assistant a good duble stuffing into her tiny cunt. With him whispering soft and dirty stuff into her ear while his hand just caressing the bulge he caused in her belly

:3 HAPPY SINFUL SUNDAYS EVERYONE

SINFUL SUNDAY

A/N: well, well, my babygirl! Why is it that your requests always turn out to be the real brain-busters, huh!? But hey, tackling Neuvilette in dragon form was a blast 😏 I'm hoping I did well, so go easy on me, will ya?

Neuvilette loathed this monthly occurrence. While not a regular happening, his heats sporadically struck after each interlunar interval. This left him in an intense state of longing, coupled with a rather sour mood, given the frustration of unmet desires. Throughout this period, he confined himself to his chambers, enduring the discomfort until the fervor and accompanying torment subsided.

During his heats, Neuvilette found solace in transforming into a dragon. It made resisting the temptation to copulate with every woman in his path a whole lot easier for him.

For extended hours, he'd find solace in grinding his hips against his pillows and sheets, attempting to alleviate the persistent discomfort of his arousal that created a painful knot within his groin. The effectiveness varied — sometimes it brought relief, and other times, it offered no respite whatsoever.

With a wide yawn revealing numerous long teeth, a colossal head adorned in pale blue frills lifted itself. The snake-like body, embellished in iridescent scales, boasted a chest adorned with a mane of transparent fur. Enormous, clawed fists rhythmically clenched and relaxed as the dragon effortlessly rose to his feet, a massive tail gracefully swinging in its wake. The creature's dark blue eyes blinked open, while his nostrils expanded to welcome a fresh scent of human into his awareness.

His thin lips curled as the hydro dragon shifted his gaze to the opposite side of the expansive chamber where he rested, emitting a loud sniff. The scent conveyed the presence of a woman – fairly young and with other unspoken needs. His eyes narrowed into glowing slits as he navigated the corner of his bedroom, spotting the silhouette by his desk diligently assembling documents. Another quick sniff and a subtle grin played on his lips - he recognized the familiar scent. It was Y/N, one of his most reliable assistants, apparently delivering another set of documents for his signature.

Brave or foolish, maybe a bit of both, stepping into this place during this time of the month, the dragon mused to himself with a deep rumble in his voice.

The dragon glided closer with cautious steps, his sinuous body gracefully twisting around you.

Unaware of his approach, you continued to hum a gentle melody under your breath. A sudden awareness dawned as you perceived a looming shadow. Startled, you raised your head and attempted to wriggle away. "Monsieur Neuvilette!" you exclaimed, hand over your chest. "Good gracious, you startled me! I had no idea you were in your chamber, monsieur."

"Please, be calm," the dragon murmured in a soothing tone, "I have no wish to harm you, dearest Y/N."

"I… didn't know I would wake you up, I didn't want to disturb your peace," you stammered after an uneasy pause, your eyes unwavering. The marvel at the sight of Neuvilette was twofold – a mix of awe and a hint of fear regarding his possible reaction to your intrusion. Indeed, Neuvilette was a magnificent creature! The glisten of his smooth blueish-white scales, the cascade of a silky white mane adorning his head, and the kindness reflected in his dark marine blue eyes were as breathtaking as the legends and paintings had portrayed.

"Solitude suits me, indeed," the dragon replied, his nostrils subtly flaring. "Especially during my heats. But I assume you've brought me some crucial documents, haven't you, my dearest?"

His thick tail coiled gently around your legs, offering a comforting warmth that eased your tension. "Y-Yes, monsieur. They need to be signed by tomorrow… Can I somehow repay for bothering you and waking you up, monsieur?" you asked, your words slipping out before careful consideration.

In those immense eyes, you observed a dance of emotions. The dragon appeared to ponder, deeply inhaling the air as his head lifted, pointing towards the ceiling. "I suppose… there is a way you could serve me, my dearest Y/N. But fear not, it demands no great effort on your part — only a willingnes."

"What do you mean, monsieur Neuvilette?" you inquired, tilting your head slightly. The tail encircling your legs tightened, a hint of your tension causing the massive creature to pause.

Neuvilette brought his face inches from yours, his voice carrying a gentle plea. "What I seek from you is your willingness to share this night with me, my dearest. Will you, just for tonight, play the role of my mate?"

In an instant, all color drained from your face. Your mouth opened, yet no words found their way out, and the dragon drew you closer to his shredded, scaled chest in response.

"You need not fear any harm," the dragon reassured, once again delicately sniffing you as during the initial examination. "I shall be gentle. My kind has mated with humans in the past. I assure you," a claw gently lifted your chin while another stroked your throat, "this night will leave you with naught but a delightful memory."

With a deep sigh, you closed your eyes, and as you reopened them, your pants were neatly folded on the floor. Your white shirt and underclothes soon joined them as you undressed, your heart pounding within your chest.

The dragon's lips curled into a fanged smile, and a long tongue emerged, briefly caressing your cheek. It was warm and slick, yet not unpleasant. "Wonderful," the dragon bemurmured, observing your nervous smile. Once more, the tongue glided over your cheek, this time lingering for a longer moment. "It's been ages since I've had the fortune of a human woman in my bed, especially one as lovely as yourself, dearest Y/N."

"Thank you," you whispered, a blush gracing your features as you briefly shielded your bare breasts with folded arms.

He nudged your side with his snout, a signal for you to venture deeper into the chamber, a cue you promptly followed.

He gestured for you to recline on a king-sized bed, dressed in deep cobalt sheets and adorned with pristine white pillows. Without hesitation, you complied, gently pressing your thighs together and allowing your hands to gracefully depart from your chest.

Soon, Neuvilette's nose and mouth roamed across your form, exploring with snuffs, licks, and playful nips in various places.

Already tantalized by the affectionate gestures, your arousal heightened as the dragon shifted to all fours, hovering over your naked form. You observed something stout emerging from behind his muscular hind legs, a few drops of thick fluid trailing from it as he leaned forward. The dragon now stood over his claim, a half-open mouth revealing a tongue, and marine blue eyes narrowing in a moment of intensity.

"Ah, the agony of not enjoying this every night," the dragon rumbled, your fingers tracing his shaft. It matched the length of your forearm and doubled in girth, pulsating with an enticing energy beneath the soft moonlight streaming through the chamber's ceiling window. Imagining it nestled between your thighs, your core tightened and grew moist in response.

But then, a peculiar sensation gripped you. Casting him a questioning glance, the dragon responded with a knowing smile.

"Indeed, my dearest Y/N, the legends harbored a kernel of truth. Dragons do possess two cocks."

Swiftly, you rested on one elbow, your gaze naturally drawn between his muscular hind legs. A deep blush painted your cheeks as you discovered yet another erect member, pulsating with equal fervor as the first.

Neuvilette's warm tongue traced delicately along the valley between your breasts. "Do you like what you see, my dearest?"

"Yes, monsieur, I just never thought…" you murmured, your lips barely moving.

Swiftly adopting a stance akin to the dragon looming overhead, you took a calming breath and shut your eyes after getting on all fours on the bed.

The outsized dragon pressed his yet-turgid shafts against the expanse of your soft thighs, emitting a low moan as his jaws hovered threateningly over your bare shoulder, teeth grazing without leaving a trace. In a prolonged hiss, the dragon murmured, "How shall I claim you, my dearest? With gentle tenderness or the full extent of my might? Whichever way you wish it, so shall it be."

"I'll take whatever you've got, monsieur Neuvilette," you replied, casting a bold glance over your shoulder at the pulsating dicks.

Their tips were now slick with a dense, creamy fluid, and a shiver ran through you as they glided between your thighs, offering a preview of the impending encounter.

A couple more deep, resonant breaths, a hefty grunt, and the first dragon's shaft eased halfway in your waiting, already drenched slit.

Your eyes instinctively closed, a gasp escaping you, not from pain, but from the unexpected heat emanating from his dick. It felt as though all the dragon's potent warmth converged right there, in his throbbing, large shaft. Every slight motion was accompanied by loud, wet sounds, the dragon adjusting his position with his nose hovering close to the pillow on your right. He harnessed his strength in his hind legs, delivering a forceful thrust that had you crying out for more.

"O-Oh! Goodness gracious! How's that even possible? That you fit in?!!"

Neuvilette chuckled softly, his voice taking on a guttural quality as he quickened his thrusting pace. "You see, my dearest Y/N, I've mentioned before that my kind has mated with humans. How did you think that was possible if you, females, wouldn't be able to accommodate our shafts?"

Each successive thrust grew more potent, propelling additional lengths of the deep blue, rigid flesh into your dripping pussy from behind. The viscous fluid flowed generously out of your abused core, trailing down your parted legs while the shaft pulsated relentlessly, gaining intensity with each beat, akin to a powerful heartbeat.

In an instant, a loud squeak escaped your lips as you sensed a more insistent pressure against your occupied entrance. Glancing over your shoulder, your expression paled at the sight of Neuvilette attempting to maneuver his other dick in. "Neuvilette! You're going to tear me apart!" you gasped, your eyes welling up with the nearly overwhelming pleasure he was already bestowing upon you as his thick cock rubbed along all of your sweet spots.

"Ease up, my dearest Y/N," Neuvilette murmured, smoothly almost fully withdrawing his first shaft before seamlessly layering the second one atop the first and slowly pushing back into you.

Your hands surrendered as he executed the forceful thrust, and the initial stretch proved excruciating. It felt like a searing burn in those first moments, leaving you growling and panting uncontrollably, tears straining your flushed cheeks pressed hardly into the mattress.

"There, there, relax, and you'll manage," Neuvilette coaxed in the gentlest tone he could summon. "Stop tightening up, try to ease your pelvis. Yes, just like that," he praised as you eventually succeeded in relaxing your muscles enough for him to bottom out.

The dragon's tail lifted off the bed, and Neuvilette let out a growl followed by a resounding roar. Heat surged within him as his powerful thrusts, almost forceful enough to break the small human form nestled between his colossal legs, intensified.

Gasping for breath, you'd already experienced a shattering climax and teetered on the brink of another. Your entire body dripped with sweat, and drool hung from your parted lips. The pleasure unleashed by this formidable dragon surpassed anything you could have audaciously imagined. "Neuvilette!" your voice rasped as you cum for another time; your inner walls spasmed uncontrollably around his throbbing, painfully hard shafts.

With one last, hard push, Neuvilette pressed you firmly onto the mattress, grasping the meat of your stuck out ass. A gush of heated, sticky cum erupted from his throbbing dicks, followed by a second, and ultimately a gentler third wave, marking the hydro dragon's descent into exhaustion after intense sex, his breaths now feeble and hurried.

Beneath him, you lay in a state of bliss, your entire body shaking and tingling. Your sticky pussy radiated warmth, and the powerful twinges and aftershocks of an already remarkable climaxes created an unforgettable sensation, unlike anything you had ever experienced in your entire life.

"Thank you, my dearest Y/N," Neuvilette whispered, and you nodded. "Thank you for helping me shake off the tension that's been hanging around for days," he admitted, lying on the bed next to you. He casually draped his long tail over your legs while you reclined beside him on your back.

Then, impulsively playful, you rolled to your side and planted a quick kiss on his bluish snout.

The dragon chuckled, his resonant voice emanating from his robust chest. "Aren't you the cutest assistant, my dearest Y/N?" he mused, yawning widely, revealing rows of perfectly sharp fangs.

You lay there for a moment, catching your breath. "Neuvilette…"

The dragon's dark eyes found yours, and he nodded, granting you permission to speak.

"Would you… I mean, forgive me for the strange question, but maybe next time your heat occurs, perhaps you would need some help too?" you asked shyly, your cheeks turning beet red.

