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thetriumphantpanda · 5 months

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i saw mommy kissing santa claus | joel miller

Summary | Your daughter catches you kissing santa... or does she?

Word Count | 1.3K

Warnings | Mentions of traditional Christmas (A tree, gift giving ect), Joel dressed as Santa, Joel being a daddy again, Joel AS A HUSBAND, smut but not super explicit - oral sex (f) and unprotected PiV, just general fluff really.

Authors note | Firstly, I have to give a huge shoutout to @wildemaven - the Dave York piece she posted recently definitely inspired this little Drabble, along with being stuck in a car with my bestie for three hours with the Christmas radio blaring. This is just some sweet Christmas fluff for us all!

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

amazing divider by @saradika

The way the snow flurries fall outside are still a wonder to you, even after seven years of winters in Jackson. The warmth you remember from Christmas before the end of the world is a distant memory now, the open windows and the light breeze of December now replaced with the biting cold and the four layers you must wear inside your home to keep as warm as possible. It’s magical though, the way it looks picture perfect, just like the movies you would watch back then. If you could, you’d take a photo of it, use it as the family Christmas card.

Turning around from the window, the room is bathed in the orange glow from the fire you set a few hours earlier. The lamp, on Joel’s side of the couch is also helping, as are the frosty lights wrapped haphazardly around the tree, in making it feel normal. Because really it is. This has been your life for the past five years, putting up a tree, setting small gifts under it like you always had before all of this. The three stockings set above the fireplace, ready to be filled in the next few hours – the precursor of joy the following morning.

Sofia had thankfully gone to bed with little fuss tonight. Finally old enough to understand that the earlier she went to sleep, the earlier she could wake up to find out if Santa had paid her a visit. She hadn’t been planned, but then when were children ever a plan in this new world? You’d been scared, Joel had been terrified, but in the end, she had been the most wonderful thing to happen to the both of you.

You settle on the couch, letting the warmth from the fire soothe the aches that the cold now settles across your bones. You’re almost able to fall asleep, when, with clockwork timing, Joel tears open the front door, a flurry of snow and cold following him in as he closes it behind him. You struggled to stifle a giggle as you turn to look at him.

Dressed head to toe in a Santa costume that is far too big for him, not enough time for the town seamstress to do anything other than pin the sides of the trousers in. The hat on his head is almost covering his eyes, his hand pushing it back to sit properly, as he deposits the sack, once full of tiny gifts but now empty, on the ground. He’s got a fake beard on to cover most of his face so that none of the children that did see him would know it was Joel.

“Wow,” You muse lightly, standing from the couch, “I thought it was customary to wait for everyone to go to sleep before you turned up?”

There’s a slight grumble from under his beard as you step closer to him, watching as he pulls the fake beard down to sit around his neck, his beautiful face finally revealed. You set your back against the closed door, leaning against it, fluttering your eyelashes slightly.

“Did you bring us presents, Santa?” You ask, voice sultry and low.

“Depends,” Joel says, voice just as low, “Have you been a good girl this year?”

That low, southern drawl shoots straight between your legs, thighs rubbing together as you shrug at him, wrinkle your nose a little, “You’d have to ask my husband.”

You watch as he smirks, steps a little closer to you, his gloved hand wrapping around your waist, “What would he say?”

“That I can be a handful,” You bite at your bottom lip, “But ultimately, I always do as I’m told.”

Joel leans down, as slowly as possible, mouth so close you can feel his breath across your lips, your body tugged closely to his own now, “Well then,” He muses, “If you’ve been a good girl, it’s only right you get your gift.”

His mouth is on yours in no time, softly pressed against yours, his hand clutching your body close to his as you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing up on your tiptoes so your mouth is finally flush with his own. You open your mouths at the same time, tongues meeting as Joel groans into your mouth, hands pulled from your body just long enough to tear the gloves off his hands, shoving them straight under the hem of your shirt, resting at your waist to move you gently from the door to the couch.

He sets you down on your back, fumbling his big body to cover yours as those hands of his work to undo your jeans - tearing them down your legs enough so he can put his mouth on you. You feel weirdly like a teenager, fumbling with someone on the couch like this, biting down on your fist in order to keep quiet as Joel’s tongue works across your soaked cunt, drinking you down, tipping you over the edge twice with his mouth - the second, with his fingers buried deep inside you - trying to keep yourself as quiet as you can, you know the other option is waking your daughter and having to spend the rest of the night trying to get her to go back to sleep.

It gets harder to hold that noise in when Joel pulls you onto his lap, trousers pushed down just enough for you to sink down onto his cock, that stupid Santa jacket unbuttoned, pushed off his shoulders, your mouth biting down on his skin as he fucks up into you, his hands gripping the meat of your ass to keep you still.

It’s messy, it lasts probably less than five minutes, Joel spilling himself inside of you, your mouth pulled from his shoulder, bite mark evident as he moves you gently, puts himself right so he can carry you up the stairs, tuck you both into bed, his warm body next to yours as you both drift off to sleep, sated and happy.

Then, the next morning, with Sofia on her knees in front of the tree, you sat on the couch, curled into Joel’s side with a smile on your face at the elation your daughter finds in tearing the paper off her gifts, she says something no-one expects.

“Daddy?” She says, big brown eyes looking up at the two of you.

“Yes, Darlin’?”

“Mommy was kissing Santa last night.”

You almost choke on your coffee, spluttering to try and keep your composure, praying to the Almighty that it was just the kissing she saw. Joel though, is cool as a cucumber.

“Is that right?” He asks, looking down at you with a wink.

“Yeah!” Sofia exclaims, “I saw her last night.”

“You were supposed to be in bed.” You chastise her lightly, “What were you doing up?”

“I heard the door open,” She says, so matter-of-factly that it’s like having a conversation with an adult, “I wanted to meet him.”

“Well, you see,” Joel speaks, “Sometimes, to get your presents from Santa, he’s gotta ask for somethin’ in return, all that travellin’ in one night and he sees your pretty mama?” He shakes his head, “I’d ask her for a kiss too.”

She mulls it over a little, small hands holding onto an unopened gift, then clearly accepts the explanation as she tears into the paper.

“Nicely saved,” You whisper into his ear, lips pressing a kiss to the delicate skin behind it, “Christmas is saved.”

“Oh baby,” He whispers back, taking the lull in Sofia’s attention on the two of you to look down at you, “You can’t think you can kiss Santa and get away with it?” His low voice sends a silver down your spine, “You’re gonna have to make up for that later."

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hysteria-things · 2 months

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hello again !! i know you just posted my last request but i have another idea !

• SMUTTY PLSZ

• matt/chris x teacher!reader

So basically, chris/matt are in senior year or any year in college and he has a teacher(reader) who's quite young and closer to their age but is still older and knowing men, she's already very popular in their school y'know y'know?

ALSO if you're gonna make the other students be a big part of the story too or add more plot, pls don't make the girls of the school hate her. it just feels unrealistic since in our school, it's mostly the girls that simp for the hot female teacher lmao

This idea was based on their video "truth or eat" i think(i forget everything) where he was asked if he's ever had a crush on a teacher and he answered yes w no hesitation and also the song "Teacher's Pet" by Melanie Martinez but switched genders.

i just think the male being the teacher and the female being the student felt overused/overdone(?)

Only if you're comfortable w this idea tho !!

TEACHER'S PET (part one)

read part two here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!matt x teacher!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: matt asks for extra help after class (even though he knows exactly what he’s doing)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY, swearing, making out, oral (male receiving), throat fucking, p in v, unprotected sex (nuh uh!), degradation, cheating (cheat on tests, not people), hair pulling, spanking, breeding, ROUGH

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,236

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: shoutout any of you in college i dropped out after a month i give you guys so much credit that shit’s hard😔

for @skadltmf :)

matt and his college friends sit at the round table in the food court. they’re at the home stretch of senior year with the spring semester starting tomorrow.

“i got that hot professor for one of my morning classes.” one of his friends brags. “she’s so fine.”

“who?” matt asks, and the two sitting with him stare at him like he should know this.

“professor l/n.” the other one starts. “literally everybody is obsessed with her. she’s only twenty-five; three years older than us.”

“there’s no way she doesn’t let students fuck her to get a good grade.” they both laugh, but matt stays quiet. his friends are in their conversation about you while matt thinks to himself.

he has you for a class too but at 6 PM.

you stand at the front of the class, teaching like a normal teacher should. half of the class never pays attention, anyway, but you still have to do your job.

they may not know, but you listen. you listen to what they say about you, and to be honest it boosts your ego.

one student in particular actually pays attention and takes notes, like what he’s doing right now. you couldn’t help but stare at him from time to time, and he’ll already be staring at you when you do.

you’re grading papers on your desk as your students work independently for the last fifteen minutes of class. you feel a presence, and you look up to see him there, fiddling with his worksheet.

you smile at him. “hello, matt. do you need help with something?”

“kind of. will i be able to stay after class?”

your phone lights up, and he glances at the lock screen. it’s a photo of you, your husband, and your son. “of course you can.”

he nods, going back to his seat.

the last fifteen minutes went by in a breeze, and all of the students left. except for one, of course.

you stand up and go over to the whiteboard, grabbing a marker just in case you need to explain something. “so, matt. what is it that you needed help with?”

“this question,” he says, stepping closer to you and pointing at the paper. you look at it confused because he already answered it. flawlessly.

“matt.” you chuckle. “you’ve got the problem right and showed your work perfectly. are you sure that’s the right one?”

his cheeks flush as he grabs your face, kissing you passionately. you pull away from his hold, weirdly sad that you did.

this is a first. you know the rumors that go around saying that you fuck students for an A+ but it’s not true. hell, you’ll lose your job.

he doesn’t say anything. he just stares at you, and you stare back. what you did next was a completely new person.

you go back in, his tongue inserting your mouth and swirling inside. this is so fucking wrong, but it feels so… right?

whining into the kiss, you move your hands down to his belt to unbuckle it. he chuckles, pulling away and pushing your head so you get on your knees.

he takes off his undergarments, revealing his—

your eyes widen. oh, god.

his red tip slides against your lips before you open, pushing himself into your wet mouth. “fuck.” he whispers.

grabbing onto your hair, he guides your head up and down his cock. he groans, leaning over and rutting his hips further into your mouth. your gagging fills the empty classroom, and spit starts to spill from your mouth.

it clicks in your head what you’re doing. you have a husband and child at home, for christ’s sake. you place your hands on his thighs and try to push your head back, but his grip is far too strong.

he slowly pulls out to watch his dick move past your lips, and slams back in. “take it, sweetheart. just like that.”

you keep gagging around him, your eyes becoming glassy as your mascara starts to smudge.

your lashes flutter each time he thrusts to the back of your throat before he stops. “s-shit.” he whimpers, but he doesn’t want to cum just yet. he closes his eyes to ignore the throbbing, pulling out of your sweet mouth. you cough, your lips swollen.

“bend over for me, yeah?” he smirks when you scramble to your feet. he grabs your waist, pushing your back so your stomach lays flat on your desk.

he lifts your skirt, moving your soaked underwear to the side. he wraps a finger around them and lets go, the elastic snapping against your core. you yelp at the sudden pain.

“such a slut.” he groans, inserting his tip into your folds but staying still. “letting one of your students shove his dick down your throat.”

he moves his tip out, but then puts it back in, thrusting it in and out teasingly. “bet you were thinking about this the whole lecture. i saw the way you were looking at me.”

you pathetically whine and nod. then, he grabs your hair so the upper half of your body is lifted from the wood. your hips dig into the edge of the desk as he starts entering you.

the stretch hurts, but it feels too good. your eyes flutter back, but a hand landing on your ass gets you out of your trance. he chuckles, taking the hand that’s not on your head and covering your mouth with it. “don’t be too loud, baby. don’t want the people outside that door knowing what a whore you are for me.”

he slides in deeper, a moan leaving your lips that’s muffled by his hand. he starts rutting his hips, going faster when you fit around him. “m-matt.” you gasp.

“so fucking tight around my cock.” he breathes out. your pleasurable cries and squelching of your pussy fill the room, along with his thighs slapping against your ass.

he removes his hand from your mouth, honestly forgetting that there are probably people around. all he’s focused on is pounding the daylights out of you. his teacher, mind you.

you grip the desk for support, moaning louder than any other time when his tip starts brushing against your cervix. “holy— shit.” you hoarsely scream, squeezing your eyes shut.

he lets go of your hair, your head immediately falling between your shoulders. “i’m gonna cum!” you warn, whimpering when he moves more mercilessly. both your thoughts and guts are getting scrambled at once.

“i wonder how disappointed your husband will be if he saw you like this.” he grunts and thrusts a few more times before continuing. “clenching around my dick, so badly wanting my cum inside you.”

you moan at his words. he feels so fucking good. you hate to admit it, but this is the best sex you’ve had in years.

“want me to fuck my baby inside you, you filthy whore?”

“y-yes, please,” you whine, repeating yourself over and over again.

you cum around him at the same time he stops deep, spreading your legs wider to finish inside. you moan one last time before becoming a rag doll, the bruises forming on your hips from them banging against the desk.

he moves your underwear back over your freshly bred pussy, kissing your shoulder and neck before whispering into your ear. “i’ll let you know when i need help again, professor l/n.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @idkhowtosleep @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #✎ ⤾ haleigh’s requests!

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cobragardens · 7 months

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CORRECTED & UPDATED! Clothes + Equivocation = Romance:

The Husbands in 1793

EDIT: I made a significant error when I wrote this. As @goodjomans kindly points out in the comments to Part 2 of this essay (massive shoutout for this, goodjomans! also I love your name!), Aziraphale is the one who dresses the executioner in clothing like Aziraphale's original ensemble, not Crowley. This changes my conclusions about the meaning we can take from this scene!

On the one hand, mea culpa, y'all. I shall get on with eating my crow. On the other hand, I had to go through this frame-by-frame to catch which of the ineffable spouses puts Jean-Claude in his new togs, and the answer only lasts three frames. Here it is:

After Aziraphale changes his clothes, but before Crowley snaps his fingers and unfreezes time, there's a shot of the executioner over Crowley's shoulder, and he is now wearing a light coat with gold embroidery on the shoulders like Aziraphale's. Aziraphale arranges the executioner's death, not Crowley. So I feel like an idiot for missing it, but not a total idiot.

Let's discuss how this information changes what we can read from this scene! I'm going to leave my original text in place and edit with bold green. I can still stand by most of this essay, but this detail changes how I read the meaning of the husbands' communication at the end of this scene.

So we're all clear on the fact that the universe of Good Omens is an inescapable nightmare dystopia in which either of the husbands' merciless authoritarian regimes could be watching or listening to them at any time, yes? And that if either are caught 'fraternizing' with the other that means discorporation, torture, memory wipe, and/or death for either or both of them, yes?

Which means Crowley and Aziraphale can never speak or do anything openly to each other about their friendship or attraction or love. Everything they say and do has to have an innocuous meaning they can point to in case anybody ever sees or hears something Team Azcrow can't explain away. Walls (and ducks) have ears, and the price of slipping up--as we see in 1827--is heavy.

When a character says or does something that has two distinct meanings because they need to disguise what they really mean from one party but make their meaning plain to another, lit-nerds (and lit nerds🍃) call this equivocation. Equivocation is a kind of coded communication meant to pass hostile ears and eyes in plain sight but reach its intended recipient with its true meaning. The 1793 scene is jammed with it.

A lot of that coded messaging revolves around the clothes Crowley and Aziraphale choose in this scene, so--THESIS PARAGRAPH, BITCHES--we're going going to talk about how their clothes read to the people of this time period and location, what their clothes tell us about their characters, how their clothes help them equivocate, and what they're really saying with that equivocation. And Spoiler A-fucking-lert, it is ROMANTIC AF PRETTY GD ROMANTIC. Let's get nerdy!

We start with Aziraphale's beautiful champagne-gold and powder-pink ensemble.

This outfit would tell people of this time period 3 things about Aziraphale:

That he's insanely wealthy--These clothes would be silk, hand-embroidered with thread made with actual gold. Each individual garment could cost years' or even decades' worth of working-class wages and take a team of skilled artisans dozens to hundreds of hours to make.

That he's a fop--i.e., a man who loves fine clothes and dressing up and looking fancy. By the 1790s in England, once-fashionable foppishness was giving way to the Neoclassical 'Corinthian' style, and was considered effete. (Fun note: During this time period, effete did not automatically indicate gay, and pink was considered a masculine color, so while Az. is queering it up to the audience here, his clothes would not have read as gay or overtly effeminate to the other characters around him.)

Even though he's insanely wealthy, Aziraphale wears clothes that are decades out of fashion.

According to the Victoria & Albert Museum, "As the [18th] century progressed, the male silhouette slowly changed.[...] Coat skirts gradually became less full and the front was cut in a curved line towards the back. Waistcoats became shorter. The upper leg began to show more and more[...]. Shoes became low-heeled with pointed toes and were fastened with a detachable buckle and straps or ribbon[.]

Source

That description is not what Aziraphale's wearing. Judging by his heel height and the length of his waistcoat, Aziraphale is wearing a style that's at least a decade older than this:

And this is from 1765. The great crepes caper happens in 1793, almost 30 years later.

My inference: Just as he has in the modern period, Aziraphale has settled into a style he really likes and refused to let go of it long after it's gone out of fashion.

We'll come back to this set of Aziraphale's clothes in a bit, but we need to talk about Crowley's first, because Crowley's clothes in this scene help render a line he says later about this outfit very flirtatious and darkly romantic.

First, some background: What was considered acceptable attire for wealthy people in France changed pretty much overnight during the French Revolution after the storming of the Bastille in 1789 and the fall of the French monarchy. Instead of advertising wealth, clothes now had to advertise political allegiance, and they had to do so loud and clear. And if you didn't want to be murdered by the French First Republic, that political allegiance had fucking better be to the Revolution.

People started wearing a looooooot of super patriotic shit. And I mean it was like little kids on the 4th of July; clothes were red, white, and blue in any hue and garish combination and print. The cockade, a fabric rosette in the colors of the French flag, was required by law to be worn by men, and despite that was just as popular among women. To show solidarity with the laboring classes, the fabrics the wealthy wore went from embroidered silk in light Rococo colors (what Aziraphale is wearing) to sober neutrals without decoration in wool, cotton, and linen.

Now, the script note for Crowley's clothing in this scene is this:

But clearly there were some changes made between script and filming, because Crowley does not appear standing behind Aziraphale; he appears lounging.

And he's not dressed as a French peasant.

Here's how French peasants dressed in 1790:

Peasants at this time wore styles that distinguished them from the styles of the upper classes not just in materials, colors, or patterns, but in shapes. Full trousers and cropped boxy jackets in French flag colors were the marks of the laboring-class Revolutionary, and both styles were huge changes from hundreds of years of French fashion up to that point.

And that's not what Crowley shows up wearing. Crowley is wearing the knee breeches, stockings, waistcoat, and frock coat of a wealthy man, and in fact his clothes reference a very specific type of wealthy man.

In the 1790s, if you were an aristocrat who wasn't happy about the Revolution and you were so sure of your privilege that you would risk your life showing it, you wore black in mourning for the monarchy and in protest of the violence of its deposition. If you were an aristocrat who wanted to protest and you didn't want to be immediately murdered by the French First Republic, you wore a style called half-mourning, which was black with a colored coat.

