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kimhargreeves · 8 months

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Saved Again-Sanji x Fem Reader (One Piece Netflix)

Summary: You've been Luffy's friend for years. Being the first member to join Luffy's crew, together they are off to become pirates,.later on a certain chef has his eyes on you. And a fond memory of you and a boy after a shipwreck comes to mind when arriving at the Baratie.

(A/N: I'm so excited for the One Piece live action do I decided to write this!! I'll start on a Part 2 once the series is released. I absolutely love Sanji and he's my favorite of the Straw Hats. I relate to him a lot too since I was training to become a chef as well…anyways the one shot might be slightly changed once I watch the series.)

(A/N: Oh and also the reader is often confused as a boy but Nami and Sanji know she's a girl.)

"That's why I'm gonna be king of the pirates!!" Luffy exclaimed enthusiastically, even though we were in the middle of nowhere.

I turned around and frowned looking at him being too cheery and loud as usual. "Can you be any louder?' I glare before pulling my head out of the small boat we were in and I continued to throw up out into the ocean.

I heard a hum coming from Luffy and saw him tilting his head a bit. "Are you sure you're okay?"

This is the downside of wanting to become a pirate and sail across the Grand Line. Well, not many people get sea sick and start to pour their guts out.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead and sighed. "If only Coby didn't accept in becoming a Marine. He would've maybe given me some of the medicine he was carrying."

"He did offer some yet you said you'd be alright without it." Luffy reminds me making me groan.

"Don't make me throw up on you." I warn.

"Will you two shut up already?" I glared and looked back at the green haired man who I forgot had joined us.

"Huh? Why don't you make me, Zoro? Our friend here might be dying." Luffy said patting my back a bit too rough.

Zoro looked at us with a bored expression on his face and went back to closing his eyes. "You guys are insufferable, would've been nicer if I was still tied up."

I point and glared at him. "You should be thankful that we saved your ass."

"Luffy was the one who did. You're too weak to save anyone anyway, kid."

"I'm not a kid! I'm older than you think believe it or not!!" I shout getting defensive and forgetting that I had be throwing up.

"Then why are you acting like a kid?!"

"Guys will you stop arguing for once?" Luffy said stepping between us and calming Zoro as well when we saw an island up ahead.

Idiots are they really dumb and don't know I am secretly a girl. The reason why I like to crossdress if for fun, but mostly because I've seen the way pirates who are men are more respected.

I once had cut my hair short but decided to let it grow and use a wig instead, besides being in disguise had helped me with stealing from people.

Luffy with his devil fruit power stretched all the way until his feet hit the sand and he looked around in enthusiasm.

"Wow this island seems so cool! But why is it so quiet?!" He asked loudly.

"Maybe this is an island inhabited with ghosts." I muttered and heard Zoro scoff and began to grab his swords when the boat hit the sand below us.

Zoro jumped off of the boat and began to follow Luffy. "Hey, (Y/N). Are you coming or staying?"

I raised my head and tilted my head looking at Luffy. "You guys can go on ahead. I'll catch up with you."

He nodded and I saw both guys beginning to walk further into the island. Slowly I got up on my feet and jumped out of the boat as well. I was deep in my thoughts imagining what it will be like to travel across the world and get to know other famous pirates.

Luffy's dream has always been to become king of the pirates and his number 1 person he's always looked up to was Shanks, maybe Gold D. Roger in second place.

As for me..I really don't have a dream. I've just been following Luffy around. I don't have a family. Shanks was the one who raised me along with Luffy, I came along later in the picture and don't have any memories of my past, only a few glimpses here and there but maybe it's just me reliving someone else's dream.

"So he's also a devil fruit user?"

I stopped walking and ran to hide behind a building and I looked over and saw a group of pirates, my eyes were set on the one between all of them. Buggy the clown. I've seen his Wanted poster.. wait!

My eyes widened and then I glared when I spotted Luffy in a cage. Are you serious?! He got caught..huh? I looked and saw someone else with them too, a red headed girl.

Where is Zoro anyways?

I frowned even more when I saw he and Luffy were caught. God damn it. It's up to me now, now all I gotta do is find out if this girl is an enemy of ally.

I got out of my hiding place and prepared to face the gang of pirate clowns…

"Hang on!!"

Someone shouted and tried to reach for my hands but I was pulled away by the harsh tides of the sea. My eyes and lungs began to sting, I felt like it was the end for me. Just a few minutes ago I was with my family, are they dead? Will I die as well and meet them again?

I couldn't swim so I felt myself sinking lower into the dark cold sea. I wanted to cry but couldn't and right when I was ready accept my death I felt someone grab onto me and I was being pulled up again.

I gasped along with the person who had saved me. A man about the same age as my dad saved me, I continued to gasp and began to cough up the salty water I had in my lungs.

The sky was dark with clouds covering the sky, it was heavily raining with thunder.

"Don't die just yet kid! Hold onto this." The man exclaimed.

The man could swim with ease and he had placed me on top of a wooden piece of what I assumed was part of the ship that had exploded. I looked to my right and saw a boy my age, with blonde hair and green eyes, his eyes seemed scared as well.

Are we the only survivors?

My answer was clear the more we got away from the shipwreck and landed on an island. The man easily picked us up and placed us on his shoulder, but the more he continued to walk the more I felt he was struggling, it wasn't until we made it inside a cave that I realized he lost his leg.

I was about to comment on it but didn't when the man seemed angry at something. The boy and I exchanged looks and didn't say a word, we only saw the man lighting up a small fire place as we continued to hear thunder and lightning.

I don't know who this man is, this boy surely isn't his son…mom..dad…my eyes began to sting and I began to cry out loudly with tears running down my face along with a runny nose.

The man didn't say anything and the little boy seemed to stiffen and I saw a few tears forming in his eyes as well and he began to silently cry…

By the next morning the man, the pirate who saved us said he wanted to be alone so he left the boy and I a large bag of food. "We refuse to eat this because you're a pirate and pirates are bad people!!" The boy had shouted earlier.

The man said almost nothing and left me alone with the boy. The boy and I looked at each other and we both didn't say a word about the man.

"Umm do you think we can make a boat somehow and leave the island?" I quietly asked nervous and shy to ask this stranger for help.

"Does it look like we have a way out of this island?! The boy shouted glaring at me. "What would a girl know about sailing anyways?"

I began to cry again and I did the first thing that came to my mind, and I had punched him. "All I want is to see my parents again!"

The boy seemed surprised by my action and began to hold onto his swollen cheek. "H-hey don't cry. You're gonna make me cry again!"

It was too late. He was crying again….

It had been many days until the three of us were rescued. An odd boat with some friendly men were the one who saved us, the man who rescued the boys and us took the boy in as his own in a way, and he was about to send me off to live a normal life with someone who was willing to raise me.

The man somehow got a nice dress for me to wear, as a last send-off he had done a dessert for me. A strawberry cake I came to love at first bite.

He along with the men on the ship all were outside ready to say their goodbyes to me. I even saw a man or two begin to cry.

"I always wanted a small girl."

"You can't even feed yourself properly how are you supposed to raise a kid." I heard one of them say to another.

"You ready, kid?" I heard the man ask making me turn to look at him. I shook my head and the man sighed and patted my head once. "You'll soon understand why I'm sending you off. You'll have a proper life."

My eyes wandered over to the man and over to the small boy I was saved with. The boy stiffened when I looked at him, and I saw his pale cheeks turn to a pink color.

"I-I…" I didn't know exactly what to say, that's until he spoke up.

"I d-do hope you enjoyed the cake I made with help! Next time if we meet again I'll bake you a whole lot more..also…if we meet again I'll make you my wife!!" He exclaimed.

The men behind the boy groaned and one of them lightly hit his head. "That's no way of a send-off!"

I shyly smiled at all of them and the boy….

"Usopp!! Nami!! Are we there yet?!"

"How many times do we have to say, no!!"

I squinted my eyes when I opened them. "That was a strange dream." I muttered to myself and glared at the three who woke me up.

Few days have gone by since he fought Buggy and his crew along with a few more pirates. Usopp was the new crew member. He's a bit odd and a scaredy cat but he means well. If it wasn't for him. Luffy wouldn't have his new and proper ship, officially presenting himself as a pirate.

The sailing ship was huge and fitted with us do well. Luffy named it the Going Merry. A fitting name for a ship.

I looked to my left and saw Zoro fast asleep, I felt envious that he could sleep through this much talking and noise. I made sure my wig was still in place and I got up to join Nami up front. At least it's nice to have another girl around.

"So…you don't have trouble with sharing a room filled with guys?" I asked and saw Nami giving me an odd bur serious look.

"No?" She squinted her eyes looking at me and looked back at the tides.

Weird…It's a shame I can't talk about girl things with her.

Luffy said he was searching for the last member to our team. Luffy is Captain, we have a navigator..well kinda that being Nami, the main fighter being Zoro, Usopp as the sniper and I fix anything on the ship

Since none of us are cooks. Luffy suggested on finding a chef. I offered to be the one to fill everyone's stomach, but everything I cook always ends up burnt.

The rest of us began to get things done on the ship until a fight began with another ship and the Going Merry crashed into a ship. My mouth fell open when we crashed and accidently directed a cannon ball into the ship that wasn't even attacking us.

"Crap…Luffy!" I shouted and saw him smiling shamefully.

All of us walked closer to the deck and saw the great damage the other ship received. "We better head in there and talk to the person in charge. And you are going to apologize." I said grabbing onto Luffy's straw hat and he quickly grabbed it back and placed it on his head.

He said nothing and began to follow us. We got onto the other ship and read the ships name, The Baratie.

I looked around and this seemed familiar. "You okay?" Nami stopped and asked glancing back at me.

"Yeah.. everything's fine." I said still looking around and ran over to her side and began to follow the rest of the crew.

We all entered the ship and wow was it beautiful and extremely fancy. "Wow..this is something else. It doesn't feel like we're in the middle of the sea." I said in awe and stared around.

Everything looked so expensive. I saw people around sharing their meals and couples smiling at each other and drinking fancy wine. Not to mention the smell, I wonder how the food must taste!

I was practically drooling when I saw a huge meal in a table. Nami had grabbed the back of my clothes and dragged me away from a couple who was staring at me weirded out.

"Get a hold of yourself, (Y/N)." Nami muttered and went to sit down on an empty table.

I nodded at myself then went back to checking the place out. This seems so familiar…I started to walk around and peeked over and saw many chefs cooking the meals and they seemed to make it so easy.

"I have an order for a large plate of seafood rice, potato pallie and medium sized bowl of sea pork soup. I need it done in less than 10 minutes!" My mouth began to water even more.

"All have it done in 5." Someone said on the other side with a British accent.

"(Y/N)!" Someone hissed my name and I quickly went over to sit next to Nami and Zoro. Luffy came in as well while we sat down and patiently waited to talk to someone.

I had excused myself after waiting for a bit and went to the bathroom. When I returned I saw Nami still sitting down and she raised an eyebrow looking not pleased when a man began walking towards her.

I felt my heart race when I saw a tall figure standing just a few inches away from her. A handsome man with blonde hair with one of his eyes being a bit hidden by it. He was wearing a dark suit with a blue and white striped shirt under it with a black tie and matching dress pants.

"Would the lady like something sweet?" I saw a smirk spread across his face and Nami just stared at him and rolled her eyes.

Who is he?? And does he know Nami? The man was clearly flirting with her.

"You gotta be joking." I heard Nami ssy. She then turned to look at me.

I didn't know what to do or say. I simply stared at her confused then looked to see the man look at me, he glanced for a second then once again and was now looking directly at me. He immediately walked away from Nami and began to walk towards me.

I began to take a few steps back and I gasped when he took hold of my hand with both of his hands and saw him get down on one knee.

"You are the most gorgeous being I've laid my eyes on. A sight no other I've come across in the Grand Line.."

Thank goodness Nami couldn't listen but it was quiet clear to anyone that this man was flirting with me.

"Y-You've got it all wrong!" I said trying to pull back and felt my cheeks turning red. I can't let anyone know at the moment that I was crossdressing as a guy!!

"I'm never wrong. My eyes never fail when I see a beautiful lady as yourself."

If I weren't in this situation I would be falling on my knees. He's so cute and handsome! My lips began to quiver and I felt my entire body freeze. I've never met a man who shameless at flirting with a stranger.

The man rose up to his feet now towering me and smiling down at me. "I-I…"

He smiled and Introduced himself. "My name is Sanji."

#netflix #anime #one piece #one piece netflix #one piece live action #vinsmoke sanji #one piece sanji #sanji x reader #one piece x reader #taz skylar #one piece netflix x reader

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empresskylo · 10 months

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beneath the mask ✩ chapter 1

➠ 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠ SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠ CHAPTER TAGS | afab!reader. kinda mean!ghost. wc 2.5k. ➠ AUTHOR'S NOTE | ayyoo, so i had an idea for a series with ghost with lots of angst and i finally wrote the first chapter. so let me know if you like it and if i should continue. it looks like it will be around 10 or so chapters. its a slow burn and will be a lil dark. okay, enjoy! feedback appreciated!

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

you adjusted the strap to your med bag, shuffling as quickly as you could down the hallway, dodging tipped over medical trays and beds shoved haphazardly in the aisle. the lights above you flickered as you scurried in the direction of the hollering voices, the rumble of gunfire shooting off in the distance like fireworks.

you burst into what you suspected was once the hospital's lobby, debris and paper scattered everywhere, jumping over chunks of stone from the wall.

“sergeant,” a deep voice called to you. you looked over at captain price and darted in his direction. before him sat a large body, a man who intimidated the fuck out of you. you were lucky you were strung out on adrenaline or you might have been too nervous to do your job properly.

“it’s ghost,” price said, his hand firmly placed on the man’s abdomen, a blood soaked cloth beneath it.

you slid down to your knees and chucked your med bag beside you and started digging around. “what happened?”

“got fuckin’ shot, the hells it look like,” the grumpy asshole, who should be a lot nicer to the woman saving his life, said.

you rolled your eyes and dug out a clean linen, replacing the one price was using. “hold,” you instructed him. normally you were a bit shy around the men, especially your superiors, but in moments of panic, you functioned at your best.

it didn’t take you long to disinfect and pry the bullet out of ghosts abdomen, taping the wound shut with medical glue and wrapping it in gauze. it took you all of 4 minutes. and you only thought about the fact that your hand was on ghost’s exposed skin a few times.

“and that’s why you’re the best,” price chuckled, slapping a hand on your shoulder.

you gave him a weak smile, wiping away the sweat that was forming on your forehead. the adrenaline was starting to subside, your nerves creeping up on you.

a loud shout and the sounds of rifles going off sounded in the distance. ghost and price glanced at each other. “go,” ghost urged.

price nodded before leaving you alone with ghost, who seemed more than upset over the fact that he was now dead weight. you wanted to tell him he was an asset to the team and they wanted him whole instead of trying to fight at half efficiency. but you figured he already knew as much.

you rubbed your hands on your pants before pointing at ghost. “you—uhm—got blood all over your mask.”

ghost grunted, trying to stand up.

“wait, let me help you.”

he ignored you, using the wall behind him to push up. stubborn bastard.

“ghost! if you rip out the perfectly good work i just did, i swear to god!”

he looked at you surprised, as if hearing you shout was the most startling thing in the world, and halted all movement until you slid beneath him and helped him stand. his arm rested across your shoulder as you stood in sync with him. you tried to ignore the burning sensation you got from the contact.

“didn’t know you could get that loud,” he mocked.

you squeezed your lips together; your mask that sat slouched around your neck suddenly felt suffocating.

as ghost leaned back against the wall, catching his breath, you put your hands nervously on your hips. “you should let me check…” you hesitated, pointing at your own face to let him know you wanted to see if he was bleeding under his mask.

“no,” he said sternly.

“ghost, i—“

“it’s not my blood. nothin’ to check, then.”