His marine-blue irises shimmered with tenderness as he hummed, contemplating your words. "Little Y/N," he smiled, drawing closer and resting his snout on your naked belly, his gaze meeting your flushed face. "I'll be honored to accept aid from the only one I trust the most." He sniffed and grinned, casting a sly glance toward your glistening mound on his left. "I adore your scent," he confessed, casually bestowing a few gentle licks upon your folds glistening with mixed releases with his warm, extended tongue. "And you taste absolutely delicious, my dearest. Oh, my, my, I'll struggle to wait for the next heat to savor your essence once more, to assert my claim on you. Perhaps then, I'll allow you a glimpse of my human form, in all its vulnerable splendor."

[sirenscriptures]

𐚁๋࣭⭑ PISTOLWHIPPED ! ₊˚⊹ 𓂃 boothill x burlesque dancer ! reader.

✧‧₊˚. before reading: fem ! reader. partial strangers to lovers. use of pet names (e.g. babydoll, dolly, princess) mutual teasing. groping. thighriding. mentions of exhibitionism. mirror sex. biting. some jealous (?) boothill.

࣪✩₊˚ notes: i can’t get cowboys out of my head and mr. boothill didn’t help at all since i’ve gotten back into hsr. he is entirely to blame for this and not me btw.

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ 18+ only. minors and blank/empty blogs do not interact.

the brisk journey back to your dressing room felt much different tonight.

even in holding your breath against the thick haze of perfumes and artificial cigarette smoke that filled the dim hallway that you hurried through, your stripped away lace from onstage held in a bundle against your chest, you could feel something fresh within you swirling madly.

in passing the blurred yet familiar faces of your colleagues, there were kind eyes and warm smiles greeting you, as well as the praises and exclamations of admiration, pride, and aphrodisia being tossed at you like the shower of roses after one of your many performances.

you could only manage a smile and a few out of breath expressions of gratitude as you slipped quickly into your dressing room, promptly locking the door behind you.

even in the solitude that now enveloped you in the familiar, decorative walls, you could still feel the sensation within you. even with the ever-growing nightlife just behind the door at your back, you could feel it ready to burst forth into the stillness—like a mess of beautiful new paints onto a mew, blank canvas.

glancing into your mirror, it was completely obvious how much you were glowing. your skin looked smooth and vibrant, eyes filled with a newfound radiance. the mesh bodysuit that created the illusion of nudity perfectly framed your shape, making heads turn even at the sight of your mere silhouette cast on the wall.

with your job heavily relying on appealing to the audience with both your movements and looks, it could become easily draining to become so tangled within the ever-changing thoughts and opinions of others. there was a certain mindset that not many others possessed to work in such a place as this, and it did not come easy, not even for yourself at times.

though after a night such as this, you couldn’t help but marvel at what you saw in the mirror. and this time, it really had nothing to do with everyone else's response to your performance, though it certainly contributed to how good you felt now.

with how ecstatic you felt here in your dressing room, it was hard to believe that just a few hours ago you were the opposite. it’d felt like such a long time since the tavern had seen a night this busy. not only that, but the fact your performance was the headliner of the night with a crowd of this size certainly didn’t exactly ease the usual backstage anxiety.

as usual, all of your fiery nerves seemed to dissolve away as soon as you stepped out onto that stage. it seemed that with each lacy piece of clothing that fell from your body before the gawking and applauding audience, the more your worries fell into nothingness. every negative sensation seemed to seep even more into your confidence, making you even more adventurous with each movement.

though it all seemed a blur now as you removed your makeup, there was one handsome stranger that you couldn’t keep your eyes from the entire time. ironic, since you were the one people paid to ogle at all night.

far in the corner, almost completely obscured by the shadows of other audience members, a somewhat shady cowboy sat with his feet propped onto the table, hat only partially tipped in front of his eyes. his hair was wild yet kept, jet black, far past his shoulders.

even in the dim light, you could spot the flashy glint of the metal spurs on his boots. though your performance demanded more of your focus, your eyes couldn’t help but trail up his slender figure to his half-covered face to spot an all too familiar smirk.

the more you thought about it, the more that you realized this really wasn’t a stranger at all.

in the weeks of your prior performances, his silhouette seemed to take a permanent residence seated in that very same corner. though trying to fully recollect every night you’d seen him there was a blurry mess, you knew he only stayed to see you, and only you onstage. for after everytime you were finished and the curtain had closed, the far corner was empty, as if he were never there.

well, except one other time.

though the interaction itself was limited for words, you could feel something about this man when just standing in front of him. you were only just a bit shorter than him, yet it felt like there was a massive figure looming over you, especially when getting to see those eyes so up close for the first time.

his voice was sweet, though keeping his message to you short, only asking for confirmation of your name. nodding and giving him a welcoming smile, his closing gesture was simply to hand you a sizable bouquet of glittery red roses.

before you could even manage to chirp out a syllable of your gratitude, he’d already vanished. but that wasn’t all he left you with that night. it didn’t take you long to find the small note that was nestled within the stems:

let me stop by your dressing room next week. been dying to meet such a pretty lady.

– B.H.

boothill. the name combined with his handwritten letter had been stuck on your mind for days. even now, the image of his flirty smile was burned so clearly into your mind. those dark eyes being so fixated on you for weeks at a time was enough to make the heat rise within your cheeks.

from what you knew of him, he was a perfect mix of mystery and foolery; an attitude often dancing in between the lines of impending and satiric. he could be loud and wild one moment, the protagonist of the room, and like a passing shadow amongst the same sea of faces the next.

but when he watched you on that stage—he swore he’d never been so still in his life. even you could sense it too. a man constantly on the run as an outlaw who always stopped to give you his full attention? not any other performer in the tavern got even a mere glance from him. but you? even if it wasn’t fully true, or if you were remembering things differently in the thick haze of all of the audience's praises and sweet-scented cigarette smoke, the thought of it made you admittedly a bit giddy.

while your thoughts continued to spiral, you changed into the comfortable set of lacy nightwear that you usually wore after a night of work. it wasn’t quite lingerie, but it certainly wasn’t something you’d wear to a formal dinner.

you could only take one more look in the mirror before there was a knock on the door. slowly, the same shaky sensations from before crept up within your lower stomach. the mesh of both nervousness and excitement seemed to increase within you as you raked your fingers through your hair one final time in the mirror before approaching the door.

pulling it open, you felt the corners of your lips being tugged into a smile as you were met with those same eyes. as usual, he was dressed head to toe in black. the jacket over his shoulders was studded in flashy spikes as well as scarlet thorned floral patterns on the sides. the same design went for his pants and boots.

he smiled back, silver pupils focusing on you. behind him, you could hear the faint sound of live music playing in the distant room of the main stage.

“may i come in?” you couldn’t help but feel he sounded a bit silly trying to sound so formal with that drawl of his.

“of course.” you replied, stepping aside to allow him entrance.

even the way he walked, at least to you, showed a little glimpse of how slick he was. not only could he charm anyone he wanted that was in range at his mercy, but he could also slip away into the night if he needed to run.

he seated himself in the chair next to your vanity, eyes still scanning you in all of your glory.

“my my, she’s even prettier without all the glitz ‘n glam.” he marveled, unable to rip his gaze away from your bare face.

you felt the same flutter in your chest as you did from when you first met for the first time. but even with someone like boothill, you knew better. it wasn’t so easy for you to trust someone so blindly, even when it came to smaller interactions. you wanted to tread lightly, but there was still that somewhat sensation that was tugging at you through your lower stomach.

standing only a few feet away from him, you put a hand on your hip, eyebrow raised. “you don’t have to talk about me like i’m not in the room, boothill.”

he put his hands up after letting out a chuckle, leaning back slightly into the chair.

“apologies, pretty lady.” you noticed his eyes scanning you before narrowing back into your gaze that practically lasered into him.

he removed his hat, the mix of dark and light strands falling around his face as he ran his fingers through it.

“you’re just too gorgeous not to talk about.” he remarked with a wink, arm resting on your vanity where he placed down his hat.

doing your best to ignore the heat slowly rising within your face, you stepped slightly closer to him. you kept your demeanor firm, yet there was a part of you that just wanted to melt into his sweet talking completely.

your hand was only inches away from his own as you leaned against the vanity, looking down at him now.

“that’s all nice talk but…really, what did you come here for?” you asked straight out, hoping you didn’t sound too demanding.

he blinked up at you, a few beats of silence filled with the faint music from the outside stretched out between you both.

boothill cleared his throat, the same smile laced across his lips revealing razor-sharp teeth. “well, after seein’ you so many times on that stage, i figured i’d get to know you on a more personal level.”

you weren’t sure why, but his answer didn’t feel completely truthful. being in this business, there were probably hundreds of people who could’ve had the same surface-level answer. and for some reason boothill didn’t exactly blend in with that crowd of people.

sure, he had a way of not being noticed at first. the man was talented at getting away with a lot, and getting out of being the center of attention was one of them. but to you, even in your very brief and limited meetings so far, you could tell there was so much more to him than that.

your eyes gestured to the shimmery bouquet of roses from last week that rested against the mirror. “something tells me there’s more to it than that.”

he cocked his head at you, looking almost genuinely puzzled. “come again?”

you can’t help but giggle, giving him a playful look.

“that can’t be the only reason.” you murmur, moving close enough to where you both are almost touching. “no one comes to a show like this as much as you do just to get to know me.”

you can’t fully read his expression, but you can glimpse it changing slowly the closer you move to him. it may have been something else, but you swore you could hear a muted yet crazed whirring sound from the inside of his chest.

“and i must say…no one stares at me quite like you do when i’m on that stage, boothill.” you breathed, blinking up at him.

slowly, your hand starts to run over his own, feeling the smooth chrome of his hand even through the fabric of his glove.

“so, what was your real reason, cowboy?” you couldn’t help but tease him as your fingers gingerly stroked his knuckles that you felt tensing beneath each slight movement.

just as you thought you had the outlaw wrapped around your pretty little finger, it all seemed to fall away right from underneath you.

before you could utter another remark, he had you swiftly pulled into his lap, straddling him as he held that slicker-than-oil smirk on his face once more.

his lips crashed against your own, tongue snaking into your mouth while flecking the slightest tang of metal on your tastebuds. you responded almost immediately with an uncontained hunger, your arms being thrown around his shoulders as your hands ran through his hair, pulling him even deeper into the messy kiss.

boothill could feel you already drooling at the taste of him, the feeling of it dripping onto his face making him chuckle as he pulled away from you.

“i shoulda known y’were just a little cocktease…” he huffed, grabbing at your ass while he nipped and sucked at your neck.

“you might’ve caught me with those cute lil quips earlier, sweetheart. but i think y’forget who yer talkin’ to here.”

the words were laced with a feigning spite, as if he were speaking directly to an interrogator of the law. his teasing only persisted the more you squirmed, driving you even further into your pleasure-drunken haze.

you could feel yourself growing even more desperate, grinding yourself down against his thigh as he stripped you of your clothing one by one. even if you tried to hide it in some way, your slickness already started to leave a stain on his jeans.

“aww, you startin’ to get messy on me huh, sweetie?” you didn’t need to even see his face to know he was still wearing that same smirk.

your breath hitched at the feeling of his fingers swiping over your clit. he admired how your fluids glistened against his polished fingertips, before smearing it over your now exposed nipple. your head tossed back in response to his lips suddenly wrapping around it, tongue helping to lap up your own fluids from your skin.

it was a challenge for you to even form words at this point. you could hardly even notice that you were half naked on top of him, all with the door still unlocked. truthfully, you didn’t care. all you could focus on was boothill—the way he touched, marked and kissed you all over.

as your skirt was the final piece of clothing to fall to the floor, he smirked at the sight of your fully nude body on top of him now. no mesh, no lace, no shiny cover ups on any inch of you. and by the stars—you were so beautiful like this.

“shoot, babydoll.” he purred, pressing his lips against yours once more. “how many poor bastards wish they were in my position right now? hm?”

you couldn’t say another word before he repositioned you in front of the mirror, making you look at how much he’d marked your sensitive skin. with your back firmly pressed against his still whirring chest, you could hardly keep still anymore.

“boothill…please,” you whined, back naturally arching as you looked up at him with a glassy desperation.

he sucked his teeth, holding your face by your jaw as his other hand messily undid his belt buckle.