Here's a picture from a 1790 fashion magazine of an aristocrat in half-mourning:

"The text accompanying the plate describes his ensemble as 'half-mourning,' referring to the aristocrats who lamented 'the diminished powers of the monarchy and [signaled] their willingness to die for the royal cause'" [emph. added]. [Source]

Notice: the shoes, stockings, breeches, waistcoat, and cravat are all black. You with me?

Because here's Crowley in 1793:

I've turned up the brightness and exposure in this image so he's more clearly visible against the stone, but I haven't warmed it up. He's wearing a coat that's a dark blackish red. Everything else, even his cravat, even his shirt, is black. (The black shirt is anachronistic, a lovely little nod to Crowley's refusal to wear angelic white.)

This is 179fuckin'3, y'all. Marie Antoinette is executed in 1793. It's 3 full years after that fashion plate up there in his bright red jacket, and that lil dude was already risking his neck way back in 1790. As we can see from the fact that the government are apparently now grabbing random wealthy-looking Englishmen off the street to murder without trial, the time for a man demon to be sauntering around Paris dressed in all black or even nearly all black is well past.

Crowley's also wearing a whole assload of huge silver buttons, which would have been flashy and tacky and frankly pretty weird in 1793 but very definitely an eccentric Rich Person Thing to do, bc regular buttons at this time were horn or wood and covered with the garment's fabric. The only man in France who could get away with this fancy aristo shit anymore was Robespierre himself, and only "devotion to the cause[...] excused Robespierre’s showy dress since he was perceived as a bridge between the politically empowered bourgeois deputies and the ardently antimonarchical unenfranchised classes." [Source]

So when Crowley teases Aziraphale--

--both of them are perfectly well aware that Crowley's outfit would get him just as killed as Aziraphale's.

And that's why Aziraphale's expression is annoyed when he has abandon his "standards" and change his clothes. Because Aziraphale's the one who needs the favor, Crowley makes him take one for the team and wear the goofy hat.

The clothes Az. changes into here still tell people that he's rich, but they also say he's a hardcore Revolutionary. The red jacket in a current cutaway style, the cockade and sash, and the bonnet phrygien (the red garden-gnome cap) all announce this guy is a huge supporter of the Revolution. His clothes are all still aristocratic in shape and materials (and he keeps his now-unfashionably frilly lace cravat), but he's no longer flaunting obscene wealth in a city filled with angry starving people, and the gnome cap says he's in solidarity with the working classes even if he isn't one of them.

Once he restarts time, Crowley is not leaving that prison cell safely without either changing his clothes or taking Aziraphale with him, because Crowley looks like a rich asshole protesting the fall of the monarchy--which is frankly exactly the kind of thing he'd show up wearing to the Bastille during the Reign of Terror (just like he wears athleisure in Heaven). But Aziraphale's new appearance covers for them both: if the rich-looking guy with no cockade and wearing all black under his almost-black coat is in with this other guy who's obviously a Revolution fanatic, then the rich guy's probably okay, right? He just forgot his sash at home or something. Bees.

Something else happens when Az. changes, too. Look at Aziraphale's new dress from a different angle:

Half-mourning is a white shirt, but a black cravat, so this isn't half-mourning. He's wearing three different badges of the Revolution to make up for the fact that Crowley looks like a Satanic libertine (which tbf he is), but Aziraphale's new ensemble is black and dark red.

Y'all. Aziraphale changes into Crowley's colors.

Now, this is a more fashionable and higher quality version of what the executioner is wearing, so Aziraphale has very plausible deniability here; if anyone ever pulled him up on it, he could say he just copied our man Jean-Claude.

But let me show you what English fashion looks like right now:

This is a French painting of a wealthy Frenchman, but he's wearing the English 'Corinthian' style. It was painted in 1795, so this would have been the very cutting edge of fashion in England in 1793, and the fabrics and colors look right at home in Revolutionary Paris. (He's wearing the cockade on his hat, btw.)

Look at all that angelic white! The buttery almond of the buckskin breeches, the golden kidskin gloves, the rich tan of the riding boots! The blue of the greatcoat! All colors we know Aziraphale prefers!

And yet this is what Aziraphale chooses:

We know from the entire rest of the show how very particular about his clothes Aziraphale is. And yet 150 years before he (accidentally) admits in words that he's Crowley's friend, Aziraphale wears Crowley's colors to take him to lunch to say thank you for a rescue.

When we decide whether a character's speech or action is equivocation, one of the things we check is whether equivocation (and deception generally) is something that character does elsewhere in the text, which, with Aziraphale, hahahahaha, DUH. He's already using equivocation in this scene.

The lunch date itself is equivocation on Aziraphale's part. Aziraphale tries to thank Crowley for the rescue, but Crowley says,

So Aziraphale says,

No more words like "thanks" or "rescue" used, but a couple hours of good food and drink and conversation, Aziraphale hopes, will express the gratitude toward Crowley it's not safe to speak aloud. With this, Crowley and Aziraphale explicitly establish that they are equivocating for each other's safety and using coded communication--immediately before Aziraphale changes into Crowley's colors.

So yes, Aziraphale may well copy the executioner's clothes. But consider: When a character who can't speak or act openly says or does something that has two or more possible meanings, this can be read as equivocation.

We don't get a face reaction from Crowley about Aziraphale's new 'fit, so we can't be sure how he feels about this. But this whole scene is, even on its surface, about 1) the meaning clothes transmit to a viewer ("Oh good Lord," says Aziraphale when he sees what Crowley's wearing) and 2) how to show gratitude and appreciation when you can't speak of them openly. And we know Crowley notices clothing and clothing colors, because look at what he wears, like, ever. So it's very reasonable to presume he notices Aziraphale wearing his colors, and it fits well with both the rest of Crowley's actions in this scene and with his being very hurt and angry when Aziraphale later characterizes their interactions as "fraternizing."

Right, so we've covered what's going on with the husbands' clothes, and we've looked at two examples of equivocation on Aziraphale's part, viz., lunch and his change of colors. (Here's an example of equivocation on Crowley's part as well.) Now let's look at that super interesting thing Crowley says about Aziraphale's first outfit.

Here's the line:

Crowley follows up here on earlier lines in which he teases Aziraphale for coming to Reign-of-Terror Paris for crepes: "Dressed like that?" meaning Aziraphale was guaranteed to get arrested dressed like an aristocrat. The top layer of equivocation is always an innocuous meaning: the plausible deniability meant for the hostile/unsafe listeners. That's Meaning 1.

But "Dressed like that, s/he's asking for trouble" means two other things, too. It's a veeerrrrry familiar phrase, isn't it? We've all heard that arrangement of words in that order before. It's used when people think someone (usually but not always a woman) is dressed to invite sexual attention.

How do we know we're supposed to take this modern meaning from this phrase? This is how:

We have learned in literally the previous sentence to this one that rain has not been invented yet. The only two humans in existence have just left the Garden. Balloons definitely do not exist yet, humans couldn't tell you what lead is, and yet this is a phrase Crowley uses and Aziraphale understands. This tells us, the audience, in the very first line of the very first scene with these characters, that their speech is anachronistic and modern, and that we are to understand their phrasing in its contemporary sense.

So. When Crowley says "Dressed like that, he was asking for trouble" in 1793, we should read that in the context of the scene and in the senses the phrase carries to us today.

And since Crowley is using a phrase that means the executioner is dressed to invite sexual attention, and the executioner is wearing clothes identical to Aziraphale's, then Crowley is necessarily telling Aziraphale that when Aziraphale was wearing those clothes--those frilly, effete, unfashionable-for-decades clothes that nobody else likes and the French now murder people for wearing--that was, in Crowley's view...provocatively sexy. Meaning 2.

"Dressed like that, s/he was asking for trouble" is also what people say to justify violence, especially sexual violence against women and queerphobic attacks against men perceived as gay or just 'insufficiently' 'masculine'. In fact justifying assault is likely the most common way this phrase is used today by a wide margin. Meaning 3.

Crowley's joke isn't even really a joke in this sense; it's a vicious barb. And, because it must, it sounds like it's at Aziraphale's expense: You wore the wrong clothes, you weren't careful enough to guard yourself against the men who want to do you harm, so you deserved the trouble you got. Meaning 1.

Except remember: Crowley is also dressed for trouble. And Aziraphale is aware of this. Crowley's 'fit would be almost as offensive to the Revolutionary French of 1793 as Aziraphale's Rococo pastels, and probably just as likely to get him arrested and murdered by the state if he weren't making letting Aziraphale keep him safe by wearing the cockade and the silly hat. Crowley's not saying anything about Aziraphale here that he's not also saying about himself; and as we know from Aziraphale's initial "Oh good Lord" when he turns around and sees Crowley's black and red half-mourning (with extra black and gobs of silver), Aziraphale knows it.

Then why the rapey joke, Crowley?

This is fucking why:

Crowley rocks up at the Bastille just in time to witness some grubby fucker assault his friend. Assault the person Crowley will greet 15 seconds after this as angel.

Crowley's first act after freeing Aziraphale is to send this dude to his death. Nope! Aziraphale is the one who arranges to have the executioner killed in the clothes he would have killed Aziraphale for wearing. He takes Jean-Claude's ability to speak (but not to make sounds, interestingly! Jean-Claude can still whimper, Jean-Claude can still cry!) so the executioner can't tell anyone about the 'mixup.' It's unclear which of them blocks the executioner's power of speech. The vicious joke about assault in Meaning 3 isn't at Aziraphale's expense at all. It's not You wore the wrong clothes, so you deserved the trouble you got. It's If this guy thinks you deserve trouble for wearing the wrong clothes, he can eat his own rules.

And that's the other piece of evidence that, along with Crowley's ensemble, shows us the audience and Aziraphale which meanings Crowley intends with his equivocation. Meaning 1 is cancelled out by Crowley's clothes. That leaves Meanings 2 and 3.

Crowley and Aziraphale share clothes as a common interest. They don't have the same style, but they're both aware of current fashions, and Heaven and Hell aren't. You can't tell me Hastur or Uriel would recognize the significance of Crowley saying "Dressed like that, he's asking for trouble" about someone else while wearing black stockings and cravat and waistcoat himself. And that means Anything the husbands communicate to each other through clothing choices goes undetected by their masters.

SO. With all this in mind, let's go through the 1793 scene again and look at what their clothes help them say without words.

Concluded in Part 2!

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens s2 #good omens costumes #good omens fan theory #good omens meta #good omens analysis #aziracrow #azcrow #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #azicrow #good omens 1793 #good omens 1984 #good omens clothes and equivocation

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eiflawriting · 1 year

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Hiya! I was wondering if maybe you could write something like kyoraku fucking you in a sundress? Like you’ve planned a picnic date and then he sees you all dressed up in a pretty yellow sundress and makes you sit on his face in the middle of the park? Ty love x

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐢 𝐤𝐲ō𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐮

(✧) ─ 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 shunsui finally has a day off from his captain duties, so y/n decides to plan a romantic picnic to help him relax. upon seeing her in that pretty little dress, he thought of other ways to do so.

(✧) ─ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔! black woman who uses she/her pronouns ─ chubby!reader. established relationship ── husband x wife. same couple from goodmorning, my love. part ii. to my four part series. NO MANGA SPOILERS. third POV, usage of profanity, praising and breeding kink, VOYEURISM ── public s3x. oral!receiving ── face sitting, missionary position, terms of endearment ── cupcake, sweetheart, my love, angel, baby, pretty girl, etc. squirting, creampie. this is just some passionate love making in the garden. shunsui is wearing a yukata and i think it's hot. 3.3k word count.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀(✧) ─ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔

my goodness. first of all, im sorry this request took so long. i have like three different versions of this fic written, but decided to go with this one. i absolutely love it. nonnie, i hope you're still here with me lol. i also just came off a writing hiatus, so im going to try to knock out my other requests, which are also bleach characters, hehe. shoutout to nonnie for being my first completed request. ヾ( ˃ᴗ˂ )◞ • *✰ no more rambling. i hope y'all enjoy. interactions would be greatly appreciated. ♡ eighteen plus only. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

𝑺𝑯𝑼𝑵𝑺𝑼𝑰 𝑺𝑰𝑷𝑷𝑬𝑫 𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑺𝑨𝑲𝑬 𝑺𝑰𝑳𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑳𝒀 𝑨𝑺 𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑨𝑻𝑪𝑯𝑬𝑫 𝒀/𝑵 𝑷𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬𝑳𝑭 𝑨 𝑪𝑼𝑷, 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑫 𝑻𝑶 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫𝑺 𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑴𝑶𝑼𝑻𝑯. His grey irises were glued to Y/N, mesmerized by her gorgeous appearance. A day never went by when Shunsui wasn't obsessed with her beauty, but today he found himself staring more than usual. Did it have something to do with the substance circulating his system or the short yellow dress Y/N was wearing?

Maybe both.

When Shunsui saw Y/N, he felt himself coming undone in the yukata she picked out for him to wear. He wondered where she got this dress from? Perhaps a gift from Rukia when she returned from the World of the Living? If so, he would surely thank her the next time he ran into her.

The dress held Y/N's curves perfectly. With every step she took, her tits bounced like they were dying to be freed. A few times on the stroll to the garden, the wind blew heavily to expose her garments. The pervert in Shunsui wanted the wind to blow harder to reveal more, but of course, the gentleman in him helped Y/N adjust.

Shunsui declared yellow was Y/N's color. It complimented her deep brown skin well—and the sun couldn't agree more, descending upon her complexion to illuminate the natural glow she already had. To think this day was supposed to be reserved for spending time with Y/N and relaxing. All he could think about was fucking her in that pretty little dress. Well, that sounds quite relaxing to him, at least.

"My love, you're staring," Y/N said while her eyes remained focused on rummaging through the picnic basket.

Of course, he was. How couldn't he? If only she could witness the lewd thoughts permeating Shunsui's mind. They were beyond obscene, visualizing her thighs suffocating his face while he ate her pussy until she was a cumming mess. Fucking Y/N, gazing at her tits bouncing invitingly until they fell out her top. He knew she wasn't wearing a bra either. The dress's material was thin enough to have her nipples peek through.

Fuck, she was so damn sexy. Shunsui's cock was growing harder the longer he watched.

"Can you blame me for having a beautiful wife?"

Y/N wrinkled her nose. "Hmm, maybe you're right. I can't blame you, but you could at least say what's on your mind."

"Why do you think something's on my mind?"

"Hmm, maybe because you're giving me those bedroom eyes, and your cheeks are quite red. I know you could handle your liquor."

He chuckled, using his free hand to throw up in defeat. "You got me. You'll probably think I'm a pervert if I tell you what's on my mind."

"Baby—I thought you were a pervert since we met. I don't think a few of your wet fantasies would make me think otherwise." The laugh he belted from his stomach pulled strings in Y/N's heart. So genuine. He needed this day.

Shunsui leaned back to pat on his lap, wanting Y/N to take comfort, which she had no issue doing. A delightful ache rushed to his cock from feeling Y/N's clothed sex on him. Her lips were ghosting over his, inches from kissing but instead taking in the lingering aroma of sake. She brushed her nose along the bridge of his nose, an intimate gesture they did to express their love, before wrapping her arms around Shunsui's neck and finding his lips.

While sharing a heated kiss, Y/N began rubbing her pussy on Shunsui to pull those husked groans from his chest. His free hand rested on the small of her back to aid the rolling motion of her hips. Y/N halted her movements to softly gasp due to feeling his erection grow against her clothed sex. However, Shunsui saw no reason for her to stop.

Shunsui chugged the last of his sake before grabbing Y/N's legs to wrap around him, having her comfortably straddle him. He placed his hands on her hips to continue her movements while massaging each other's lips. Every moan, grunt, and plea was devoured with the intent of wanting to do more than just make out, especially for Shunsui.

A greedy man he was when it came to Y/N. He wanted to discover every kink and pinpoint of her body until all her weaknesses were revealed. Any chance he had was used to taking his time pleasing her in ways she didn't know was possible, but Shunsui made it so. And today would just be another one of those experiments.

"I want you to bear my children, my love," Shunsui rasped, pecking her lips between words before peppering kisses along her neck. "You look so damn beautiful and sexy in this dress. I want to fuck you while you wear it."

"Mmm, let's go back—"

He shook his head. "No. Right here. Let me fuck you right here in the middle of the garden."

"S-Shunsui—I don't know if I'll be able to be quiet. And what if someone sees us?" Y/N words barely came out as normal. Her breathy moans only indicated she was on board with him.

He tugged her earlobe between his teeth, whispering, "Hmm, conservative now, are we? I recall you stopping by before my captain meetings a few times because you said you missed me—And lunch wasn't the only thing you were dropping off."

Shunsui earned a knowing look from Y/N that was filled with desire. She didn't even bother to argue because it was true. Y/N genuinely visited Shunsui at the barracks to bring him lunch. But there was just something about seeing him tend to his captain duties that had a pleasurable ache rush to her center. And let's just say when Shunsui walked her out of the room, she attracted a few stares from his subordinates.

She nipped on her bottom lip, letting out a deflating sigh. "Why have I married you again?"

"Because you love me, and I love you. Now come here—Sit on my face." Shunsui wasted no time laying on his back to prepare to feast on Y/N. She attempted to remove her dress, but he stopped her. "I was very serious when I said I want to please you while you wear this dress, sweetheart."

He sat up a bit to grab Y/N's waist to pull her onto his face, causing her to giggle. That giggle soon turned into a soft moan upon feeling Shunsui lap at her clit through her panties. The barrier of her garments acted as a tease and a surprise for something great. Her natural odor graced his nostrils, reminding him how he became pussydrunk, to begin with.

The feeling of Y/N's pussy being toyed with through her panties was a great delight—as if the material of her garments gave her clit more friction. She even found herself riding his face in hopes of reaching her release quicker. But she should know that Shunsui took his time pleasing her.

Libido was pumping through their veins, but mainly Y/N. Shunsui was a tease in more ways than one. However, she felt like she was on the edge of a mountain. She was desperate to cum, and although her orgasm was right there—it wouldn't come. Not until his tongue was pleasing her without the barrier. It felt like an everlasting sensation of falling out of the sky.

Y/N hiked up her dress to look down at Shunsui, seeing that pretty scarlet color decorate his cheeks. She just knew he was enjoying taunting her. His mouth was preoccupied, but his eyes twinkled a light of mischief and ecstasy. Y/N thought he looked so sexy smothered between her thighs, but she needed more, and she didn't mind begging for it.

"Baby, stop teasing me—please."

"Gosh, I just love when you're so needy and impatient for me, angel. Just this once, I'll give you what you want."

He slipped Y/N's panties to the side to attack her clit. He groaned from having her taste on his tongue, joyfully rolling his eyes back. Shunsui was hungry for this pussy. Taking care of Y/N was the highlight of his day. If only he could spend every day like this—spreading her ass cheeks to obnoxiously eat her pussy and second hole.

Shunsui's moans transferred vibrations to her throbbing bud, causing Y/N to cry his name. He slipped two fingers inside her to produce more of those dulcet cries, which went straight to cock.

Y/N was so wet for Shunsui and created a mess on his face. Being drowned in her wetness was no issue for him at all. Y/N's juices coated his facial hair and dripped down his chin. She kept whimpering his name, saying how close she was to cumming, and that only aided his feasting to become more passionate. Thrusting his fingers knuckles deep into her cunt while sucking vigorously on her clit. And he couldn't neglect the hidden flavor behind the long side of her labia.