“nothin’ to check, then,” you repeated quietly, slightly irritated. you knew good and well that he was lying. he had no idea if it was his blood or someone else’s that soaked the white skull on his mask.

“what?” he asked, causing you to snap your eyes away. shit, you were staring.

“you ever let anyone see what’s under there?” you asked timidly, making it sound like he had something wildly inappropriate hidden beneath his mask.

“price,” he said chastely, clearly thinking there was a time and place for everything, and the battlefield was not said place.

“oh.” after a beat. “why?”

before ghost could retort, soap came storming in. “we gotta go.” he must have talked to price because he came rushing to ghost’s side to help him walk, already aware of the extent of ghost’s injuries.

you followed as the three of you hustled out of the decrepit hospital. another beautiful building lost to the brutality of warfare, you thought sullenly.

when you were safe on the humvee, you shifted your bag awkwardly on top of your lap, ghost’s large presence taking up almost all of your personal space. you tried not to think about the way your thighs touched his.

it made sense, ghost was hurt, so of course he’d sit next to the medic, but still, your heart raced rapidly in your chest as if he purposely chose to sit next to you for other reasons. you tried to shut your brain up by closing your eyes.

the vehicle went over a bump, sending you sliding against ghost’s side. “s-sorry,” you muttered, your eyes springing open, and you hurriedly pushed away from him.

he didn’t even look down at you, his eyes glued to whatever it was he was staring at straight ahead.

he was infuriatingly difficult to read. his eyes might have been expressive, but they only ever looked some various level of pissed off. but you knew there was more to him than that. you had seen the way he spoke to soap. there was a human beneath the artificial exterior that was ghost.

the road was seemingly filled with dips and crags because the back end of the vehicle kept bumping and shifting. you opened your legs slightly so you could hold on to the seat between them to prevent you from slamming into ghost and the soldier on the other side of you.

ghost must have been annoyed at the way you continuously jostled around with every shift of the humvee because when the car rattled through a particularly big pothole, his muscled arm outstretched across your chest, stopping you from flying forward.

you felt your face heat, utterly embarrassed. all these men around you were so much taller and properly built. you, on the other hand, stood a good foot below ghost, it was no wonder you were easy to slide around the vehicle. ghost was weighted in place by muscle. seat belts would have been a smart addition, you thought.

it was in your nature to want to thank ghost, but when you spared a glance up at him, his head was shifted in the complete opposite direction. as the road transformed to smoother terrain, his arm fell back to his side as if nothing had happened.

you wouldn’t lie, the fact that you were supposed to be the one caring for ghost, the bullet wound in his side and all, made you feel small and inferior when he had to hold you down. it probably hurt him to life his arm like that too, though he would never admit it.

when you got back to base, you changed and showered before anyone could find you and drag you into doing something you didn’t want to do, stealing you away from your time to rest. and as if you willed it just from that thought, one of your teammates grabbed your shoulder as you walked passed the infirmary.

“hey! can you cover for me? smith is out and i was supposed to have my dinner break an hour ago.”

your fellow medic looked at you with puppy dog eyes, playfully steepling their hands to beg.

“fine,” you said with mock irritation.

“ah, thanks! you’re a lifesaver.” you followed him into the dimly lit infirmary. “i was just about to rebandage the lieutenant up,” he said.

you froze. “wait, we got back an hour ago, why hasn’t he been rebandaged yet?”

your teammate glanced at you as he grabbed his things. “l.t. was busy debriefing with price. said that was more important.” he shrugged then hurried out of the room before you could say more.

shit shit shit.

no, this is fine. stop overreacting, you told yourself. you can handle facing ghost again. granted, the first time you were doped up on adrenaline. now, you weren’t so sure you’d be able to keep a steady hand.

you never had any real issues with authority before. and you didn’t get this way around the captain. but something about ghost unsettled you. he was a cold-blooded killer after all.

you knew that lots of the men here were technically killers, but there was a mythical aura around ghost. even the enemies knew to beware the man in the skull mask. once you see him, it’s too late, you’re already dead.

and it didn’t help that ghost seemed to despise you. you’ve seen him get irritated at the others before–especially soap. but you’ve also seen him joke and act friendly too. just never with you. if you knew why, you’d change that thing about yourself. anything for peace. but you couldn’t wrap your mind around why he hated you. maybe he just hated medics? but he didn’t seem to mind any of the other medics on base; at least not that you saw.

maybe he just didn’t like women. especially ones that thought they were macho enough to fight in the military. but that didn’t seem quite right either.

god, you needed to stop overthinking everything.

regardless of ghost’s reasoning, you squeezed your hands as you grabbed a medical tray and rolled it over to ghost’s bed.

you tried to disguise the gulp when you saw him, outstretched in bed, his tactical gear shed and scattered on the ground. boots on, but untied. his long sleeve shirt now tossed on the end of the bed, stained with blood–a t-shirt his only covering. his pants low on his hips as his shirt rode up from how he laid propped on the bed. his neck exposed from where his mask and shirt collar didn’t meet.

oh my god, you were acting like a victorian man with the way your heart was suddenly racing at every little bit of exposed skin.

you pried your eyes away and slid on a pair of latex gloves.

you grabbed a disinfectant and turned to him, trying to conjure a polite smile.

“look like you’re gonna be sick,” he grumbled.

“i’m smiling. this is me happy,” you said back, the forced grin slipping away now that ghost called you out on it.

you swore you almost heard him chuckle.

you tentatively reached out to the hem of his shirt and pushed it up to where the bloody bandage you put on earlier sat.

you felt his eyes on you as you began working, removing the old bandage and cleaning his wound properly. you shifted back and forth between ghost and the tray table beside you, dabbing up the blood and gingerly washing the wound.

after it was cleaned and you were struggling to keep your mind clear, you needed to do a small strip of stitches to keep the gash from widening.

“i’m just going to go ahead and give you a few stitches,” you said quietly, avoiding the dark gaze of his eyes. you applied a numbing agent that you knew wouldn’t affect his skin deep enough to mask all the pain. you had to save the proper sedation and anesthetics for more serious injuries, always cautious to not run out of supplies while only getting provisions delivered on occasion.

you got the suture kit out before you. eyeless needle ready in hand, you began to quickly slide the needle through his skin to close it up. ghost didn’t so much as flinch as you went to work.

ghost had shifted his position slightly, his shirt riding up in the process and exposing the way his sweatpants hung low on his hips, the V of his lower abdomen coming into view.

your cheeks felt hot as you tried to pretend you hadn’t noticed.

“shit. take it easy, love,” ghost grunted. you hadn’t realized you were putting pressure on his wound as you stared at the hair that trailed up towards his navel, completely losing all train of thought.

“oh my god. i’m sorry,” you stuttered, wanting to hurry up and finish so you could get out of here.

did he just call you love? your chest exploded with unwanted feelings. god damnit, you cursed to your-easily-seduced-self. stop being irrational, he’s british, they call everyone ‘love’.

you could feel ghost’s eyes burning holes through you, tempting you to lose the steadfast nature of your hands.

“nervous?” he asked in such a nonchalant way.

you refrained from gulping as you secured the end of the suture. “n-no.”

“you’re a bloody soldier. there's no place for nerves.”

you felt your heart sink deep within your chest at his harsh words. ghost had noticed your nervous ticks, the way you were distracted around him. he might not have known that he was the source of your jitters, but he noticed nonetheless. and he clearly thought you were weak for acting like that. how had someone like you secured a job in the military? you wanted to tell him that you weren’t usually like this. that you were always good under pressure–it’s where you thrived. that you were quick on your feet and ready to risk it all to save your teammates.

it wasn’t you being afraid. it was you being intimidated by his looming presence. wanting to please your lieutenant. wanting to get on his good side. but you didn’t know how. and it made it far more difficult when you began to notice your attraction to him. how were you supposed to act cool and collected in front of ghost when his piercing gaze sent goosebumps up your spine. or how his words made you lose all thought–stealing yours right from your mouth.

and it didn’t help that he was a grumpy, negative, and an all around contentious bastard. you tried so hard to tell yourself that you weren’t attracted to him. he was just another soldier (a rude one at that). you didn’t even know what he looked like under his mask for fucks sake.

when you finished up, placing a fresh bandage over your work, you threw your gloves in the bin and turned to him. “i’m sorry.” the words escaped you before you could stop them. you were seriously apologizing for being nervous? how was that going to make things any better? he was certainly going to think you were too soft for this line of work now. an anxious surgeon wasn’t the best attribute for your lieutenant to think you possessed.

shocked by your own words, you turned to leave, stopping when you heard ghost mumble under his breath. “how the fuck did you manage to make it through combat training?”

you tried your damndest to reign in your tears before you made it to your room.

chapter 2 ➡

#ghost #simon riley #smut #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost smut #simon riley smut #cod #ghost fanfic #simon riley fanfic #ghost call of duty #ghost angst #cod mw2 #cod fic #call of duty fanfic #mw2 fanfic #beneath the mask

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roosterforme · 5 months

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That's My Boy | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley gets caught up in his emotions after Everett turns twelve. As his son gets older, he realizes that days spent playing baseball in the park together will grow fewer in number. He wants to make all of them count.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing

Length: 2400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

This is a Batting Practice one-shot but can be read alone! Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @mak-32

"I can't believe he's turning twelve next week," Bradley muttered as you and he stood in front of a wall of baseball bats in San Diego's best sporting goods store. "It feels like he just turned seven."

You slipped your arms around his waist and gave him a squeeze. "Have I mentioned yet that I love that you kept the Padres game tradition alive every year for his birthday? Ev is going to flip when you tell him you got box seats for the game on Sunday."

Bradley kissed the top of your head and grunted softly as he smiled. "I fucking love that kid. He still asks me to take him to the park to hit balls all the time. And I just don't know how much longer he's going to think I'm cool, you know?"

You snorted against Bradley's chest and then looked up at him. "He'll probably think you're cool for longer than he thinks I am!"

"Well, yeah. Obviously, Kitten," he said as he rolled his eyes and tried not to laugh. "But I might only last another year or so past you."

"You're obnoxious," you informed him with a grin as he positioned you with your arms out in front of you and your palms up.

"I know," he replied, giving you another kiss. Then he walked around the store and loaded your arms with two new bats, a new mitt, cleats and some baseballs. "I think that's good. Plus I ordered him and I those personalized Phillies throwback jerseys."

"Seriously? You think the two of you needed more Phillies jerseys? You probably already have half a dozen with BRADSHAW on the back."

"Actually I have seven. This will make eight," he said, pulling you closer to him while your arms were still full. "But he won't be a kid for much longer. He's not gonna want to match with me when he's eighteen. And I love spoiling him. And you."

You set everything down at the register while Bradley dug his credit card out of his wallet. "So..." you said softly while the cashier bagged everything up, and he paid. Bradley looked at you out of the corner of his eye as you ran your hand along the back of his bicep. "You want to take me home and spoil me while Everett is with his cousins for the evening?"

Bradley smirked and grabbed the bag, lacing his fingers with yours. "You want to dress up in your bodysuit and kitten ears for me? Let me kiss off your whiskers?"

You were giggling as you ran out to his Bronco, and Bradley was hot on your heels.

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

"Dad, I want to try out my new gear," Everett whined as he looked out the front window at the pouring rain a week later. His voice was starting to get deeper, and all of the girls in his class had a crush on him. He had grown up so much since Bradley met him, and sometimes it still shocked him that he had a son.

"It's supposed to be nicer out tomorrow. We can go then."

Everett turned and looked at him. "But tomorrow's your birthday."

Bradley smiled. He couldn't think of anything he'd rather do after work than come home, get changed, grab his mitt, and go to the park. "Yeah, it'll be fun."

But Everett still looked skeptical. "Won't Mom be mad if we ditch her on your birthday?"

"Nah. We'll be home for dinner. And I'll make it up to her later."

Everett grimaced and started to head upstairs, but then he paused and asked, "Can we wear our new jerseys?"

"Of course."

And it turned out, you were a little annoyed at first the following day. "I have birthday dinner and cupcakes planned. I thought the three of us could eat together here since we're going to the pizza place with Molly and Bob on Friday."

Bradley pulled you close and whispered, "Just for an hour?" He rubbed your back and gave you his sweetest expression. "We'll just hit a few balls and come right back."

He turned as he heard Everett thunder down the stairs. "Ready, Coach?"

"Please?" Bradley asked you, kissing your forehead.

"Go," you said, pushing him toward Everett. "But seriously, be home by seven or I'll eat all the cupcakes myself."

Bradley and Everett ran out the front door with twin grins and loaded their gear into the back of the Bronco. It was strange to see how tall his son had gotten after a recent growth spurt; he was already almost as tall as you. Another few years, and he'd be the same height as Bradley. Maybe taller.

"You okay?" Everett asked, and Bradley realized he was just standing there staring at him. He looked a lot like his biological father, but he really looked so much like you.

"Yeah," he grunted, kind of missing the days when he would buckle Everett into his booster seat. Now he climbed into the front seat without help. Bradley started the engine and said, "A few more years and I'll be teaching you how to drive this thing."

Everett's eyes bugged out. "You'll let me drive the Bronco? Mom hardly ever even drives it."

"Yeah, well, Mom doesn't appreciate the fine art of making sure it doesn't stall out on the highway."

"I would," he replied, looking around the interior like it was a hallowed space.

Bradley nodded as he pulled into the parking lot. "I don't doubt it, Kiddo. You ready to test out your new bats?"

"So ready!"

The grass was still a little damp from all the rain, but the air smelled fresh as the sun dipped closer to the horizon. Bradley waited until Everett signalled that he was ready, and then he pitched an easy slider to him. Everett sent it soaring. "Holy shit," Bradley muttered as he watched where it landed so they could collect it later. "Nice," he called out as he reached into his bucket for another ball.

This time he threw the same pitch but harder. The result was identical as Everett nailed it far into the outfield. "I like this bat!" he said, adjusting his stance, ready for more.

Bradley rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck before throwing his slider again, this time with everything he had. He could feel the ball leave his hand. The perfect pitch. And then he heard the crack of the bat. The perfect hit. This time the ball went even farther than the last two.

"Damn," Bradley said, reaching for another ball and rolling it around in his glove a few times. "Try the other bat," he told Everett, and he watched his son switch them and take a few practice swings.

"Ready!"

Maybe he wouldn't be expecting a fastball this time. Bradley wound up and threw a pitch that even Bob could only hit half the time in the rec league games.

Crack!

"Jesus, Everett," he said as he watched the ball sail directly over his head. In a real game, it would have been an easy out for the center fielder, but it was hit so well and so hard, Bradley was kind of shocked.

"Come on, Dad," Everett called. "Throw a really hard one."

Bradley looked at his eager face. He wasn't taunting; he really wanted a harder pitch. But Bradley was already starting to get a little sore as he scooped up another ball. He threw the hardest changeup he could muster, and while it wasn't a clean hit, Everett still got some wood on it.

But when he threw that pitch again, Everett hit it square on and sent it sailing farther than the other balls in the outfield. "Damn, Kiddo," Bradley said, gaping at his son who looked completely unfazed.

"Wanna switch places?" Everett asked, heading toward Bradley and handing him the bat.

But it was more of the same. Sure, the bat wasn't quite big enough for Bradley, and it was still hard for Everett to stay in the strike zone, but Bradley could barely hit his pitches. They were too fast. His slider was so good, he had Bradley swinging too late. His changeup was so sneaky, Bradley swung early.

Finally, Everett threw a fastball that Bradley nailed so hard, they'd be lucky to find it in the treeline. "That's a birthday home run, Coach!" Everett cheered, jumping and tossing another ball up into the air.

"Yeah," Bradley rasped, just standing there staring at the twelve year old. He felt tears prickle his eyes as he smiled and closed the distance between them. "You're really good, Ev," he whispered, pulling him tight to his body. When his son smiled up at him with his slightly crooked front tooth and bright eyes, Bradley said, "Let's get home for dinner with Mom."