“where’s that tough gal from earlier, hm?” he teased, cursing under his breath as he ripped away his clothing.

occasionally, your lips would sloppily reconnect with each other. it never failed to make you whimper when his teeth would graze against your lips, almost threatening to leave some kind of mark.

it didn’t take long for you to finally feel his cock teasing your entrance. strangely, its chrome tip wasn’t cold like you expected it to feel. it was an almost flesh-like warmth, with a clear pulse that you could feel growing stronger as he moved it around your wetness.

you could feel a groan slip out from his gritted teeth as it slipped inside you with ease. you could see his head in the mirror tilting back, eyes already glazing over.

“y’know, i’ve always wondered what goes through those big-eyed halfwits’ brains when gawkin’ at you on that stage…” he choked out between deep thrusts.

with each thrust, he watched in excitement as your face became more twisted with euphoric pleasure, your moans growing louder and shakier.

“heh, i wonder how many of ‘em think they actually got a chance wit’ya.” he hissed, one of his hands wrapping around your neck as he fucked into you a little faster now.

you could hear him growling as his thrusts were both fast and sloppy. you had to grasp at the vanity to keep from falling forward with how much his pace had picked up. it felt as though his cock was both pulsing and slightly vibrating within you the closer he got to cumming.

“y’think they’d enjoy this for a show? huh…? me screwin’ their lil–mmhh–stage dolly?” he teased through his own grunts, bending you down further as his tongue slithered over your neck. “i bet you’d like it…”

the vanity started rhythmically smacking against the wall with the pace of his thrusts, hands squeezing your tits as they bounced. you let out a shattered moan, tightening around his quivering girth the closer you got.

“g-gonna cum, boothill…mmmh..!” you didn’t even know if you sounded the slightest bit coherent now, but he understood you perfectly without you even needing to say much. your body told him everything.

“let it out, princess…”

boothill groaned, unable to keep himself together anymore. his teeth sank into your shoulder as his final thrusts pulsed inside of you, causing you to seize up from the pleasure alone, letting a final shaky cry erupt from your chest.

it took a few moments to get your bearings. you breathed in shakily, allowing boothill to help you sit back up and relax your body once more. he was quick to fetch you water and seemingly very concerned with your physical state, which was an amusing contrast in behavior for him.

it didn’t take much to coax you back to your normal state. while there were quite a few marks visible on your neck and upper chest, you were sure you’d survive the prying comments from coworkers and managers, though it was sure to annoy you when the time came.

“i never knew you to be such a gentleman.” you teased as he brushed back your hair, trying not to guzzle down the water bottle in your hand.

“ya don’t know me, at least not as much as y’think you do.” he scoffed playfully, carefully pulling back your hair into a hair tie.

you glared at him. “is that a challenge?”

his eyes only slightly looked up at you through the mirror you both faced, red pupils dilated a bit. “maybe you can find out more while i walk y’home, how’s that sound?”

written by sirenscriptures. do not copy, repost, rewrite, translate, use, or post on to any other site.

tags: @houseofsolisoccasum

[seat-safety-switch]

A lot of people at Home Depot are getting froggy at my comparison of them to the Third Reich. This is, of course, a media fabrication. The Nazis had easy access to working tools, and lumber that was straight. What I actually called them was “a group of useless, tin-hat fascists that can’t even stock a fucking lightswitch.”

Back when I was a kid, small hardware stores were all over the place. You could get on your bicycle and ride over to the local lumber shop, and a weird old guy would tell you what stuff to buy, occasionally implying that he was your real father. Then you’d ride home, and finish your project, happy in the knowledge that at least you could control the construction of a potato cannon or low-dimensional-stability, non-permitted birdhouse.

At some point, buoyed by the renovation-crazy era of reality television, the big hardware giants started rolling in. They’d buy out or crush all of these little hardware stores. Why would you go to two of them, they’d ask, when you can get all your stuff here, in one trip, for cheaper? This would be a great thing indeed, if I didn’t have to go to three different big-box hardware stores in order to satisfy literally any weekend project shopping list.

At least with Abnormal Ed’s House of an Unusual Amount of Paracord, you’d know what you were getting into, and if you shopped at his place a lot, he’d probably start stocking the stuff you need. With Home Depot, you’re not even a blip on their immense Excel spreadsheet of Raw Data Pure Data Good Data. With an international reach, your insane hyper-local desires (limited to your house) average out to nothing against the demands of everyone else. There’s no way you can potentially influence them to start offering something unprofitable like, say, white spray paint, or hammers that aren’t made of tinfoil, without taking hostages.

What can we do about this? Other than building a time machine and going back to save small hardware stores – which would probably require buying some parts at Home Depot, which means we’d be wasting a beautiful Saturday afternoon driving all over the city just to pick up red and black wire – the only thing we can do is convince them that an even larger, angrier, hardware store is coming to kill them.

I got the idea when I had a bunch of sparrows flying into my kitchen window. You cut out some silhouettes of bigger birds and just paste them on there. They think a bunch of giant crows are hiding behind the window, and steer clear. It took a lot of time to construct an entire elaborate replica of a hardware store megaconsortium in the empty parking lot next to the Home Depot headquarters, and it was very hard to paint the Chinese ideographs for “HILARIOUS FUN DOESN’T STOCK UNPROFITABLE ITEMS RENOVATION DEPOT” while holding on to the 60th storey of a Potemkin building made entirely out of old cardboard boxes, but I managed to pull it off. You could hear the lifetime middle managers shrieking in fear of their new competitors from blocks away, and by the time I got home, the local Home Depot had finally decided to stock both light fixtures and light bulbs.

[cellophaine]

Chapter I: SERVE

Masterlist

Pairing: Art Donaldson x F!Reader

Word Count: 2377.

Warnings: None.

Author's Note: The first chapter is here!! I'm so excited to finally release this as this idea formed in my head a while ago and it's been itching to take shape. I hope you will enjoy this chapter and stay for the messiness of it all!

GIF Source: @harcive

2021. San Francisco.

Your bedroom, 2 AM. Outside, the storm raged. The whistling notes of winds pried their way inside through the seams of the window. You lay on your side, watching the maidenhair tree as its leaves and branches were torn in different directions, but the thick trunk barely wavered. The constant pattering of rain running along the window soothed your troubling mind.

Another sleepless night.

It was also raining like this on the day that you met him. Perhaps it was nostalgia, maybe it was your indulgence of self-loathe, either way, you often recalled that day over the years, long after it was over, thinking about how cruel fate was even though you didn’t believe in it. You often thought about how had you listened to the weather forecast on that portent day, there wouldn’t be so many sleepless nights.

2006. Stanford University.

The angry and ruthless storm swept over the campus’ ground, painting a murky varnish over the courtyard. You didn’t bring an umbrella. The cafeteria was almost empty with the exception of some other unfortunate souls like yours. Your messenger bag wouldn’t survive in this rain with its metal clasps broken and glued together, its nylon strap peeling off along the edge, and its canvas surface thinning.

You chose a seat by the big bay window overlooking the courtyard. The rain railed on the glass panels, loud and blurred together in a clashing harmony. The perfect background for your wandering thoughts while you stared out the window. You had a shift at the coffee shop on Friday, then the weekend to yourself. The library’s copy of Mrs. Dalloway was due the following Friday, but you didn’t need that much time. You could finish it this weekend. You should return your mom’s missed call and your dad’s message. Probably more of what you didn’t want to hear, but you should respond nonetheless.

Out of the peripheral of your vision, a moving silhouette headed in your direction. You ignored it until they stopped at your table, far enough that you couldn’t touch them if you reached out, but close enough to make your head turn. Your eyes caught onto the white shirt before skipping along the length of the torso before reaching the face. You were taken aback by his appearance, and most of all, his piercing eyes on you.

“Hi. May I sit here?”

He had a half smile that softened the outer corners of his eyes. Blond locks swept all over, framing his face in tousled waves. A sharp jaw that your eyes couldn’t help but trace along. He was cute. There was an easy air about him that almost disarmed the guard you placed when it came to strangers. Almost.

Your eyes quickly flitted around the nearly empty cafeteria involuntarily as if to signal that there were other seats he could take. But you nodded regardless with a thinly veiled hesitance and watched as he took his seat across the table. You wondered what he wanted from you.

“Looks like we’re stuck here for a while.”

You bobbed your head in agreement.

“Yeah. I should’ve brought an umbrella.”

“Me too. It doesn’t rain very often so I thought today would be one of those days, you know? Should’ve listened to the forecast.”

You hummed noncommittally and turned your head towards the window again. He moved a little in his seat as if he was trying to pull at your attention physically.

“I saw you sitting alone from over there, and uh … I thought you might want some company.”

Your eyes squinted at that and watched as he reached over the table.

“My name’s Art. Art Donaldson.”

You shook his hand and told him your name. His name stirred at a memory in the back of your mind.

“I know you. I mean, I’ve heard of you.”

His face lit up ever so slightly at that.

“Yeah?”

You nodded.

“Your name is mentioned pretty often, especially whenever tennis comes up. Some people in my class seem to be fans of yours.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and light.

“What about you? Are you a fan of me?”

You pretended to think about it and shook your head.

“Ouch.”

You held up a hand in defence.

“Hey. I’m just not a sports person.”

“That’s fair. We’re pretty annoying anyway.”

You blurted out before you could stop yourself.

“Yeah, I can tell.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. You could see the way his smile dropped, the way his body went still, and guilt trickled in rapidly until it was a big, sweeping wave.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say it out loud.”

“So you were thinking it?”

“Yes, I mean, no, but kinda?"

Art only stared at you. You straightened in your seat.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? It just came out, I honestly don’t mean anything by it. My roommates said that I’m very sarcastic and if you don’t know me you might think I’m very mean but honestly I really don’t mean it I’m so so sorry …”

You trailed off as Art’s smile grew until his body shook with the sound of his chuckle. It was you that stared now. Your heart was pounding, nerves pulled tight across all directions, unsure of where they were heading.

"Uh …"

Your voice wavered, and you cleared your throat. Art waved a hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry about it. No offence taken.”

The joy he seemed to get from your momentary despair cast his face in an endearing light. You found yourself staring at the way his eyes crinkled, the way his lips quirked up, one side higher than the other.

“Still. It was rude of me.”

Art looked at your rueful expression, and you could almost tell the moment his light bulb went on.

“You’ll have to make it up to me.”

“What?”

He leaned forward. He was now halfway over the small table.

“To fix my broken ego. You’ve just destroyed it, after all.”

You fixed your eyes on his and met him in the middle, turning the distance into proximity.

“You know what they say about having a fragile ego?”

"What do they say?"

"Hm, I thought you knew already."

Art held your gaze for a long moment, searching for your tell. You couldn't hold the grin back, and he mirrored you, understanding your sarcastic nature a little more now. You broke away first and stood up, eyes roaming around the cafeteria and eventually landed on the food counter. You turned to look at Art, jerking your chin towards the other side of the room.

“Alright, let’s go. Whatever you want, on me.”

Art chose funnel cake fries with vanilla ice cream. You could feel his eyes on you as you smoothed out the slightly crumbled bills, counted the change and gave it to the woman behind the counter. His gaze made you feel a little insecure. You kept your eyes on the woman as you thanked her.

“Anything on it?”

She held up the paper box. Art turned to you and asked if you wanted anything. You said caramel sauce absent-mindedly as you put your wallet back in your pocket. After a generous drizzle, she passed the box to Art, along with two spoons.

“Wait, it’s your treat. Why did you ask me what I wanted on it?”

He shrugged as if the answer was obvious.

“I thought we could share.”

You returned to the table. The rain had calmed down, reduced to a light shower. It took some convincing from Art as you refused to have some as it was your treat for him, but eventually, you shared the first few bites in silence. You tried not to pay too much attention to his lips every time he licked the spoon when Art broke the voiceless air and asked about your major. English, you said, as your parents dismissed and scorned. Despite their disapproval and incessant attempts to convince you otherwise, you still wanted to be a published author, dreaming of seeing your name on the shelves one day.