"Fuck, you taste so good, cupcake. I love this pussy," Shunsui mumbled.

"Shun, suck me harder. I'm right there."

So sensitive she was when it came to Shunsui's touch. Teasing Y/N through her garments was the calm before the storm. She just knew as soon as she felt him lapping at her clit she would cum quickly. Her actions also proved this accurate—pressing her weight on his face, suffocating him between her thighs while riding his tongue.

Y/N began feeling herself and imagined Shunsui running his hands through her curves. Somewhere along the lines of yes, please, oh God, and a few more curse words was all that she could say. However, Shunsui fucking the air caught her attention. She looked over her shoulders to witness how hard his erection became. If she didn't know any better, the wet spot on his yukata was the overload of precum seeping through.

She bit her lip, thinking about how badly she wanted to suck the soul out of his dick. But that would be saved for another time.

Shunsui pumped his fingers faster and deeper into Y/N until he hit her sweet spot to pull back her attention. He consumed Y/N's wetness, slurping her juices and generating slurping sounds like her pussy was a popsicle on the verge of melting. His free hand was used to repeatedly smack her ass and rub to alleviate the sting. Shunsui knew she enjoyed his actions. How she clenched around his fingers couldn't say otherwise.

And it wasn't long before her orgasm washed over his face.

Y/N saw stars while riding out her release. Despite her moans being hitched, they still managed to push through. She panted above him and, as always, thanked Shunsui for delivering great pleasures.

Typically, Shunsui would continue pleasing Y/N past her orgasm because he enjoyed her sensitivity, but he was just dying to fuck her. He ran his tongue along her folds a bit longer before removing Y/N from his face. He sat her on the blanket to begin freeing himself from his yukata. She watched him with lidded eyes, chest heaving slowly, licking her lips with anticipation to see his girthy cock.

"You like what you see, darling?"

Y/N giggled. "Oh, shut up and fuck me already."

"Hmm, quite a demand from someone so worried about having sex in the garden."

She pulled him by the band of his yukata to have him inches away from her mouth. "I said—shut up—and come fuck me." And found his lips once more.

Their kiss was so passionately sloppy. Moaning and groaning from the lingering taste of Y/N on his tongue. He hurriedly lowered his yukata enough to expose his aching cock. Although Shunsui had all day with her, it seemed like he was still in a rush to fuck her fat wet pussy. He only left a few more smooches before descending into Y/N's neck to nip harshly at her flesh.

While he stroked his dick to spread his precum and prepare to be inside her, he freed her breasts from the dress because they looked like they needed air. How Y/N's full saggy tits jumped out her top was beyond obnoxious. Fuck, he couldn't resist sucking them into his mouth just to savor for a bit.

After showing equal love to Y/N's tits, he again slipped her panties to the side and leaned forward until Y/N was lying on her back. He grabbed her legs to hook one thigh under his forearm and pin the other. Shunsui ran his tongue across her bottom lip while his tip rested on her sex to tease, and just when she parted her lips to complain—he pushed in.

But of course, her pussy was stubborn, involuntary resisting, and only allowing the head.

He gathered saliva in his mouth to drip on his dick. Her wetness was enough lubricant, but Shunsui knew doing this would create that obscene queefing sound he loved hearing. He took his time working open her pussy, pumping tenderly until he was deep.

Y/N rolled her eyes and let out soft whimpers, indicating her approval of his actions. How was his tip alone able to bring her this much pleasure already? But no. She needed to take all eight inches of Shunsui to make him proud.

"My love, I—I can take it. Give me more," Y/N breathed.

He held his hips still to watch her, seeing how the sun was attracted to the tiny beads of sweat decorating her forehead. He noticed how tears began pricking the corner of those pretty chestnut-colored eyes. Y/N's hand was already resting on Shunsui's lower abdomen in preparation to hold him to alleviate the pressure. It didn't matter how often they had sex—Shunsui is a very passionate partner, and Y/N needed time to adjust.

But if she said she was ready… then she was ready.

He bottomed out.

She let out a pitched yelp.

He pulled out and did it again.

And again.

He fucked Y/N to make her cum all over his cock and milk her to breed her pussy. With every thrust, his balls smacked her sex. He was fucking Y/N at full force to have her breasts bounce uncontrollably. They sat so nicely outside the pretty little yellow dress she was wearing. This is what Shunsui was visualizing when he saw her in this dress.

"Y/N, squeeze your breasts together with your arms," Shunsui ordered, to which she happily complied. "Yes, just like that. Fuck, you're so sexy. So good to me, sweetheart."

"Shun, oh God! Don't stop fucking me like this, baby."

He won't. He won't stop fucking his sweet wife like a wild animal hunting prey. If anything, he'll fuck her harder until she gushes and creams his cock, and he paints her walls. Until she's crying his name from the pit of her stomach. Shunsui kissed Y/N's cervix just enough to deliver another orgasm and not bring discomfort.

Y/N's cheeks only grew warmer the more her pleasure was built. Shunsui was a lot to handle, but she molded around him perfectly with his patience to stretch her walls. Her pussy sucked him in and out. Based on how his eyes were glued between them, he was delighted by this sight. But Y/N wanted him to look at her.

"L-Look at me, Shunsui."

His dick twitched from her order that sounded too sweet. He gave her soft smooches to express his apologies. "I'm sorry, angel. You want me to watch you when you cum, hm?"

"Yes, please."

Gosh, why did she sound like that?

Shunsui freed her thighs to take comfort in holding her thick waist. He pounded into her to hear her pussy smile. He quickly glanced to see a heap of cream on his cock. When he returned his eyes to Y/N, he saw her squeezing her nipple while attempting to suck the other in her mouth. The visual of this was so pornographic. His dick couldn't stop jumping unruly.

He was going to bust soon.

And she wasn't too far behind.

"You're going to let me breed you. Isn't that right, my love? That's what you promised me, yeah?" But, despite his words coming out as a question, he wasn't asking.

More so, telling her.

"Yes. I'll do anything for you, Shun."

"You're always so fucking good to me."

His hands remained on her waist to fuck her, also pulling down Y/N to meet with his thrusts. He pressed his weight onto her to sensually kiss Y/N, overpowering her pretty two-toned lips with his tongue. Shunsui glided across her jawline and neck to suck fervently on her flesh to pull back those sweet yelps. Her walls wrapped around him acted as a turtleneck sweater providing warmth to his cock. It would only take a few more strokes until Y/N was a cumming mess.

Shunsui removed one of his hands from Y/N to move his fingers to her pearl to rub out her orgasm. His pace was erratic, and he was eager to feel her wash over him again. Y/N's moans reverberated around the garden, yet they were still sweet and soft. His grunts joined her sounds of pleasure to harmonize. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, and she couldn't look more beautiful—happier. Words couldn't describe how much Shunsui loves her. She was perfect.

"Ah—Ngh, oh my gosh, Shun. Baby, I'm cumming. You're making me cum," Y/N whimpered, sniffling her tears of joy.

"I just love hearing those words from your pretty mouth. You're so gorgeous, my angel. I love you so much. Always milking my cock with this warm, tight pussy. Fuck, you feel amazing." The praises Shunsui was saying to Y/N only helped build her climax further. She was squeezing him, and her pussy produced stirring wet noises. He applied more pressure to her clit and flicked it more quicker. "Mmm, cum for me, Y/N."

His balls were growing heavy. Shunsui put all his strength into his thrusts until they became sloppy, indicating his near orgasm. He repeatedly touched Y/N's cushion, which had her whimpering and toes curling.

He ghosted his mouth over her ears. "Let go for me, sweetheart. I want you to release everything on me. I feel you. Don't hold back, okay? I'm yours."

"..."

"I'm yours," he repeated in a hushed tone.

"Oh–f-fuck…."

And that was it. A beautiful wave washed between them as Y/N squirted and milked his cock, and Shunsui drowned her pussy with his bitters. His sloppy thrusts didn't halt until he ensured every last drop of cum emptied in her depths. He moaned her name, saying she was his good girl, calling her beautiful, and saying he would make her a mommy.

Once the couple came down from their high, Shunsui pulled Y/N onto his lap with his dick inside her. He showered her face with gentle kisses before finding her soft lips. Having Y/N in his arms was the best feeling he could ask for.

Upon parting from the heartfelt kiss, they held eye contact to share a look of lust. Two lovers, drunk off love and sake after fucking passionately in the middle of the garden. However, Y/N almost forgot she was in public until hearing the voices of his subordinates. How she yelped and curled into Shunsui, smothering her face on his bare chest, made his heart flutter.

She softly bit his flesh to show her playful frustration of agreeing to be fucked in a public setting. "Remind me to never do this again."

"Haha. I can remind you, but we both know you don't believe in the word never. Now, come on. Let's go home and clean up."

𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜. 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙗𝙚 𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙. ♡

𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜 ── @dejwrites @beniswife @ayyy-pee @maydayaisha @violxtbxbyy @chaotic-nick @aiyaaayei @bontensbabygirl @po3ticb3auty @angrybirdxx @alinvert @heartdevil @caribbeanwifey19 @sexbob-ombbeck @softimgyu @kimorikuri @adoretruly @akondo @kinize20 @snowflakeanimelover @kawaiigirljenae99 @zabimarushoney67 @ghoulette420 @stargirllust @kenpachis-woman @magxnoria @kenpachiislit

#anime x black!reader #anime smut #anime x reader #bleach fanfic #bleach smut #bleach x reader #bleach x black reader #shunsui x reader #shunsui x black reader #shunsui kyoraku x reader #shunsui kyoraku x black reader #shunsui smut #black reader #x black fem reader #anime x chubby reader #bleach x you #eifla's fic requests ʚɞ

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nolita-fairytale · 10 months

Text

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter four

summary: you and luca go to the ballet, bringing up a very important question: is this, and could it be, a date?

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, conversations about divorce, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 3.3k

a/n: this chapter is all about things left unsaid, the pining TM and yearning TM. shoutout to @arctvrvs who recommended onegin, as the ballet they go to see. thank you again for all the shares, reblogs, comments! let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

part three | masterlist | part five

You: I have your book. Devoured it over the weekend.

Luca: Glad you liked it.

You did like it?

You: No, I clearly hate-read it one weekend.

I’m kidding.

Of course I liked it!

Luca: You’re hilarious 🙄

You: I can return it to you later today.

If you have a free minute.

Luca: For you? Always.

Come by the restaurant?

You: Done. See you later.

Text exchanges like this have become more and more regular between you and Luca and it makes you question why you’d ever been so hesitant to tell him about your ex husband in the first place. You know part of the answer: you’d been afraid – afraid of what he’d say, afraid it’d be too much for him, afraid it’d scare him away – and yet, your admission seems to have only brought you closer.

Which is a fact that makes you feel incredibly seen and also scares the shit out of you.

But, with Luca’s copy of A Work In Progress: A Journal tucked underneath your arm, you decide you’ll conquer one mountain at a time as you come in through the doors of the closed restaurant.

“Oi!” one of Luca’s pastry chefs, a burlier man with deep brown eyes and a beard that only facial hair enthusiasts could dream of hollers, in an attempt to grab Luca’s attention when you enter the pastry room. The man follows up his exclamation with something muttered in Danish – something that almost sounds like a cat call directed towards the head pastry chef.

Hey, loverboy. Come get your girlfriend.

You and Luca lock eyes from across the room, and you watch as his face simultaneously lights up as he sees you, while glowering in his coworkers direction. Luca shouts a ‘shut it, mate’ in return before approaching you,

“Did he just-?” you ask him, with a small laugh.

“Call you my girlfriend? Yes,” Luca admits, a blush running across his cheeks as he looks down, embarrassedly.

Brown-eyed-bearded-burly-chef exchanges glances with another chef, focused on weighing dough on a food scale, before asking you with an intrigued hint in his voice:

“You speak Danish?”

“Barely,” you answer, an apologetic half smile on your face.

He exchanges a knowing look with the other pastry chef in response, then snickers, because he really is only trying to be a good wingman here.

“I don’t know what the hold up is… but I see it,” he says in English this time, his Danish accent thick as he wags his finger towards the both of you, earning another glare from Luca.

“Okay, let’s step outside,” Luca hurries, ushering you out of the kitchen and into the empty dining room with a hand on your upper back.

Your laugh echoes in the barren dining room, since pastry prep starts so damn early in the morning, and the physical restaurant doesn’t open for service till evening.

“Again, I’m terribly sorry about him,” Luca apologizes, a little more flustered than you expected him to be.

“No, it’s okay,” you reassure him with a warm smile. “If anything, you at least now know you’ve got a great wingman when you need one.”

You watch a brief flash of, well you’re not sure what, flash across Luca’s face as he wonders if that’s what you’re hoping for. Instead of overthinking it, wondering why you’d want his coworker to act as his wingman in the first place, he pushes it to the back of his mind, moving forward with what he’d planned on bringing up with you anyways.

“Your book, sir,” you say, handing Luca his copy of the book.

“I’m glad you liked it,” he grins.

“Yeah, thanks for lending it to me. Took me a few weekends to carve out the time but… once I started, I couldn’t put it down,” you inform him, gushing over the borrowed book.

“I have something for you,” Luca states, as he pulls out a white envelope from one of his apron pockets. “In return.”

“Awww. Don’t tell me you went through all this trouble to get me a bookmark and when I’ve already finished it,” you banter with him, playfully.

“They’re not bookmarks,” he smirks, as he looks at you with those electrifyingly blue eyes.

“Ah, tell me more,” you encourage him, curiously.

“They’re tickets,” he answers, handing you the envelope.

“Oh.”

Before you can wonder whether Luca went out of his way to purchase you tickets to the ballet, he continues with his explanation.

“Yeah we’ve got this regular diner. Always entertaining, bringing in investors, board members, the likes... Turns out he’s the Artistic Director of The Royal Danish Ballet. Hooks us up with tickets all the time,” Luca says.

“Couldn’t make it opening night so but what do you say… to a performance of Onegin Thursday night?” he continues. “That is if you can – if you want – to take the night off.”

“With you?” you ask, a glimmer of hope in your eyes.

“Yeah, if you’d like,” Luca answers. “Figured I owed you after you purchased the Jazz Fest tickets.” Taking a more playful approach, almost as if he’s testing you as he adds: “Unless there’s something other bloke you wanna take instead of-.”

“No!” you protest, quick to correct him. “I mean, yes. I want to go. With you. Let me see what I can do scheduling wise.”

Was this a date? You wonder to yourself.

For whatever reason, this proposal feels much more like a date than anything else you’ve done with him so far. Bike rides to bakeries, walks through the park, even asking Luca to join you for Jazz Fest with tickets you purchased almost a year ago, still haven't felt this monumental.

But a night at the ballet?

A night of getting dressed up and taking off work to spend time with each other?

This feels much more like a date.

And you might even be excited about the prospect of having one with him, with Luca specifically, something you haven’t felt for anyone in a long time.

“Just let me know,” Luca says, coolly, followed by his oh-so-charming-crooked smile.

By the time you take this… proposition – taking off a night at the restaurant for a maybe-a-date-with-Luca – Mathilde and Jesper are practically pushing you out of the restaurant swearing that if you don’t go, they’ll write you out of the business partnership, and that Mathilde is more than happy to run the kitchen all by herself that night.

While you appreciate the support, it feels like it add pressure – expectations, really – to Thursday night.

You push the thought from your head, choosing to charge forward despite your nerves, before sending Luca your official yes via text message.

So… what does one wear to the ballet?

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

You settle on a silky white slip dress with thin straps, a sweetheart neckline, and a slit in the skirt that travels up the leg in a way that’s revealing yet still appropriate. You’ve draped a blazer across your shoulders because you can’t be bothered to properly put it on during the warmest month of the year but you know you’ll want it when you’re inside of the Opera House. You slip on a black kitten heel to match your bag, then pull your hair back into a loose ponytail, allowing the stray pieces of hair that fall out of it to frame your face.

It’s not until Luca shows up at your flat with a text that he’s here, do you make your way outside. Your head is buried in your bag, taking a last minute inventory, ensuring you have what you need for the night: phone, keys, ID, extra lip gloss…

“Hi,” he says on an exhale, as soon as he sees you.

There’s something in his voice that sounds different, you note, as you lift your head to look at him.

Holy. Shit…

Fuck me, you think to yourself, as soon as you see him. He’s dressed in black slacks with a blazer to match, layered over a white button down worn without a tie, and pristine white trainers that you can’t help but notice.

It’s classic – classy – with a little bit of swag from the trainers that feels… pleasantly unexpected. You look like one of those hip couples that decided to stick it to tradition and get married at the courthouse with a dope photoshoot instead.

“Hi,” is all that comes out of your mouth, your eyes wide as the two of you stare each other down.

Yeah, this really feels like a date now.

“Hi,” he says in return before exhaling. “You look great.”

He’s grinning from ear to ear now, and the man cannot take his eyes off of you.

“I-,” you start, as you gather your words, reminding yourself that you do in fact know the English language. As your words come back to you, you take a more playful approach instead, making up for lost wit as you say:

“You don’t look too bad yourself.”

Luca smirks, a twinkle in his eye that tells you he’s pretty damn enchanted by you right now. The two of you share a look – one that feels very not-friendly, emphasizing just how much more date-like this seems to be.

“Shall we?” he asks you, offering out his arm for you to take.

“Let’s,” you answer, taking it as he escorts you to the metro.

You and Luca look wildly out of place while waiting for the metro, then on the metro as you make your way to the Royal Danish Opera House in your dressier-than-normal apparel. You share small talk while you wait on the platform, ramblings over your day and then his while finding a place to sit, then nervous giggles and flirtatious stolen glances while seated next to each other on your journey.

It’s nice to be reminded that you haven’t entirely forgotten how to flirt.

From its shoreside location to its sparkling interior, the Royal Danish Opera House is awe inspiring. You take it all in as you and Luca settle into your seats and a comfortable quiet intimacy as you look over your programs, just before the show begins.

Onegin, you come to find as the show begins, is a story of unrequited love, missed changes, and ‘too little, too late.’ Its relevance is not lost on you as you watch as the young country girl falls in love with the worldly Count. She is young, naive, a hopeless romantic, perhaps the character you would’ve related to when you were younger – before your marriage ended. A younger version of you might laugh at the fact that you somehow find yourself relating more to the Count. He’s cold, jaded, a pessimist even, only to be rejected when he realizes he missed his chance at love so many years ago.

You steal a glance in Luca’s direction, his eyes fixed to the tragedy that plays out on the stage in front of you.

He really is stunning, you think to yourself, as you carefully examine the near-perfect symmetry of his face, before returning your focus back to the performance.

To say that you haven’t noticed the way Luca looks at you would be a lie. And you can’t help but notice how eager you’ve been lately to find any excuse to spend extra time with him too.

But you can’t help wondering about just how ready you are – how and when you might know when you’ll be ready:

Ready to date. Ready to open yourself up to someone. Ready to fall in love again.

Would you know when it was time? And was this a sign – meeting Luca – that it’s time for a new beginning now?

But what if it weren’t? What if you weren’t ready now? Then what?

It’s not like you’d expect for Luca to wait for you or anything, but the idea of a new beginning, of falling in love again, of possibly getting your heart broken again instills the kind of terror in you that shakes you to your very core.

But what if this was your only chance?

You can’t imagine Luca would be single for much longer – the fact that he even is now completely perplexes you – and you’re sure that he has an entire roster of women lining up, ready to take your place. Not that you feel like it’s your place now, though you’re not sure where he’d have the time to entertain an entire roster of women with how much time you’ve been spending together lately.