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

You loved more than anything that you and Everett had Bradley in your lives, and that the boys so easily lost track of time when they were together. But tonight you made an enormous dinner for your husband's birthday, and now they were late getting back. Just as you started to make yourself a plate of food, unable to wait any longer to eat, the two of them burst through the front door. Everett was talking a mile a minute, and they looked absolutely adorable in their matching shirts.

"Did you have fun?" you asked, taking a bite of mashed potatoes. It was actually impossible to be annoyed at them when they got like this. But Bradley met your eyes with a soft smile on his face that almost looked a little sad.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice rough. When you set your plate down and went to him, he pulled you in for a hug. "Thanks for making dinner."

"Happy birthday," you whispered for probably the hundredth time today. "Are you okay?"

He nodded. "I'm perfect."

The three of you ate at the table, but Bradley was a little quieter than usual. And he only ate one cupcake instead of two or three. And you thought you saw tears in his eyes when he opened the enormous Phanatic foam finger Everett picked out for him.

"I love it. And I love you," Bradley told Everett as he hugged him. "We can put it upstairs in the Phillies room."

You watched the way your son hugged him as he said, "Happy birthday, Dad." There was no way that kid was ever going to stop thinking Bradley was cool.

"Ev, sweetie, it's time to start getting ready for bed," you reminded him.

"Go on up and get a shower, and then I'll tuck you in," Bradley told him as Everett went thundering up the stairs.

He was old enough that he probably didn't still need to be tucked in, but you knew for a fact that Everett had never once asked Bradley to stop. When you looked at your husband across the table, he was rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. You stood and went to him as you softly asked, "Will you please tell me what's wrong?"

He looked up at you with tear filled eyes before scooting his chair back and patting his thigh so you'd sit on his lap. You settled in with your arms around his neck, and he kissed your cheek and your shoulder as he visibly tried to hold back his tears.

"God, Kitten. You should have seen him tonight. He's just so fucking good."

"I know he is," you replied, kissing his cheek.

"No. He's better than me now. He hit the hardest pitch I could throw, and then I could barely make contact with his slider."

You let those words really sink in. Bradley was easily one of the best players in his recreational league. He could pitch nine innings and make it look easy. He could hit the ball beyond the fences. "Are you serious?"

"I'm so fucking serious, Baby," he whispered, rubbing his mustache along your neck. "He's twelve. His voice hasn't even changed all the way yet. He hasn't even reached his maximum height."

You took Bradley's face in your hands and kissed his nose. "And this is making you cry?"

He shrugged as you ran your thumbs along his rosy cheeks. "I'm just overwhelmed. He seems so grown up now." He closed his eyes, voice shaky as he said, "I wish I'd had more time with him when he was a little kid, you know? I didn't get to see him when he was a toddler or anything. It would have been nice to have another year of tee ball. Hell, I wish I'd had a few more years with you, too."

Now your throat felt tight with tears of your own, but you shook your head. "You found us at just the right time. Right when we needed you the most."

Your forehead came to rest against his as he gave up the battle and let himself cry. You loved that he was so soft for the two of you and let you see his emotions. He took as much time as he needed while you ran your fingers through his hair, and when he met your eyes again, he was smiling.

"I don't know what I'm going to do when he doesn't want to play ball in the park with me anymore," he said with a laugh as he wiped his eyes. "I live for this shit."

You kissed his cheek as you heard Everett calling for him to come upstairs. "I really don't think you're going to have to worry about that, Coach."

Bradley stood but kept you close. "Pretty soon he'll be grown. An actual man."

When he tried to walk away to tuck Everett in, you put your hands on his chest to keep him in place. "Yeah. He will. And he'll have the best role model in you to show him how it's done."

Bradley ran his hand over his forehead, and he looked like he might start crying again. "I better go tuck him in while I still can."

You nodded and followed him up the stairs. When he turned right toward Everett's bedroom, you stood in the hallway, blinking away your own tears as you listened to their voices. Their combined laughter filled your house and your heart as you waited to take your husband's hand for the night whenever he was done being the dad who was tailor made for Everett.

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

Soft and sweet Coach makes me tear up every time. Bradley, Everett is always going to think you're cool, and he's always going to want to spend time with you. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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chunksworld · 11 months

Text

A Helping Hand

ITZY Yuna x Male Reader | (Tags: Smut)

A/N: Damn I've been so down bad for her lately. Thanks @kaedespicelatte as always for beta reading.

————————

Clank. Clank. Clank.

Missed shots after missed shots—some of them aren’t even hitting the rim, that’s how bad it’s gotten. It’s safe to say that basketball practice isn’t going particularly well for you. You’ve had to resort to either passing the ball in the perimeter or going for a layup instead, which makes you easier to defend against. And it’s not like you were making your shots in shootaround either, the rim could probably be as wide as the ocean and you would still somehow miss it. It’s as if you forgot the fundamentals of the sport you grew to love and dedicate your life towards.

Nothing frustrates you more than when your shots aren’t falling. You’re a basketball player after all—well to be more exact, you are the school’s star basketball player and the team captain. Your teammates look up at you for inspiration and to lead them to victory every single game. Sure it’s just practice, but you didn’t get this far by slacking off and you want to lead by example. No one criticizes you more than your own self and perhaps it’s that double-edged sword that has led you to become so hard on yourself. It’s a trait that has led you to success but at times like this, you are your own worst enemy.

You make brief eye contact with your coach and the look of disappointment he gives you is so gut wrenching, his hands on his hips and his eyebrows furrowed. You can already hear the rant he’s about to give once scrimmage is over, he’s not exactly a player’s coach and just because you’re the star player does not mean that he’s going to be nicer to you—in fact, it’s the opposite. You’ve gotten yelled at in front of your teammates so many times that you’ve become numb to it. He wants the best from you as much as you want the best from yourself but his yelling is what you didn’t wanna hear at this very moment. All you want to do is get some rest and perhaps sleep it off.

“Cut! Cut!”

Coach yells and you’re scrambling to remember how to defend the play. He introduced it earlier during this practice but it obviously never stuck with you. You’re so distracted trying to remember m that you didn’t even realize that you’ve blown your defensive assignment as your opponent drives past you to receive the pass for an easy layup, following the coach’s instructions perfectly and you’ve absolutely lost it. It’s one thing to not make shots but it’s even worse that you can’t even defend properly. You might as well be a drill come out there. Enough is enough.

“Fuck!”

The expletive rings throughout the gym, much louder than you’ve anticipated and your coach blows the whistle. Your teammates can only look at you in pity, they know how frustrating it is to be in your situation plus the wrath you’re about to receive is not going to be pretty. You stop in your tracks and pant heavily, sweat dripping down your face as the intensity of the scrimmage takes over you. Silence, except for your teammates also trying to catch their breath. Your coach then takes a slow walk towards you with his clipboard in hand and you are already bracing your eardrums for the berating but then signals all of the players to leave for the day and walks up to you with his clipboard in hand. Huh, guess he’s sparing you the embarrassment for today. He probably already knows that you’ve embarrassed yourself enough already.

“Listen, I don’t know if you woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning but I’m not having this okay? We’ve got a game later today and I need you to be completely focused and locked in. You’re not leaving this gym until you’ve made 100 threes in a row, got it?”

Somehow, that’s a better punishment than being yelled at in front of your teammates. You look pathetic as it is for their team captain and that would’ve made it worse. Maybe it was the prospect of getting yelled at but suddenly your shots were falling again, and it’s a great thing that it was a morning practice because it still took you five hours to make that many threes in a row. You were pretty sure that more threes than you’ve ever made in your entire career but it was all worth it. You were completely drained and exhausted and all you wanted to do was pass out. You found yourself laying on the hardwood floor and looking up on the banners, some of them you’ve helped raise in the rafters. It would be nice to ad—

“Tough practice, huh? Coach Lee looked like he was gonna knock your head off.” A familiar voice echoes throughout the empty gym. It’s the sound of a woman nonetheless and you’re damn sure that you must be hallucinating with how completely tired you are but that was immediately debunked the moment a basketball landed on your face. You look up and that signature bunny smile is enough to send your heart running throughout this facility. What the hell is she doing here? She’s never been here, hell does she even know what basketball is?

Shin Yuna. The school’s most popular student and the president of the student council—rumors has it that she’s turned down a record 200 male students during her time here so far (you can confirm at least 19 of those male students because everyone of your teammates have asked her out already). And it’s as clear as the bright blue skies as to why she’s highly sought after; insanely smart, stunning visuals, and an amazing body to go along with it (you definitely have not been taking notice of the last part, absolutely not). Plus, you see her face everywhere. There’s 100 clubs to join in this campus and she’s the leader for a handful of them. “Fuck me, did he broadcast to the entire school how shitty I was today?”

You lay back down on the hardwood floor, probably not good advice because your jersey is now completely dirty. But that’s the least of your concerns at this very moment. Yuna continues walking towards you, the heel of her boots making a resounding noise with each and every step. “No he didn’t, but I was running some errands and I wanted to stop by to check how our basketball team is doing and….” She sits down beside you, clearly she doesn’t care that her clothes are going to be dirty either.

“And you saw me being absolutely shit at the sport I’m supposed to be good at. Great.” What horrible timing, the student council president rarely visits and she just had to choose the worst day possible. You just want to bury a hole and dig yourself.

And Yuna is either terrible at reading people’s emotions or she doesn’t care at all because her response was a smile as she sits closer to you, as if she’s shrugging off everything you just said. Can this day get any worse? “Well, everyone has bad days don’t they? I’m sure that LeBron Jordan guy had some bad shooting days as well.” Never mind, guess she has great intentions after all.

“Touché. But we have a game later so I need to figure the fuck out how to play again so will you be of any help, miss student council president?” You must have said something right because her face lights up like a light bulb. And you can only hope that whatever she does have in mind is actually going to be helpful.

“Well that can’t be good….” Her fingers trace your biceps, “As the president of the student council it’s my duty to ensure that our school’s star athlete can de-stress before the game right?” You’re only half focusing on her words at this very moment, her scalding touch the only thing occupying your mind as she continues to caress your arms.

Like a true basketball star, you’re figuring out her next play though like a simple pick and roll, it’s easy to decipher. You decide to let it play out anyways. “What are you trying to say?”

“How about……” Her fingers now reach for your face, her own visage now dangerously close to yours, “…I lend you a helping hand, how does that sound?”

As expected, it was the perfect read all along. The moment her lips mesh with yours and you could already feel all of this morning’s stress start to dissipate. You didn’t even hesitate to think about the potential repercussions, of the fact that two of the most influential figures on campus are about to engage in acts not appropriate for such a setting. Not when you feel how perfect her soft lips are on yours, clouding your judgment and throwing any sense of rationality out of the window. Your teammates would surely kill you if they found out that out of everyone on the team, it was you that’s getting such an opportunity with Yuna.

They’d surely be jealous because you’re the one viewing her beautiful features up close, not them. You’re the one caressing her curves and every other part of her heavenly body that have made her the wet dreams of every male student on campus. That you’re the one eliciting such lustful and throaty moans out of her as your lips trail down to her neck, your hands reaching out to her clothed busts to give them a gentle squeeze. It sounds so hot, Yuna sounds so fucking hot. And it’s a good thing that you’re wearing your basketball shorts and not your regular pants because you would definitely be in much more pain now with how hard you are.

“Fuck, a little stress relief is what I need as well….”

But it gets even worse the moment she straddles your lap, landing perfectly on the tent forming on your shorts and you inadvertently groan at the immense pleasure. She reverts back to kissing you before you could even muster up a verbal response, a more aggressive lip lock this time with tongues involved as she slowly starts to grind on you. You could feel how wet she is under that skirt and your mind is already racing with the plenty of ways you want to take advantage of this opportunity. As much as you don’t want to stop kissing her, you don’t want it to stop at just this so you grab at the hem of your jersey but before you could remove it, she breaks away from the kiss. It’s only first base and yet she’s already ruined and so fucking pretty as always. “Is there a more private place?”

Of course there is. You grabbed her by the hand and dragged her towards the empty locker room. As soon as the door is shut, you grab her by the waist and bring her to your lap again as you sit on the bench and resume your kissing. Busy hands immediately go to work trying to remove each other’s clothing. She gets rid of your jersey with ease while you have to work with removing her tie and lifting the blue top over her head; her bra coming off right after. Your mouth salivates at the sight of her perfectly shaped tits, round, petite, and nipples begging to be sucked. But as you were mere inches away, she got off of you to remove her skirt and panties (which were drenched as you predicted. You do the same with your shorts and boxers, throwing them to the side. Both of your shoes come flying off as well.

You’re both finally fully naked. Your cock twitching as precum oozes from the tip due to intense arousal, there in front of you lies a naked Yuna. Whereas other guys have to imagine what she looks like, you could actually view her in this state. A gorgeous face paired with a body sculpted by the gods themselves, curves that can only be compared to that of an hourglass, her clean shaven pussy, her inner thighs already drenched, and those legs that you just want wrapped around you. But with how she’s biting and licking her lips, you’re not the only one completely turned on. “You can take a picture of me to jack off to later, but I want you to fuck me now please.”

And who are you to turn down such a request? She mounts you once again, this time making sure to aim her opening at your tip. You both moan at the first contact, electricity surging through your bodies but you fight through it. You bring her lips to yours, arms wrapped around her body as you aid her in completely taking you inside her. “A-Ahhh fucc-k!” Her nails immediately dig into your shoulder and back as she pulls away from the kiss. Yuna is tight, so amazingly and mind-blowingly tight despite how wet she is. And it doesn’t seem like she’s a virgin either because she seems like she knows what she’s doing. You, on the other hand, haven’t had sex in ages and yet your carnal desire for her is what’s driving you. “So fucking b-big!”

“And you’re so tight….shit.”

Eventually, she's able to take your length all the way inside her. But with how tight she is, you will definitely rearrange her guts by the time you two are finished. That’s the least of your concerns right now, however. as she begins to roll her hips. The pleasure is overwhelming and the effects of not having any intercourse in quite a while is starting to rear its ugly head as every single movement of her hips is driving you crazy. You pull her even closer to you, causing her to squeal as no inch of space is left between the two of you. Once you are able to overcome the initial onslaught of pleasure, you begin to thrust up inside her as well. And this causes Yuna to wrap her long, luscious legs around you as her nails leave scratch marks on your back and shoulders. “F-Fuck me hard just like that, please!” Her moans are a beautiful symphony of curses, inaudible phrases, and your name uttered in the sexiest way possible. You would gladly listen to it until the day you die. Maybe you could have her relieve your stress all the time if this is what you get at the end.

And you would kiss her to prevent anyone from hearing her moans but the place is empty so it’d be useless so instead you do what you’ve been dying to do ever since earlier, and that’s to taste her breasts. It doesn’t help that they jiggle deliciously in front of you as every thrust of your hips meet her bounces. You dive down and capture them with your lips, focusing on her left breast first and licking the stiff, brown nipple with your tongue. Her whimpers only serve as encouragement, switching to the right nipple and giving it the same treatment that it deserves. Your fingers, on the other hand, are carefully massaging her saliva-drenched left breast. You repeat this over and over, making sure they get enough appreciation from you. She stops grinding her hips at some point because of the immense pleasure and you paused your thrusting as well, and if she didn’t grab you by the chin for a kiss you wouldn’t have noticed as well.

A deep, passionate makeout then ensues as she starts to grind her hips again, her hands pushing your face further towards hers into a sloppy serenade of pure unadulterated need towards each other. A string of saliva follows as you both pull away from oxygen, the lust in her eyes only strengthening with time. “Don’t lie, you’ve been dreaming of sucking my tits don’t you?” The remark catches you off guard and makes you laugh. The answer is obvious, if she wants to hear it then you’ll gladly tell her.