“The scholarship helped a lot. If it wasn’t for it, my parents would have forced me to stay home and attend the community college there.”

“I'm guessing you didn't want that?”

“Not at all. And don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with the college back home, but …"

You considered our next words properly. A cold feeling crept up your spine, but you found the words that you'd never had the courage to say out loud before tumbling out.

"I just don’t want to be stuck there, you know? In the same place that I grew up in for years and years on end with my parents, and it's …”

You met Art's eyes to find that he was staring at you. All of a sudden, the cold became unbearable, and you felt so uneasy that you felt an instinctual urge to physically press your lips together to prevent anything else from slipping out. The baggage was too much for someone you met not even an hour ago. You cleared your throat.

“Anyway, what about you? Are you going to be a pro tennis player?”

Art's brows slightly furrowed, and he took a moment before responding. He seemed to sense your discomfort, but he let it go. You felt the weight eased off your stomach, feeling grateful that Art chose not to pursue the topic further.

"Yeah, I hope so."

"Is it something you've always wanted to do?"

He thought about it for a brief moment.

"I … think so. It's something I've known for a long time, and very well."

You nodded, taking another spoonful of ice cream.

"Okay, maybe not as well as my friend Patrick."

"Tell me about him."

The funnel fry stopped just before it reached Art's mouth.

"Why? Are you interested in him?"

“Sure am. I’m the kind of girl that needs more information on a guy before expressing my interest. So tell me."

A small frown formed on his lips. His hand made a slow descent to the table, the fry forgotten. He looked like a kicked puppy, and you felt bad for your harmless joke. You reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze.

"Art. I'm joking."

He took your words in, and an amused smile slowly spread across his lips. With the other unoccupied hand, he rubbed on his ear, which drew your attention to it as it turned into a faint shade of pink. He cleared his throat, and you pulled your hand away.

"Uh– okay! So … Patrick."

You nodded, encouraging him to continue. He told you about the Mark Rebellato Academy, how Patrick was his roommate and became his best friend, how they played tennis together and made …

"Fire and Ice?"

Art nodded.

"Who's who?"

"He's Fire, and I'm Ice."

"So when you're together, what do you make? Warm water?"

"Okay, when you put it like that, it doesn't sound very exciting. But we're good, I promise."

You put the spoon down, decided that you were done with the dessert and let Art finish the rest.

"When can I see you guys play together?"

Art thought about it for a moment.

"I don't think it'll happen soon. He's trying to pro, and he's busy with a tour right now."

"I see."

The rain had ceased to light mist, which made Art's silence became palpable.

"Do you miss him?"

"I– I'm happy for him, I am. He's doing exactly what he has always wanted to do, which is becoming a pro and not having to concern himself with a degree, but …"

"You wish he was here, playing tennis with you. Like how you used to."

Art nodded. You felt the air become heavier, so you switched it up.

"What about your family? They must come to your game to support you?"

Art smiled, but his voice was tinged with a sadness that made you regret even asking.

"My grandma asks me about every game I've ever played. And, uh … my parents enrolled me in Mark Rebellato, but they don't really come to my games. They don't … ask me about them, either."

The silence thickened like honey, but it wasn't confining. A tangible thread of mutual understanding wrapped around you, binding you together across the small table. You couldn't bring yourself to say something, anything, but when your eyes locked, the kindness in his eyes assured you that you didn't have to.

You blinked and allowed the quiet moment to slip through your fingers.

"I have a question for you."

He gestured for you to go ahead.

“Why me?”

“What do you mean?”

You arched a brow.

“You know what I'm talking about. There are other girls in there. Why did you choose me?”

“Just wanted to introduce myself to the prettiest girl here.”

You rolled your eyes at his smirk. He picked up the last funnel fry and popped it into his mouth.

“Do you really use that line on every girl you've met? Has it ever worked?”

“No, not every girl. And, you tell me.”

You shook your head, trying to fend off the inevitable smile that tugged on a corner of your lips.

“It’s not working.”

You said before standing up. Outside, the rain had cleared for the sun to poke through. Taking the empty box and cutlery, you put everything in the trash bin nearby while Art was still sitting.

“I guess I’ll have to get your phone number.”

You returned to the table, where Art looked up at you with that playful look.

"Why?"

"So I can prove myself to you."

“There’s no need. I’m sure I’ll see you again around the campus anyway.”

You picked up your bag, signifying the end of your talk. Art sprung off the seat as if it was on fire.

"But–"

You placed a hand on his shoulder and applied the tiniest bit of pressure.

“This has been enjoyable, really. I’ll see you around, Art.”

You offered him a smile before letting your hand drop. You didn’t look back once when you walked away despite the urge to have a final good look of him. Art gathered his bag, his hand reached inside and grasped the umbrella lying amongst the notebooks, his eyes followed you until you disappeared.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated! I'd love to read your thoughts on the story!

For updates, please follow @cellophaine-archives

[gxthicupid]

Hi I have a request! How about a one-shot of Wukong and a female s/o, with Wukong after landing on Sandy’s ship accidentally falls asleep (due to lack of sleep and power drain) while being patched up, latching onto the closest person to him at the moment (s/o) using her as pretty much a teddy bear leaving her stuck with sleepy purrs, coos, and all?

Sorry if it’s a lot😂 😅

୨⎯ 𝑺𝑵𝑼𝑮𝑮𝑳𝑬 𝑴𝑶𝑵𝑲𝑬𝒀 [𝑺𝒖𝒏 𝑾𝒖𝒌𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒙 !𝑭𝑬𝑴! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓]

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇxᴛ: ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪꜰ ᴡᴜᴋᴏɴɢ ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴᴊᴜʀɪᴇᴅ?

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ! ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴀʟᴏᴛ. ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ꜰᴜɴ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ.

➨ Tonight, a dark blue hue painted over the sky, decorated beautifully with fluffy clouds and shining stars as far as the eye can see. The silhouette of the city’s skyscrapers looked like mountains, a nice touch to the landscape view from Sandy’s cargo ship.

➨ You decided to help Sandy with fixing and organising after he finally set the ship after all the damage it had gotten throughout your adventures with MK and the others. Of course, you let Wukong know about your location since he went out on a solo mission that needed to take care of some unfinished business.

➨ As much as you were worried, you trusted Wukong to return safe and sound. Right now, you and Sandy were taking a break, and he decided to brew some tea to relax and have a conversation amongst each other.

➨ “Sandy, this tea tastes amazing! Is this a new flavour?” You spoke, astonished by the wave of delicious flavour overwhelming on your tastebuds. “Yeah, I thought I'd try out something new. I’m glad you like it.” He responded, flattered by your compliment and smiled.

➨ At the moment, you and Sandy are talking about things aside from your adventures and focusing more on other things, such as your love life with Wukong. “So, how’s things with Monkey King?” Sandy questions you, and you respond with a light blush on your face. “Everything’s great. We have been living together for a few months, and everything seems good. He’s on a solo mission now, but I’m sure he’ll come unharm-”

➨ A flash of lightning came bolting down from the sky in the blink of an eye and then crash-landed on the harbour near Sandy’s ship. All of you got frightened by the abruption towards your peace and quiet.

➨ When you and Sandy carefully investigated what came crashing down, it was Wukong, but to your surprise, he looked severely wounded and didn’t seem to be moving. “Wukong!” You were the first to react, came closer to his body, and checked whether he was okay. Turns out he’s still breathing; he’s only sleeping. The injuries must have weakened him so much to the point of exhaustion.

➨ “Thank goodness.” You muttered to yourself and held onto him tightly. “Sandy! Can you lend me a hand?” He agreed and carried Wukong back to the ship, and you prepared First Aid on the couch.

➨ Even though you know Wukong can’t die, it still bothers you when he does reckless or impulsive things that get him into these messes. Sandy told you to take it easy and help him get patched up while he finishes off the ship.

➨ You took out the bandages and disinfectant from the bag and took off his torn-up shirt. Carefully, you wrapped up all the wounds and soothed the bruises around his body. Once you were finished, you placed his head on your lap and let him rest.  

➨ You looked down and noticed how adorable he looked when he was sleeping. You smiled as you started petting his hair and scratching his ears before, all of a sudden, you felt him softly purr. That’s when your heart melts to the point you feel like you just fell in love with him again.

➨ He looked like a cat as he moved around you and stretched his arms and legs. Now, both of your hands are on him, and you take this opportunity to caress his tail and see what happens. He began to coo like his baby monkeys and couldn’t help but quietly squeal at such a precious moment.

➨ Then, he moves around the couch and begins to latch onto your body to cuddle in his sleep. As you tried to struggle free, you failed and now became a teddy bear for him to snuggle and nuzzle his furry face on the crook of your neck and his tail hugging your waist.

➨ And just like a cat, you don’t have the heart to move a muscle from the coach. “C’mon Y/N. Don’t leave me.” You heard him talking in his dream, and you must admit it was nice to know your partner loved you even when unconscious.

➨ “Baby, please. Just five more minutes; breakfast can wait.” Again, he muttered into your ear as he tried to shift your body around for him to rest on your chest. You blushed but shrugged it off as you slowly caressed his hair.

➨ You were so glad that Wukong was okay after the solo mission and began to drift off to sleep before hearing his sleepy voice again. “I love you, Y/N.” And finally, he went back to snoring softly. All you did was giggle softly at his words. “I love you too, Wukong.” You gave him a kiss on the forehead and passed out on the couch.

➨ Meanwhile, Sandy watched adoringly at your romantic moments with your partner and decided to do something special for the both of you to see in the morning.

・❥・

➨ The sun shined, and Megapolis roared with life again. You were the first one to wake up from your slumber. And by recalling your night with Wukong, you saw him next to you and sleeping without a care in the world.

➨ As you pat his head, he begins to wake up. “Mornin’ darling. . .Slept well last night?” You softly spoke to Wukong as he groaned, hissing quietly from the injuries but not as much to alarm you. “Hey, Y/N. How’s my sunshine, huh?” You giggled at Wukong when he gave you a kiss on the nose, and that’s when you heard your phone ring.

➨ Both you and Wukong checked, and there were photos of you and Wukong cuddling on the couch, along with the words of, “Sorry, Y/N. I couldn’t help myself; I thought you'd like to have these for keepsake.” By Sandy.

➨ You blushed and hid your face from Wukong while he enjoyed seeing these pictures, but deep down, he was as flustered as you were. “Aw, that’s really sweet, Y/N. C’mere.” He then proceeds to give you several kisses on the kiss as a thank you.

[unabashegirl]

my best friend's dad | sneak peek

Y/N and Scarlett Styles are best friends in college. They share everything even their plans for Spring Break. They have a trip to Bahamas planned. Everything takes a turn when Scarlett is unable to fly, and Y/N is forced to coexist and interact with Scarlett's dad.

Author's note: hello everyone, I just wanted to give everyone a sneak peek of the upcoming one shot that will be uploading in a few days. I tried to made it only one part, but as I was writing it I realized that I needed to add more context, so it's going to be a two part one shot. The first part has already been upload to my patreon.

check out my patreon and get full access to the first part (+4K words) and much more :) thank you beforehand!

masterlist

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N felt a weight lift off her shoulders as she listened to Harry's encouraging words. She realized that she didn't have to have everything figured out right away. This trip, with its new experiences and conversations like this one, was already helping her see things from a different perspective.

After a while, Harry put down his tablet and stretched. "I think it’s time for a swim down at the beach. Care to join me?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment but then nodded. "Sure, why not?"

They made their way through a winding path bordered by lush foliage, leading to a secluded stretch of beach that seemed untouched by the usual tourist crowds. The soft sand greeted their feet as they approached the water's edge, the gentle lapping of the waves creating a soothing soundtrack. Harry glanced around with a smile.

“Breathtaking as always” he remarked, gesturing to the pristine beach.