You push the thoughts from your mind, trying your best to focus on the dancers, even though it’s the thing that’s got you pensive in the first place.

And it’s almost as if, right on cue, the minute you turn your attention away from Luca, his eyes are on you, admiring the way that you marvel at the story unfolding in front of you.

Luca smiles to himself, in pure disbelief that the same woman who brought him much needed inspiration could also be the same woman he’s begun to have feelings for. He finds you extraordinary: you’re funny, you’re incredibly talented, and you make his heart skip a beat every single time you walk into a room. He doesn’t know which deities to thank for meeting you, but he’s sure he must’ve done something right in a past life for it to bring you to him in this one.

He’s glad you told him – about your ex husband, about the divorce – and while it’s filled in some blanks for him, it’s also brought up more questions. Questions like:

Were you even interested in dating? Were you ready to start dating because he couldn’t blame you if you weren’t? And if you were, would you be interested in dating him?

These last few months of getting to know each other have been wonderful – and he’s thoroughly enjoyed getting to know you as friends – but Luca wants more. He wants to hold your hand while walking along the Nyhavn waterfront. He wants to press a kiss to your lips when you stop by the restaurant as he’s getting off shift, before heading into your own. He wants to wrap you up in his arms, curl his body around yours as you settle in with him on your shared couch after a long night at the restaurant, going on about your new special, or your recently hired line-cook-in-training.

Luca wants to call you his, and he wants nothing more than for you to call him yours. He yearns for the quiet domesticity he thinks he could have with you – one he knows he could have with you.

He doesn’t want to miss his chance. It’s why he asked you that question when you told him about your ex husband – are you still in love with him? – because Luca can’t bear the thought of falling in love with a woman already in love with another man.

He replays the answer in his head – no, I’m not in love with him – almost as if he’s reassuring himself.

Luca knows what he needs to do. He just needs to talk to you and tonight feels like as good of a time as any to do so, considering you’re practically on a date. Luca makes up his mind about it – that he’ll bring it up after the performance, maybe even ask you on a proper date.

As the performance ends, the two of you applaud with the rest of the theatre before exiting the performance space. You and Luca linger outside of the theatre, watching the other patrons walk by, arrange rides for themselves, head out for a night cap. He’s working up the nerve to bring up the conversation, watching your lips carefully as you go on about the performance, a brilliance in your eyes that he notices you get whenever you talk about something you’re passionate about.

You’re in the middle of dissecting the end of Act Two as he Luca abruptly blurts out:

“You hungry?”

You pause as your mouth hangs agape, noticing that’s something different, that’s something’s shifted between the two of you.

“Uh… no. Don’t you have to be up early tomorrow?” you ask back, hesitantly.

“Ehm. Yes, I do. But eh, I don’t know. I’d ehm, I’d be up for a bite. If you are,” Luca manages to explain because he’s not ready for the night to end.

You can feel it – the tension between the two of you hangs thickly in the air – and you know this isn’t just a ‘let’s go out for a bite’ kind of ask.

You wondered how you’d feel when this moment came, and instead of being ecstatic, instead of wanting to jump at the chance, the panic sets in, filling your belly with the urge to jump into harbour instead.

You wish you felt differently – you want to feel differently – but you don’t.

So instead, you stammer out a:

“I think I’m just ready to head home, but you should go. If you want to. I think I’m just going to walk home or-.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ll take you home,” Luca offers.

You hesitate before agreeing, “Uh… yeah. Okay. As long as you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Luca says as he places a gentle hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you in the direction of home. “I’d rather know you got home safe.”

You nod, instantly filled with guilt as Luca’s demeanor changes, his facial expression moving from somewhat-confused-and-disappointed to one of concern, kindness, and genuine care.

What the hell is wrong with you? You think to yourself.

But you know you can’t push it – you can’t push yourself to be ready, to open up – regardless of how perfect Luca is.

As Luca walks you home, there’s a palpable shift in the dynamic between the two of you. He seems cautious, almost as if he’s tiptoeing around you, uncertain about where the two of you stand. And truthfully, he is uncertain. He’s worried that he scared you off, if he came on too strong, if his ask changes something between the two of you. Luca realizes tonight is perhaps not the night, but he’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to wait – be able to keep the way he feels about you to himself.

“Thank you… for walking me home,” you say, as you arrive at the door to your apartment building.

“‘S no problem. Had to get you back to your flat safely,” Luca reassures you with a smile on his face.

You stand across from him, mere inches away. You could do it – close the gap between the two of you because you really do feel like an asshole for earlier – but it feels like something’s stopping you. You wait too long, letting your impulse move too thoroughly through your body, until it’s too late and the impulse is gone.

You’re at an impasse: Luca opens his mouth to say something before pausing and you’re not sure what to say either, the two of you standing across from one another, frozen in a moment in time.

Instead of speaking, he simply steps forward, wrapping his arms around you in a warm embrace as he inhales.

It feels too good.

This feels too good: the way he smells, the way it feels to be pressed up against him, his hands running smooth patterns across your back.

“Luca,” you begin as you pull away from the hug, your eyes locked with his.

He waits, but as you open your mouth to say something else, nothing comes out.

You’re not sure if it’s a look of disappointment, regret, or something else that flashes across his face, before he gives you a half smile. Luca takes a few steps backwards, almost as if he needs to create space between you and him, his voice a low deep rumble as he says:

“Goodnight, love.”

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

a/n: and now we're getting somewhere. i PROMISE we are getting somewhere. just wait ;)

#chef luca #will poulter #luca the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear headcanon #luca x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #chef luca x reader #pastry chef luca #burn your life down

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bit-dodgy-innit · 2 years

Text

Crème Fraîche (Fresh Cream)

Part of my 500 Follower Celebration set in The Shape of Youniverse

The Prompt: You and the system go on a baby-moon when expecting Baby #2 (your parents watch Nyla) and rent a house in the French countryside. As a present for Steven, you dress up in a milkmaid costume and greet him in it, your recently re-lactating breasts already staining the material when he finds you.

Requested by: a lovely nonnie!

Pairing: Steven x afab!reader, background Marc x afab!reader and Jake x afab!reader, Reader is married to the system

Spice-o-meter: 🌶🌶🌶🌶, Tré Explicit, Minors DNI!

Word Count: 4k

CW/TW: heavy breast play and lactation kink, Steven has a bit of an oral fixation, roleplaying with a costume, some softdom!daddy kink, dirty talk, pregnant!sex, table!sex, fingering, food kink, a bit of creampie or just a lot of bodily fluids, a dash of dumbification and cockwarming, and mentions of anal sex, masturbation, plus a little self-consciousness on the reader’s part because she is muy preggo. Also mucho aftercare because it’s Steven our beloved

A/N: I’M BACK BITCHES!!! Thank you to everyone who so patiently waited for me to return to my fics, I hope it’s worth the wait! Also special shoutout to @johnny-simpfinger since she let me take this idea, tweak it and run with it!

And yes, this is the second fic in a row I’ve titled in a different language but I’m trying be *classy* okay? It was “Crème Fraîche” or “Got Milk?” 🤪 Also there’s translations of a few bits of dialogue at the end of the fic.

You couldn’t be mad at Marc for almost spoiling the surprise, after all you had barked at him to get you another towel inside. In his haste to get back to where you were beached on the side of the pool, he’d knocked over your suitcase and found the costume when he was trying to put everything away.

The two of you were on your “babymoon” in advance of Caleb’s arrival, spending a long weekend at a darling cottage you and your husband rented in Provence, France. Nyla was home in London, no doubt being doted upon (if not completely spoiled), by your parents who were in town to watch her. With your daughter, there had been no time for a babymoon since she’d been a surprise souvenir from your honeymoon. Not to mention another trip felt excessive when there was so much preparation to do in advance of Nyla’s arrival.

Baby Number Two, now recently named Caleb after much consideration and debate between you and your husband, was different. He’d been planned for starters, and with a three-year-old at home, you and the boys were eager to have an adults-only breather before there was another bundle of joy to contend with. The cottage was quiet, secluded, and had a heated pool which meant you could swim even though there was a fall chill in the French air.

The weather was what had gotten you in your current predicament. You were cold after getting out of the pool, and crabby given that you were entering the home stretch of the pregnancy and Caleb was a big baby. You may have snapped at your husband to fetch you another towel for warmth, leading to him discovering what you’d packed for Steven.

“He’s going to lose his mind when he sees you in that,” Marc said in no uncertain terms.

“That’s kind of the point, hun.” Panic suddenly slid down your spine. “He can’t hear us, can he?”

“No, I’m blocking him out,” Marc assured you.

You explained that the getup was a “special treat” for Steven since your milk had come in once again last week.

“Why don’t I ever get a special treat, eh?” Jake had pushed to the front to demand.

You looked at him, wholly unphased. “You get plenty of treats.”

“Like what?”

“Anal,” you deadpanned. While Jake was rendered speechless (for once) you pressed, “Don’t spoil the surprise, bien Papi? Por favor? Para mi?”

“Fine,” he grumbled and ceded control of the body back to Marc.

“So if I send you out on an errand tomorrow, you’ll make sure he’s fronting when you get back?” you asked.

“Yeah, don’t worry,” he promised you.

You kissed Marc’s plush lips, taking a moment to admire his body in his swim trunks. Those broad hips and thick thighs never failed to leave you wanting.

“Thank you baby,” you purred into his ear, drawing him into your arms.

“Hmm, let’s get you inside, don’t want you to catch cold,” he decided, helping you up to waddle into the cottage.

You couldn’t help but inquire, “You’re not jealous that Steven gets a special treat this week?”

“Hmm? No,” Marc answered. “I had you all to myself for a year, and Steven’s become a lot more bearable to live with now that you rock his world on a regular basis.”

You nearly fell over from laughing so hard at Marc’s blunt assessment.

***

Pregnancy cravings provided the perfect cover for sending your husband out so you could get ready to surprise him. You gave Steven a specific brand of chocolate to retrieve in order to buy yourself as much time as possible. To be honest, it may not even have been sold in mainland Europe, but there was no doubt that you’d make the wild goose chase worth his while.

“Darling!?” your husband called from the front entry way when he returned. “You alright? I had to go to three places but I found the chocolate! Picked up some stuff for dinner too and—“

Steven dropped the bag of groceries when he spotted you. Ignoring the sound of a jar shattering, you giggled and twirling one of your pigtail braids with your fingers. You twisted a stockinged knee and bit your lip, and trying to assume a very innocently-not-so-innocent pose for him.

“Oh my days,” he groaned. “Can you have a heart attack from being turned on too quickly?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I’m not really the person to ask. I’m just a simple milkmaid you see.”

“Oh I can definitely see that,” Steven responded. His eyes raked over your form ravenously.

He started at your white thigh-high stockings (your feet were too swollen and your back hurt too much for heels), then past the little frilly miniskirt with its purely decorative apron, up to the laces of the corset-like bodice that, even though they were let out, still strained over your bump. The pièce de résistance was the white off the shoulder top under the bodice that was stretched to its elasticated limits by your breasts, and sported twin stains where your recently re-lactating nipples were.

“Merci for the chocolate, but I was hoping you could help me with something else,” you gripped your tits and gave them a squeeze. “Could you milk me, Monsieur?

“Fuck, babe,” Steven dropped the act momentarily and crossed to you. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted, drawing him in for a filthy kiss.

“You’ve never looked sexier,” he rasped when you broke apart for air.

Your hand dropped to grope him through his pants. “You’ve never felt so hard, baby.”

“Yeah, I don’t think being able to cut glass is hyperbole at the moment,” he conceded, his hands flying to their prize. He contracted them around your boobs and was rewarded with a fresh burst of milk. “You didn’t tell me you started lactating again.”

“Wan-wanted it to be a surprise,” you confessed, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of Steven’s large palms groping your sensitive tits through the fabric of your costume, “Wanted to maaay-make it special.”

“I’m surprised, and this is very special” Steven confirmed while he dipped his fingers between the costume’s top and your skin. “Can’t bloody wait to get to the bedroom, need you now.”

“I’m all yours,” you told him, whimpering when he turned you around and walked you into the ledge of the cottage's dining table.

Your husband gave you a boost, hoisting you atop of the aged wood so you could lean back on your palms. Once you were situated, he wasted no time tugging down the dampened fabric right away and immediately attaching his mouth to one of your pearly nipples.

His deep, satisfied groan drowned out your high-pitched mewl when Steven’s lips clamped around your teat and pulled the liquid out from it. He drank from you like a man starved, the unrelenting pressure of his mouth prompting you to tilt your head back in an ecstasy that bordered on overstimulation. It had been years since you two had been able to do this and your husband’s greedily suckling made another wave of slick gush from between your thighs.

For several minutes, the only sounds between the pair of you were Steven’s grunts and your moans. But when he switched tits, you finally found the ability to ask him, “Have you missed this, Daddy?”

He rumbled around your spit-slicked flesh in agreement. You couldn't help but goad him further, “Do I still taste good?”

“Better than ever,” Steven popped off your tit to assure you. He brought his lips to yours, trading an absolutely obscene kiss with you that allowed you to sample the nutty, sweet liquid your husband craved.

“Know what I’m missing?” you questioned breathlessly. Steven’s brow creased at your words. “Your fat cock inside me.”

Another groan resonated in Steven’s chest in response and his fingertips snuck under your skirt to feel you. “Bloody hell, you’re absolutely dripping for me, aren't you?”

You nodded, your breath hitching when he circled his thumb around your clit.

“And no knickers? Naughty girl,” he chuckled darkly while slipping a finger inside of you. Your keen encouraged him to insert another digit into your pussy soon after.

“Buh-but I just want to be good for you, Daddy,” you whined in an attempt to keep up the milkmaid act.

Your statement reduced Steven to another deep groan. “Yeah? Gonna be good and let me put my prick in you while I suck on these titties?”

You nodded feverishly and your husband did just that. He released his straining member from the confines of his trousers, its tip flushed and leaking already, and lined it up with your soaked entrance. Ever the gentleman and nurturer, Steven took a beat to drape your legs over forearms to support you before he pushed his rock hard cock into your folds.

Both of you let out respective cries of relief when Steven breached you, and after a moment to adjust, he absolutely went to town on your cunt. The way he fucked you was so un-Steven-like, he preferred slow and deep strokes as opposed to Jake, who was the king of a fast and rough pounding. Marc, meanwhile, liked to play with rhythm, riling you up by hammering into you at an athletic speed, bringing you to the brink of orgasm, then moving to languid rolls of his hips to edge you and prolong each of your pleasure.

Blame it on the outfit and lactating breasts, but Steven felt that he couldn’t thrust fast or hard enough. The deliciously brutal pace slowed slightly when your husband buried his face between your heaving bosom once more, mouthing at your left nipple before resuming his suckling.

“Fuck yeah, baby,” you sighed.

When you had sex this dirty, when Steven worshipped your body like this, you could almost temporarily forget about all anxiety you had about leaving your daughter in London, her brother’s impending arrival, not to mention the stress of prepping for your maternity leave. The combination of Steven’s cock and mouth was so good that you could push those ever-present concerns to the back of your mind and merely focus on how goddamn good it felt to get fucked. Feeling desirable as a heavily pregnant woman was a difficult feat, but Steven, with his bottomless brown eyes, girthy dick, and insatiable mouth, was able to achieve it.

He moved to your right tit, his mouth latching onto your leaking teat with no hesitation. His grip on your legs tightened at the new stream of milk that entered his mouth. You spurred him on with another strangled sound of pleasure while your pussy involuntary clenched around your husband’s rigid length pummeling your insides.

Steven wrapped your left leg around his ample hip and began grinding himself into you. You cried out at the change of position and how it allowed him to penetrate you deeper.

Even in the midst of the mind-melting dicking down you were currently receiving, an errant thought did dance through your brain about the poor people who would rent the cottage after you, eating at this table blissfully unaware that you used it to feed your husband “straight from the source”, so to say.

“Fuck, darling,” Steven rasped. You kept your leg locked in place around his hip so he could move both his hands to your breasts and pluck at your weeping nipples. “D’you know how much I’ve missed these huge knockers? Couldn’t come back soon enough.”

“Yeah?” you urged him, your features pinching with pleasure since the change in position had allowed you to get some much-needed friction on your clit. “Did you think about them a lot?”

“All the bloody time,” he groaned. “Any time I wanked off, I pictured your tits, full and dripping just like this.”

He punctuated the revelation by squeezing the boobs in question so they both squirted liquid into his mouth.

“That’s so hot, honey,” you sighed, “Love that you love my big boobies.”

Your husband changed his assault on your cunt to short, stilted thrusts. “Love you. Such a good mumma to our kids and still so nasty for us.”

“Can’t help it,” you confessed, “you’re so sexy, you turn me on even when you don’t mean to.”

You didn't get to voice your next thought. It was cut off with a little shriek since Steven sprayed more milk out of you directly into his mouth.

“Wanna drink from these everyday,” Steven babbled as the force of his hips increased, “need your milk all the time, need to be full of–ohhhh, fuck, love…I’m coming! ”

He planted his face back into your chest while his release raced through him. Rope after rope of Steven’s cum shot deep inside of you. As much as you wanted to bury a hand in his thick hair to hold him while his bliss crested, you knew you’d likely fall and spoil the moment.

Besides, it was wickedly thrilling, effectively being forced to accept Steven’s adoration exactly how he wanted to provide it.

After what felt like a private eternity between the two of you, Steven craned his neck to gaze up at you with besotted and sated eyes. “That was…you alright, love?”

Speech hadn’t returned to you yet so you nodded as he gingerly extracted his soft cock.

“You haven’t come, yeah?”

You shook your head no.

“I have an idea…if you’ll let me?”

How was it after all these years and nearly two kids later, you still got lost in your husband’s eyes?

“What is it, baby?” you whispered.

“Well, first, I’ll get you a towel and put away the food so it doesn’t spoil,” he began. “Then uh maybe, I could…well you could ride me - back to front, given Caleb, so I play with your clit?”

“That sounds lovely, but honey, I’m considerably heavier than usual.”

“I’ve noticed,” he responded wryly. “What, you don’t think I'm strong enough?”

“No, babe–”

“What’s the point of having Marc drag us to the gym and waking up sore if I can’t, you know, put it to good use?” he countered. “Besides, I see the way you look at us.”

You blushed, which was quite the achievement since your breasts were hanging out of a skanky costume and cum was dripping out of your used pussy. “What’s the point of dealing with my husband’s weird workout schedule if I can’t enjoy the results?”

“Touché,” he grinned back and kissed you gently. “I’m not that old yet, darling.”

You connected your lips once again, giggling into the kiss. When you two broke apart, it was Steven who was blushing. “I had another idea actually.”

“Hmm?”

“I…umm…when you said that thing earlier–”

“What thing?”

“When you asked me to milk you,” he clarified, suddenly extremely interested in the floor. “Was…was that just part of the bit? Or did you mean that?”

You couldn’t mask the look of surprise that instantly colored your face.

“Forget it, it’s fine,” Steven backpedaled, “Really. I mean you…you did this whole special thing with the costume and I–”

“No, Steven, wait,” you stopped him and angled his chin so he was looking directly at you. “What did you have in mind?”

The flush on your husband’s face deepened, his eyes rolled back, and then Jake replied, “He wants to - no sé - pump your milk into glass. Because he wants to watch yo–alright that’s enough thank you!”