“Fucking hell Yuna, I don’t think there’s any guy out there that doesn’t.” Hell, you want to suck them again at this very moment but you don’t want to be selfish. She also has her needs after all.

The grinding of her hips turns into bouncing again, and the slapping of skin on skin begins to reverberate in the empty locker room. “Exactly. S-So take advantage of this opportunity—shit—and give me your all.” You don’t want to be told twice; you bury your face on her chest as you thrust up at a frantic pace. Her moans only get louder as you piston your cock inside her pussy—that’s still so amazingly tight—relentlessly, making sure that they’ll mold to your shape. Soon, those moans turn into whimpers as she rests her chin on your shoulders and her hot breath going directly through your ears as she continuously whispers sweet nothings—completely delirious from how good of a fucking she’s receiving from you. It’s so pure, it’s so carnal, and it’s so fucking hot the way your moans combine with the slapping of wet skin and the squelches of her pussy as you continue to pound up into her.

But you two are humans after all and can only receive and give so much pleasure, and it doesn’t really take long for Yuna to completely unravel—only three more minutes to be exact. You could already feel it with how much tighter she’s gotten, so tight that you might just reach your orgasm the same time as her. It takes you gritting your teeth and closing your eyes because looking at her pleasure-stricken face with her tongue sticking out and eyes rolled to the back of her head along with her unreal visuals is going to completely cause you to become undone. “Fuck, baby I’m gonna come please. Make me come, fuck me just like that I’m so fucking close….” But you’d rather attack her neck with kisses and bites anyways, the combined smell of her sweat and lavender perfume only driving you crazier and crazier. Like a mantra, she repeats her wish along with incoherent whispers but it’s at a particularly rough thrust as she comes down hard in your lap that sets off the explosions.

“FFUCKK!”

It’s so fucking hot. The way her nails cling to your back, now probably leaving scratches that will surely take weeks to disappear. The way her luscious thighs constrict your waist. The way she grabs onto your face and pulls you towards her for a kiss. It’s all too overwhelming and it takes every single fiber of your being not to join her as her hot and tight walls attempt to squeeze you for all the cum you have, and you just might. Her juices immediately flood both of your crotches as her orgasm completely overrides her, taking a few minutes to subside as you continue to thrust your hips up to her at a slower and gentle pace. She doesn’t stop grinding her hips either, her moans now turning into whimpers while she continues to make-out with you, and with everything that’s already happened you know you’re not too far away from joining her. Yuna pulls away from the kiss and she whispers the words you’ve been dying to hear, her eyes filled with cock-filled lust in the aftermath of her post-orgasm haze. “Fucking cum in me.”

You’re embarrassed the way it immediately turns you on, as if a switch is flipped inside your brain that wants one thing and one thing only: Yuna. So with the remaining strength you have, you place your hands underneath her thighs and made sure that she’s wrapped tightly around you before standing up to effectively fuck her in stand and carry. The new position has her screaming and yelling as gravity aids in impaling her into your shaft, your cock now reaching places inside her that you couldn’t do so earlier. You bounce her on your length before walking over to your locker and pressing her back onto the cold surface, making her shiver. With support, you continue to thrust into her at an unrelenting pace and due to the sensitivity from her orgasm, it doesn’t take too long for her to come undone once again. You must’ve discovered a specific bundle of nerves inside her because she bites into your shoulder with a scream and begging you to fuck her hard once again, every thrust has her wrapping her arms around tour neck tighter and the feeling of such a perfect body like hers against yours is truly mindblowing.

She’s completely rag-dolled into your arms at this point and it only took a few more thrusts before she lost herself. The sight is perfect and unsullied, not even the most expensive paintings in the world could rival her face at this very moment. It’s all beautiful and lewd at the same time. It’s an orgasm that’s somehow even stronger than her first one. “S-So fucking good!” Yuna’s juices immediately start to flood your length and drip down to the floor below; the added lubrication now making it easier to thrust in and out of her and she must’ve noticed how much your cock has been twitching ever since her orgasm because she doesn’t stop bouncing on your cock despite her sensitivity, in fact she’s working twice as hard. No words exchanged for a while as she’s still trying to recover from the intensity of her orgasm while you’ve been rendered speechless by how intense your orgasm is going to be as well. Instead she kisses you as a way of showing thanks, nibbling and pulling on your lower lip as you let her do all the work. It doesn’t take long for you to feel that bubbling sensation in your stomach and you have to inform her sooner or later so you pull away from the kiss but it seems like she already knows.

“Y-Yuna, where—“

She gives you a nod, then a peck on the lips. Her eyes are once again filled with lust and that’s the only green light you need. “It’s been a while since I’ve been fucked like that so it’s only right for me to return the favor. I want your cum inside me please.” Such words have never been more enticing and seducing. With a loud groan, the first shot of cum is emptied into Yuna’s freshly fucked pussy. And then some more; each thrust of your hips delivers a shot of cum fucked deep into her needy womb. Each thrust makes all of the stress and anguish of today go away. You can’t count how many shots you’ve unloaded but it’s enough to stain your balls and flood the gaps between where your cock and her pussy meet—all of it dripping down onto the floor below. Another makeout session ensues, your tongues lazily dancing with one another as you continue to thrust your cock inside her to make sure no drop of cum is wasted. But it really doesn’t matter because a copious amount of semen drips out of her pussy the moment you pull out, and you’re completely shocked by how much you filled her. It’s truly a testament to how good she fucked you.

“Shit. Yuna, I–”

Yuna interrupts you with a kiss. “It’s fine, I wanted your cum and I got it. And it looks like you were really stressed.” She points towards the pool of cum on the floor, weeks worth deposited inside her and you can’t help but be embarrassed. “Either that or I really turned you on.” Heat rises up to your cheeks and you want to dig up a hole and bury yourself in it once again. There’s no denying that she didn’t; she’s definitely the best woman you’ve ever had sex with and it doesn’t even come close. And the sight of her post-sex is only making you want to fuck her again—her inner thighs glazed with your cum, her perfect body covered with sweat, and her face looking thoroughly fucked. Your cock twitches at the sight and she smirks, walking over to you and slowly wrapping her fingers around your length and pumping it at a leisurely pace.

“Hmm. Looks like you’re still hard for me, how about I fix that?” It truly must be your lucky day today because she dragged you to the showers and quickly got on her knees, taking your length inside her mouth and effectively cleaned both of your juices off of it with her skillful tongue. Despite already one orgasm down the drain, the opportunity to paint her face with your cum is the only thing you need to get going again. Yuna continues to bob her head up and down your cock, her hands massaging your balls as if to make sure to receive your full load again. Your groans and the lewd sound of her mouth overpowers the sound of the intense water pressure of the shower. And with how turned on you’ve been, it doesn’t take too long before you unload spurts after spurts of cum on her face. She looks so damn beautiful, yet so ruined at the same time. “We taste so good together, we should do this more often…”

Thankfully the rest of the shower time was actually used to clean up and ten minutes later, you two are dressed up again as if nothing happened. “Good luck out there, champ. I’ll be cheering for you.” Yuna gives you one final kiss, giving you an extra boost as if you weren’t motivated enough already. Then she flashes her signature wide smile that has caused hundreds of men to fall in love with her, and you’re about to be added on to that list. Fucking hell.

“Here’s my number by the way. Feel free to stop by my dorm once you guys win, your student council president will have a special prize for you.”

#itzy smut #yuna smut #shin yuna smut #male reader #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #reader insert #smut

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kimberly-spirits13 · 5 months

Text

Playground Chaos

Pairing: Jason Todd x reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1450

Summary: Dick decides that everyone needs to go to the playground to kill time during patrol. Jason pushes you on the swing, and chaos ensues.

The inspiration video

Darkness loomed over Gotham as its heroes leaped from building to building, searching for anything amiss in the sounds of the city. The car lights from below reflected on the glass windows of the skyscrapers around you and the sounds of the streets filled your ears. Someone was playing a popular pop song very loudly in one of the offices below you and a different person was taking a smoke break by the front door of a late-night dinner. Neon lights danced in the night as you zipped along the grappling rope that you had shot from one smaller building to the bank, where the infamous Red Hood was perched.

“All clear on 2nd Street.” You said walking up behind the brooding figure, “Heard anything from anyone else?”

Jason turned around to face you and lurched forward for a tight embrace, “Dick has been ranting about how bored he is for the past 15 minutes.” “I want to get out of here.”

“There’s only 30 minutes left of patrol and then we can crash.” You said, your head falling into the crook of his neck.

A crack in the comms in your ears made you pull away to turn your earpiece back on to the group and not just Jason.

“We should go to the playground.” Dick’s voice rang out into your ear.

“That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.” Damian replied quickly, “We are elite fighters, not children.”

“Technically demon-spawn, you’re a child.” The sound of a snarky Tim made you laugh as you reached up to reply.

“What playground?” You asked.

Jason shot you a look as you shrugged your shoulders, “Hey, Bats would not be happy if we came back early so, we might as well do something since there’s nothing else to do.”

“I guess you’re right doll.”

“Besides, we can probably bust some creep hanging around the playground.”

“At this time of night?” Jason almost snorted.

“You never know in Gotham. At this time of night, they’re probably high of their rockers.”

“We’ll meet everyone at the West End playground.” You said into the comms.

The West End of Gotham was one of the nicer sides of Gotham. There probably wouldn’t be anything suspicious happening, but for the gaggle of vigilantes playing on the playground. You and Jason glided down the building using your grappling guns to keep from plummeting off the side of the bank. When your feet met the ground, you pulled your grapple back in and got onto the back of Jason’s bike, quickly followed by Jason who pushed the kick stand up and started the engine.

“You know, when you get your bike back from the shop, we can go on a road trip.” Jason said as you bolted out of the alleyway.

“Sounds fun. We could ride up to Salem when the leaves get bright again.”

“That little coffee shop that you like should be open that week so we can book a room at one of the inns and stay there.” Jason agreed as he turned onto some other street leading towards where you were meant to be.

When you got to the playground, Dick, Tim, Damian, Stephanie, and Cass were already there. They must have been close enough already to beat you since it was unlikely that they would have made it faster than Jason’s bike.

“Well look who finally showed up.” Stephanie came over to you and nudged your side, “We thought you got lost.”

“I don’t get lost Steph.” Jason took your helmet from you and set it on the bike’s seat, earning a quite “thank you” from you.

“Timmy lets go on the seesaw.” Dick ran over to the blue and silver seesaw like a kid with a sugar high and sat ready for Tim to climb onto the other side.

Cass and Damian got onto the other seesaw with the two casually talking. Dick and Tim were attempting to balance each other on the seesaw and you, and Stephanie were sitting on the swings, lightly swinging back and forth until Stephanie decided that she wanted to try and flip over the bar.

“Steph, if you die, I’ll give a warm eulogy at your funeral.” You said laughing at her attempts of gaining speed on the swing.

“I really appreciate that Y/N/N.”

Jason stood behind you and watched everyone contently. He saw the smiles on Tim and Dick’s faces and how Cass was coaxing Damian into laughing at whatever they were talking about. He worried for Steph and whether they’d have to carry her out together or if she’d successfully land whenever she inevitably went flying off the swing set.

“Jay, you know you can join us.” You grabbed his hand and pulled him closer to you as you swung back and forth.

“I’m good babe. Can I push you?” He started to walk behind you when you told him he could and lightly began to push you on the swing.

Jason didn’t push you too high, but instead talked to you about whatever came to mind as Stephanie began to attempt to flip next to you.

“You good Blondie?” Jason snickered seeing her try to make it over the bar. The entire swing set was starting to shake as she climbed higher and higher.

“You know, I don’t think this is going to flip me anymore.” She said through giggles, “Is there something stopping it?”

“Yeah Steph, there’s a little bar on the top of the hinge keeping it from flipping.” You said, “You can still get a good jump off the swing though.”

You could feel the near disappointment radiating off Stephanie which was quickly diffused by her leaping from the swing and landing on her feet a few yards away. When she turned around, she gave a small bow and you clapped for her success jokingly.

“Wait you guys are so cute!” Steph gasped as she saw Jason pushing you on the swing, something that she had not really been paying attention to when she was on her airborne escapade.

You blushed and heard Jason laugh softly behind you as he grabbed onto the small of your waist, slowing you down little by little. Stephanie’s attention was taken off you when Dick and Tim started trying to launch each other off the seesaw.

“I think your brother is about to die.” You started laughing at the two and saw Cass pull out her phone to film the two boys.

“Which one?” Jason started playing with your hair and braiding it back into a messy fishtail.

“Both.” You replied, earning a giggle from Jason before he finished off your braid.

Laugher rang out into the night before Dick pipped up, challenging Tim.

“Okay Tim, go all the way down.” Dick said, “Okay now jump as hard as you can.”

Tim did what he was told, lifting himself into the air harshly. Dick came down with a thud before flying into the air. The entire point of the two boys being insane on the seesaw was the lift themselves off the seat without falling off. In order to do this, the boys had to push against the handlebar of the seesaw to keep themselves from falling off the front of the seat.

When Tim threw Dick into the air, the expected happened where Dick didn’t hold on tight enough and he went flying off the seesaw, hitting the ground with a large thud. Laughter roared from everyone the park as Dick rolled over onto his back with tears of laughter coming from his eyes. Jason leaned against you laughing and couldn’t compose himself to stand up. Tim was laying on the ground wheezing and Cass was proudly filming it all.

“Please, tell me someone got that on video!” Dick cried between laughs.

“I did!” Cass yelled, “I got that on video!”

“I thought I taught you to land better than that.” A deep voice came from the shadows, startling all of you.

“You saw that?” Dick screamed.

“From the launch to the fall.” Bruce was smiling, almost laughing at his oldest.

“Why are you here?” Steph was the first to ask the question.

“You guys are an hour late getting home from patrol, so I came to make sure nothing was wrong. When I saw that you were here, I figured you were killing time and didn’t know how late it was.”

“The Big Bats coming to check on his kids.” Tim laughed, “What a sight.”

You stood up off the swing after recovering from what had happened and grabbed onto Jason’s hand, “want to go home now?” He whispered into your ear.

“Only after I know I have that video.”

#dc x reader #dc comics #dc characters #batfam x reader #batboys x reader #batfam #jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader fluff #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #jason todd imagine #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood fluff #red hood imagine

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bunniekittiee · 6 months

Text

Bi-Han x Fem. Reader

A little sad tbh but like yk i try to give good endings. Also Bi-Han is mean asf but it is just due to their circumstances so beware you might want to punch him in the face. Also this is not proofread so any errors you see, just ignore.

The amount of tears shed for Bi-Han was outrageous. His actions could be absolutely deplorable. When they first married, she thought that there was a chance he would not be so cruel, but he had made it clear that their marriage was for power rather than true love. It hurt, it hurt her little heart and it made her cry during the lonely nights when her thoughts got to her. She had lots of thoughts of whether she was good enough for Bi-Han or if they would ever love each other. She had already loved him, but he did not give her the same energy back. It was futile.

“Wife,” Bi-Han said to her as he entered the room. “Join us for dinner, now.” There were so softness behind his words, but she bit back her increasing emotions. “Yes, Grandmaster.” She said back after she swallowed the built up saliva in her throat. He waited for her to get up and join him so they could walk to the dining room together. Kuai Liang and Tomas sat there together, waiting patiently as they greeted her with a smile.

Sitting down carefully, they started their usual traditions before eating their food. It was a little quiet with only Tomas and Kuai Liang speaking at first with Bi-Han chiming in when he wanted to. The brothers tried to include Bi-Han’s wife into their conversations, but she was quiet. They wondered if it was part of her personality or if it was because Bi-Han was sitting next to her. Watching her every movement.