Y/N nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of tranquility wash over her. The beach was indeed stunning, with its turquoise waters and powdery white sand stretching into the distance. It felt like a hidden paradise, far removed from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

"I can see why Scarlett loves it here," Y/N said, taking in the beauty of the surroundings.

The next day dawned with a soft, rosy glow creeping over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold. Harry woke before the sun, as was his routine, slipping on his running gear quietly so as not to disturb the peacefulness of the villa. He tiptoed downstairs, the floor cool under his feet, and headed for the front door. As he passed through the living room, he glanced out onto the terrace.

There, on one of the sunbeds, Y/N lay curled up under a blanket, her silhouette softened by the early morning light. She had fallen asleep waiting for the sunrise, her peaceful expression making her look even more serene. Harry couldn't help but smile at the sight, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. He found it endearing

Resisting the urge to wake her, Harry quietly slipped outside and started his jog along the quiet streets. The rhythmic pounding of his footsteps helped clear his mind, but try as he might, thoughts of Y/N kept intruding. He couldn't shake the image of her in that attractive bikini, her laughter echoing in his mind from the day before. It wasn't just her physical beauty that captivated him; it was her warmth, her intelligence, and the easy way they connected.

Feeling a pang of guilt, Harry quickened his pace, pushing himself harder. He hadn't expected to be so affected by Y/N's presence, and he chastised himself for dwelling on thoughts that felt inappropriate given their relationship. He had spent the previous day enjoying her company, sharing stories, and learning about her dreams and ambitions. Yet, now he found himself unable to shake the attraction he felt towards her.

By the time he returned to the villa, the sun was fully risen, casting a bright light over the tropical landscape. Harry took a deep breath, trying to steady his thoughts as he cooled down. He decided to take a cold shower, hoping the shock of cold water would help clear his mind. As he stood under the refreshing spray, he couldn't help but feel ashamed of his inner turmoil. He didn't want to complicate things or make Y/N uncomfortable during their time together.

He just couldn’t get that damn bikini off his mind. The one she had wore the day before. The red color complemented her sun-kissed skin beautifully, accentuating her curves in all the right places. His hand creeped down and grabbed throbbing cock, trying get some release from the torture that he was experiencing.

COMING SOON.

[supernotnatural2005]

I Cross My Heart

Paring: Beau Arlen x Reader

Summary: A quiet night in with your favourite Sheriff.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Mostly sickening fluff and feels.

Prompt: Cowboy Hat - Music CD - Plush Octopus

AN: Hey guys! Here is another submission for my @jacklesversebingo 24 card. This prompt was a little tricky 😅 but I feel it worked best with our favourite Sheriff! Also this is my first time dabbling into the Big Sky universe and writing for Beau, so let me know what y'all think. 👀

Main Masterlist

Bingo Masterlist

The warm summer sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the city of Helena’s sky in hues of pink and gold. Beau leaned against his truck, his cowboy hat tilted low, the silhouette of his broad frame outlined by the fading light. His rugged features were softened by the day's exhaustion, but his eyes sparkled with the same quiet intensity you had come to know and love.

You smiled from where you stood on the porch, watching him. He was a man of few words, but when he did speak, you listened. The steady presence he exuded was something you had never expected but found yourself desperately drawn to. You had learned that, despite the rough nature of his job, Beau had a gentle way about him. His calm demeanour always seemed to pull everyone back from the edge, even in the chaos of the sheriff’s office.

You still remembered the first time you met him—it was almost a year ago when you had started working as a dispatcher at Lewis and Clark's County sheriff department. You’d walked into the station, green and nervous, only to be met with Beau’s easy smile and steady reassurance. He’d taken you under his wing, showing you the ropes while keeping the atmosphere light with his humour. Over time, what began as a professional relationship bloomed into something more personal, something deeper.

And now, after a long shift, Beau was standing outside your house, looking like he’d just walked off the set of a western movie. He was a sheriff, yes, but more than that, he was your sheriff.

You leaned against the doorframe, raising an eyebrow as you called out, “You planning on staying out here all evening, or you gonna come inside?”

Beau’s lips curled into a playful smile, his gaze never leaving yours. “Depends,” he drawled, his voice warm, “You got any reason for me to come inside?”

You grinned, holding up the small music CD you had found earlier. “Maybe. I found this in the back of the truck earlier—thought you might like it.”

Beau’s eyes widened slightly as he stepped closer, clearly excited. “Is that…? Wait, is that George Strait’s ‘Pure Country’ album?” His hands reached out eagerly. “I haven’t heard this in years. Where’d you find it?”

You shrugged, walking toward him. “Just digging around. Thought it looked like something you’d enjoy.”

Beau grinned from ear to ear as he took the CD from your hands. “You’ve got a good eye, darlin’.” He turned toward the door. “You sure you don’t mind if I play it inside?”

“Not at all,” you said, a playful glint in your eyes. “I think I can handle the noise if it’s you.”

Inside, the soft light of the evening filled your living room, giving it a more cozy-vibe. Beau walked over to the stereo, placing the CD into the player, smiling in familiraity as the first few chords of "I Cross My Heart" filled the air, instantly setting a more romantic mood.

You moved into the kitchen, finishing off the dinner you'd been in the middle of preparing before Beau texted you he was coming over. Thankfully it wasn't long before the two of you sat down to a quiet, simple meal. The conversation flowed easily, the kind of relaxed chatter that comes from knowing each other so well, and you felt a warmth in your chest at how easily it all fit together.

As you finished up dinner, the song “Carried Away” started playing in the background, and Beau paused, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Man, this takes me back,” he said, almost wistfully. “Used to play this over and over in my truck back when I was just starting out. Felt like I had all the time in the world back then.”

You smiled at him, picking up on the quiet nostalgia in his tone. “What’s the song remind you of?”

He shrugged, leaning back slightly in his chair as the soft guitar strums filled the space between you. “When I was younger, I used to drive around, just thinking about all the things I wanted to do. The people I wanted to be. But now…” His voice softened, and he met your gaze, his eyes full of meaning. “Now, I just want to be here. With you.”

Your heart swelled as you reached for his hand across the table. “Beau…” you whispered, the words almost catching in your throat.

He squeezed your hand, his expression softening as the song continued to play, weaving its way into the quiet moment between the two of you, until Beau sat back in his seat, his hands finding the edge of the table as he looked at you with a playful glint in his eye. 

“You know,” he said, “I think this calls for a little something extra.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And what might that be?”

Beau held out his hand to you, his grin widening. “A dance. It’s been a while since we’ve had one of those.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. A pleasant reminder of your first date with him. There was something about Beau, even back then—his quiet confidence, the way he always knew how to make ordinary moments feel extraordinary—that made it feel perfect.

You took his hand without hesitation, letting him pull you to your feet and guide you to the centre of the room. George Strait's voice filled the space around you as Beau’s hand settled gently on your waist. You rested your head on his chest, the steady beat of his heart matching the rhythm of the song.

For a moment, there was only the sound of the music and the soft shuffle of your feet on the hardwood floor. Beau’s other hand gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. He didn’t need to say anything; the tenderness in his touch spoke volumes.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this at peace in a long time.”

You smiled up at him, feeling your own heart swell. “Me either.” You whispered honestly.

Beau’s eyes softened, and for a brief moment, everything else seemed to disappear. It was just the two of you in this quiet space, swaying together to the music as if nothing else mattered.

As the song wound down, Beau leaned in, his lips brushing against your forehead before he pulled back, his gaze intense. “I’ve been wanting this for a while now. Just you and me. A quiet night. Nothing else.”

Your pulse quickened as you looked up at him, the weight of his words sinking in. Though things had been going well for you for a while now, you and Beau had yet to share a night together. He was (frustratingly) ever the gentleman. You stepped a little closer, your lips barely touching as you whispered, “Then take it. I’m right here.”

The air between you grew thicker, charged with the unspoken desire that had always been there, lingering just beneath the surface. Beau’s hands slid to your back, pulling you close as he kissed you deeply, his mouth moving over yours with a slow intensity. The kiss deepened, and before you knew it, you were lost in the heat of it, the softness of his lips and the warmth of his touch sending sparks through you.

After a few moments, the two of you pulled away, breathing heavily. The tension that had been building between you finally released, and you stood there for a second, catching your breath. That was when your eyes fell on the little plush octopus that had been tucked into the corner of the couch, a gift from you that Beau had carried inside earlier.

With a small laugh, you pulled away from Beau slightly and reached over to grab the little stuffed creature. You held it up in front of him, making a teasing face. "And what’s this little guy doing here?" you asked with a grin.

Beau raised an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he saw what you were holding. “What can I say, I get easily attached.” He teased, though there was a warmth to his voice.

Beau inspected the little stuffed creature with mock seriousness. “You know, I never would’ve pegged you for the type to pick up something like this, but… I kinda like it.”

You shrugged with a grin. “I just thought he was cute, reminded me of someone I know.” You teased and Beau raised a brow at you before he eyed goofy little purple octopus, looking at it like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“Well, I gotta admit, it’s a little weird,” he said with a grin, “but... I like weird.” He turned to you with a smirk. “Maybe I’ll bring it to the station. Let Jenny and the others know I’m not just all hard edges and big guns.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. "You’re really going to bring it to the station?"

“Oh yeah,” he said with mock seriousness. “I’m plannin’ to make this little guy the station mascot. Let them all see what’s really going on behind the sheriff’s desk.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I think it suits you,” you said fondly, your heart swelling at the sight of Beau holding the little octopus with such a goofy, genuine look on his face.

Beau smiled, but it faded just a little as his fingers lingered on the plush creature, his thumb running absently over the fabric. He set the octopus down beside him, but there was a slight shift in his posture, a subtle change in the air. The lightheartedness from before seemed to evaporate, replaced by something quieter, more deliberate.

For a moment, the two of you simply stood there, in that comfortable silence, the faint hum of George Strait’s “Last in Love” in the background. You could feel the weight of it—the easy tension between you two, the kind that comes when something is about to change, something unspoken that’s been building for weeks.

Beau’s eyes met yours again, and you could see the same thing you’d seen all night—the warmth, the care, the admiration. But there was something else there too now, something that told you he was thinking about this night, about you, in a way he hadn’t before. There was a deeper longing behind those eyes, a hunger for more, but also a quiet hesitation.

“It's been a hell of a week,” he said softly, his voice deep and steady, but there was a slight roughness to it, like it had been tested in the last few days. He was a man of few words, but you’d learned that when he spoke, it meant something.

“I imagine so,” you replied, a teasing smile tugging at your lips, but it was softer now, less playful. The weight of the moment was sinking in, and you both felt it.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about this,” Beau murmured, taking a step closer, the space between you two closing slowly, his voice low but full of intent. “Thinkin’ about you.” He reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering a fraction longer than necessary.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you met his gaze, understanding the gravity of what he was saying. It wasn’t just about tonight. It wasn’t just about the chemistry that had been there since the moment you met. This was about something deeper—something that had been growing between you since you’d made it official just a month ago.

Beau had been patient, a gentleman through and through, letting the relationship unfold at its own pace. He’d never rushed things, always careful to ensure that both of you felt comfortable. You knew he wanted to take it slow. But even now, with that same careful approach, the tension was unmistakable. It was in the way his hand hovered just above your skin, in the way his eyes traced your every feature as if memorising you.

“I don’t want to rush things, but…” His voice trailed off, like he wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence, but the meaning was clear. He didn’t need to explain further. You both knew what he meant.

“I know,” you whispered. “We’ve waited this long.”

Beau nodded slowly, his lips pressing together in a tight line as if struggling to find the right words. He wasn’t one to talk about his feelings often, but when he did, it carried a weight that made your chest tighten. You could feel the desire in his gaze, in the way he was looking at you, but there was also a deep respect there—he was giving you space, giving you control over the moment, over what came next.

“I’ve thought about it," he said quietly, stepping closer still, until the warmth of his body was almost unbearable. "Thought about it non-stop. But I wanted to take this slow, make sure we’re both ready for it.”