Steven had interrupted his alter. “Sorry,” he muttered afterwards, back in control of the body.

“Don’t be,” you soothed him, “um, we could try it? I think my tits need a bit of a refractory period, but maybe we do it once you’ve got me seated on top of you?”

“Really?” Your husband's face brightened. When you confirmed it with another nod, he straightened and buzzed with excitement. “Alright, you just stay here, no need to move a muscle. Let me…I’ll get you a towel–”

Steven tucked himself away and hiked up his trousers to flit over to the kitchen in the open concept living area to do just that. He continued to ramble “--and put away the groceries. I mean I feel like I could go all night with you dressed like that and your boobs back in action, so to speak, but we could probably both use a refractory period.”

You giggled as Steven cleaned the jar of tomato sauce that broke and stored the surviving food.

“You are bloody amazing, darling. I’m going to buy you the whole of Tiffany’s website for this–”

“As much as I appreciate that honey, maybe not the whole website,” you joked. “We have two kids to raise and put through school.”

“Fair enough,” he laughed, now equipped with a damp towel. Unlike the way he’d just fucked you, Steven couldn’t have been more gentle when swiping the cloth across your nether regions. He finished with a kiss to your bump. “Do you want some of the chocolate?”

“Always.”

Steven returned with the confection as well as a glass for your other activities. Your mutual refractory period was shortened when he insisted on feeding you, so insisted on fellating his fingers while he did so. It wasn’t long before you were making out like animals, you still perched on top of the table.

“You make me so horny,” Steven exhaled, “nearly everything you do gets my cock hard.”

“Is that so?” you asked, putting the milkmaid persona back on for a moment as you reached down to feel his erection for yourself. “Oh, Daddy, you’re so big and stiff.”

“You’re going to kill me,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

You pushed him away from you and toward one of the dining room chairs. “But what a way to go.”

“That’s ttue,” he admitted. Steven shoved his trousers and briefs down once again, this time discarding them completely. He sat bare-ass on the chair, legs spread to proudly display his swollen dick, and beckoned you over to him. “Come have a seat.”

You carefully dismounted from the dining room table and crossed to join him as sexily as you could…which in all honesty, wasn’t that sexy, but thankfully Steven was too entranced by the sight of your still-exposed breasts to properly notice.

Your husband guided you down onto his length as slowly and delicately as possible. It turned out it was better to stay standing, palms planted on the wood of the table top, as bent over as one could be with a massive baby bump. Steven stood behind you, one hand securely cradled over where Caleb rested and the other toyed with your clit while he speared you apart.

“Yeah, that’s it, darling,” he coaxed you while he worked his magic on your body, “you gonna cum? Gonna cum for Daddy?”

Your answer was a nonverbal mix between a moan and a sob. Steven upped the ante by attacking your neck with his mouth. He nibbled on an earlobe then murmured, “C’mon, want you to feel good.”

He combined a particularly devastating push of his hips with a flick to your clit, and the next thing you knew, you were screaming as your orgasm exploded within you. Thank goodness the cottage was on an acre of land, because otherwise the neighbors would definitely complain to the hosts about the noise. You shook like a leaf as your climax surged from your pelvis outward. Your toes curled in your stockings, and you were equally grateful that Steven had a steady grip on you since you feared your legs may give out.

“Holy hell, Steven,” you panted once you’d floated back to Earth.

“Good?”

“Understatement.”

He held you to him and pressed a kiss to your cheek. The tender moment didn’t last long however, because Steven hooked his chin over your shoulder and peered down at your chest. “Hmmm, you’re still dribbling.”

You glanced down and saw he was right. “And you’re still hard. Shall we?”

It was a team, if not slightly awkward, effort to get you in a position when Steven could get his hands on your breasts and remain sheathed in you. He fetched a pillow from the sofa to wedge between your bump and the edge of the table to “protect” Caleb and aligned you with the glass.

“This is a dream come true,” he raved once Steven had reentered you. He cupped your milk-filled mounds reverently. “Best wife in the world, you are.”

You hummed at the praise, which swiftly transformed into a keen when your husband pumped a tit, angling your teat toward the interior of the glass. Both of you gasped in unison when the first spray of liquid left your nipple. Only about half made it into the glass, but Steven was far from discouraged. You swore you could feel him his erection surge inside of you.

“Fucking hell,” he marveled and then repeated the action on your other breast. You couldn’t help that another wrecked little sound escaped you, and your husband couldn’t get enough of it. “Oh fuck.”

Steven proceeded to drain your tits into the glass on the table and while you knew you could not have painted a more lewd scene, you were too cock-dumb and overstimulated to care. This was wildly kinky, profoundly intimate, and you never wanted it to end.

You’d filled the glass about a quarter of the way before Steven’s hands lost their aim and his hips spasmed, filling you once again with his seed. Despite the post-orgasm exhaustion that must’ve been settling in, your husband had the presence of mind to keep a hand on your tit and drop the other to your overstuffed pussy.

The pads of his fingers focused in on your nipple, while the ones in between your legs zeroed in on your clit yet again. His skilled hands worked you to orgasm rapidly while Steven’s cock softened inside of you.

You came once more with a pathetic-sounding whimper and collapsed back into your husband’s torso once your peak had subsided.

“Honey,” you mewled when he withdrew his member from you. Feeling empty after having his cock inside you for the better part of the afternoon, you nuzzled into his pectoral to compensate for the loss of contact.

“Daddy’s got you,” he cooed into your hair. Steven then remarked, “If you weren’t already pregnant, that certainly would have done it.”

You didn’t have much more in you than to offer an amused snort at his words. Your weak laughter was soon eclipsed by a yawn. “This milkmaid needs a nap.”

“’Course,” Steve acquiesced. “Let me help you into the shower, okay love? Unless you’d rather me draw you a bath?”

You shook your head at the idea. “I don’t think I’ll stay awake long enough for the tub to fill.”

“Alright darling,” he obliged, leading you to the bedroom and en-suite.

“Wuh–” you yawned again, “What are you going to do with my milk?”

Steven’s fond smile darkened a tinge at your inquiry. “Well for now, I’m going to put it in the fridge.”

That didn’t satisfy your curiosity. “Are you going to put it into your tea?”

“Don’t you worry about that love, I have a few thoughts on how to put it to good use,” Steven soothed you.

“Oh I’m sure you do,” you retorted. The two of you had made it to the bathroom. Your husband turned on the shower tap and undressed you while you waited for the water to warm.

“Do you want a cup?” he asked you.

“Of my milk?”

“No, darling, of tea.”

“Oh. Duh. Um…maybe when I wake up?” Tiredness clung to your eyelids and limbs.

Before you stepped under the stream, Steven drew you into a final liplock. “I love you. More than words can ever say.”

“Me too, sweetie,” you echoed. “This’ll be nice to look back on when we’re up in the middle of the night with two kids.”

“Hmmm, it will, innit?” he agreed. “But we have a little more time until we get there, so let’s enjoy it okay?”

Steven deposited one more kiss to your forehead and then you got into the bone melting warmth and relief of the shower.

A/N: *peeks out from behind my hands*. So was it good? I haven’t lost it, right? Anyhoo, Steven’s dialoge “you make me so horny” is a direct reference to the instant classic of a sketch he did with Aidy Bryant on SNL.

Taglist: @twwcs, @rmoonstoner, @hot-mess-express1, @murdickdocked, @toracainz, @saahmi, @unspokenmoon, @winterbiipp, @avatarofseshat @ilikeoldermenhelp, @losers-club6, @harrys-tittie, @ninebluehearts, @lucianadraven32, @dawnsutopia @strawberry1042-blog @nikitawolfxo

Translations:

...bien Papi? Por favor? Para mi? : okay Papi? Please? For me?

Merci: Thank you

Monsieur: Mister

no sé - I don’t know

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cdragons · 5 months

Text

Fashion Mistakes

Pairings: Ikaris x Persephone!Eternal!Reader (Sephia) and Druig x Hecate!Eternal!Reader (Kaetlyn) Words: ~2.5 k Summary: Sephia needs a wardrobe upgrade, and Sersi is as much as a menace as Kaet sometimes Warning: Probably very inaccurate descriptions of historical fashion trends, Sersi is a 10/10 shipper, Kaety is dramatic AF, Druig is an unbothered king Notes: This drabble was inspired by a scene in 27 dresses, if you know you know. Please reblog and like and comment! Shoutout to @ethereal-athalia & @valeskafics for being the most supportive people on this platform!

You loved your sisters. But there were times where the two of them could be a bit…much, especially when they worked together. This was evident by how the two Eternals razed through her closet to sort out her clothes to decide which were to be kept, and which would be discarded. Every piece of furniture or tile on the floor was covered in an array of textiles and patterns as if a hurricane ran through a fabric store.

“Is this really necessary?” you groaned out.

“Yes,” came the two voices in unison.

“Don’t I at least get a say in what I get to keep?”

“No.”

“Can you the two of you at least look at me before you throw everything away?”

“Can’t.” “In the zone.”

“Druig?” you looked over to her brother-in-law for help, hoping that he could maybe talk his wife down. “Do you think you could maybe help me out here?”

The mind-controller Eternal was watching the same scene as his distressed sister, only with a much more amused gaze. He looked extremely out of place in the sea of colors in his ensemble of handmade cotton shirt layers with dark blue linen pants. The only accessories he donned were the ebony wood beaded bracelet Kaety commissioned for him over 500 years ago, along with the golden ring he wore on a chain from their private wedding.

“Unfortunately, Sephia,” he began, “I’m afraid that you’re unable to convince my angel, I won’t be much more help. But you are more than welcome to keep trying. Perhaps in your success, you may convince her to spare me a glance. As much as I adore time spent with our daughters, I feel a bit defenseless on my own.”

It was only when Kaety heard her husband’s little quip that she broke her concentration. She pouted her lips to show her displeasure, but only for a short moment before she crossed the room to embrace the man she’s loved for her entire lifetime. The pure love and adoration that shone in the pair’s eyes made it feel like you were the one intruding on a private moment than the other three in your own room. It baffled you sometimes to witness the pair’s love. It often left you wondering if you would ever be able to have a love and bond as strong as theirs in your future. But after living for over seven millennium, you knew that the odds were not in your favor.

“Feeling lonely, my love?” she asked so sweetly. “How cruel of me to neglect you in favor of someone else.” You rolled her eyes at her best friend’s facetious pity, Kaety loved teasing her husband almost as much as Druig loved teasing her. There truly weren’t two souls more meant for one another than the other.

Sometimes the site of their tender smiles and private laughs made your heart feel a bit heavy, since it hasn’t been long since you realized your own longings for love, especially towards a certain man with silver streaks and blue eyes.

“Sephia is right though,” commented Sersi, “we’re going to need more people to help out if we’re going to sort through this mess out. Are you sure Phastos can’t come?”

“It’s not so much he can’t, but more that he won’t.” Kaety explained whilst still locked in Druig’s embrace as he laid small kisses across her face. “He’s still insisting that the last time he was here, some of the ghosts latched on to him and took residence in his house when he got back.”

“And that claim would be completely out the question, why?” you quizzically asked with one eyebrow raised.

“Because they weren’t ghosts.” Kaetlyn stated in a matter-of-factly tone. “They were hobgoblins. And it’s not like they caused any trouble anyway! Ben and Jack didn’t even notice anything.”

“I still can’t believe that you managed to convince Phastos to let you babysit Jack. How do you explain it to Jack when he sees you do magic, or whenever the twins see something that he can’t?” Sersi asked as she continued to sort through the closet to see what else needed to be discarded.

“Oh come on! You make it sound like I’m incapable of not using magic for everything! I am more than able to not use it for a couple of hours, and the twins are still at an age when they point at something, we can just say it’s their imagination at work. Isn’t that right, my beloved?”

“Of course, my angel,” replied Druig, “but in the defense of our friend, our girls picked up on your tendency to pick up scary strays. Especially the kind who happen to have sharp teeth and a taste for humans.” His aquamarine eyes gleamed in mirth at his wife’s pout.

“How can you say that?!” Kaetlyn exclaimed indignantly as she lightly shoved his shoulder. “You make them sound as if they are no different from deviants, when they are far more adorable and lovable!”

“Only those with your blood will find such creatures ‘lovable,’” remarked your husband who would soothe your piecing gaze with a graze of his lips on your cheek, “my beautiful, beautiful Kaetlyn, Mother of Witches and Monsters indeed.” His last words whispered out so softly as he leaned in to kiss his beautiful wife, a kiss she eagerly reciprocated.

“Alright you two, let’s focus on the task at hand,” Sersi interjected the lovers’ quarrel, “so Phastos is out of the question in terms of helping?”

“Probably for the best anyway,” you confirmed, “Kaety still insists that his style is too much of a homebody.”

“Anyone who owns that many cardigans and sweater vests is already mentally prepared to be placed in a home.”

“But thankfully for us,” Sersi added on with a little gleam in her eyes, “I had enough foresight to predict our issue and already invited someone here to help us.”

“Please tell me you didn’t invite Kingo,” pleaded Druig, “I don’t think I can handle another one of those ‘tea parties’ he and Laoise and Aisling insist on putting on every time he visits.”

“No, it’s not Kingo,” placated Sersi, “but he should be here at any moment.”

She had that look in her eye that matched Kaetlyn whenever she came up with another one of her “ingenious” ideas.

“Um, he?” asked Kaety. “Whomst is this ‘he’?”

And like a stroke of magic, a knock broke them out of their conversation. And four pairs of eyes locked at the sight of a single man with a silver streak in his hair and devastatingly beautiful blue eyes that stood with so much self-importance you could choke on it five miles out.

“Judging by the look in your eyes,” he stated to break the shocked silence, “I can assume that I wasn’t expected to be here?” Whatever he was about to say next died in his throat at the sight of Sephia. The overloading smugness in his eyes softened to awestruck adoration when he took in the love of his life.

Here you stood, healthy and beaming, so different from the pale and tired figure that he had to come to terms with for the past 400 years. Here was Sephia, his Sephia, lively and standing and in good health. You weren't wearing the drab and shapeless dark blue and light gray garments that hid her sinful figure from the crowd. You instead wore a pair of dark blue wash flared jeans, along with a square neckline white floral patterned peasant blouse, paired with antique statement rings and delicate necklace. It was as if you was brought straight from an issue of Vogue in the seventies.

“Ikaris,” you whispered.

“Stars,” he thought, “even her voice no longer sounds as strained.”

Thanos ruined plenty of lives, made a mockery of the Avengers, and wasted 7000 years of hard labor in postponing Tiamut’s emergence with just a single snap of his fingers. But in Ikaris’ mind, all of that was justified if it meant he got to see his flower blooming in all of her rarity, as opposed to withering away in a dark and damp jungle. Half of the universe was gone now, but Sephia was healthy and alive and strong – and that meant even more to Ikaris than failing his mission to Arishem.

On the other side of the room, you stood in silence as she took in the sudden appearance of your friend. Partially in mortification that he was seeing the state of her room in the mess it was in. But a larger part in joy in seeing your friend who long became the man you gave her heart to since the first time he decided to wait outside the commune’s borders because you wanted to show him your garden. But all in shock that he decided to willingly come so close to Druig and Kaet in their home where their children reside far from the rest of humanity.

“Ikaris!” Sersi exclaimed with a tone that convinced no one that she didn’t plan this happening. “Thank Arishem you’re here! Luckily, we’ve already decided to keep everything up to the late 19th century, but from here on out we need to sort through the past 10 decades to make room for a more modern ensemble. In fact, you really do have great timing because I need to go somewhere right now, and so do Kaety and Druig. SO, we will just leave you two alone!”

Silence still rang through the air as one pair could only stare in longing for the other, while another pair stood next to one another in disbelief as one other person was basically shoving out the door. But silence was not for long as Kaety took matters in her own hands as she turned to her beaming friend in trademark green once all three were all out of earshot.

“Sersi, what Lovecraftian fuckery are you pulling right now?”

You stood in one of your favorite Thea Porter’s dresses, trying very hard to calm the rapid beating of her heart, all to prepare herself to once more face the man on the other side of the changing screen. You never expected to see him in your room, still as ruggedly handsome as he would always remain. You never expected to have these feelings for Ikaris- for anyone really- but they grew to the point where by the time you recognized it, you was already in the middle. Feeling your face heat and fluster, you put your hair in a simple and loose braid in attempt to cool herself. Stepping into view, you tried your best to seem calm and collected, but everything inside you felt anything but that.

“This is one of my favorite dresses,” you stated, “what do you think?”

“I think you need to take off that dress and wrap those legs around me so I can take you on every surface of this house in a tree,” was the first thing that came to Ikaris’ mind. But he couldn’t say exactly that, and so all he stated was the second thought in his mind. “You’re beautiful Sephia, you’ve always been beautiful in everything you wear.”

The sincerity swimming in his eyes made you wish you could drown in them. Blushing mad with a shy smile, you did her best to not seem like you wasn’t bursting at the seams from joy at his words. “Ikaris, the only way I’ll be able to get rid of anything is if you be honest.”

“Sephia,” Ikaris replied, “there is truly no one on this planet who could ever compare to you, in radiance and in beauty. I honestly can’t think of anything that wouldn’t look perfect on you.”

“Well, I do have something that I think may change that opinion,” you remarked with a twinkle in your eyes before dashing inside your closet to grab something and once more hiding behind the change screen. “Wait for a little bit, it takes a while to put on!”

After a few minutes of audible struggling, Ikaris was tempted to ask you if you needed any help taking off putting on your outfit, when you announced that you was done and then stepped into view, and Ikaris’ eyes grew wide with horror.

“What the hell is that?”

“It’s a hobble skirt!” you exclaimed, far too amused by reaction. “It was a very short-lived trend in the US from 1908 to 1914. Its popularity declined during World War I.”

“I can see why,” Ikaris remarked, “are they at all comfortable?”

“Oh, not at all. But they did serve as inspiration for the sheath skirts in the 1950s.”

“Sheath skirts?”

“Pencil skirts, I suppose. But it does look awful, doesn’t it?”

“Ugh, terrible. Is this the worst one you have?”

“Oh no, this doesn’t even come close.” You went back to your vintage treasure trove to search for a particularly dreadful ensemble, and what you pulled out could only be described as an antebellum nightmare. “This is my favorite, by far.”

“Oh my-” Ikaris’ hand covered his mouth in horror, “what the hell is that? And please tell me that you didn’t actually commission this to be made for you.”

“You’ll be happy to find out that I did not ask for this to be made for me. It was a gift from the matriarch a very sweet family I was staying with during my travels in 1850s.”

“Gift? Sephia, that’s not a ‘gift.’ That’s a punishment in the form of flouncing yellows, oversized orange flowers, and what I assume to be 15 layers of petticoats.”

“10 layers, and this is only the dress. Wait till you see the bonnet that comes with it.”

“Oh gods – there’s a bonnet?”

“And a matching parasol.”

Momentary silence echoed between them before a huge grin spread across his face. “That’s it, you need to put that on, right now.”

For the next several hours, the two went through only the very worst contents of Sephia’s closet. From the green taffeta balloon dress from the 80s to the orange ballerina dress that looked it was designed by a ballet-obsessed 8-year-old, they spent the entire day laughing and smiling more than either had in the last five centuries. The sight of it all made Sersi so happy in knowing she had been the cause of this success.