That was, until Bi-Han and Tomas began to argue, well, more so Bi-Han arguing while Tomas sat there and Kuai Liang tried to play mediator. It made dinner extremely tense.

“You do not have Lin Kuei blood.” Bi-Han spat at Tomas who only gave him a look of ‘what’s new’. “So your words are pointless.”

“Bi-Han.” Kuai Liang said in a warning-like tone. “Do not ruin dinner with your bicker.”

“And you stay out of it, little brother. Do not stick your nose in something that does not concern you.” Bi-Han kept going. It was like he was here to just ruin their day.

“Bi-Han,” she said softly. “Let’s just enjoy dinner.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I do not expect anything less from you, incompetent girl.”

She felt her heart beat fast and her ears feel warm. Whether it was out of embarrassment or a flood of emotions coming, she looked down and tried to control her breathing. She did not want to cry in front of them. She could not show weakness.

“Bi-Han, maybe you should be a little nicer?” Tomas suggested which Kuai Liang shot him a look of ‘stop making it worse for yourself’.

The Grandmaster swiveled his head to meet Tomas’ gaze. “Silence you fool. Your words have no meaning, you are not one of us. You could hardly ever hold a marriage together, just like you could not hold your parents together.”

“Bi-Han!” Kuai Liang hissed.

She felt herself snap. “Grandmaster, you need to leave him alone!” Her voice cracked as she stood up and looked at Bi-Han. “You are cruel and cold. You treat your brothers so horribly. How can one even appreciate you when you are so disrespectful?” Tears brimmed her eyes and her vision blurred.

Tomas was taken aback. He had never been stood up for like this, especially with an outburst. Kuai Liang always tried to be peaceful, but she was different.

Bi-Han’s face scrunched in irritation and annoyance. “If you are going to be emotional, then leave us to our own devices. We can finish dinner without you weeping all over the food.”

Her eyebrows furrowed as more tears fell. “You are sick, Bi-Han. No wonder no one would marry you, you are barbaric.”

“Your insults do not affect me. Stop wasting your breath and leave.” He continued to dig his knife into her heart.

She turned away from the table, storming off and leaving the dining room to retreat to the bathroom in order to let herself cry. As she left, she heard Kuai’s sharp tone and Bi-Han’s rising voice begin to argue but her blood was pounding in her ears. Sobs wracked her body as she curled into a ball on the large, cool bathroom. Bi-Han’s words cut deeply, and as much as she thought she could be overreacting, nothing eased the pain in her heart.

How could one be so mean to his brother like that? Whether they were not related by blood or not, it did not matter. Tomas was one of them. He deserved the respect he never got, especially from the Grandmaster.

There was a quiet knock at the door and she sniffled, wiping her swollen eyes as she sat up. She heard a muffled voice. “It is Tomas, please open the door.”

A little reluctant, she opened the door as she continued to wipe away her tears. Tomas looked at her guiltily. “Please do not cry, it is not your fault.”

“He is mean to you, Tomas.” She said as she felt more tears coming. “You are his brother no matter what. You deserve much more respect.”

Tomas sighed. “It is okay, little sister. It is not your battle to fight. I hate to see you so emotional over me.”

She started to cry again, but this time Tomas hugged her. “It is okay, I am okay. I have learned to ignore Bi-Han’s words. They will not falter my attitude.”

This did not ease her heart. Just as Bi-Han’s words cut into her, his words to Tomas did just as much damage. “He is too cruel to you, Tomas. You are lovely and always so generous. You do not deserve it.” She whispered into his shoulder. Tomas heard her words and felt himself smile. No matter what she cared for him.

Embracing her for a few more minutes, Tomas offered to take her out of the home for a little bit to give herself space away from Bi-Han. Tomas knew he would not exactly apologize for his words or actions, especially when he felt very little for the woman he married. It was only for business reasons rather than true love. Tomas and Kuai saw the love she felt for Bi-Han, but they could not say the same for their brother.

Bi-Han never had a so-called filter. He spoke what he truthfully felt no matter how harsh it would sound coming out of his mouth. His brothers were adjusted to this, but his wife was not. He did not understand, or maybe he did not care, that she would be extremely wounded mentally with every rude remark he made.

This sadly happened a night when Bi-Han came to their living quarters in a horrific mood.

“How was your day, Bi-Han?” She asked him as they got ready for bed. He ignored her which made her feel unwelcome, but she tried not to let it affect her deeply. “I am sorry for asking.”

“Stop speaking for once with your incessant mumbling.” He said grimacing. “You do not need to fill the air with your annoying questions.”

The same feelings she had felt many times before begin to crawl their way through her body. “I apologize, Grandmaster.”

“Stop apologizing. Be better.” He replied. “Or is that too much to expect from you?” He never seemed to know when to stop.

“Do not say mean things because you are upset.” She retorted back. She was afraid of his reaction as she already started to feel the overwhelming emotions of weeping.

“It is the truth. You seem to be more annoying when you are nervous or trying to be nice.” He said with a frown. “I have never met anyone as annoying as you.”

She felt the tears begin to flow out of her eyes as she got up from their bed. She did not want to speak so he did not know that she was crying. “Are you going to cry like a baby? How old are you? Why are you like this? If I had known you would be this way, I would have not married you in the first place.”

Night gown flowing behind her, she quickly left their living quarters as she was once again crying her eyes out. His words ached. How much could she take before she could not anymore?

He did not follow her out. Whether it was because he was too prideful or he did not see anything wrong with what he said, he did not make an effort.

She made her way to Kuai Liang’s living quarters. He and Tomas were enjoying a quick cup a tea when they heard the weak knocks at Kuai’s door. They knew it was not Bi-Han.

“Little sister,” Kuai said warmly as he opened the door. He then noticed her shaking form and her tear stained face. “Are you okay?”

She cried more when he asked that question. That question seemed to make her feel so much worse. So vulnerable. Kuai Liang brought her inside of his room and closed the door. Tomas got to his feet fast as he approached her. “Oh no.”

It was hard to speak, but she did her best recalling her and Bi-Han’s argument. Kuai Liang looked concerned, eyebrows knitted as he shook his head when she told them what Bi-Han said to her. Tomas frowned and felt his heart squeeze at Bi-Han’s cruelty.

“I will never understand him.” Kuai said as he gently rubbed her back. “He has such an important person in his life, yet this is the way he acts.”

Tomas made her a small cup of tea and coaxed her to drink as she cuddled into a blanket he draped over her. Kuai Liang’s hands warmed against her skin. “He is not one to understand. His actions in general do not have an explanation.”

“It does not make it any more fair. He hurts the one person who loves him unconditionally. Many of us Lin Kuei do not have that opportunity.” Kuai replied. He sighed. “Bi-Han has always been rude as a child. We are used to it because we grew up together, but you, I do not expect you to be used to it or even deal with it in the first place.”

She chuckled with sadness and despair. “I have to deal with it. He does not understand. He chooses to not understand. It is he who I married, and as much as I love him, the hurt I feel consumes me everyday. He does not ease it. It hurts very much.”

They felt their own hearts splinter at her words. The fact that she had to go through this did not make them feel good. They wanted Bi-Han to be better for her. That is what she deserves.

“You need rest, a lot of it. You can sleep here with me, and Tomas may even join us.” Kuai said with a small smile as Tomas nodded.

It felt a little weird to be sleeping in the same room as the brothers because of how adjusted she was to sleeping with just Bi-Han or herself, but Kuai gave her the mattress while he and Tomas took the floor. She felt guilty and tried to argue with Kuai Liang, but he only shushed her and made her lay down to sleep.

When she woke up in the morning, Kuai Liang and Tomas were gone. She assumed it was for their duties. Sighing quietly, she got up from the mattress and made up the bed before she left. She had her own duties to attend to, but she needed to look presentable.

Leaving Kuai’s chambers, she first went to the bathroom to bathe and get ready. Her eyes were extremely swollen, and she could feel the sadness come back once more. How could Bi-Han be so mean? Even with his tough exterior, she could not comprehend why or how he could be so mean to her or his brothers. Soaking a wash cloth, she gently laid it over her eyes so the swelling could go down. She knew it would not fully help her broken blood vessels on her eyes and the swelling, but it would suffice.

Meeting Bi-Han in the morning was a little angering for the brothers. When they looked at him, all they could see was his wife crying into Tomas while Kuai rubbed her back. They could hear her cries and whimpers as her body shook with every harsh inhale she took. They knew Bi-Han was cruel, but to his wife? It bothered with Kuai Liang’s heart because of how he could not picture himself doing that to Harumi. But he and Bi-Han were very different in personality, so they were bound to be different in how they loved.

“What has your minds clouded?” Bi-Han asked sharply. He crossed his arms as he saw the dazed but fiery look in his brothers’ eyes.

Kuai shook his head. “It is nothing, brother.”

“If it’s about that weeping willow, I will personally throw you into the river myself.” Bi-Han muttered. Kuai’s eyes narrowed. “Forgive me, but elaborate.”

Bi-Han rolled his eyes. “My wife does not need to come to you for her problems. I can handle them myself.”

“Unless you are the one creating them for her.” Kuai replied. “You are rude to her, Bi-Han.”

“I only married her for the clan’s sake. I do not love such a feeble woman like her.” Bi-Han spat. “Her emotions control her. That is not like the Lin Kuei. She needs to grow tougher skin.”

Kuai felt his frustration burn. “You need to take it easy on her. She is not a man, brother. She is not adjusted like we are.”

“Who are you to stick up for my wife?” Bi-Han was now face-to-face with Kuai Liang. It was an intimidation tactic. “It is none of your concern.”

“I’m sticking up for her because she has difficulty doing so.” Kuai replied with hints of irritation. Tomas watched silently as his brothers fought. “You only have the opportunity to know the very few special people that come into your life, and when they are gone, they are gone for good. Appreciate what you have. One day, she will not be here any longer. And all she will remember you by is your cruelty.” Kuai turned away from Bi-Han and walked off with Tomas not too far behind him. Bi-Han watched in anger as he felt the tip of his ears pink with frustration and shame. To be told such a thing by his brother, someone lower than him, was embarrassing. Who was he to tell him how to be a husband? Kuai Liang was not married himself.

Bi-Han stayed away from his brothers and dove into his duties and plans, only interacting with Sektor and Cyrax. His mood was extremely dampened, and he continued to snap on Sektor and Cyrax who were beginning to become fed up with his behavior. They kept their mouths shut, but they exchanged irritated glances when Bi-Han was not looking. He was being eaten alive by Kuai Liang’s words and his actions. It was rather humiliating for a Grandmaster to be checked by his own brother.

It was dinner time and the men gathered around the table to eat. However, Bi-Han’s wife did not join them. Maybe it was from a mistake of before. Once they did their traditional business before eating a meal, Kuai Liang looked at Bi-Han. “I apologize for my outburst earlier, brother. I still stand by what I said, but I apologize for humiliating you.”

Bi-Han’s lips were pulled into a straight line. “Just eat, Kuai Liang.” This was the closest Kuai would get to a simple acceptance, but Bi-Han was still fuming. Dinner was tense and awkward, and the brothers wanted nothing more than to get away from Bi-Han’s presence.

Still in a bad mood, Bi-Han finished dinner and went to his living quarters where his wife lay reading a book. Clenching his jaw, he closed the door. “Stop going to my brothers for our problems. It is between a husband and his wife, not his brothers.” He said with a snarky tone.

She set her book down. “I had nowhere else to go, Bi-Han.”

“You could have stayed with me and dealt with your problems. When you married me, you married the clan and I. But that does not mean you need to include my brothers in your drama.” He fought back.

She felt her heart rate increase and her emotions choke her throat. “It is none of your business who I go to for moral support.”

“It is when it is my family and they cause issues for myself because of it.” He snapped. “Why don’t you think of your decisions, you stupid girl. It is not that difficult to grasp. Stop telling Kuai Liang and Tomas about our marital problems.”

“Then stop being so mean to me like you are now!” She replied angrily. “You always call me unnecessary names. You like to put me down. I am already low as it is since I married you!”

“It is not my fault that your father wanted to better his status of his clan.” His eyes narrowed and he approached closer to her. “It is not my fault that you have fallen in love with me. You knew from the start that our marriage was not based around love. It has always been based around business, and that is the way it will stay. I will never love you, and that is the truth.”

Sadness was not enough to describe it. Her bottom lip trembled as she felt herself break right in front of Bi-Han. She cried quietly at first, until she got a little bit louder. Her breathing was uneven, Bi-Han almost a little concerned if she was breathing well. His face fell, tilting his head as he watched her cry. Something in him made him feel bad. Worse than bad. Like he was a monster. She shied away from his touch, moving her body away as if he was poisonous to touch. He stiffened as her crying became worse. It was as if she was going to get sick.

“You need to let me take you to the bathroom.” Bi-Han said as he reached another hand out, yet she moved back from it. It was beginning to frustrate him, but there was nothing he could do. “Please let me do what I need to do.”

Her mind was frazzled as she felt all of her pain flow out of her. Bi-Han was eventually able to grab her wrist and help her up onto her feet, guiding her to the wash room. Bile was building up in her throat as she felt the weird sensation of throwing up. Bi-Han was able to put her on her knees and grab a bucket, putting it in front of her. “If you need to get sick, use this.”

Her breathing was choppy, her hands uncovering her face slightly and he was able to get a glimpse of her red face. He felt guilty. He knew that she was emotional, but to this extent? He was unknown to it. He rubbed circles on her back as she did eventually get sick. He held her hair back too and stayed quiet while she emptied her stomach. All of this because of what he had told her. He truly felt like a monster. He was now beginning to understand Kuai Liang’s outburst.

Once she started to quiet, only her hiccuping could be heard, he frowned. “I… I am truly sorry. I really am.”

She did not reply as she hardly looked at him. It still hurt. A ‘sorry’ was like a band aid on a wound that needed stitches. Looking at Bi-Han would make her break all over again.

He sighed as he took a washcloth and wiped her mouth from any residue, throwing it to the side and picking her up bridal style. “To bed.”

She could not argue with him, she felt exhausted and her head was thumping crazily. Her red-rimmed eyes were so swollen, it looked like she was squinting at everything. Her nose was still red along with her cheeks. Bi-Han laid her down and crawled into bed after her, reluctantly yet gently pushing a few hairs back off her forehead. “I am sorry. I did not know it was to this extent.”

Silence was all he got back. He understood that he did not deserve any words. He caused this, and it was his job to pick the pieces back up. Even if he did not love her, he could not let his wife deal with it by herself. He had already done it before. Hearing her breathing slow down, he held her close to his body. The guilt wracked him. He felt terrible for what he had done. Kuai’s words echoed in his head.

‘You only have the opportunity to know the very few special people that come into your life, and when they are gone, they are gone for good. Appreciate what you have’.

He thought of his mother. She was a special person in his life. She adored Bi-Han, she loved him, she took care of him. She was there for him when his father would push him to his limits and he would pass out from exhaustion. She was there when he received the ability to control ice. She was there for a lot until her death.

But after she had passed, he had no one else to do that for him. Until his wife came into his life. Whether it was for business or not, she still made sure to take care of him after he came home from fighting. Cleaning and stitching his wounds up. She took care of him similar to how his mother did.

He looked down at his wife’s sleeping form in his arms. He now felt ashamed. So ashamed he almost wanted to leave her to sleep by herself away from him, but he decided that he needed to be there. It was for her own good. He closed his eyes and lulled himself to sleep.

Bi-Han was gone the next morning when she awoke which was not a surprise to her. She rubbed her face gently, careful to not irritate her skin much more. Her crying had already done that enough.

She looked at the side table and was a little taken aback. There were flowers on the table. She assumed they were from Bi-Han. She carefully picked them up and inhaled their scent, sighing quietly to herself. She saw a note and picked that up as well. She read it carefully.