His words wrapped around your heart like a blanket, and you couldn’t help but smile softly. Beau had always been this way—steady, thoughtful, and more than willing to go at your pace. But hearing him admit how much he’d been thinking about this, about you, stirred something deep inside you. It wasn’t just about tonight; it was about the future, the promise of what was to come.

You took a step closer, closing the small gap between you. His presence was like a steady flame, warm and reliable, and you found yourself leaning into it without hesitation. Your fingers found their way to his chest, just lightly touching the fabric of his shirt, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your touch.

“I think I’m ready, Beau,” you whispered, your voice soft but firm. “And I want this, with you.”

A deep breath escaped Beau’s lips, and you saw the tension in his shoulders ease just slightly, but he didn’t rush. He never did. He met your gaze with that quiet strength you’d come to admire, and in that moment, you both knew something had changed. Something had shifted, and there was no going back.

“I want this with you too,” he said, his voice thick with emotion now. “But I need you to know, this isn’t just about tonight. It’s about everything that comes after. About us, together. Whatever that looks like.”

You smiled, a tender, knowing smile, your heart swelling with affection. “I know,” you whispered again, your thumb lightly brushing the side of his jaw, tracing the faint lines of stubble there. “And I want that too. I want you.”

The air between you thickened again, but this time, there was no more hesitation. No more waiting. Just the quiet understanding that when the moment came, it would be right. It would be something to treasure, something that would hold both of you in the days, weeks, months, hopefully years to come.

You closed the final gap between you, Beau’s hand gently cupping your face as he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours more purposefully this time. It was the kiss of someone who had waited, who had earned this moment. It was slow and deliberate, soft yet passionate. A promise of what was to come without any words.

And for a moment, everything else melted away. There was no rush, no urgency. Just the quiet warmth of Beau’s embrace, the sound of your combined breaths, and the certainty that you were both ready—ready to take that step forward, together.

AN: And there we have it folks. My first ever Beau Arlen fic 😄 Let me know what you guys think, and if I've done our sheriff justice 🥲💕

[chuuminn]

chuuya x reader - scorched lungs and shotguns

featuring; early dating period awhhhh, tton!reader being a bad smoker, reader wears mascara, chuuya uses ‘doll’ as a nickname, shotgunning, just something a lil silly, intentional lowercase, 1.2k word count

'what to do when your stupidly handsome date offers you a cigarette’ was not covered on your theoretical pre-date flashcards. stumbling out a “sure ! i’d love one” probably wasn’t the right answer. but chuuya's leather dressed fingers were already retreating to tuck away the polished silver cigarette case, leaving you with a neatly rolled stick dangling dumbly between your thumb and forefinger.

"just relax,” yosano's words had been cooed with a reassuring smile when she swiped mascara onto your lashes, not three hours before. “i'm sure your 'mystery man' will adore your quirks."

pshhh, quirks. the term normally refers to small things, right? the little endearing habits you notice about another person. like how you know that ranpo’s hand always brushes his pocket when he stands from his desk, seeking out spectacle shaped reassurance. or, that dazai is a terribly clingy drunk; but only until he hits drink number nine or your fingertips accidentally graze the edges of the cotton that wraps his skin. whichever comes first.

quirks aren’t the ugly, hacking cough that accompanies your every attempt at smoking.

you could just return it, yes. laugh it off and continue to enjoy the sound of the water lapping at the pier beneath you. only, the mere possibility that your date, effortlessly suave as he seems, might brand you as ‘lame’ or ‘a buzzkill’ summons an uncomfortable bubbling into your chest and the rising of a shrill nagging voice in your mind. it heaves, preparing to berate you, until-

a flicker against the dim evening — subtle, but enough to catch your gaze — banishes the nerve.

chuuya’s struck his lighter, illuminating the planes of his face for you to admire. there was no better backdrop for him than here, leaning against the railing of one of yokohama’s many bridges.

he mentioned growing up here, and judging by that passionate gleam in his eyes when he’d spoken about it, you could tell he loves the city fiercely. a few unruly strands of fiery hair catch the flickering light, stark against the muted twilight blues behind him. it’s a museum worthy painting, if not for the five pronged silhouette of the port mafia towers intruding over chuuya’s shoulder. an irksome smear on the yokohama skyline.

nooo. nope. you didn’t need to spend more time than absolutely necessary thinking about the port mafia and your many unpleasant. especially not while on a date that, up until now, was going suspeciously well.

you follow chuuya’s movements as he cups the lighter, shielding it from the harbour breeze, to deliver it to his lips. the glow of the flame stretches towards him as he inhales, a motion you were becoming all too familiar with. barely a month of dating and already you were giving into the grand gravitational pull of chuuya nakahara. so when those gloved hands extend the light to you, it’s all too easy to tilt your body closer to his.

difficulty comes when you fumble with the end of the cigarette over the lighter. the blasted flame, it was mocking you! mischievously dancing around the edge of your cigarette and refusing to share its heat. you offer a sheepish smile to your merciful date. “mine’s broken.”

there’s a breathy chuckle before reassuring fingers wrap around your wrist.

it wasn’t as though this was the first time he's touched you; but still, the gentle guidance sends warmth blooming along your skin. he curls your fingers and moves them to better cup the light, protecting it from the wind as he’d done. immediately it settles into a steady flame. traitor. “better?”

“better…” you can’t say the same for your heart, sure the damn thing was about to beat out of your chest. the new proximity makes your head spin. a seductive cinnamon-y musk joins the lingering smoky smell in the air. he’s close enough to feel the air shift across your shoulder as he takes a slow deep drag of his own cigarette.

“ow -” the flame in your grasp jumps, nipping your thumb and demanding your attention. you’ve already been standing there an awkwardly long time, and frankly the angle of your arm was beginning to hurt.

what more was there to do, other than take an enthusiastic and far too ambitious inhalation…

there’s a glint of amusement in chuuya’s eyes as he watches you sputter, a lopsided smirk adorning his pretty features. your eyes are wide, no doubt in alarm from the choking miasma burning its way to your lungs. yeeeah, he’d figured that’s how it might go. you were polite, maybe a little too eager to please, a far cry from the company he normally kept. definitely not someone who indulged in this particular vice often. it was… sweet. “you alright there, doll ?”

“uh huh, yep, just- perfect-“ you wheeze, head bobbing quickly. unconvincingly. a blind hand waves the air clear of the wisps still curling from the offending stick. “how are you- ugh, holy mother of- how are you meant to enjoy this when it burns so bad !?“

you summon the meanest glare you could muster, scowling down at the cigarette. the muscles in your abdomen cramp and seize as you cough into your sleeve, earning a smoky huff of amusement from chuuya.

“cute." he hummed with a slight laugh, silver curling into the evening from his quirked lips . "here, lemme help ya”

his fingers uncurl from yours, surrendering contact only long enough for him to catch your chin. your stomach turns and any air remaining in your poor burning lungs is stolen as the tips of his bangs brush against your nose. when he next speaks his voice is a soft rasp, eyes flitting over your features. somewhere hidden in the breaths that follow, a whisper of vulnerability tickles your lips. “this okay?”

“yeah,” you reply easily. “i trust you.”

you aren’t sure why those words made his breath hitch.

“just, try it again, yeah?” he drawls, bringing the cigarette to his lips once more. “breathe.”

the cherried tip flares as he takes a long slow drag, before he leans into you. the dangerous beginnings of a protesting whine build in your throat when he stops just shy of a kiss, only to be stifled by the sight of bittersweet silver cascading from his slowly parting lips.

you drink in his breath, the smoke trickling down your throat to pleasantly warm your chest instead of scorching it. the fiery fog fills you, singeing his name into your lungs.

with a shaky 'whoosh' it wisps out from your lips, smooth and silky tendrils dispersing into a hazy curtain between you. the barrier does nothing to quell the heat of his gaze, mismatched eyes half lidded and smokey in their own right. you’d be more than content staying here, counting his lashes. the sheer intimacy of sharing a breath sent your mind reeling into a dizzying swirl.

“heh,” his lips twitched up as his smoldering gaze finally tore from your own, casting over the rest of your slightly tilted face. “you’re blushing —“

“am not !!!”

thank you for reading !!! this is the first part in a series of nonchronological one shots between our reader and chuuya, with dazai poking his head in every now and then. i am super duper excited, i hope you enjoy where we go from here. comments, feedback and reblogs are all welcome and appreciated ! mwah !

masterlist

[heliads]

whilst requests are open I have an idea to put forth after years of us discussing this man. Harry Hook x reader based on 'the way I loved you' by taylor swift. Childhood friends to lovers, to strangers to lovers again mayhaps? idk babes. Love you though, I hope your requests don't get out of hand again so you can stay stress-free!

eva i love you for sending this in, please let me talk about harry hook. he's insane and i cannot get enough of him

masterlist

You are lying on your bed in a dorm room in Auradon Prep, and if you close your eyes, you can almost convince yourself that you’re somewhere else entirely. Your roommate hung a lantern in the window, and with the glass pane cracked halfway, the light sways back and forth on the ceiling, painting shifting golden silhouettes on the perfectly painted ceiling. If you let the present world fade into the corners of your consciousness, you can pretend there are flaws in the endless pristine magnificence. You could even pretend that you aren’t on the continent at all.

No daughter of a princess should ever be anywhere but in Auradon. That’s the way it should have been, but you ran the second you got the chance and ended up amongst criminals and sons of thieves instead of with other prettily polished girls. Is it a terrible thing to admit that you miss it more than anything?

You shouldn’t, that’s the worst part. You left them willingly. As time passes, though, you’re starting to think that what you thought was one great fight with the so-called lowlifes of this world might have been the greatest time of your life. It’s like fording a raging river; while you’re in the thick of the waves, you think you might drown, but when you’re safe on the dry shore again, all you can think of is the coolness of the water, how the flood had sparkled like a thousand sapphires.

You shut your eyes and then you’re back again, just a kid, happier than you’ve ever been and twice as free. It had been easy to leave, actually, easier than it should have been. In your family, there were enough siblings and cousins and relatives that just one girl could go unnoticed. It’s not that Ariel intentionally tried to blur all of her daughters together in her memory, but it couldn’t be helped. She was one of seven daughters, and you were one of many as well. It wasn’t her fault, no, but it was your excuse anyway.

It turns out that nobody bats their eyes at a mermaid’s daughter when she’s running headlong towards the surf. You dove into the waves and came up to shore miles away. Your mother was terrified of losing any one of her children to the endless sea just as her father lost her to land, so none of you were allowed to stray that close to the beach. Of course you would see how far you could go the second you were unsupervised. Of course you would push the limits just to learn where you would break.

You ended up scaring the daylights out of a boy in a small sailing craft not far from the limits of the Isle of the Lost. You hadn’t meant to go that far, but you were giddy with the feeling of doing something wrong and he was trying to escape as well. He’d offered for you to hitch a ride with him so long as the wind was good. You thought that suited you well enough, so you took the hand he gave you and listened when he introduced himself as Harry Hook.

He said his name the same way you did, emphasis on the first name and not the last. It’s the exact opposite way any child of a prince or princess does, and you think that might have been why you liked him from the start. The sun shone overhead, and you talked to him about running away and taking to the sea and all the things you wanted to do if you just had time.

Neither of you wanted to leave, not really, but of course all good things have to come to an end at some point. You watched the sun sink lower and lower in the sky with all the dread of a doomed man going to the gallows. You must have looked seriously unhappy, because you remember Harry laughing and saying that you could meet him tomorrow, if you wanted. You wanted that more than anything, as it turned out, so you eagerly agreed.

Harry took you as far as he could towards Auradon again, and watched as you dove into the water. You can still remember how he’d watched you go, the way his eyes had tracked the water as if he could look at you forever, even after you disappeared from view. He stayed there for a long time before finally forcing his ship to turn around again. You’d know; you stayed there on the ocean floor watching him back until he was gone.