“You know what you’re doing is really creepy, right?” Druig commented, bringing his friend out of her dreams of planning her friends’ future wedding as she continued to spy at the happy almost-couple with Kaety’s magic.

“If watching Ikaris cutely interact with the love of his life through your wife’s magic shadow thingy so that I can get enough pictures for the slideshow I’m making for their future wedding, then fine I’m creepy.”

A soft babble from the babe sitting on her father’s lap prevented Druig from remarking on that “fascinating” idea as he peered down to see his four-month-old daughter point a chubby finger to her mother who was lying face-down on the floor as her sister sat on top of their Mami.

“Sorry little dove, Mummy can’t play right now. She’s in mourning.”

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @valeskafics, @aphroditesmoon, @its-actually-minicika, @tess-love, @asa-do-your-thing, @sunphyre , @myfairkatiecat, @beananacake, @tesha-i-guess, @kyliesgwagon, @getawaycardotmp3, @littledoveofchaos, @she-wintersoldat, @lavenderwisteria, @jolixtreesunn, @bitchylesbian

Please let me know in the comments in you want to be tagged!

#marvel eternals #eternals x reader #marvel x reader #druig x reader #ikaris x reader #druig imagine #druig x eternal!reader #ikaris imagine #ikaris x female reader #ikaris x eternal!reader #druig x female reader #druig x oc #ikaris x oc #27 dresses fic #eternals fic #richard madden x reader #barry keoghan x reader

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wheresarizona · 2 years

Text

Gif by the talented @nicolethered

That Was Good

summary: Javi is nervous at the premiere of his new movie, and you know just what will make him feel better.

rating: E (18+ This is smut. Unprotected p in v (wrap it up), oral sex (m receiving), semi-public sex, creampie, Javi begging, established relationship)

pairing: Javi Gutierrez/f!reader

word count: 1400+

a/n: A fic for my follower celebration for @nicolethered, who requested Javi G and the prompt, “Stay Quiet.” This is my first time writing Javi G, so please be gentle. I had fun, though! He’s very cute. I promised to return him once I was finished, so Nicole, you may have your husband back. I hope I did him justice. As always, shoutout to my partner in crime, @juletheghoul, who lets me know if the vibes are good. I love you. This is unbeta'd.

Masterlist

Javi was nervous, very nervous.

You were at the premiere of the movie for the first script he’d completed, the story finally being brought to life. After the success of his film with Nic Cage, there was a demand for more from him, and he’d gotten the greenlight, Nic graciously producing and, to Javi’s shock and delight, starring.

It had been a few years since the business with his cousin, and his life had changed so much. Things hadn’t worked out with Gabriela and had ended amicably. He’d met you in line for a marathon screening of Nicolas Cage’s top three movies (Face/Off, Moonstruck, Leaving Las Vegas) that Javi had flown to Los Angeles to watch. The two of you had talked at length about your shared love of cinema, and sparks flew. You sat together, got food after, and spent the night and the whole weekend with each other.

That had been over a year ago, and he’d moved to California for his new career and to be with you, the two of you moving in together soon after and happily dating ever since.

He was pacing in the theater lobby, only stopping when people started talking to him, and instead, he’d fidget. You hugged his arm to try and ground him, his hand immediately holding you against him as he spoke to the others.

Javi looked handsome in his black tux, and his curls brushed back.

There was the announcement that the movie was starting, and the lobby started emptying as everyone went inside the auditorium, Javi not moving.

You needed to make him feel better, he just sometimes got so caught up in his head, and you knew he was on edge over how his movie would be received. An idea sprang to mind, and you smiled to yourself.

“Do you want to go in?” You asked, looking at him.

He turned his head to meet your gaze, swallowing hard.

“Can we sit in the back?” He frowned.

“Actually,” you said. “I have a better idea.” You grabbed his hand and pulled him down a hallway towards the restrooms before stopping at a door with a keypad lock. You looked around, making sure no one would see you both.

“What are we doing, mi vida?” He asked.

“You’ll see,” you replied. Pressing some numbers, the light turning red. You tried another set, and it went green. “Yes!” You whispered, pushing the door open and tugging him inside, feeling on the wall for a light switch and hitting it, revealing a storage room with spare seats, cleaning supplies, and other things to maintain the theater.

“How did you know the code?” He asked. You looked at him, seeing a frown on his face.

“There’s usually a code janitors use that’s super simple to get into the places they need. I’m not some fancy hacker. I’ve just worked in places like this—insider’s secrets,” you winked. “Now,” you grabbed him by the arms and walked him until his back hit a wall, and he gulped. “How about we make you feel better?”

“The movie?” He breathed.

“Would you have enjoyed yourself?” You asked with a raised eyebrow.

“...No?”

“Then how about we do something I know you enjoy doing.”

He gulped again.

“What… What did you have in mind?”

You leaned in close, getting your mouth against his ear.

“I thought I could suck your dick. Would you like that?” You nipped at his earlobe.

He shuddered.

“Yes,” he rasped.

You moved to kiss him then, sealing your lips over his, and his big hands came up to cradle your face, deepening it. His tongue slid against yours, and you trailed a hand down his front, rubbing at his hardening length, making him groan.

You gave him one last kiss, then dropped to your knees, quickly unbuckling and undoing his pants, pushing down his underwear to free his hard cock, wrapping your fingers around it, and stroking. You looked up at him through your lashes, his head tilted down to watch you, his eyes hooded and dark with lust.

“Need you to be quiet, baby. Can you do that?” You asked.

He nodded.

In answer, you licked a stripe from base to tip and heard him stifle a groan before you swirled your tongue around the head. He clenched his hands tightly when you swallowed him down. You watched Javi, saw him throw his head back, as his face screwed up in pleasure, and you couldn’t help but think he was gorgeous, wanting to absolutely wreck him.

You went deeper with each bob of your head until he was nudging at the back of your throat, and when you came up, you slid your tongue against the head, using your hand to stroke his shaft. You told him to be quiet, and he was making little whining noises, trying to do as you asked. You knew what he liked—how to bring him the most pleasure, and it didn’t surprise you when you knew he was close, his hands were pulling you off of him, Javi panting, looking at you with eyes full of want.

“I need to be inside of you, mi vida,” he said, voice rough.

You smiled.

“This is about you, Javi.”

His eyebrows creased.

“Please,” he gasped. “Por favor, mi amor. Please, I want to feel you. Need to be inside. Please,” he begged.

“Okay,” you nodded.

He hauled you by the arms and crushed his mouth against yours, pushing his tongue inside to taste, swallowing your moan. He turned you both, pressing your back against the wall, his hands pulling the hem of your dress up and setting your leg on his hip, opening you up for him.

His hand slipped between your bodies, pushing aside your panties, as he rubbed his thick fingers through your slit, feeling how wet you were.

“This turns you on?” He asked against your lips. “Fucking in public?”

“Yes,” you moaned.

“My naughty girl. Do I need to finger—”

“I’m wet enough,” you cut him off. “Please, fuck me.”

He chuckled.

“As you wish,” he kissed you tenderly, his other hand grabbing his hard cock and lining himself up at your entrance, slowly pushing in, making you both moan as he sheathed himself inside. You were wet, and he was slick from your spit, but there was still a slight burn from how big he was, stretching your walls as he filled you until he bottomed out, both of you breathing hard.

You fisted your fingers in his hair as he started moving, fucking into you hard and fast. He wasn’t going to last long, and you both knew it. He shifted your leg a little higher and changed his angle slightly, and all thoughts exited your brain as he rubbed against that blinding spot inside you, a loud moan falling from your lips, eyes fluttering closed.

“Stay quiet,” he grunted. “Don’t want to get caught, mi vida,” he said, kissing you.

He was building you up with each thrust of his hips, pushing you closer to the edge, the muscles in your body tensing. He firmly pressed his mouth against yours to muffle your soft moans, snaking a hand between your legs to circle your clit.

His hips moved faster, his fingers pressed harder, and you were falling, tumbling off the cliff with his name gasped from your lungs, feeling the pleasure consume you and take you away. You clenched hard around him, making his rhythm stutter and a groan bubble up his throat, and he was following you, grinding himself deep inside as he came with a rough sound from his chest, filling you with his release.

He pressed his sweaty forehead against your own as you both came down from your highs, sharing panted breaths. He kissed you softly—gently, his hands coming up to cup your jaw as he slanted his mouth against yours.

“Thank you,” he whispered against your lips.

“Anytime,” your answer came out muffled.

You kissed for a little longer, and then he was pulling back, giving you a bright smile with his dimple making an appearance.

“That was good,” he said.

You giggled.

“It was,” you agreed, your fingers trying to fix his hair you’d accidentally messed up. “How about we go get some fro-yo at the place down the street, and then we come back before the movie ends and pretend like we were here the whole time?”

“That is an excellent idea, mi vida! Nicolas Cage will not know.”

“No, he will not.”

He kissed you again, chuckling happily.

Javi was no longer nervous, and that was all that mattered.

Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

Tagging: @daddydindjarin @absurdthirst @kirsteng42 @littlemisspascal @athalien @thevoiceinyourheadx @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos @mswarriorbabe80 @spanishmossmagnolia @star017 @javier-penas-wife @artsymaddie @hansolosleftbuttcheek @deadhumourist @pretty-brown-eyess @hotchlover @lalalalemonade11 @eternallyvenus @allfoolsinluv @eppy816 @katareyoudrilling @babykangaemoji @punkerthanpascal @breezythesimp @grimeysociety @bruxasolta @peachyaeger @din-jarhead @lovesbiggerthanpride @loonymagizoologist @pinebeam @spacenerdpascal @padbrookcottage @karlawithacapitalk @trickstersp8 @that-friend-in-the-corner @iamskyereads @pedroswh0r3 @astravoyager @beskarprincessjenny @beecastle @manuymesut @alexxavicry @leithatnight

#pedro pascal #javi gutierrez #javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez/reader #javi gutierrez fanfiction #wheresarizonas follower celebration #wheresarizona writes

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genevievemd · 1 year

Text

A Special Gift

Book: Open Heart (Beyond) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Genevieve McClure) Word Count: 785 Rating: G Category: fluff Trope(s):

Summary: Gen and Ethan have a special gift for their parents on Christmas morning.

Warnings: none

A/N: Shoutout to @coffeeheartaddict2 for helping me figure out how far along G would be come Christmas 2023. You’re a real MVP

Also this little ficlet is another entry for @choicesficwriterscreations Holiday Event!

December 25, 2023

She watches the snow fall outside the kitchen window, mentally cataloguing how beautiful her hometown is when covered in a fresh blanket of snow. And of course, how magical it is to have a white Christmas.

They had decided last year to spend this Christmas in Maine with her family, for the first time in almost five years. Her mother had insisted that Alan join them as well, and if Natalie wasn’t back in Boston almost 9 months pregnant and unable to attend, it would be the first time Genevieve had her whole family together in one place in over a decade.

She can hear Ethan in the living room of her childhood home, talking quite loudly and happily with their fathers. Their laughter bounces off the walls and it warms her heart.

Gen had everything she’s ever wanted and more.

On its own accord, her hand travels down to her stomach. She and Ethan had found out a week ago that she was pregnant with their first, after almost seven months of trying. Gen had almost given up hope that it would happen without medical intervention, but then after a fainting spell at work and quick blood test, she and Ethan got the news they’d been hoping for since May.

“Hey Mom, before Henry, Clara and the kids get here, Ethan and I wanted to give you, Dad and Alan a special gift.” Gen turns to her mom, still washing and putting away their breakfast dishes. None the wiser to the secret her daughter was about to spill.

“Oh? What is it?” Marie puts the dish towel down, her full attention on Genevieve.

“Come in the living room.”

Marie follows her into the living room, Ethan and Gen sharing a knowing look as they enter the room.

“Come sit here.” Ethan stands, gesturing to the couch. He quickly walks over to the tree to grab two small boxes.

“What’s going on?” Alan looks at his in-laws and then at his son, curiosity on his aging face. “Are we in trouble?”

“If anyone is, it’s probably me.” Robert joins Alan in laughter, the two getting an eyeroll from her mother.

“Stop it.” Marie playfully hits her husband’s arm, before once again giving her daughter her full attention. “I’m ready for my present.”

“You and Robert are sharing one.” Ethan happily hands Marie a gift and the other to his father. He moves away to stand at Gen’s side, as if he could tell she was nervous. Her arm coming around her waist and pulling her tightly against him.

“Open them.” Gen’s voice trembles, her eyes watering as she watches the soon to be grandparents rip at the wrapping paper.

Within seconds Marie lifts up a handmade ornament and then screams, the plastic bauble falling to the floor. “Oh, honey! Really?” She runs over to Gen and gathers her in a tight hug.

Now it was impossible for Gen to keep the tears at bay, looking over her mom’s shoulder to her husband. Who was all smiles himself, waiting anxiously for his dad to read his own ornament.

“Ethan, this is...” Alan smiles widely, standing to embrace his only child. “I’m gonna be a grandpa!”

“How far along are you?” Marie pulls away from Gen, full of tears of joy as well.

“About 8 weeks, so, it’s still early.” Gen places a hand on her stomach and reaching for Ethan again. “We aren’t telling anyone else until after my first trimester, but we wanted to tell you three.”

“We won’t say a word.” Alan pats Ethan on the shoulder, sniffling. “A family of your own?”

“Yes. Never thought you’d see the day, did you?” Ethan can’t help but laugh, knowing it wasn’t long ago that his father was convinced Ethan would never settle down completely.

“I did not.” Alan moves to pull Genevieve into a hug, the pair sharing a tear smile. “Congrats, to you both.”

“Thank you, Alan.”

After a few more moments of more tearful hugs and excited cheers, the five of them settle on the couch and love seat. Gen and Ethan offering their parents all the details they know, the prospective due date of August 4th and the slightly dramatic ordeal of how they found out themselves. And all of them full of smiles.

Though it all still felt like a dream to her, and that Gen would wake up any moment in her and Ethan’s Boston apartment with no baby in site. But it was real, and her husband’s hand in hers and pregnancy test on the counter back at their home was the proof.

They were having a baby, and their Christmases would never be the same again.

A/N: I think this will be my last Christmas fic for the year, I might do a NYE one but we’ll see.

Hope you’re all having a wonderful holiday!

#ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #open heart #open heart fanfiction #ethan x gen #cfwc holidays 2022

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aufi-creative-mind · 1 year

Note

Can you tell us more about the Satoru family? And are Jun and his brothers half sheikahs?

👏👏👏

HELL YEAH I WILL TELL YOU MORE ABOUT THIS FAMILY THAT I CREATED FOR WILDY LINK. Cuz he deserves a good and wholesome family. And then cry about it cuz Calamity but ANYWAY

The Satoru family is the paternal side of Link's family. His Dad, Jun Satoru along with his Uncles, Hagane and Rakurai are indeed half-Sheikah. Grandpa Eishun is a full blooded Sheikah while Grandma Ayaka is a Hylian.

They all have layers of details and backstories for each one so here's a summary for each one.

Grandpa Eishun A retired knight of the Royal Army, he and his wife had retired to Sheikah Village where Eishun became part of the Village's protectors as a Sheikah Warrior. High-spirited despite his age and is the OG Gremlin of the family. He is also the forefather of the family's Flurry Rush ability.

Grandma Ayaka A retired healer for the Royal Army where she met her husband. Patient and firm, she is the rock that keeps Eishun grounded when he gets too caught and/or injured from his own shenanigans. She is especially fond of their grandchildren and often looks after Link & Aria when they were young.

Uncle Hagane. The eldest son of Eishun and Ayaka. The "gentle giant" of the three brothers. Hagane is a blacksmith and lives in Hateno Village with his wife, Yua and daughter, Kiki. And despite not a knight like his younger brothers, Hagane has the strength to break wood in half with his bare hands. He also does not like it when someone carelessly breaks his creations. (Fun fact: his design is based on the original concept for BotW Link's dad).

Dad Jun! The second son of Eishun and Ayaka. He is the quiet and studious son who tends to go the extra mile to complete his given tasks / duties. He is also Link and Aria's father! He was selected to become part of the elite Royal Guard after displaying his Flurry Rush abilities. By present day, Jun is a widower and a single father to his two children. ...He also finds himself getting caught in the middle of major historical events involving the Royal Family and something about a sacred sword.

Uncle Rakurai The youngest son of Eishun and Ayaka. He is considered as the fastest of three sons and uses his Flurry Rush abilities the most (Their dad is still faster than all of them). He is one of the couriers for the Royal Army and is often sent to various garrisons and forts around Hyrule. He is single and considered himself as the cool and fun uncle to his nieces and nephew.

Rough sketch of the Satoru family and their height.

( Shoutout to @garryktevar and @dfanart for brainstorming with me and listening to my gigabraincell rants about this family )

#1500+ followers milestone #botw family and legacy #jun satoru #hagane satoru #rakurai satoru #eishun satoru #ayaka satoru #botw precalamity #LINK DESERVES A GOOD AND WHOLESOME FAMILY #FIGHT ME #legend of zelda #breath of the wild #precalamity #botw a precalamity story

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dcbbw · 1 year

Text

The Rules

I have Christmas asks, unfinished WIPs that I absolutely need to complete by the end of the year, and stories I WANT to write/update, but here I am with yet another story absolutely NO ONE asked for. It’s me dipping my toe into the Horrible Riley pool.

You know, the MCs that are either an unapologetic bitch using any means necessary to get what she wants, or the social climbing, gold-digging crown chaser fucking her way through Court in her quest for bigger and better. (Take that how you will)

However, I failed miserably at my goal; while this is a Riley unlike any I have written before, she isn’t horrible. She’s broken, hiding herself behind rules and walls; another exploration that has been done before.

It is my hope that this story and my take on this character’s development proves to be both interesting and entertaining without stepping on people’s toes.

So, let’s flip the fairytale shall we, and once again meet a Riley Brooks with a different mindset, perspective, and take on Cordonian Court.

THANK YOU to all who read this over in part, and a special shoutout to @ao719 for the final read-through and assuring me it makes sense. THANK YOU to all who will read this story; your likes, commentary, and reblogs are appreciated more than you know.

Please excuse any typos, missing/extraneous words, and/or grammatical errors. MS Editor rates this story 97% error-free.

Rating this story M for mature themes and subject matter

PS—It goes without saying that this is yet another Liam/Riley AU from me, and it’s a one-shot.

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Song inspo: Hard Times, Ethel Cain

Word Count: 3,490

My heeled shoes glide along the highly polished, gold-veined marble flooring in step with my husband, King Liam of Cordonia. The music from the orchestra fills the air, Liam’s murmured sweet nothings fill my ear.

He smells of mouthwash, expensive cologne, and the smell that is uniquely him. A smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes curves the edges of my lips as we move as one amongst the dancers.

I wish I could be happy.

His grip on my hand tightens as the palm splayed against the small of my back pulls me even closer to him; I smell the starch in his shirt. He has just twirled me when Olivia Nevrakis walks up to us, smiling prettily at her King as she asks if she can cut in. I see the refusal in his eyes, but hear his lips acquiesce.

I step away slightly, allowing the Duchess just enough room to slide into the spot I vacated. Before I take my leave, I give the couple a last glance. Liam’s eyes are filled with apology and regret; Olivia gives me a triumphant glare.

I give zero fucks. I gave up on Cordonia a long time ago. It was no longer a fairy tale; it was an opportunity. One I was determined to take full advantage of.