“Dear wife,

I have duties to attend to, but I apologize for my behavior towards you. An apology may not be enough for the harm I have caused. Truly, I am sorry. Kuai Liang has opened my eyes, and I witnessed first hand how my attitude and words affect you. I will be better for you. That is what you deserve. Please rest and relax, I will check in every so often.

Sincerely,

Bi-Han”

She felt her eyes water as she read the note over and over. It felt foreign to hear such vulnerability from Bi-Han, but she was somewhat glad to know that he realized how much his words can hurt. She hoped that he would stick to his word and truly improve. His words still stung, but she would take the time to heal and move on. That, she was sure of.

#mortal kombat #mk1 #mk1 2023 #mk 1 #mk bi han #mk1 bi han #mk kuai liang #mk tomas vrbada #mk sub zero #mk scorpion #mk smoke #mortal kombat x reader #bi han x y/n #bi han x you #bi han x reader #sub zero x reader #bi han sub zero #sub zero

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from-the-clouds · 1 year

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texas sun - joel miller x f! reader - vol. v

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter | photo cred

chapter summary: You knew yourself, and the way that you could get hung up on the right kind of person. Joel was that kind of person. But you don’t like how formal this feels. So real. -- In other words, Joel takes you on your first date. pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 8.6k chapter warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY (it's happening, folks!) - unprotected sex, please dm if you want specifics but I’m not trying to spoil too much. If you don't want to read the smut, it doesn't happen until about halfway through the chapter. Crying after sex. Angst. FLUFF. Mentions of anxiety & self-doubt, alcohol consumption. a/n: Help! I can’t stop writing fit checks into this story!! This ended up being insanely horny but also shockingly sweet. I worked way way way too hard on it so please say nice things to me. Might need to take a couple days off because I'm really feeling burnt out. So please enjoy in the meantime.

-May 16, 2003-

Joel doesn’t like lying to Sarah.

Although, he’s not sure that he’s lying to her as much as he is simply….omitting information. Depending on who you ask, that could still be considered lying.

He’s fresh out of the shower when he steps into the living room, fishes through the catch-all basket located just inside the front door, and pockets his wallet and keys.

“Where are you going?”

Sarah’s lounging on the couch, on her back, one of her hands slung behind her head. There’s a book opened on her lap, but she’s not reading. “You’re all dressed up.”

Joel looks down at his green flannel shirt, tucked into a pair of dark jeans. Truth be told, he’s a little ashamed he doesn’t have anything nicer in his closet. It’s not like he ever has any occasion to dress up, but he’s already feeling self-conscious and being (most likely) underdressed isn’t helping. Based on the very limited information he knows about your past relationships, you’re probably accustomed to crisp dress shirts, ties, blazers. He doesn’t own any of those things — he did, at one point, have the tux from his wedding, but he’d gotten rid of it after the divorce. Every time he saw it in the back of his closet, it made him sick. Regardless, tonight he’d done the best he could otherwise - showered, trimmed his beard, and even dug through his medicine cabinet for an old – probably expired – bottle of cologne. Hopefully it was enough.

“I’ve uh….I’ve got a date.” Joel says.

The theme song from That’s So Raven is blaring through the living room, but it immediately cuts out as Sarah presses mute and sits up entirely from her spot on the couch. “Really?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” Joel says. “Your uncle is coming over, though, he’s gonna drop me off and then he said he’d take you to the movies.”

As if on cue, he hears Tommy’s truck pull into the drive. “Yes!” Sarah leaps up from the couch. “I have to change first.”

“Hurry up, babygirl, I’m already runnin’ behind,” Joel calls after her.

Tommy knocks twice on the front door before letting himself in anyways.

“You’re late,” Joel informs, shutting the door behind him. They should’ve left five minutes ago, and the last thing Joel wants is for you to think he’s not punctual. To be fair, he’s not, and almost never is. But you don’t need to know that….yet.

“Hello to you, too,” Tommy trails after him into the kitchen. Joel is tempted to chug a beer, or fish the half-empty bottle of whiskey he’s got in the cabinet out to take a shot — just to take the edge off. But he refrains. It wouldn’t be a good look to show up smelling of booze.

“So…who's the lucky lady?” When Joel doesn’t answer right away, Tommy presses. “Come on, Joel, who is it?”

He contemplates telling his brother the truth, but he doesn’t want to give him the idea that he had taken his advice. He didn’t. Well maybe he did, but he knows Tommy will become insufferable if he finds out.

“Is it who I think it is?” Tommy asks. “It better be.”

Unfortunately, Tommy knows him too well. They’re brothers, and really, Joel’s first and oldest friend. The answer is written all over his face.

Tommy grins. “Fucking finally. Oh my god, dude, I thought you’d never-”

“Alright, alright!” Joel interjects, eyes darting nervously up the stairs, where he hears his daughter shuffling around in her bathroom. “Keep your mouth shut, I haven’t told Sarah yet.”

Tommy raises his hands in defense, but at least seems to understand how serious Joel is. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna say anything. Are you excited?”

“Yeah,” Joel looks down at the countertop, and is compelled to be honest with his little brother. “I’m uh….I’m a little nervous, though. Been awhile since I’ve done anything like this.”

Tommy grows serious. “Do you want my advice?”

“Yours?” Joel feels like whatever advice he has to offer is likely questionable, particularly with someone like you. “No thanks. I’d rather make a good impression.”

His brother ignores the subtle dig. “You sure? Because unlike you, I actually go on dates. I mean, it’s been what, like….ten years?” He crosses his arms, pretends to think. It’s probably only been a couple of months since the last time Joel took someone out, and Tommy knows it, but he loves to dramatize. “I mean at this stage, you’re basically a born-again virgin. Do you even remember how to put on a condom?”

Joel crosses his arms and glares at his brother, who begins giggling at his bad joke. “I knew I shouldn’t have fucking said anything to you,” he shakes his head.

“Oh come on Joel, you’ll be fine,” Tommy says. “Really. She’s into you. I could tell when we were all together the other night. Even when I was dancing with her, I kept catching her lookin’ your way…”

“Yeah, well….” Joel rubs the back of his neck to play off the surge of warmth he gets from this information. “Thanks.”

Sarah’s bathroom door opens, and he hears the staccato beat of her sneakers coming down the stairs. Joel points at Tommy one last time. “Not a word, understand?”

Tommy nods just as she rounds the corner.

“Uncle Tommy!” Sarah raises her hand to give him a high-five, which they both purposely miss so they can collide palms on the downswing, grab each other’s hands and then begin a secret handshake so complex that Joel, who has seen it a thousand times, still doesn’t think he could execute correctly if he tried.

“How’s my favorite niece?”

“I’m your only niece.”

“Touche,” they shoot at each other with finger guns before she wraps him in a hug and Tommy presses his nose to the top of her head. Despite the fact that their little routine is costing Joel precious time, almost all the annoyance he’d been feeling with his brother dissipates at the sight.

“We all ready?” Tommy asks her, then points at him. “Don’t want to make this casanova late.”

“Yeah, of course not,” Sarah looks over at Joel with a smile that doesn’t seem entirely sincere. When she was younger and he’d gone on dates, she always had a lot more questions. Who is it? What is she like? When can I meet her? Is she pretty? Over the years, however, she became less and less interested. It was because she was smart, and had caught onto the pattern - he’d go on a date, maybe one or two more, then there’d be a long period of nothing before the cycle repeated itself every couple months. It rarely developed into anything that would concern her, and Joel always kept the details to himself.

While they’re en route to the restaurant – a little French bistro that had opened up recently — Sarah and Tommy bicker about what movie they want to see.

“I wanna see Holes. I just read the book.”

Tommy grimaces. “What about Matrix Reloaded? It just came out.”

“I already told dad I’d go to that with him.”

“So?” he looks between Sarah and Joel. “Why can’t you just see it twice?”

“No,” Sarah says emphatically. “I have to see it with dad first. It’s not fair.”

Tommy groans, mutters under his breath. “I can’t believe you let her watch that crap,” as if he wasn’t about to do the same thing.

“She likes it,” Joel shrugs.

“All the more reason to see it tonight.”

“Tommy,” Joel warns.

“Fine.”

“I don’t really like it, though. I just like to keep dad company so he doesn’t have to see it alone.”

“You’re too nice,” Tommy takes a beat. “Are you sure you aren’t adopted?”

“Shut up,” Joel and Sarah answer at the same time, and Joel holds his palm behind him for his daughter to slap.

Tommy acquiesces, his truck jolting as it pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant. Joel’s heart rate picks up immediately. The car rolls to a stop and Joel turns to look at both of them. “Alright, I’ll be home by midnight.”

“Sounds good,” says Sarah.

“Have fun,” Tommy raises his eyebrows, winks, and thankfully Sarah doesn’t see it, because she’s getting out of the truck to take Joel’s spot shotgun. He makes sure she’s settled with her seatbelt on before he shuts the door.

He isn’t trying to waste time, but Joel watches them pull out of the lot and back onto the street before he goes inside the restaurant. Really, he just needs a minute to collect himself. There’s no good reason for him to be as anxious as he is, he’s already kissed you once, and you had seemed to like it — quite a lot too. For the past week the feeling of your body pressed up against him, legs around his torso, was pretty much all he thought about when his mind wandered. Mostly at night before bed, and even today, in the shower when he was getting ready - just to try and calm down. Even now, the idea leaves him flustered.

Nevertheless, this probably isn’t even technically a first date. He hasn’t had issues speaking to you in the past, so this should be easy. Right? But what if you change your mind? And what if it dawns on you that he’s not your type? Even worse, what if you realize he’s just not good enough?

Joel forces himself inside before he talks himself out of this. When he enters, he sees you first. You’re across the room, leaning over the small bar where a few other patrons are. Greedily, he takes you in, and it’s easy to trace your figure in the tight black shift dress you’ve got on, sheer black tights underneath. It’s sleek, stylish - not that Joel knows much about that. As usual, you stand out in stark contrast to every other person in the place. He likes it. But he feels underdressed. He’ll look ridiculous standing next to you, and he briefly considers turning around, leaving, and saving himself the embarrassment.

That’s until you move, angling yourself towards him and scanning the restaurant, an elbow resting on the bar, a hand on your knee. You’re looking for him, waiting for him, and finally, you’re rewarded when your eyes catch. Suddenly, Joel doesn’t care about what he’s wearing. He doesn't care that he’s not good enough. At the very least, he doesn’t have to guess if you’re interested in him anymore, not with how you’re gazing at him — a soft smile and narrowed eyes that betray your enthusiasm. Sure, he's not good enough, but he decides if he’s going to go down in flames, he’ll do it trying to convince you otherwise.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Maybe I should’ve eaten a proper lunch, you think to yourself. You’ve barely touched the drink in your hand, but you’re already starting to feel it. And even though you are the designated driver tonight, for now, the slight buzz is welcome, working to soothe.

Over the years, you’d been on your fair share of first dates. Unlike most…you don’t hate them. For whatever reason, getting to know new people had always come easy, particularly if they were the right person. Being a lawyer, you had a knack for talking yourself into or out of almost anything. So it was just as easy to let someone know if they weren’t the right person. The best part of first dates, however, was that they lacked all the things you hated — promises, expectations, and conversations that went deeper than general pleasantries.

So all things considered, you shouldn’t feel as tense as you do right now.

There’s a few factors that might have something to do with it, and your brain turns them over, biding your time until your date arrives.

First is the text that sits opened on your BlackBerry.

Dad’s home from the hospital. Doing better. Call when you can. - Vince

Your father has been in and out of the hospital for the last month or so, his health rapidly declining. But every update from your brother, however innocent they may be, feels like veiled threats. You should be here. You should know this. I shouldn't have to text you about it. I can’t believe I’m the only one looking after him. A part of you wants to believe that Vincent wouldn’t play that sort of game with you, but as you’ve gotten older and grown apart, you’d gotten worse at deciphering his motivations. Vaguely, you acknowledge that you could just be projecting, and you are the only one trying to make you feel bad.

And then there’s Joel.

He’s running late, you hope, or he’s stood you up. And you have already promised yourself that you’re only gonna wait ten more minutes before heading home with your tail tucked between your legs. The thought of that makes you regret agreeing to this in the first place. You’d already embarrassed yourself the last time you were together, practically begging him to take you on the kitchen countertop, but he’d insisted on doing this right. You should’ve pushed harder because you’re starting to think that maybe, just maybe….a zipless fuck would’ve sufficed. Oh, who were you kidding? You knew yourself, and the way that you could get hung up on the right kind of person. Joel was that kind of person. But you don’t like how formal this feels. So real.

He knows you better than most first dates do. You’ve told him more about your family, about your fucked up childhood, about your aversion to committed relationships more than any friend you’ve made since moving to Texas. And he listened. It should make you feel better. He knows what he’s getting himself into, and he asked you here anyways. Maybe he’s having second thoughts.

For what feels like the thousandth time, you check your emails and take a sip of your dirty martini – your preferred vehicle for alcohol consumption. Ultimately, you like the idea of a martini more than the actual taste, but you appreciate how direct they are. You scan the restaurant one last time, doing your best to look casual, like you don’t really care. Like you’re supposed to be there alone.

But when your head turns towards the entrance, Joel is standing across from you.

He gives you a bashful smile, one that makes your stomach flip, and makes his way over – though he doesn’t seem to be in a rush. It’s like he knows you’d sit and wait for him for as long as it takes – you would, you will, you are.

When he finally lands in front of you, one thumb hooked in the belt loop of his dark-wash jeans, he leans forward and presses his lips to your cheek for the briefest moment, and pulls back, looking you up and down.

“It’s good to see you, darlin’,” he murmurs softly. The term of endearment makes your ears feel hot. You're shocked at the effect he has on you, almost can’t believe it. It scares you, too, but you want to chase the feeling. “You look great.”

“So do you,” because you’re not one to lie. He does. As good as always, but he might’ve trimmed his beard for the occasion and maybe….put on cologne? It’s hard to tell, and in your brief experience being so close to him, he’s always smelled good regardless.

“Sorry I’m late,” he apologizes. “Can’t count on Tommy to get me anywhere on time.”

“It’s alright,” you say casually, like you hadn’t had your whole exit strategy planned out just minutes ago. “I got to have a drink while I wait. You want something?” you gesture towards the bartender.

“Sure,” Joel answers. “How about an old fashioned?” There’s no room for him to sit, so he leans next to you, arm on the bartop, invading your personal space while you wait for your table. Your skin buzzes like you’ve never been this close to a man before in your life. Pathetic.

He orders his drink before he speaks to you again. “Have you been here before?” he asks.

You shake your head no. “I was planning on coming a couple months ago but….never got around to it.”

“It’s good,” he says. “I’ve been a couple times.”

“Is this where you take all the girls you go out with?” you raise an eyebrow, grateful that your voice sounds even despite the way your blood is fizzing, your heart pumping so fast you can feel it in your ears.

Joel shakes his head no. “That’s down the street.”

“Oh?” you nod, sip your drink. Whatever buzz you’d been feeling is gone in the wake of adrenaline. “So….why didn’t you take me there, then?”

“It’s not as nice,” Joel smirks, leaning in a little closer – if it were possible. His lips are practically touching your ear, and his voice is raspy for what comes next. “And I’m trying to impress you.”

“Right,” you can’t help but smile, pulling back so you can lock eyes. He’s so sincere you can’t even think up a clever quip in return. “How thoughtful.”

He gives you a cheeky grin. You want to touch him, want to hold him, want to fist the front of his shirt or tug on the hair at the back of his neck and stick your tongue down his throat like you aren’t surrounded by an entire restaurant of patrons.

It’s going to be the longest fucking dinner of your life.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You survive.

But at a cost.

And you don’t learn anything new about Joel, except for the fact that your memory hasn’t exaggerated how charming he is, how charismatic, how thoughtful. All the times you’d allowed yourself to daydream about him didn’t hold a candle. Enjoying the meal is difficult, because you just want to get him alone. He can sense it – you’re pretty sure, because he orders himself a coffee after dessert, and sips on it ever-so-slowly, smirking at you over the rim of the mug.