The next day, you slipped away to meet him again, and the next day, and the next. When you were caught trying to go out to the sea sometime in the second month, you fought until you could find a suitable excuse. Your mother was perfectly fine to let you go to some private school by the coast, it would mean one less child to keep track of. The papers were signed and agreements made before you could so much as blink.

You, of course, never went to that school. Instead, you showed up on Harry’s ship just like usual and told him that you wouldn’t be going back. Harry had been talking about a friend of his, Uma, and how she was forming a crew of her own larger pirate ship. You wanted in, and he couldn’t be more delighted to take you home.

You think you replayed the memory of him introducing you to Uma about a thousand times over in your head, and you’ll do it again tonight. The slats of the dock had been slippery under your feet, but you knew that so long as he was by your side, you would never once fall. Uma had looked at you questioningly, blue-green hair cascading down her shoulders, but Harry had hardly been able to tear his eyes away from you.

“This is Y/N,” he’d said, “she’s my friend.” He’d imbued the word with all the hope and grief and joy you could ever possibly attach to such an idea. Harry smiled as he said it, took your hand, let his eyes open comically wide so you’d know he was just joking when he mentioned that he’d jump overboard if Uma didn’t take you on.

Luckily for him, Uma had no problems with you. She saw something in you, the same sort of restless troublemaking spirit the rest of them had in spades. Before you knew it, you were quite literally learning the ropes of how to help out on Uma’s ship.

From there on out, everything was perfect. You watched the sun rise and set from the deck of a ship you could call home. When the weather was good, you spent all night and day out in the grasp of the world, and when the storms raged on, you hid belowdecks with the best friends you’d ever had. They wanted you, not your mother in a younger form, but you. Just you. It was wonderful.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that you would end up falling in love with Harry. You were hurtling towards that fate as fast as you could, running and sprinting towards the inevitability of it all. No one compared. No one had half as much influence over you as him. And, when he finally managed to tell you how he felt, you thought you might be able to take over the entire world with the sheer force thrumming through your veins.

Perhaps you should have taken that as a warning. The universe doesn’t care much for happy endings, you’ve learned, even for its fairytale heroes. Princesses grow old and fade into obscurity. Princes forget how to save the day. Villains live out their days with fantastic dreams that will never be achieved. You learn how to deal with adequacy, and pretend that it is enough for you.

You loved Harry because he was wild, your untamed, brilliant boy, but then you hated him for it, too. Just once, you wanted to walk into a room and know what he was going to say before he said it. Every word from his mouth was a dagger in your chest. Some days, he was a hopeless romantic, others, he was mad and uncontrollable. He never hurt you, but at least the pain of a blow would be something you could depend on and understand.

Your mother tried to find you about a year or two after you took to the sea, and you used that as your excuse to break up with him. Harry found out you would be returning to Auradon at the exact same time as the rest of the crew. You think he might hate you for it still. You think he would have reason to hate you for a lot, actually, most importantly that you were never quite enough to match him.

So you slipped away from the ship with the worst kind of goodbye, one that you did not mean, and you never looked back. You greeted your mother and agreed when she said that it was time you took up your studies at Auradon Prep. You joined the endless number of would-be princesses and princes and pretended that it was all you had ever needed in life. If you woke up sometimes with the sound of waves crashing in your ears, or felt the steady rock of a ship beneath your feet as you dreamt, you ignored it. Such illusions only belong to the past, and they will never be yours again.

You still have a jacket of his in the corner of your room; you brought it all the way over here, anywhere you go. You never had the heart to give it back. You don’t know that you could if you tried. It still smells like saltwater and laughter and sun-bleached him, and you have absolutely no idea what you will do when that familiar scent fades.

Still, you weren’t able to completely erase his influence on you. Children of villains arrived at Auradon Prep, and instead of running away from them, you befriended them as quickly as you could. Mal thinks like you do, her and the rest. You laugh like them– not quite as polite as you should be, but loud and beautiful and real. You hang out with them all the time and, when they talk about how much they wish they were back on the Isle of the Lost, you lie to yourself that you do not agree.

You never told them the full scope of your exploits, but they know part of it, enough that one day Mal knocks at your door and tells you that she needs your help on a pirate ship. She needs to get something from the Isle of the Lost, a mysterious ingredient for a spell, but they have to keep it a secret so they can’t use the bridge. The next best option, then, is to sail. It’s not a far destination, so it would work.

A thousand memories of sun and surf flash through your head, and you find yourself agreeing before Mal can so much as finish trying to convince you to go along with her plan.

Mal blinks in surprise. “Really? You’re sure? I thought you would have mixed feelings about that time in your life.”

You breathe out slowly, trying to calm yourself. “Certain things scare me more than others.” Certain people, that is.

Mal winces as she leads you out of your dorm and back into the hallway. “Actually, we might have a problem with that.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

Mal casts you a nervous glance. “Before I continue, remember that you already agreed. I’m not letting you leave now.”

You laugh. “I’m starting to get worried. No, Mal, I’m not backing out. Just tell me already.”

Mal holds up her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. Never doubted you for a second. It’s just, well, we don’t have a ship at our disposal, obviously, so we’re borrowing one from Uma.”

You shrug. “I have no problem with that. Uma’s great.”

“Yeah,” Mal says, drawing out her syllables in an attempt to buy herself time, “but she insisted on having a skeleton crew present. You know, to make sure we wouldn’t run aground or something like that. That includes her first mate.”

Your head snaps up. “Harry’s going to be there?”

You can feel Mal’s gaze on you, but you refuse to look at her. Instead, you’re scanning the hallway, every door you pass, sure that he’s going to be waiting for you, leaning casually against a wall or peering out of a window or somewhere you could find if you just looked hard enough.

“He is,” Mal confirms, “is that going to be an issue?”

Yes. “No, I’ll be fine.”

You can’t really tell if Mal believes you or not, but then you’re rounding the corner and the rest of the VKs are in front of you, and the conversation must be dropped as Mal explains her plan. You’re going to join the four of them and Uma’s guys in piloting the ship over to the Isle of the Lost, where you’ll search for a talisman hidden somewhere on the island. Once the talisman is secured, you’ll head back. Easy as that.

Mal leads your group to a boathouse on the southern part of the shore. You take up a position in a corner of the room, hidden by the shadows. You suppose that’s why the pirates don’t see you immediately when they come in a matter of minutes later. You suppose you chose that place on purpose so you could get a good look at Harry without him seeing you.

He looks just the same. You don’t know why you thought he would change, that he would have to look different to explain how different you feel, but he’s the same. It makes a soft smile rise to your lips at the same time as the weight of all your memories pierces you through the heart.

Uma’s talking to Mal, doubt lacing her every word. “I hope you have a good idea of how to run a ship, because I don’t think any of your friends have the slightest clue what to do on the sea. That’s my territory, in case you forgot.”

“I know,” Mal says, temper just as strong as always, “that’s why I brought a friend.”

Harry arches a brow. “What friend?”

“That would be me,” you say, and step out of the shadows to face him.

For a moment, you swear that time stands still. Harry’s breath catches in his chest as he looks at you for the first time in months. He has never been one to show off weakness, always laughing off injury or claiming not to feel pain, but in this instant, you can see the shock lancing through his eyes, wracking his frame until he has no choice but to stand there and stare.

Uma breaks the silence, wrapping an arm around your shoulders with a grin. “Y/N, good to see you! I take it back, Mal. Y/N could captain a fleet of ships with her eyes closed.”

It’s easy, after that, to pull yourself together. Uma’s friendship is something familiar, a rock you can stand on. “I appreciate your confidence,” you reply, “good to see you too, by the way.”

“Of course,” Uma says dismissively, then adds somewhat unnecessarily, “Hey, Harry, look who it is!”

Harry swallows hard when Uma addresses him, tries to pretend he’s just like normal. “Yeah, I saw. Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey yourself,” you say quietly.

Evie looks at you nervously, then quickly speaks up. “So, should we get to the ship? We only have so much time before people start looking for us.”

Uma rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you guys are too popular, I get it. Ship’s docked outside.”

Harry takes this as his excuse to bolt out, and you watch him go with wide eyes. Evie heads over to you as soon as everyone’s attention is off you again. “Hey, is everything alright?”

“Perfectly fine,” you whisper back through gritted teeth. Of course it is a lie. You couldn’t be more affected by this.

You avoid Harry the entire duration of the trip over to the Isle of the Lost. It’s difficult, especially when you push off from the shore and the wind is on your face again and everything is just like you remember. You tug a few lines into place, tie them down with the knots he taught you, and race to the bow as soon as you’re free.

You forgot just how wonderful it is to sail. You laugh delightedly as the ship picks up speed, skipping over the waves as the wind snaps the sails almost to bursting. This close to the surface of the water, you can’t hear anything, but you sense something anyway, and that’s how you know to lean back up and look to your side to see Harry standing there, smiling as he takes in the sight of you.

Your laugh dries up in a moment and you feel frozen there, trapped in this moment with him. Someone calls your name a second later and you’re able to spirit away to safety, but you can still feel his gaze burning like a brand into your back every moment until the ship docks at the Isle.

Mal announces that you’ll be splitting up in pairs so you can properly canvas the island for the talisman. Before you can look at her or Evie, Uma suggests that you and Harry work together, and the rest are already partitioned into pairs before you can fight it.

Fine, then. You’re certain he’s put her up to this, but you won’t give him a scene if he wants it. Instead, you march resolutely towards your assigned location, and pretend that you’re just really invested in finding the talisman so you can’t hear him when he tries to talk to you.

Eventually, Harry has enough and puts his hand on your arm, trying to get your attention. You spin back around by reflex, dagger in hand and held to his throat before Harry can get so much of a word out. The Isle has always brought out a different part of you, more of a villain than any princess’ daughter.

Instead of looking afraid, Harry just laughs. Usually, this is the time at which you’d join in, but you narrow your eyes and hold strong.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he says when he’s finally able to get his laughter under control, “I don’t think your friends would like it very much if you killed someone on your little vacation to the island.”

You glare at him. “We’re not friends anymore, sweetheart, or have you forgotten that already?”

“When your knife is to my throat? Couldn’t forget that if I tried. Out of curiosity, why are we enemies again? I seem to remember you liking me very well just a couple of months ago.” Harry says, reaching up to tap your forearm where you still hold your blade.

You pull your dagger away but stand there still, thrumming with the urge to run. “We’re too different. You’re a villain, and I’m a perfect angel, obviously.”

Harry grins. “What, just because you’re the daughter of a princess? You’ve never let that come in between us before. You’re not Ariel, you’re Y/N, and I have always loved that about you.” Something like doubt flickers across his face. “Is that why you left? You thought you had to become more like her?”

You glance away from him, suddenly unable to look him in the eyes. “I left because I had to. We weren’t working out.”

“Why not?” Harry asks, and suddenly he’s the one in control now, he’s the one stepping forward until your back hits the wall and you have nowhere to run, “What was so wrong with us, Y/N?”

Your hands are shaking. Harry takes the knife from you, carefully sliding it back in the holster on your side. His hands linger there a second longer, and when he finally takes them away, you can’t tell if you’re glad of it or deeply unhappy that you can no longer feel him.

“We could never work,” you insist.

“Why not?” He replies, “Show me we could never work. Prove me wrong.”

Harry Hook has always been somewhat of an enigma to you, just as unpredictable as the sea that both of you love, but somehow you know it’s coming when Harry leans forward and kisses you. For a moment, you consider pushing him away, and then you realize that you do not hate this, not him, not in the slightest, not at all.

Surrender is not the worst thing in the world. Sometimes it’s like the release of a sail to the wind, the acceptance that even though you let a person go, they will always come back to you. You surrender the last of your inhibitions and you kiss him back. It is everything you missed, the fighting and the laughing, the good times and the bad all in one. It is all that you love about him and more, what you didn’t realize you held most dear until you were gone.