The tap of my heels as I maneuver my way across the dance floor is swallowed by the sounds of chatter and the clinking of glassware. I stop at the bar and request a whisky sour. I feel the eyes of Court upon my frame, as they have been since I arrived in this tiny Mediterranean country. I hear whispers of American throughout the snippets of conversation I’m privy to as I wait for my drink.

It isn’t a compliment.

I am adjusting the bell sleeve of my red velvet gown when the bartender places my drink in front of me. It has a draped scoop neck that teases with peek-a-boo glimpses of cleavage; there is a plunging v-back that showcases my very bountiful ass.

I am standing before the floor-length three-way mirror in my bedroom’s walk-in closet, carefully inspecting my image when Liam comes up behind me. He’s dressed from the waist down: Black tuxedo pants, black silk socks, and black wingtips so polished, the overhead lighting reflects from them.

“Where’s your shirt?” I ask in a strangled voice as my eyes travel the planes of his chest and abs.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes against my cheek as his arms clasp about my waist.

I roll my eyes in embarrassment. I’m not unattractive, but like most women, I use cosmetics to enhance what nature gave me.

His long, strong fingers begin peeling the dress from my shoulders and eventually my unfettered breasts. My body shivers beneath his touch. His head lowers so he can gently nip the skin of my neck; his hair is damp against my flesh. “What is it you desire, my love? Ask, and it shall be yours,” he entreats with hitched breath.

I lean my neck to the side to grant him greater access as I reply. “A pair of diamond earrings and a shopping trip in Paris.”

Rule #1: Assign a value to yourself. Men never see your worth, so you have to.

“The jet will be ready first thing in the morning,” he promises as his erection springs forth from his undone zipper.

More of the dress is peeled away until my buttocks are exposed. I feel Liam tug at my thong, rolling them down my legs. He sinks to his knees, spreading my ass cheeks apart as his tongue snakes into my forbidden hole.

He says he loves me, but I know he doesn’t. Not really.

No one loves a whore.

I’m just different: foreigner, commoner, woman of color. New and different have expiration dates. Once the unknown becomes the familiar, he’ll move on to someone else.

He thinks I don’t care that he’s royal, but I do. How can I not? The trick is to make him think I don’t. The less I ask for, the more he offers. I have cars, properties, jewels, and wealth beyond anyone’s imagination, but it wasn’t freely given.

Even marriage is quid pro quo.

Liam moans my name as his hand slides along his length.

He’s quid.

He rises and settles his palms firmly on my hips as his hardness invades my sex.

I’m quo.

His thrusts are slow, deliberate; his fingers twirl and tweak my nipples. I stay silent as I undulate my hips against his groin. Cries of delight and moans of pleasure choke in my throat.

Rule #2: Don’t allow yourself to enjoy the experience. Men pay to get their rocks off, not yours.

I watch it all in the mirror as I count backwards from 100.

I smile an acknowledgement to the worker before turning to leave; I bump into Drake Walker who has sidled up next to me. I arch a brow to hide my dismay at the unexpected meeting. I don’t like Drake Walker.

I find him to be a hypocrite. A whiny hypocrite, constantly complaining about nobility and their ways, yet he makes sure to surround himself with them.

His only forms of rebellion are to wear denim to their functions, drink their liquor, and silently judge them from back walls and dark corners.

He says he stays for Liam ... to shield the King from the den of vipers that is Court, but I don’t see what protection he offers. He’s not present at meetings, he isn’t standing guard outside doors … hell, he’s rarely with Liam.

He says Court owes him for the death of his father.

My question is: Why?

He was offered every advantage after his father’s death: growing up in a Palace, the best education possible for free. He was clothed, fed, and had a roof over his head. AND all he had to do was wake up every morning.

Unlike me, who grew up in a roach and rat infested two-room tenement with a mother who worked three jobs at minimum wage and was brutally robbed, raped, and murdered for the grand sum of $67 when I was fourteen.

I never knew my father; I doubt my mother did either. I’m a street urchin who survived on street smarts and … attributes, guided by a greasy-haired, gold-toothed Puerto Rican pimp named Luis.

I had no family, no one to catch my abrupt fall from the semblance of stability I had grown up with. Rather than get lost in a broken system, I chose to get swallowed by the mean streets.

I don’t even have a high school diploma.

But I follow the rules.

Drake had the chance for a college education, which he squandered. He says he gave up his life for Liam’s, but Liam insists he begged Drake to return to America. I guess being the Cordonian Commoner was an easier option than actually making something of himself in America.

He isn’t even an opportunist. Drake Walker is a complete slacker. I don’t respect that. I respect the hustle, the drive, the ambition.

I work every day including holidays and weekends, and perhaps harder now that I’m in Cordonia. The only difference is it doesn’t always involve being on my back or my knees.

No, he isn’t my favorite person in this Godforsaken place, but damn, can Drake Walker fuck.

Court is back in Applewood the evening of the symbolic foxhunt. Despite a hot bath liberally doused with liniment, my entire body aches. I am wearing a dressing gown over a peach satin camisole as I sit before my vanity, running a brush through my thick tresses. Despite the earliness of the hour, my bed is already turned down.

Music from one of my many playlists drifts from my phone’s speakers, and I am humming along when I hear the doorknob rattle before my room door swings open. I am on my feet, a vase filled with fresh flowers and water hefted above my head, when Drake Walker crosses the doorway.

Rule #3: Know how to protect yourself and expect the unexpected.

He stops his steps, hands held up in a gesture of capitulation and his eyes wide. “What the FUCK, Brooks?” he yells.

“What are you doing in here?” I question angrily, still holding onto the makeshift weapon threateningly.

He slowly lowers his hands as the back of his shoe kicks the door shut. “Why isn’t your door locked?” he counters.

“I lock it before I get in bed,” I grumble as I set the vase back on the table.

“I check all the doors before I retire to my room for the evening. Applewood is old and maintenance isn’t what it used to be. Some of these locks are faulty, so I check them all.”

He sits on the edge of my bed; I don’t like it but say nothing. The less I say, the sooner he’ll leave.

“I do earn my keep around here, y’know.”

“Oh, turning doorknobs definitely screams ‘useful member of society’.”

His jaw clenches as his brown eyes narrow. “Look, I don’t know what you have against me …”

I throw the brush down harshly against the vanity’s top. “It isn’t ME! It’s YOU! Since the day we met, you have done nothing but belittle, demean, and distrust me! And I have done absolutely NOTHING to warrant your opinion and judgement of me!”

He stares at me moodily. I return his gaze, my chest heaving from emotion and exertion. His eyes travel from my face to my bosom, and I know why.

I’m not wearing makeup. I’m ordinary.

My breasts, however, are extraordinary: perky and firm with large areolas, elongated nipples. They don’t need rouge and kohl and lipstick.

Drake has always been one to go for pretty.

That night at the dive bar in Brooklyn, he alternated between ignoring me or outright dismissing me when I was the waitress; yet, when I was the tour guide wearing my tight dress and heels and painted face … he couldn’t keep his eyes off me.

Drake needs visual stimulation, something to catch both his eye and attention.

“I’m protecting you,” he mumbled, his gaze now trained on the floor.

I rise from my chair; fuck my hair, I’ll do it in the morning. I stomp loudly across the floor until I’m standing directly in front of Drake and holler, “FROM WHAT?”

He looks up quickly, and I see the brown in his eyes has deepened. His arms abruptly wrap around my waist, his palms sliding down the robe’s slippery fabric as he pulls me onto his lap.

“This,” he whispers as his mouth covers mine and his tongue enters my mouth.

It isn’t unpleasant. In fact, I could get used to this.

His fingertips tiptoe along my spine as our heads turn and tongues intertwine; I feel myself slipping under, giving in to the feelings of want and lust; I quickly pull myself back.

He has nothing of value to offer. He isn’t an opportunity.

Rule #4: Men don’t respect women who give it up for free.

I can’t be the next notch on Drake Walker’s bedpost with nothing to show for it but a wet ass.

But … if he has nothing of value, and I remove mine … I’d be free.

To enjoy. To experience. To scream.

To orgasm.

I deepen the kiss as I tell myself Drake is a treat to myself. An indulgence.

A one-time indulgence with a big dick and nimble fingers.

We both still hate me for rejecting his subsequent advances.

“Where’re you headed, Your Majesty?” he drawls in a snarky tone. He doesn’t bother to hide his disdain at me becoming one of them.

I ignore the way his eyes rake over my body, the way my center responds to his appraisal. I step around him primly, my drink clutched in my curled hand.

“To get some air,” I reply curtly.

I feel his eyes on my ass as I walk away. “You’re showing a lot of skin. Don’t catch cold,” he advises.

I don’t make it very far before I am accosted by the Brothers Beaumont. My eyes roll heavenward as they greet me, each with free glasses of my expensive liquor in their hands. They both owe me BIG TIME, and I am still debating what I wish to collect as payment.

Except everything they now have is due to me. And my attributes.

Maxwell, who lied to me about the entire social season. It wasn’t an adventure; it was an ordeal. He neglected to tell me he and his house were as poor as church mice, and that I would have to come out of pocket for nearly every expense. He promised to repay me when the social season was over.

When, against all odds, I did accept Liam’s proposal, Maxwell then proceeded to make a small Hollywood fortune on MY story … and has yet to offer me one fucking dime.

On top of that, he got brand new on not only me, but Liam as well.

I admire the hustle, but not when it’s at my expense.

Bertrand, who talked nothing but shit about me from Day One, paraded me about and pimped me out to bring finance and fame upon HIS house, then begged me to help him win over the love of his life, Savannah Walker.

Drake’s sister.

A commoner.

The irony is not lost on me.

I wonder if they knew my … differences would be the advantage they needed to get back in Court’s good graces, and that is why Maxwell was so insistent I return with him.

But I don’t have time for them; I need to escape this room, these people. I give them a false smile and tenuous promises that we’ll talk over dinner and continue along my path. From the corner of my eye, I see Penelope, Olivia, Madeleine, and Neville huddled together, sipping champagne as their eyes flit about the room and their lips move.

I catch Madeleine’s eye and deliberately slow my gait to ensure they all get a good look at me.

Pretentious bitches.

Olivia holds my gaze the longest but is the first to break our staring contest. The Duchess of Lythikos, wrapped in insecurity and shrouded in infamy, is perplexed at what anyone could possibly see in me when Penelope had lineage, Madeleine held pedigrees and titles in two countries, and Olivia herself was RIGHT THERE … drops her gaze like the coward she is.

Who’s the commoner now?

There’s a sneer on Neville’s lips, but his eyes are curious as he studies my body poured into the red dress. He doesn’t bother to hide neither his disdain nor his desire.

None of these Cordonians do.

Sometimes, when the night is quietest, I wonder if I’m simply too full of myself; maybe, just maybe these people do find me interesting and funny and my blunt observations of how the world works refreshing.

And then I come back to reality.

I have nothing to offer but my body and Maybelline-enhanced looks. While I closely follow politics and international news, and am a voracious reader at times, all I have is a 10th grade education, a body count that would make most folks faint, and know how to serve food.

They wonder what the King sees in me. They assume to know what I see in him.

I don’t belong here, and we all know it. But they need me.

I hold the advantage, the advancement they seek. And it’s between my legs. The Promised Land rests upon my shoulders, and the entrance lies between my thighs. It both confuses and infuriates them that if they could just touch, sniff, taste it … they would be even more exalted than they already were.

I hate this place.

Even if I deigned to help them climb one more rung up the social ladder, what can they offer me of value?

I married the King.

Which is why they want me.

To use me even further.

I mask my insecurity with a curt nod to the small group as I pass them. They reluctantly bow their heads in acknowledgement of their Queen.

Rule #6: Don’t ever let them see your weaknesses.

My steps become brisker, quicker as the terrace doors come into view; protocol dictates I keep my head up, but my eyes stare straight ahead. The less people I make eye contact with, the fewer I have to deal with.

Rule # 7: Mind your business, not everyone else’s.

The air is stiff and cool against my back as I stare up at the full moon; I breathe contentedly as it bathes my body in its pale light. I enjoy the stolen moments alone; they’re a rarity in my new life. It’s not that I mind crowds; what I don’t like is being the center of attention.

Unwanted attention.

I slowly nurse my drink as I look out over the garden maze. I wonder about Liam’s mother, what type of woman she was. She had vision if the magnificent garden is any indication.

I wonder about Daniel, my one true friend in all the world; is he okay? Would he recognize me now? I don’t look the same, I don’t even smell the same.

I’m an imposter, playing a role I’m ill-suited for.

I don’t hear Liam approach me, but I feel his nearness. He emanates an energy that ignites a heat within me.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he says softly as he sets his glass of scotch on the stone ledge.

“I needed air before dinner,” I explain.

He nods, his eyes trained on the lush rosebushes below. “Riley, are you unhappy?”

I look over at him; his profile is in shadow, and I cannot read his expression. I quickly swallow a gulp of alcohol before answering. “No.”

It isn’t a complete lie.

“Why do you ask?”

“I realize nobility is … different and can be difficult for an outsider to navigate. I have spoken to the most senior members of both Court and Council, and you should find them to be more … helpful going forward. And with our courtship being an unorthodox whirlwind, I just …”

He breaks off as he lifts his glass to his lips. He studies the amber liquid for a moment before setting the tumbler back down. “We don’t talk. Not about matters of substance.”

I stare at him. The rules dictate that I don’t speak on matters of importance; men want my body, not my brains. I sit prettily, make noncommittal comments, and nod my head in agreement while I wait to part my lips or spread my legs.

I know coitus, not communication.

“What … what do you want to talk about?” I ask as my stomach twists nervously.

I’m certain that he’s ending the marriage.

New and different have expiration dates.

I feel an inexplicable disappointment at the thought.

He turns his head so I can see fully into his face. His expression is almost tormented, his eyes inscrutable.

“I am your husband. You are my wife. I’m in love with you but know hardly anything about you! When I touch you, you tremble as if afraid or … repulsed.”

I hear the crack in his voice as his head drops.

“If you know nothing about me, how can you be in love with me?” I ask quietly. “Sex isn’t love.”

His head lifts quickly, and his words tumble from his lips. “With you, I feel alive! I feel possibility! Your touch both soothes and calms me. When I see your face, I feel as if I can take on the world. The courage it must have taken to give up your life to take a chance on a stranger; the strength you must have to endure Court day in and day out … it’s an inspiration. My inspiration!”

His fingers comb through his hair as he worries his lower lip. “Maybe … maybe that isn’t love at all, but I’m willing to find out. But I need you to give me … give us ... a chance.”

I hold his gaze, my lower lip trembling. I set my tumbler carefully on the balustrade before wrapping my arms around myself as I desperately think of an acceptable answer.

“You’re chilled,” he incorrectly surmises as he steps closer to me to pull into an embrace.

“Riley,” his breath whispers through my tresses, “how do you feel about me? Truly.”

My eyes close briefly; I feel a tear make its way down my powdered cheek.

If only Court weren’t such a shitshow.

If only I were worthy.

If only there were no rules.

I press my cheek into the crook of his neck; my arms tighten about his waist.

“You make me want to break the rules.”

Tagging: @jared2612 @ao719 @marietrinmimi @merridithsmiscellany-blog @queenjilian @indiacater @kingliam2019 @bebepac @liamxs-world @mom2000aggie @liamrhysstalker2020 @neotericthemis @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet @busywoman @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam @phoenixrising0308 @beezm @gardeningourmet @lovingchoices14 @foreverethereal123 @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles @lady-calypso @emkay512 @jovialyouthmusic @21-wishes @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @queenrileyrose @alj4890 @yourfavaquarius111 @motorcitymademadame @bbrandy2002 @queenmiarys @choicesficwriterscreations

#dcbbw writes #king liam x riley #trh fanfiction #writeblr #writer on tumblr

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ticklygiggles · 1 year

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Top 22 of 2022

I've been meaning to do this before the end of the year for obvious reasons, but I just didn't have the chance until now! Thank you everyone who had tagged me, you all are so sweet

I apologize in advance, though. My memory sucks and my perception of time is broken sdjfjdhf

Part 1: Fandom Faves

01. Favorite new fandoms of the year: SPY x FAMILY, Demon Slayer

02. Favorite new ships since this year: SPYxFAMILY - Twiyor, Cynari, ScaraLumi - Genshin Impact

03. Favorite anime/TV show of the year: Extraordinary Attorney Woo, SPY x FAMILY, Pokémon Journeys

04. Favorite movie of the year: Hmm, I honestly don't watch many movies, so this one's hard... maybe Turning Red? Haha

05. Favorite character of the year: Scaramouche/Wandered, Tighnari - Genshin Impact. Uzui Tengen, Rengoku Kyojuro - Demon Slayer. Seo HyunSoo - XXX Buddy.

06. Favorite soundtrack of the year: One of my favorite soundtrack every year will always be Liyue OST - Genshin Impact!

07. Favorite book/manga/comic of the year: sajkhfjdf this year I read lots of new Manhwas and also a few books. Some of my favorite manhwas were Define the Relationship, Perfect Buddy, Actually, I was the real one, Who made me a Princess?, Under the Oak Tree, Love so Pure (side story), Forget About My Husband, I'd Rather Go Make Money, The Marriage Business and mooore.

I didn't like the books I read this year that much, but I guess my favorite was Six Crimson Cranes. Also read some light novels and they were The Marriage Business and I'll be the Warrior's Mother.

08. Favorite game of the year: Genshin Impact and Obey me!

09. Highlight of this year to remember: March 7th when I went to Disneyland JSAFHJ

Part 2: Community Review

10. Favorite Tumblr moments of 2022: Tickletober, my 2k milestone. @vqler and @dokidoki-muffin return aaaand... I think that's the most I can remember hahaah

11. Favorite fan art of the year: I have been blessed with so much fanart this year omg, some of my faves were this one, of course because it's the first time someone drew art for one of my fics!

Also this one, this one, this one, this one, this one, and this one, but honestly, there are so many aaaa

12. Favorite fic of the year: I read good fics this year, I can't choose, but definitely some of my faves are these beautiful fics I got from my dearest friends in my birthday and Christmas, here, here and here.

13. Favorite ask game of the year: The tickly alphabet, this one and the 3 sentence fic

14. My top achievements as a writer/artist/creator/blogger: Participating in Tickletober for the first time! I didn't finish all days, but I'm happy with the result haha. Also getting to finish my 2k milestone event!

15. My own best fic/post of the year: I think I wrote a lot this year, but one of my faves to write was this Koi ga Ochitara one because I've been wanting to write one with them for sooo long!

16. My most underappreciated fic/post of the year: Probably not the "most", but this Mafuyu x Ritsuka x Yuki one?

17. A post of mine that got more popularity than expected: Omg these three Tickletober fics because they don't have a large popularity in the community, but they got more attention that I expected!

Koi Ga Ochitara, Junai Drop Out, Sign

18. Something I changed on my blog since this year: I think I did write more this year, so that was nice!

Part 3: Next Year

19. Something I didn’t post this year but would like to do next year: I'd like to work on this little AU idea thingy I have been neglecting because I feel unsure to write and post, but we'll see!

20. Goals for next year: As for this blog... maybe getting into more fandoms to keep writing haha. Also, Ginny girl is trying to write less trash, but I'd like to keep collaborating with her, because I just love how well we write together aaaa

21. 2023 releases I look forward to the most: MAHOUTSUKAI NO YOME SEASON 2! Aaaand more Genshin updates and also Obey me cards that I can actually get LOL

Part 4: Spreading Love

22. Shoutouts to people who made my 2022 a better year:

Goodness, here comes the fun part haha:

@otomiya-tickles of course my sweetie girl precious baby boo. I already told you this, but thank you for making my 2022 a loooot better, thank you for your endless support and your love! You are the best and I'm so happy to talk to you every single day! You are so so talented and smart and amazing and I love you!