When dinner’s over, you offer to drive Joel home, since he’d gotten a ride here. By this point, the martini is long gone from your system and you sort of want to pour yourself another when you get home. Even if you don’t drink much, the nerves have resurfaced.

He walks a few paces behind you as you leave the restaurant, taking his time, and you step to your side of the car, making to unlock it – until something grabs your bicep – briskly – and spins you around.

It’s Joel. He snuck up behind you, you hadn’t heard, and he’s right in front of you now, pinning you between the car and his body, surrounding you entirely. He lifts a hand, cups your cheek, and kisses you. It happens so fast you let out a whimper of surprise – directly into his mouth, but he swallows it down, and cradles you so gently, but still firm. Resolute. I’m not letting you go.

When he pulls back, you notice his cheeks are flushed, ever so slightly. It makes you wonder what you could do to see them get even redder. Your arms have found their way to rest on his shoulders, and you’re boxed in, the handle to your car door digging into your ass. Without a word, just a cheeky grin, he retreats to the passenger's side of the car and gets inside.

You settle in the driver's seat beside him, and he looks over at you. “Hope that was okay, I couldn’t wait…” he says, almost apologetically. “But I was tryin’ all night to be good.”

“Yeah, well….not much use in that anymore,” you tilt your head. “Do you want to….hang out at my place?”

“Yeah, we can ‘hang out’ at your place,” Joel quips.

Scoffing in mock offense, you offer a retort. “What would you rather me have said? Come over for a nightcap? That’s a little cliche.”

He grimaces, as if he’s in agreement. You continue. “Or would you rather I be more direct? Joel, why don’t you come over so we can have sex?”

That makes him laugh, loudly, and it’s such a warm, comforting sound, you wish you could find a way to capture it and hear it over and over again. “Oh, is that what’s going to happen?” he asks.

“Guess we’ll find out,” You shrug, trying to play it off, in case you overstepped. Then you focus on putting the keys in the ignition without fumbling.

It’s not a long drive back to your place, but Joel seems determined to make sure it feels like it is. Either that, or he’s trying to get you to cause an accident. First his hand is resting on the back of your neck, brushing through the hair at the base of your skull. Then it’s on your shoulder, his thumb pressing into your taut muscles. You actually have to bite your tongue so you don’t moan. It’s not even sexual, really, but it just feels good to be touched, especially by him.

Eventually, you hit a stoplight, and while you’re waiting, his hand continues to wander…and comes to rest just above your knee. His hands are fucking huge, first of all, which maybe you’ve noticed before, and there are a few scars and scratches on the backs of his knuckles. It's the weight of it, the warmth of it, the way he’s settled it so casually like it’s nothing – like it belongs there, and he doesn’t even have to ask. Of course he doesn’t. And the confidence, the cockiness. It feels like someone’s taken an arrow to the pit of your stomach, and something thick and hot starts curling down, down, down….

You swallow hard, and he’s looking at you. He doesn’t speak right away, just stares, something dark and unfamiliar in his eyes.

“I hope I’m doing alright,” voice raspy, low, but still smooth as ever.

Shaking your head, you’re able to surface just enough over the haze of arousal. “You want a performance review?” you tease, giving a small smile. “We should hold off on that until later…”

That makes Joel laugh again, your stomach flips, and his thumb begins to stroke your kneecap, his fingers kneading into the soft flesh, inching forward to clasp farther inward, nearly grabbing at you, squeezing. The only thing separating his skin from your own is a thin pair of stockings that end dangerously close to where his hand is working. If he finds out that he’s just a few centimeters away from meeting bare skin, you’re afraid of what could happen.

“Joel,” you warn.

“What?” he asks, voice light and innocent.

“You’re distracting me.”

“You want me to stop?”

No. The light turns green, and you have to hold back the impulse to break every traffic law if it means you’ll get to have him just a second sooner.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“--my room is–” Joel cuts you off with another searing kiss, and it takes a second before you can conjure the self control to pull away again to finish the thought. “--down the hall.”

“Yeah?”

He’s got you crowded back against the entry closet of your house, hovering over you, one of his hands bracing itself beside your head, and the other slowly dragging down your body, his lips following….moving down your neck.

“Uh-huh,” you barely can get it out between strangled gasps for air.

And then he’s hooking his hands behind your knees. “Are you sure you don’t want, like-” Joel lifts you, and you lock your legs around his torso. “An amaretto or something?”

“No,” he’s gripping on to you so tightly it hurts, but you don’t mind.

“I could put on….a record-”

“No,” he repeats, and you’re being carried down the hall.

You hadn’t expected him to pounce on you the instant that you came in through the garage door. Not that you minded. It’s just that usually you’d play it a bit more coy. You’d set the mood, light a candle, have a chat. But, you suppose you don’t need to do anything to get you in the mood. You’re already there.

Joel’s mouth never separates from you, not until you’re in your room. He’s so sure of himself, you think he might be the type to throw you into the mattress, climb on top of you and rip at the zipper on the back of your dress. But he doesn’t. You’re laid down delicately, like you’re made of glass, and he’s being careful not to break you.

He weaves his thumb and forefinger around both your wrists, then pulls them up so they’re pinned above your head. This way, you’re completely at his mercy. When he lowers himself between your legs, and you feel the weight of his body pressed against you, you groan, fighting against the restraint, desperate to touch him. So you do the best you can and wrap your stocking-clad feet around his waist, trying to get some leverage, to bring him closer.

“Just wanna take my time with you, darlin’,” he murmurs softly, like he can read your mind. You’re starting to think he can – how else can he be so irresistible on his own accord?

Joel makes good on his promise. With you all docile beneath him, he takes the opportunity to kiss every inch of exposed skin available – even though you’re still fully clothed. Each press of his lips has you breathing unevenly – sighing, then gasping, then sharp, short inhales. When he finds a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, you can’t help but giggle and quirm.

Joel huffs in response, releasing you from his hold, and he tilts his head to whisper in your ear. “Do you have any idea how much I like hearing that? Knowing it’s because of me?” Immediately, you lower your hands to cup his cheeks, to regard him. He can’t be serious.

“You’re too sweet,” you mutter.

“So are you,” he answers, and ducks his head to return to your neck. “So sweet, and so fucking pretty, too…” His hands begin wandering, one of them cupping your breast, thumb finding a peaked nipple even through the fabric of your dress and your bra. The words he’s saying are too much, you’ll do anything to make him shut up, arching your back so you can feel him – already hard – against your clothed core.

“Joel-”

“God, I want to see you-fuck!” he pulls back, rolls you over, and you shift your weight so he has access to the dress’ zipper at your side. He makes quick work of it, and brings you to a seated position, helping you remove it all the way before kissing you again, then abruptly stopping. He wants you so badly….but he’s trying to savor the moment. “Let me look at you for a second.”

He takes you in, the stockings you’re wearing and the matching set of black lace you’d picked out beforehand. Of course, you’d thought about this. You always did for occasions like this, but Joel had stumped you. What would he like? This….was pretty understated, but he seemed like a salt-of-the earth guy. Not what you were used to. It probably wouldn’t make a difference whether or not you were in full-on lingerie. And even if you knew he wouldn’t care, you still had wanted to impress him. All the more reason to try.

“This for me?” he asks, hooking his finger on the inside of your stockings and snapping the elastic.

“Yeah,” you nod, honest. “I want you, Joel.” And there’s more to it, too. You’ve thought about just how badly for months. It kept you up at night, then helped you fall asleep when you couldn’t shake his image from your head. For now, you are going to keep that to yourself. But it doesn’t mean it’s not gonna slip out. Not when he’s looking at you like this.

“Yeah?” he says, steps forward, towers over you. “I want you, too, so fuckin’ bad. So fucking pretty, baby,” Dropping back to your elbows, you feel…small. Any other time, you might sit up, try to feel some kind of control, but for whatever reason, you stay where you are.

Joel wasn’t exaggerating when he said he wanted to take his time. It’s frustrating. It’s torture. He worships you, makes sure his mouth is on nearly every part of your body before he finishes undressing you. Your ankles hook over his shoulders, his hands grazing, dragging thin nylon up and off each leg. He kisses your calves, the inside of your knees, your thighs. He uses one hand to unhook your bra and pulls it away. He spends what feels like hours with his mouth on your breasts – sucking, licking, nipping – hands cupping, grabbing, pinning you down. The whole time, he’s telling you how badly he wants you, how pretty you are, how good you’re being for him. He’s either touching you too much, or maybe not enough. It’s hard to say. Only after he’s reduced you to an incoherent, whimpering mess do you somehow find the strength to fight back.

By this point, you’re lying in the middle of the bed, your leg hooked over his hip, the waistband of his jeans digging into bare skin. He’s still got all his fucking clothes on, which makes everything so much worse, because it’s clear whose in control here, and it’s certainly not you.

The button of his flannel is where you start, and then you work downward. Joel doesn’t stop you at any point. You think he might, just because of how things have been going. But he’s as easy as you are, and you take him in all the same after you’ve shucked off his jeans, and he’s closer to your state of buff.

To be fair, you’ve spent enough time lingering by the windows – when he’s outside mowing the lawn shirtless, or picking up his newspaper in the morning, or doing workouts in his garage with the door open (such a tease!) – to have an idea of what to expect. He’s not ripped by any means but neither are you – and you’ve never liked that anyways. But it’s not hard to ascertain that he spends all day in the sun, lifting and hauling things around. His muscles are defined, rippling lightly under his skin with each panting breath he takes. Joel’s a spectacle – broad and tan, a line of dark hair dipping from his belly-button down into the waistband of his dark-gray briefs. You can make out the way his cock is straining against the fabric.

Once you’ve appraised him as best as you can – you can see that he’s studying you, almost like he’s anxious, like you might not like what you see. As if he doesn’t know. Ridiculous. You aren’t going to leave him guessing. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Joel,” you shake your head. “You’re a fucking stud.”

Joel’s face breaks out in a grin and he yanks you back so you’re on top of him, legs on either side of his chest. And finally, finally, you can touch him like you’ve been wanting. His skin is warm – it’s kind of hot in your room, you’d forgotten to turn on the A/C, so you’re both a little sweaty. But and it’s unclear if it’s because of the heat or just how worked up you are. It doesn’t matter, because it only turns you on even more. You trace the broad plane of his chest, hand snaking down…all the way to his boxers, but he stops you.

He’d let you undress him, allowed it, but this…it crosses a line. Joel hooks his hands behind your thighs and begins to drag you up, up, up, while he shifts lower. It takes a second to register what he’s doing, and when it does, you try to stop it.

“Joel, wait I-”

“I have to taste you darlin’, that okay?” His dark hair is fanned out around his head, resting on your floral pillowcase. In the dim light, his pupils are so blown out you can barely see anything else except black. “I’ll give you whatever you want, but you’ve gotta let me taste you first.”

It’s not that you don’t want it, but he’s taken you off guard, and you’re already overwhelmed by how intimate all this has been, gentle and languid while he whispers honeyed words into your ear. His mind seems already made up, and you don’t really want to tell him no.

“Alright,” you manage, and you grip the top of the headboard.

It’s embarrassing how wet you already are. It started with his hand on your knee in the car, and you have spent the last hour clenching around nothing, squeezing your legs together and searching for friction. Anything. Well, you are about to get it.

Joel’s lips press to the insides of your thighs, once more, dangerously close to where you’re weeping for him. His nose bumps your clit when he turns his head, and you whine – hips sinking to seek the contact that he’s been denying you, and then immediately pulling back in a moment of clarity.

“No, no,” Joel’s hands immediately land on your hips to hold you in place, bringing you lower. “Stay right there for me.”

You don’t dare move.

Finally, his mouth finds you. You think he might tease for a little bit, go slow, because he’s been doing that all night, and it’s become infuriating. But he doesn’t. He eats you out, laves at you. A hot, velvet tongue that works up a steady rhythm. It’s interrupted only by the vibration of his moans every so often, which only add to the pleasure. For a moment, you miss how he’d been talking to you before, but you’re so sensitive, so eager, that you think you’ll sacrifice anything if it means he’s not going to stop. Joel keeps you still with a bruising grip on your hips. All you can do is let him have his way and whimper his name over and over, listen to him groan in response.

Being consistent is key for you. And Joel is nothing but. Practiced, but feral….like he’s been holding back all night. It’s been a long time, or maybe he’s just that excited, it’s hard to tell. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Can’t bring yourself to care about much more than him, the man below you working you over with just his mouth.

“I’m…Joel, I’m-” you try to pull off again, it’s too much, but he doesn’t allow it. Even if the position he’s in is compromising, he’s managed to find a way to assert himself. The coil inside you has wound so tightly that almost every muscle in your body is tense. Now, can’t even move, not even if you wanted to, and he keeps going, your words have only made him more determined.

The coil snaps. You cry out, using the headboard to stifle your noises – not worried that it will probably leave a mark. If you get nothing else from Joel, then at least it will serve as a reminder that he was here, beneath you, lapping up everything you have to give him. The orgasm leaves you weak, trembling, but he holds you up, works you through it until the waves begin to cease, and then you’re so overstimulated, so sensitive that you start to feel lightheaded. “Fuck, Joel, I can’t-” You tug on his hair, hope he’ll get the hint and release you, but he doesn’t. If anything, it only spurs him on.

His mouth is white hot on you, his tongue damp, firm as it circles your clit and drags downward. He gives you nowhere to go, no opportunity to come down from the high, so within minutes, or seconds – at this point, you’ve lost track of time – he’s worked you up to the precipice of release, and you’re coming again, crying out to him.

At last, he eases off, lets you relax. You do, carefully, and so does he, gradually removing his mouth from you while your hand untangles from his dark curls. Joel holds you steady as he sits back against the headboard, keeping you splayed across his lap. You don’t waste your time saying something stupid like “you didn’t have to do that,” because you’re not gonna pretend you didn’t love every second, but mostly because you’re not sure you’re capable of speaking just yet. His hand catches your jaw, and he looks at you – innocently, like he hadn’t just done what he had done, like his fucking beard, and chin, and lips weren’t still wet with you. But the ornery glint in his eyes gives him away. “You liked that?” he has the audacity to ask.

A shaky hand comes to pinch your eyebrows as you let out a weak laugh, nodding. “Yeah, Joel….yeah.”

“Good,” he answers.

“I was right about you,” you manage.

“Yeah?” He murmurs, and his hand skates up your arm, the other settling on your waist. It’s grounding, reassuring as your heart attempts to steady its beating.

“You’re trouble.”

“Yeah,” Joel murmurs, and he leans in close. “Only for you, pretty girl.”

Your hips jolt back at the term of endearment, so much so that you feel the length of his cock, hard against your ass. It’s your turn to take care of him, but it shouldn’t be difficult, because your arousal is already building again. It’ll be much, much, easier to come again, specifically around him. Plus, right now, you are willing to do just about anything for him. You kiss him, and it’s sloppy, lick the taste of yourself out of his mouth. Heat curls again in the pit of your stomach, and you grind yourself down on him through his underwear.

Joel’s head falls back, bonks the headboard, and the thud of impact is overshadowed by his agonized moan. You reach down between your bodies, let your touch land over his clothed cock. He pants out your name. So many things you could do – with only your hand, or your mouth, but before you can decide, he speaks again.

“Wanna be inside you,” he grits out. “So fucking bad.”

“You don’t want me to-”

“No,” he cuts you off. “No, no. I need you.”

“You can have me,” you nod, leaning forward to kiss his neck, pushing down the elastic of his underwear. Joel lets you, his hips stuttering, until he freezes. “Shit.” He reaches out to halt your movements.

You look up, his eyes are wide. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry, I uh, I left my wallet in the car,” Joel’s voice is pinched, palms leaving your body to press against his eyes, frustrated. “I brought condoms, but they’re - I’ll have to go get them.”