Harry breathes quietly against your lips and you breathe back, one small circle of in and out and together. He grins, says, was that really so bad? And you laugh and tell him to shut up, so he does, but only by kissing you again. The island can wait, the talisman and the life waiting back for you at school. You have your boy back, and you could not care about anything else.

requested by @thatfangirl42, i hope you enjoy!

disney tag list: @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @/thatfangirl42, @amortensie

[wutheringcaterpillar]

Jim from TDS gets so fuzzy brained and dumb when he’s pounding into Y/N, because he wanted her for so long and he finally has her. he feels he deserves to have what he wants, and also making sure everyone knows she belongs to him.

Y/N could be either Jim’s son’s gf/ex-gf, Jim’s daughter’s best friend, or Jim’s best friend 🫣

Btw you’re doing such a great job with your fics!!!

Warnings: Age gap (Jim is in his 40s, reader between 18-25), p in v, Jim’s a bad dad, unprotected sex, creampie, stalking social media, mentions of masturbating, taking inappropriate photos without consent, hickies

Thank you for the request I had a lot of fun with this! Hope you enjoy!❤️

Jim was reclined in his bed, his hand massaging his hardened member while he scrolled through social media photos of you. He was completely fucked ever since the day his son brought you home and may or may not have developed unhealthy coping mechanisms that his son had what he couldn’t.

Even in his dreams he could see your attractive silhouette, continuously replaying fake scenarios of you straddling him, on your knees batting those innocent lashes up at him begging for his cock.

You had him wrapped around your fucking finger without even knowing, you were completely and utterly hypnotizing.

“Fuck y/n..” He kept replaying a video on the beach, only thing covering you was a skimpy little bikini. Jim could just imagine what was underneath, reminiscing how even when he lay in the sun tanning chair, he couldn’t help but snag a few photos when you weren’t paying attention.

Position of you bent over picking up pebbles from the sand, when you came up for air from the water, specs of water droplets painting your chest, running down your cleavage.

He needed to have you, wanted to be entangled in the sheets with you, hearing you moan his name lustfully, screaming as he made you cum.

Your body was so young, hardly flawed, and had curves in all the right places. He hated to see you leave the house but loved to watch you walk away.

In the midst of coming to his high, the door slammed downstairs and he could hear yelling, what sounded to be you.

Curious, and for caution he pulled up his pants, huffing in irritation that he was interrupted from his intrusive, sexual imaginations.

“You are such an ass! Just because I enjoyed an evening with my friends doesn’t give you the right to go out with some random girls to some party and kiss them! You’re ridiculous, did you even think about me for a singular moment?!” This was the moment Jim had been waiting for, as awful as it may sound, he wanted you two to break up. He wanted the opportunity to arise for him to be there when you’re upset, knowing that there was a chance for you two to be together.

Jim wasn’t stupid, there were many times where you “accidentally” brushed past him inappropriately, there were plenty of stolen glances and obscene gestures whenever his son Caleb wasn’t around. You wanted him just as much, but due to your relationship with his son, you hadn’t gone any further. He’d constantly have to excuse himself to the restroom to deal with the repurcussions, seeking out a sweet release.

“You’re over reacting, besides I’ve been meaning to put an end to this dwindling flame. We were never going to work so figured, why not just end it the easy way.” Jim was in shock that Caleb would do such a thing to a girl, especially you. He had taught him better than that, granted he did cheat on his mother but that was besides the point.

Hearing footsteps run up the stairs followed by a door slam, Jim poked his head out hearing your sniffles from downstairs. What kind of man would he be to not check in and ensure you were okay?

“Y/N?” You were seated on the cushioned sofa, mascara flowing messly down your cheeks from weeping, but that voice…that masculine, caring, attractive voice had your glancing up from your emotional turmoil.

Jim was standing there in his pajama pants and black t-shirt, his reading glasses tucked in the hem of his shirt while his peppery hair was slightly disheveled.

“Oh I’m sorry, I was just going to head out. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, no. Stay please. My son’s an idiot and I can assure you I didn’t raise him to be that way.” He took a seat next to you, trying to act concerned when in reality his eyes kept glancing at your thighs, the way your skirt hardly covered anything. Keep it together Jim, jesus.

The close proximity and the smell of Jim’s cologne was raising the tension, and an idea popped into your head. If Caleb thought he had the right to hurt you, you would hurt him ten times worse.

Jim’s crystal blue, alluring eyes were locked on your in a transfixed state of mind, heart pumping with adrenaline when he settled his hand on your thigh in a way to “comfort” you.

He was radiant, smart, and overwhelmingly attractive for a man in his forties. When he touched you, goosebumps formed on your skin, breath hitching in your throat. Was this a bad idea, most likely, but temptation and profound desire had a hold of you both.

“I um- I always thought you were a nice girl Y/N, and beautiful, kind, sexy- fuck what the fuck am I saying.” He wanted to hit himself for his stammering of words, rolling off his tongue without even thinking, but you simply laughed, blushing from his clear embarassment. When he tried to pull away his hand, you moved it back further up just nearly underneath your skit.

“Jim, it doesn’t bother me. I’ve always thought you were quite sexy too, I mean fuck you’re a total dilf and I’ve always imagined what you looked like underneath those clothes. How fucked up is that? My own boyfriend- well ex’s dad.” You glanced down at the floor, eyes skimming the carpet trying to find a way to justify your feelings, that they weren’t morally wrong.

Brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, he slid his finger down the length of your warm neck, gaining your attention.

There was a momentous silence as you stared into one another eyes, an immense sense of crave and desire coursing through your veins.

Closing the distance, you smashed your lips against Jim’s, hands settled on his cheeks needing him desperately. At that moment the air in the room seemed to disappear, the oxygen slowly didsapating from Jim’s lungs. He was in disbelief that this was actually happening, he was kissing his son’s ex girlfriend who he’d been masturbating to all summer long.

Your lips were soft, smoothe, and you were surprisingly good at kissing for how young you were. Unable to resist, his tongue lapped inbetween your lips as he pulled you onto his lap, his hardened cock rutting against your dripping mound desperately needing you, forgetting Caleb was just upstairs.

He held you like a woman, his hands grasping at the chubby skin of your ass cheeks underneath your skirt, roaming and massaging the delicate skin roughly.

“Fuck Y/N… you don’t know how long I’ve waited for this moment…” Your lips roamed down to the crook of his neck, sucking and rotating your tongue, surely leaving a mark causing him to release a disgruntled groan.

Your hands fumbled with his belt, craving to be filled with his cock while your pussy throbbed in your panties, slick merely dripping from your cunt.

Shedding yourself of your shirt, Jim’s eyes widened from the sight of your well rounded, perfect tits, they were everything he had imagined them to be and more.

His hands grasped the jiggly skin, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head in satisfaction. Hold it together Jim, what would she think if you busted just from the sight of her fucking tits, pathetic man.  

His brain seemed to turn to a puddle, any prior thoughts lost from your hypnotizing body. He had to have you right then and there.

“Well, are you going to fuck me or not, because I really…” You trailed off you sentence, running a singular finger down his lip, eyes focused on him with a lustful gaze as you grinded against his lap, needing more.

“Really, need you inside me, my pretty pussy aches for you Jim.” Within second he flipped you onto your back, shedding himself of his clothes and tearing down your skirt and panties down in a animalistic frenzy.

He had never seen such a perfect cunt in his life, so in tact, so beautiful, and dripping for him, god how his dick was felt like it was going to burst any minute. His size took you by surprise, Jim wasn’t small by any means, his cock a good eight maybe nine inches, this was going to be fun.

Your hand grazed the back of his neck, pulling him down just so your lips brushed against his ear.

“Hope your cock is better than your son’s, wouldn’t want to be dissapointed.” He took that as a challenge, one that he knew very well he was going to win.

“My son, doesn’t seem to know how to pleasure his woman and I’m going to make sure he and everyone else knows who fucked you right.” Your eyebrow quirked up in interest.

“Well go on then, fuck me like no other man could.” Jim had never been this nervous in his life to fuck a woman, but you- you he didn’t want to leave unsatisfied. 

He didn’t even need to glance down before pushing the head of his thick shaft deep inside of you, claiming you as his.

You gasped from the sudden intrusion, nail’s scraping against the muscles on Jim’s back. He smirked satisfyingly, leaning down to kiss you once more, shoving his tongue roughly into your mouth, desperately needing to explore every inch of you, craving more and more.

He pumped quickly into you, patience being non existent, the feel of your hot, indisputably tight walls clenching to his length. Your boobs bounced with each powerful thrust. His lips trailed down to the warmth of your neck, tenderly sucking lavender marks into your smoothe skin, needing people to know who you belonged to now.

“Oh Jim, more, more, please…” Oh the velvet, captivating sound of your strained moan had his horny brain whirling, eyes merely fluttering closed from the sweet descent of your exasperated tone.

Your pussy was throbbing from pleasure, being filled to the brim like no other man had fucked you before.

Your fingers intertwined in his hair, scrunching at his gray, partially wavy hair, pressing him against your body as he fucked you relentlessly. His free hand cusped at the cushiony skin of your boob, rolling the jelly like skin.

He needed to see you in another position, he need to see himself filling your cunt.

Standing up causing you to whine from the empty feeling, he picked you up with his strong arms effortlessly as if you weighed nothing before bending you over the sofa.

“Oh!” Jim slapped your ass and pulled your head back aggresively by the strands of your hair, plumetting his cock into your heated, tight walls simultaneously.

“Fuck! Fuck Jim! Ah!” He didn’t hold back, striking deep within your aching core over and over, his balls slapping against your skin with each powerful thrust. He had never seen an ass bounce back against him so poetically and perfectly, he was nearly salivating on the mouth looking down at you bent over on display for him and only him. Watching your pussy swallow his dick with each desperate rut, god you were stunning.

Hearing you man his name and take his cock so well was sending him over the edge, his dick pulsating in you before he even had the chance to think. 

As you pounded your ass back against him, your bottom lip was becoming increasingly swollen from how much your teeth had been biting at it from the immense pleasure.

“Jesus, you’re fucking amazing, fucking beautiful, taking my cock so fucking well. Tell me who you belong to.”

“You Jim. All yours, completely yours. I-I’m going to-Ah-“ He slapped your ass cheek fiercely once more, focusing on the way you moaned his name, the way your back arched as you came undone.

Your knuckes turning white from the grip they had on the cushioned surface, toes curling from your orgasm. The euphoric, alluring sensation taking over every part of your body.

That didn’t stop Jim from going to pound town. Slamming your hips down against him, rutting desperately and bottoming out deep within your dripping, aching cunt. He wad close.

“Gonna fucking cum- want me to fill you up love. Hm? Having my cum spilling out of you like a faucet for days.” You nodded desperately moaning for him to cum at the sound of his gruff voice

“Jim, Jim, please. I need your cum, need you to paint my fucking insides white, right now. Now.” At that moment you could feel his thick cock pulsate within your core, his cum shooting straight up into your cervix.

“Fuck, fuck y/n… I’m fucking cumming.” The sweat beaded at your forhead, his own dripping down from his hair onto your back.

He had never felt a high so unfathomably pleasurable, he finally felt like he had accomplished what he always wanted- needed to. You were finally his. 

Pulling out he stretched your cunt, pulling the sensitive, reddened skin apart with his large digits, seeing the art he had created with his milky white cum flowing freely out of your alluring pussy that was still twitching from your orgasm.

Caleb turned and twisted in his bed, the constant strange sounds keeping him up. Deciding to investigate, he grabbed the bat from his room before making his way downstairs only to be blindsided with his own dad intertwined with his now ex-girlfriend whom was covered with hickies on her neck

“What the fuck is this?! How did this-How could-“

“That’s how you treat a woman son. Maybe take notes because let me tell you, she’s a keeper this one.” You smirked on the couch, nuzzling your nose against his chest being fully happy with your decision to sleep with your ex’s father. He was already proving to be more of a man than Caleb ever was.

“Ready for bed love?” Jim held his hand out for you, wrapping his robe around your shoulders while Caleb stood there fuming at the actions of his own father and you, disbelief that you’d go this far, making him question if you ever really gave a shit about him or just dated him for his dad.