@ragewerthers my frieeeend, I always have so much fun talking with you! From just daily life activities to our endless hcs about our precious Toshi *teary emoji* you definitely did my 2022 a lot better too and I hope we can still talk lots this 2023!

@wertzunge Maaaax, I think this year we talked more than any other time haha, I'm happy we're both excited about Mahoutsukai no Yome sdbfhsdf I already said this to you, but I hope we get to talk some more this year as well! Thank you for your friendship!! (Also thank you for your kind support during commisions!)

@vqler @dokidoki-muffin we barely interact with each other BUT I wanted to say that you both are amazing and super talented people and I admire your abilities and your creativity and it's so so nice to have you back in the community! You both are GREAT and I get excited every time I see art from you both. Such talented people, let me give you a respectful kiss on your forehead.

@ticklystuff omg hi! I know we don't talk much, but I just wanted to say that I really like you and you are so so so so SO good at writing ome such talent! I love seeing you in my dash and seeing all the cool amazing stuff you write aaaaa I think of you every time I see Childe, no lies. Thank you for being amazing!

@happyandticklish Queen of writing. No words just admiration. Honestly, you are so so so GOOD. I wish I could write like you and you're so kind and amazing help askdjskf We've talked a bit before and I apologize for my awkwardness aaaaa Thank you for showing us all how cool you are and for being a cupcake!

@myreygn Reeeeey! I honestly get so so shy when you mention how you fangirled when I followed you back ahahaha, thank you for always being so supportive with me! You are amazing and I like chatting with yoouuu! I hope we get to talk some more during 2023!!

@thornoisdono Thank you for the generous support in kofi aaaaa, I love every single fic you requested and hopefully, you'll see them up in the next couple of days! Thank you!

@intheticklecloset @zeke-ism @lovelynim @xsezzie @bloominggiggles @ticklish-v-93 @soft-tk-fluff @chibimochii @nnainai @tickles-tea @looneytickles @tiredleekaz @ssnicker-doodless @spongeboblevel25 @justmaybee @itslittlegiggle @tiklart @lovelymessybubbly @italeean @ticklishfanart - whether we had talked before or not, I'm so thankful for you all! I love seeing and interacting with your content. You all are amazing and make my stay in tumblr so much better! I'd love to get to know you all more this year, but I'll be always be awkward, but I want you to know that you are some of my favorite blogs EVER.

#end of the year tag #top22of2022 #this took me two hours to finish omg #it was really fun though #i can't believe it's 2023 already #i hope this year is better for all of us guys

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thekatebridgerton · 1 year

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Have you ever thought about a Kanthony (and others) re-incarnation au. I'm thinking a Housefull 4 style bridgerton fic starring Kanthony, Benophie and maybe Polin. Housefull 4 is a bollywood comedy gold. Surprisingly it's without any angst that u expect of reincarnation tropes. But maybe we can have some angst if someone decides to make a fic out of it 🤞. Anyway if someone does decide to make one I will recommend watching the movie first or look at the plot on wiki for the main gist of the story. U know I got this idea because of the spider scene (equivalent to the bee sting according to me) in the movie so like we can have Kanthony as Madhu n Bala (eldests), Benophie as Meena n Dharmputra, n Polin as Mala n Bangdu.

Thank you for listening to my mumbling 😊.

i've said it before and I'll say it again: people in Tumblr have good taste. So guys, if you haven't seen Housefull 4. Go watch it, it's an awesome movie and it deserves a shoutout. And the funny thing is that I did see the movie a long time ago. But I thought that it would be a great twist if the girls were the ones having the big problem making the guys remember their past lives. So anon, I know this take on the movie isn't what you asked for but bear with me.

So in 1813 you have Queen Violet ever despairing on marrying off her three rakish sons. And then there's Kate, Sophie and Penelope. Who for one reason or another love these three idiots. first there is Kate, Minor indian royalty, princess Kate was vanished from her father's court because of a tiny disobedience (staging a coup to put Edwina on the throne is not a tiny disobedience Kathani Sharma) so she is kind of scheming to marry Anthony and become the future Queen. So she can return home with something to show for it.

Anthony's second brother, Benedict, is desperately inlove with his sister's ladies maid/bodyguard, Sophie. Who has saved his life more times than he can count. And finally, Colin, ever the young prankster. Is inlove with the court lead gossip maker. Miss Penelope aka notorious scandal mongrel Lady Whistledown.

Kate and Anthony fell inlove, and together they also worked very hard to unite Benedict and Sophie against those who opposed their class difference, and defended Colin and Penelope's choice to be together despite Lady Whistledown's reputation. BUT on the day the three of them were going to get married. Someone bombed the cathedral. And the three couples died.

Back in the present Kate Sharma is a down on her luck photographer working too many jobs who accidentally gets in trouble with the Indian Mob and has to pay back a sum that seems astronomical, or work for the mob for life. Well, never let it be said that Kate doesn't know how to scheme her way into the lives of the rich and famous. Her boss Lady Danbury sets her and her two best friends up with the sons of a super rich business' woman, who need convenient wives that don't mess on their style ( in exchange for a few favors after the girls are officially Bridgertons. ) Penelope and Sophie have agreed to help Kate pay back the money to the mob and well, at least the guys are handsome.

Everything is going swimmingly, the three couples are getting along well, at least until Kate visits the Bridgerton family cemetery with her new fiancée and starts getting flashbacks of her past life...

Here's the thing... In this life, she is sort of going to marry the wrong brother!! oh no, Kate needs to help her friends remember their past lives too. She doesn't want to get married to Colin, or let Sophie marry Anthony, also she's pretty sure that if Penelope knew she's getting hitched to the same Benedict who was head over heels for Sophie in their past life, she would die of embarrassment.

Now all Kate has to do is help her friends and their husbands remember their past life. Reconnect with her husband who doesn't know she's his wife because he thinks she's the gold digger who is putting the moves on Colin. Somehow figure out why they all reincarnated AND find out who bombed the cathedral in 1813.

Easy peasy right?

#reincarnation au with a twist #indian movies are the best #i did a genderbent take anon #kanthony #polin #benophie #kate sharma #anthony bridgerton

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robinofgothamcity · 2 years

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"Me gusta un caballero, que sea interesante, que sea un buen amigo pero más un buen amante, qué importa unos anos de mas?"

♡ character: jay white

♡ pronouns used: she / her

♡ note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes / jay white you i will always be my njpw husband. i guess the reader is implied to be latina so there's that.

"have you found anyone you're interested in?" you shook your head no at kris' question.

you were the newest face in the women's division of aew and you were taking a while to get used to everything around here. you were apart of smaller indie shows in the US and got hired by matt jackson when he was wrestling at the same show you were in.

given that you were newer to the wrestling scene, you didn't have many friendships in the industry. you tried your best to keep to yourself so you wouldn't step on anyones toes and some took it as you being rude and others understood how nervous you were even being here.

"not really? i'm not too much of a social person so i can't just make friends easily," you replied as she sat down next to you. kris sat down next to you as you noticed the two jackson brothers approaching you, "listen, i think we finally got a spot for you within the division."

kris grabbed your hand, holding it excitedly, "we want you with us. we've been having a few members from impact coming down and we think you'd be a great add on with them," nick said as matt agreed, "we don't want to scare you or anything but your match tonight against skye will determine if you can keep up with us."

your eyes widened as kris could sense the nervousness creeping up on your face, "oh, that's wonderful," you replied. matt chuckled at your response and put his hand on your arm, "don't freak out. we've seen what you could do and we're pretty sure you're a perfect fit for us. a few others just want to see your moves in the ring, that's all," matt explained.

you didn't say much else but you knew now that you had to work twice as hard in order to move up in the roster. having the opportunity to work with matt, nick, and even kenny would be anyones dreams and you knew that didn't come up often if ever so you couldn't mess this up for yourself.

"want to train before you due up to wrestle?" kris asked. you agreed almost immediately as you bandaged your right wrist up quickly and followed her to the make shift training area in the arena.

on the other side of the arena, jay was staring down at nick, matt, and adam.

"who is she?" jay asked matt and nick. he had gotten word of who was joining in on their little group and he had never heard of you before so he was interested to see the newest young bucks protege, "we saw her live at a GWC event. she's an amazing wrestler for someone of that stature (shoutout to all my short queens lmao)," matt informed him.

jay nodded as the three walked out onto the ramp and to the announcing table. they put on their headsets and sat down comfortably on the chairs as they heard skye's music going off through the arena.

"this is a huge moment for ( your name ) we've seen what she would do in the ring at a gcw event and figured that we could give her a bit of a try out to see if she'd fit right alongside us," matt said as excalibur nodded and nick spoke up, "you might be looking at the newest member of the undisputed elite."

jay didn't say much on the mic but your music started up and you ran out onto the ramp. kris had tried to hype you up as much as possible backstage but the nerves were still fogging your mind.

you jumped into the crowd, giving random fans hugs before running to the ring and standing outside of it. you pointed to matt, nick, and jay giving them a pointed look before flipping into the ring and looking at skye. she gave you a reassuring smile as the bell rang.

jay had his eyes glued on you, not wanting to miss a thing. he noticed how confident you were in the ring and how you immediately countered skye's attacks with something even more brutal. you grabbed skye by the face and gave her a forehead kiss before slamming her against the matt. bryce immediately started the count as you put your foot on her chest and smiled at the crowd as you were determined the winner.

matt, nick, and jay stood up proudly as adam and the rest of his team came out from the back and joined the rest of them before approaching the ring. skye gave you a congratulatory hug before you went face to face with all six boys.

"i say she joins the undisputed elite, right boys?" matt asked into the mic as they got approval from the rest of them, "or she could be with the bullet club. we'd love to have her on our team, what do you say sweetheart?" jay spoke up as he put his arm around your shoulders.

"both?" you asked into the mic a bit unsure of what your answer should be, "we'll figure out the logistics later but for now, we're happy to have you on our team," nick stated as he held your arm up, making the crowd cheer.

jay gave you a wink as you tried to keep yourself composed. you jumped off the top rope, making a swift and safe landing onto the ramp and walking backstage. kris was the first to congratulate you as she brought you in for a hug. you couldn't help but laugh.

"thanks," you whispered not reverting back to your very shy demeanor. kris shook your shoulders rather harshly, "are you insane! that was the sickest performance i've ever seen from you!" kris yelled. you couldn't help but feel flustered at the attention you were getting from everyone that came to say congratulations.

jay noticed your change in attitude and became confused, "we mean this in the least harmful way possible but she's not all confidence and extrovert as she may seem. she's painfully shy but she was partners with maxwell jacob friedman in the indie's and gained that in ring confidence from him," nick told jay.

"so she's an innocent one, isn't she?" adam chuckled as he slapped his hand on his friends shoulder, "don't get your hopes too high. she doesn't really talk to anyone that isn't kris, skye, and britt. they're kind of her mentors so her joining us should break her out of her shell," adam added on.

jay nodded as he listened to nothing nick and adam told him and planned on approaching you. kris and britt who were standing with you noticed jay gave you a quick goodbye. you became confused but as soon as you saw the switchblade king himself, your eyes hit the floor in panic.

"so you're the newest member of the undisputed elite," he said sitting down next to you. you nodded, not knowing what to say, "and you're deathly shy, huh?" you nodded again, trying to conjure something up to say but nothing was coming up, "i know you're not one to say much but how about you let the boys throw you a welcoming party? tomorrow at a bar? how does that sound?"

"i don't want to make you guys do too much work so that's unnecessary. being apart of the team with all of you is more than enough," jay laughed, sitting back and taking you in. you were a few years younger than he was but your work in the ring didn't show that at all, "sweetheart, you're thinking too much about it, just let us throw you the party," jay insisted.

you sighed but agreed nonetheless.

"you can have matt or nick text me the details if your that insistent on it," you told him. jay noticed your phone and grabbed it, "or you could have my number and i can text it to you," you nodded, opening it and letting him put his number in your contacts. you figured that if you were going to be around him a lot more, there was no harm in you giving him your number.

jay quickly put in his number as he texted himself to have yours in his, "keep an eye out on it, okay?" jay said as he lifted up your chin up, "now enjoy your night." you tried to keep yourself together but you let out a flustered laugh.

kris and britt gave you a smug look as they re-approached you, "jay sure is one hell of a talker if he has you like that," britt said as she could sense that flustered aura still around you, "come on, what did he tell you?" kris asked.

"he wants to throw me a congratulatory party for joining them. i tried to deny him but he insisted on it so i guess there's a party tomorrow?" britt chuckled knowing exactly what jay was planning. he knew jay's controversial 'love' history and all she could hope was that you weren't some stepping stone in jay's streak, "i'll have to ask adam later to see if he really is planning that."

by the time you had gotten home from the taping, you hadn't dared to look at your phone after you had spoken to your mom. you had made it a priority to call her after every show to make sure she knew you were okay.

you went to the bathroom and brushed your teeth, stopping to think about what you were going to have for breakfast. after you freshened up and made your way to your rental car, you were scrolling through your social media, liking a few posts about you joining the undisputed elite and thanking others.

it wasn't until you landed onto instagram when you saw jay's story. it was a picture of you staring at a camera from an indie show you had done a few months ago.

"she'll be queen switchblade before you know it."

you didn't exactly know what to make of it but you decided not to think on it too much as you made your way to the nearest starbucks. you ordered your usual drink and a sandwich and decided to just sit inside the store until you had to leave.

"excited for tonight?" jay's message read.

you sighed in nervousness but realized if you actually had to actually go through with it, you figured there was no point in trying to ignore the text.

"where is it going to be?" you asked.

jay had sent you the location of a bar not too far from where you were staying.

"be there or let me pick you up."

you sighed once again.

"i can get there on my own jay but i appreciate the gesture," you replied. it was like you could feel his smug aura from your phone.

"i'm assuming you're staying at the hilton like everyone else? text me your room number and we can get there together."

you shot him the room number you were staying at and left it at that. you really couldn't figure out what jay was doing. was he just being nice considering you were his teammate? or was he growing a genuine interest in you? a part of your heart wanted to put down that shy and nervous guard you always had up for yourself but the other side screamed at you to remain cautious of someone as popular as jay fucking white.

you hoped that the bar jay had picked was something casual considering you hardly brought anything fancy on the road and you were in no mood to go shopping.

the drive back to the hotel was filled with you screaming to songs from your playlist on spotify. the nervous jitters for your event later tonight was crawling up and you couldn't help but feel nauseous at it all. you hated being center of attention unless you were in the ring so being surrounded everyone later tonight sounded like a personal hell.

the night crawled in a lot faster than you would have wanted it too but you figured there was nothing you could do. you knew jay was staying in the same hotel you and everyone else were so he would be to your room faster than anticipated.

you still had your right wrist bandaged up as you had taken a mean hit from skye the night before and realized that you were going to have to keep it bandaged through the night. it really clashed with your outfit but you figured it was either keeping it on or letting it get worse and potentially get yourself even more injured.

everyone decided to congregate at the bar around nine as all of you had morning flights to catch the next day and none of you wanted to be out too late. jay had shot you a 'coming up' text and you were quick to pull on your shoes but too late to turn down your music.

you heard a bang on your door and realized that jay must've been knocking for a while if he was now banging on the door.

"having fun?" he asked as he walked inside. you shrugged, "not really. just listening to music before leaving," you turned it down hoping that you hadn't disturbed your neighbors by it, "well let's get a move on darling. we shouldn't be late to your own gathering."

"nice yankee's jersey," jay said as he noticed it. you gave him a tiny smile, "thanks, eddie kingston gifted it to me a while ago." jay's eye twitched slightly at the mention of eddie but didn't say anything else.

jay gave you his arm, deciding to be a gentleman for the first time in his life and escort you there. you wrapped your arm around his and made your way to the car. considering you offered to drive, you plugged your phone in to the aux cord.

one of your favorite songs started up and you hadn't realized that you were singing to it. given that you were always driving alone, it was a hard habit to kick.

"but till I can see that you'd really care for me, I will dream that someday you'll be really close to me, I can tell the way you smile if I feel that I could be certain then I would say the things I want to say tonight."

jay noticed the way you were singing the song and couldn't help but wonder if you had a boyfriend that you told no one about. the way you singing softly and the soft look on your face made him not want to fuck this up for himself. he soon realized that you were exactly like some of the other girls he had been with. you were too nice and sweet to get your heartbroken by someone as idiotic as himself.

"singing that for a special someone?" jay asked. you laughed, shaking your head no, "no one but myself," you replied. jay sighed in relief as you followed the directions and realized you had arrived to the bar.

adam, britt, matt, nick, kris, and a few others were all there. you quickly got off, greeting everyone at the door as all of you got your ID's checked. all of you made it to the table that was reserved for all of you.

you sat in between kris and britt immediately getting into a conversation with the two as the boys went to bring everyone drinks. adam noticed how silent jay was around you and couldn't help but be confused.

"what has you so quiet?" matt asked him. jay was never the one to beat around the bush so figured he had nothing to lose, "i like her and i can't screw this up for myself," jay confessed. adam was surprised at the bold statement, "as in you like her romantically?" he asked. jay nodded, "you hardly know her," nick interjected.

jay sighed in acknowledgement.

"i know but she's different. i know who i am but she's not someone i'd date and just fling them to the side."

the six of them were surprised to say the least. jay never spoke about settling down with one person before and it was a shock considering it was his own teammate that he was starting to like.

"take it easy and she'll like you," adam finally said. they all stared at you discreetly as you were easily conversing with the two other girls. they brought back the drinks, handing them out as all of you got into a conversation about all of your indie days.

after a while, the drinks were settling in and you had become a bit more open. it wasn't anything too drastic but a bit of the liquid luck made you more extroverted. you were now sitting down next to jay who had his arm around you.

adam, matt, nick, and britt had left a while ago and now it was just you, jay, and kris left although kris had gone off to the bathroom to talk on the phone a while ago.

"think you can keep up with us?" jay asked as he referenced you joining them. you nodded in confidence, "if i wouldn't have thought so, i wouldn't have joined or accepted the offer. i'm more than just my introverted attitude jay."

jay laughed at the smugness you were emanating. it reminded him of himself.

"really now? think you could keep up with the bullet club if given the offer?" you were surprised at the sudden question but agreed, "i'd be killer," you replied, "happy to hear that," jay responded as you two remained in comfortable silence.

weeks turned into months as you and jay got closer. you had taken him up for his offer in joining the bullet club for impact and he was sure you would become women's champion in no time. with his help, he knew it would be sooner than later.

when you made your appearance for impact, you were wearing jay's signature symbol on your leather jacket as he walked out with you. he had given you the queen switchblade nickname not long after as he couldn't help but emphasize to you that he liked seeing you with his symbol across your back.

when jay finally grew the balls to officially ask you out on a date, the first thing he did was run to instagram to post a picture. it was one of the two of you kissing. you both had your leather gears on as jay had his hands promptly placed on your waist gripping it like his life depended on it.

#all elite wrestling #aew x reader #aew imagine #jay white #jay white imagine #jay white x reader #jay white x you #wrestling imagine #wrestling fic #impact wrestling

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