“I have some,” you pipe up, nodding towards your bedside table. Joel reaches for it, but it's your turn to stop him. “But I mean, I’m clean,” you say. “...And I have an IUD, so…”

Joel pauses, stares at you under thick lashes. “You sure that…” So tentative. “....That’s okay with you?”

You feel yourself smirk a little as you look at him. It’s not something you’d allow anyone to do. But you’re feeling a little lost in the moment. The part of your brain that usually tells you to run for the hills whenever things get too real has turned off. It’s not the first time he’s caused that, and you sort of enjoy the delusion. There’s no question. It’s Joel. “Oh, yeah.”

The words ignite something in him that you weren’t entirely prepared for, and he’s pulling you hard against his mouth with one hand, while the other pushes his briefs down the rest of the way. You don’t get the chance to see him, to feel him, before he’s lining himself up with your slick cunt.

It’s a soft glide of sensitive skin across sensitive skin, and you shake with anticipation. You don’t even know you have your eyes closed, focusing on the sensation, until you hear Joel’s voice.

“Open your eyes,” he commands. “Please just-” he swallows hard. “I wanna watch you. So fucking pretty.”

You obey, and he guides your hand to replace your own. It’s not until your hand wraps around him that you’re aware of just how thick his cock is, throbbing and leaking, and it makes you all the more eager. Slowly, you start to sink down, but it’s too challenging to take him all at once. So first, just the tip, you roll back to ease the sting, then gradually sink lower and low.

Joel moves closer to you, holding his breath, guiding you along, propped back against the pillows. “That’s it, so fucking good, baby…”

You understand why he was moving so languidly earlier. This is meant to be enjoyed. After some time, and lots of praise, your hips settle flush with his own, and he’s seated fully inside of you. It’s a delicious stretch that your body isn’t fully ready to accommodate, but it has your toes curling and mouth hanging open, bearing down on him involuntarily. Under Joel’s watchful gaze you feel terribly, terribly exposed.

“Keep going,” Joel encourages. So you move. It’s experimental at first, small ruts against him, getting used to the way it feels. It doesn’t take you long to find the spot that makes you abandon eye contact, throw your head back, and –

“Oh, Joel.”

“Yeah?” he asks, and he sounds strained, pinched – he’s holding back, but still enjoying every second. “That feel good?”

You nod furiously. He lets you find a rhythm that works for you, lets you take your time, and once you do, he starts to match your pace. His hands don’t stay in one place for very long. First, they’re resting gently on your ass. Then they’re cupping your tits, watching them bounce as they sway with your movements. He brings his knees up behind you, pressing his feet into the bed, and uses the leverage to fuck himself deeper each time you lower yourself onto him.

At this point, you’re unaware of what types of noises you must be making, and you’re thankful that you’re alone so you can be as loud as you want. His cock is hitting places inside you that you didn’t know existed, and rolling across the same spot over and over and over.

“You feel so perfect for me,” Joel says, his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling. “So, so good, baby, so fucking pretty.”

“Mm-hmm,” is all you can answer, nodding furiously and feeling yourself grow wetter and wetter with every thrust.

You’re too easy for him. And you were too worked up to begin with. “Joel, I can’t-”

He slams his hips up into yours so hard you cut yourself off with a choked gasp. Then he does it again. “You gonna come for me?” he asks. “I can feel you, baby, I know it’s close.”

“Y-yeah,” he’s got you stammering on your words. You’re clamping down onto him so tightly it hurts. But you’re so desperate to come, to feel what it’ll do to him, that you don’t stop.

“Come here,” he murmurs, hands around your waist, pulling you down so your lips are nearly touching. “Stay close to me.”

“Oh, fuck, oh-” The warmth of his body so close to yours, your hands bracing themselves on his chest, the comfort of his arms around you, all coupled with one vicious rut of his hips has you right there. Joel tilts your head back just enough so you’re forced to look directly at him – and then you come undone.

You want to close your eyes, turn your head, but you’ve got nowhere to go, and he’s right in front of you. Joel’s touch slides up your back, draws you even closer, and you ride out your third orgasm of the night while pressed entirely against his chest, forced to be vulnerable in a way you’ve never been with anyone before. “So good, baby, so good. Such a good fuckin’ girl for me,” he praises you through it, works you through it, until you’re all but melted in his arms, and he still hasn’t pulled his eyes away.

Utterly spent, you know, distantly, somewhere, that he has to come. However, Joel takes over, flips you both so you’re underneath him, and presses himself deep into the cradle of your pelvis. He’s heavy on top of you, but the weight is somehow soothing.

“I thought about you,” you murmur, hoping it’ll help. His jaw is set, solely focused on his own release. “How good you’d feel.”

“Fuck, really?” he grunts. “I-I- did too.”

“Yeah?” you ask, feeling flush at the admission. “I thought about….letting y-you use me.”

Joel groans your name, curses loudly, ruts into you even harder. You can feel him throbbing, so fucking close, and you arch yourself up to meet him, pleasure already building again, even though you thought it wasn’t possible.

“It’s so much better, Joel, you’re so much better–”

Than I imagined. But you don’t have to finish the thought. The idea of you, thinking of him, seems to be enough as it is, and you feel him pulsing, warmth blooming and spreading out as he groans, throws his head back and spills himself impossibly deep inside you. If you weren’t utterly spent, the feeling of him coming – and nothing between you, probably would have set you off again. For now, it’s enough.

His whole body goes limp as he relaxes his arms from where they’re braced on either side of you, his head falling into the crook of your neck. You hear him take a few, haggard breaths once it’s over, and then a deep chuckle vibrates in your ear. “Fuck, baby.”

You rub his shoulder lightly to soothe him, and his lips find the underside of your jaw, kissing lightly his beard scratching your cheeks. For an undetermined amount of time, he remains there. Normally, you’d probably check his watch, but you’ve noticed that the one he always wears is broken, and really….you feel content.

Finally, Joel pulls away, cursing under his breath and withdrawing from you. He runs his hand through his hair, and flops on his back by your side, and you feel horribly empty. After he’s cupped your cheek, turning you gently to look at him – he gives you a tender, affectionate smile.

It hits you like a freight train.

He was not the type of man you dated. The men you dated liked to slap, choke, withhold. That had always been what you’d gotten off to. The more frenzied, the more impersonal – the better. That wasn’t to say Joel hadn’t been passionate. But you’d never experienced anything like this before.

You tear away from his gaze, focus on the ceiling. Heart pounding, threatening to break through your ribs, you feel your mouth dry up, your eyes burn and fuck – you’re about to cry. Try to turn yourself away from him, but he sees it.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just uh-” your voice catches on the lump forming in the back of your throat and cracks audibly, raw.

“Hey– ” you hear the mattress shift, he’s moving closer, and you start to scramble. You’ve gotta leave. Get to the bathroom, compose yourself. “Where are you goin?”

“Joel, I just need to-” but his hand circles your wrist, and you don’t have the power to resist him. The bones of his hand press firmly in your cheek, turning your head so you have to look at him. There are tears in your eyes.

“What’s wrong, baby? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Up close you can see that his eyes aren’t brown – they’re hazel. Mesmerizing, long lashes – gold and green rimming his irises. How had you not noticed that before?

“No, no not at all it was just…” you’re talking so fast, not even sure where you’re going with the sentence. “I’m sorry, I liked it I just-I don’t know,” you stutter. Shaking your head, you cover your face. You don’t want to feel this way with him here. “I’m not used to-”

Joel, who has never seen you at a loss for words, frowns, draws you against him. “Come here.”

“It’s okay,” he lets you press your face just below his jaw. He’s being so soft, it makes everything that much worse. Tears slip down your cheeks, landing on his skin. He strokes your hair, holds you so tightly, firmly, "It was intense, huh?”

You want to resent the way he’s speaking to you – like you’re a child who fell off her bike and skinned her knee, and not a grown ass woman realizing how disconnected she’s felt with every other partner until now. But unfortunately, it’s kind of working. You murmur an affirmation in response. ”I’ve got you, it’s okay,” he promises.

He holds you until the tide of emotion swells, settles, lips against your temple, his fingertips tracing up and down your spine, and gives you the time to compose yourself.

“That was really nice, I promise,” you say, eventually. And then, because he’s been so gracious, you’re honest. “It’s just been…a long time…” Forever, really. “Since I felt…”

“I know,” Joel nods. “Me too. It’s alright.”

“Yeah,” you bob your head. He holds your face reverently, and pulls you in for a chaste kiss before tucking you back against his chest. You close your eyes, nestle against him. He strokes your hair while you listen to the steady beat of his heart.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next thing you know, you’re being gently shaken awake. Somehow, you’d fallen asleep.

“Hey, baby,” Joel murmurs softly.

“Mmm?” you groan in response, exhaustion clinging to your limbs.

“I’m sorry, I gotta get going.”

You scoff into his neck and make a noise of protest, still not entirely roused, he’d woken you too delicately. When he speaks, his lips brush against your forehead, hands still tracing up and down the lines of your body and making you shiver. “I told Sarah and Tommy I’d be home by midnight.”

“Right,” you mutter, finding the strength to push yourself off of him and stretch. Joel sits up, very tentatively releasing you from his grip.

“I’m sorry I had to wake you, I can see myself out.”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “No, please. Do you need anything?”

“Can I use your bathroom?”

“Of course,” you point towards the ensuite.

Joel collects his discarded clothes off the bed, then the floor, and disappears. You hear the sink running, watch the shuffling shadows he casts in the crack below the door. While he’s doing that, you slip into your robe and run your fingers through your hair, taking in the disheveled state of your bed, before deciding to clean up in the extra bathroom down the hall.

On your way back, you run into Joel, who looks better than ever, tanned skin glowing, a soft smile on his face. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

“This was nice. I had a really good time.”

“Me too.”

“Will you…” he trails off, rubs his jaw. “Will you be okay? I don’t want to-”

“I’m fine,” you say, dismissively. “I just had a moment.”

“You sure?”

“Of course.” Joel studies you carefully, and you’re prompted to continue. “I promise. Joel. This was nice.”

“It was,” he grins. “I’d like to see you again.”

“Me too,” you don’t even think before you answer, despite everything. It surprises you, how willing you suddenly are.

“Good.” He kisses you, slow and lingering. “I’ll give you a call.”

“Okay.”

part vi

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dcartcorner · 6 months

Text

a fantasy/dnd au because i can't help myself and the thought of ancient blue dragon simon who disguises himself as a human brings me joy.

please enjoy this small one shot ft. s1 adventuring crew (please excuse any errors, writing is not my strong suit!)

Rumours at the Tavern Characters: Tim, Simon, Sasha, Martin, Jon Ships: none

It wasn’t what Tim would consider a nice tavern. He had performed in nicer ones, ones where the counters were meticulously cleaned and the patrons were at least passably polite to the serving staff, and a mug of ale would set you back a silver piece. This place was not quite like that.

Then again, Tim had been to worse sorts of dives.

The Lazy Storm sat right smack in the middle of the two kinds of taverns, perched on the cliff side overlooking the choppy seas of the western coast, amidst the fjords in the town of Killn’s Rest. Not a bad place, not a good place. Just a place, somewhere to find some warmth, a quick meal, and something to drink. It was also the sort of tavern that didn’t take fire hazards all that seriously, if the number of people making merry that evening within its walls was any indication of the owner’s outlook on safety. It was busy, to the point where crowds spilled out onto the street even though the summer had come to a close and the winter, with its biting chill, was fast approaching.

Perhaps that’s why Tim noticed him - the old man. Because he was sitting on the bar top.

There were few other seats around. Sasha had managed to charm their way to a table of their own earlier in the night while Martin tried to see about rooms, and their party had stayed planted at said table all night as the crowds slowly but surely filtered in for the evening. They were lucky, in this regard, as many other people were forced to stand shoulder to shoulder. Not that old man, though. Perched on the edge of the bar like a bird, smiling kindly at the person next to him.

And his choice of seat was not the only peculiar thing about him, Tim thought. He wore clothing that Tim could only describe as ornate. If this was one of those nice taverns Tim had played in, he might have expected that sort of the look, but this wasn’t one of those places. This was the Lazy Storm, and that man was incredibly overdressed.

“It’s weird, right?” Tim said aloud. Martin looked up, then glanced around. Sasha craned her neck to look at him. Jon didn’t look up from his book. Tim nodded in the direction of the old man. “Someone dressed like that in a place like this. That’s odd, isn’t it?”

“Not really,” Sasha shrugged.

“Where?” Martin asked.

“Good on him, getting dressed up to go out for a night,” said Sasha.

“I think it’s weird,” said Tim. Because it was.

“Where?” Martin asked again. “Oh. Him? I mean. I suppose it’s… well, it’s a little odd.” The twist of a frown at the corners of Martin’s mouth. “Someone should offer him a seat.”

“Seems happy enough where he is,” Sasha said with a huff of a laugh as the other man at the bar leaned closer to the old man and whispered something to him.

“Could we please focus,” Jon finally interjected, shutting the book.

Tim rolled his eyes as he took a swig of his drink. It wasn’t silver coin ale. This was a copper-piece-per-tankard-ale, and it tasted like it. Which was to say, it tasted like a good night in the making.

“Have any of you actually asked anyone about any jobs yet?” Jon said.

“Asked just about as many people as you,” Tim said. By this, Tim meant: none.

“There’s a rat problem in the sewers,” Sasha said, “according to one guard. Doesn’t pay well, but at least it pays.”

“There are bandits, too,” Martin added. “Uh, just out east of here. Somewhere. Apparently they have a den in the woods? But I think someone might’ve already taken that one.”

“Mm.” Jon was not impressed. He looked over at Tim. “Anything?”

Tim raised his hands. “Don’t look at me, I can get a job whenever.” Plenty of people out there who were willing to pay for some good music. “Or did you forget who bought the rooms and drinks?”

Jon leaned his elbows on the table and put his face in his hands momentarily. Then looked up at Tim and said, “Could you please just. Ask.”

“Jon, maybe we should just… take a night off?” Martin suggested. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing…”

Jon shot him a look and that was the end of that conversation.

Well, didn’t matter. Jon didn’t have to join them in having a good night if he didn’t want to. Tim wasn’t going to let it bother him, and he got up to go order another drink with his own hard earned money, ignoring how much lighter his coin purse was compared to earlier that day.

Why was it his problem anyway, that they didn’t have much in the way of coin? He wasn’t going to let it get to him. It wasn’t getting to him. He and Sasha and Martin were just some poor souls dragged along on Jon’s pointless quest to find some answers that had nothing to do with any of them. So why did it matter?

It didn’t matter.

Dammit.

The old man was not the first person he asked that night about a job. As he waited for a drink he asked the person to his left and to his right, but neither of them were keen on talking - and it took him a little too long to realize they were part of their own adventuring party based on the matching bands on their arms, and wouldn’t be sharing any information with him. He tried to ask the bartender as well, but she was too busy to give him any answer that was not a look of inconvenience.

Tim sighed. And he kept asking, until finally his route around the tavern brought him to the old man at the bar. Sat there, dressed strangely, looking for all the world like he should be just about anywhere else.

“Are you quite alright?” the old man asked him. Tim blinked. “Not that I mind, but I’ve been told it’s rude to stare.”

Had he been staring? “Sorry,” Tim said. The old man smiled at him.

“Something I can do for you?” the old man asked.

Tim looked around briefly. The other person with whom the old man had been speaking earlier that night was gone. “Don’t suppose there is,” Tim said. “Unless you know of any get rich quick jobs around this place.”

The old man chuckled. “Well now, I can think of a few, but I’m not entirely sure those are the type you’re looking for,” he said, resting his hands on the head of his cane which he had propped up on the empty edge of one of the bar-stools. “Tough times, out there. Or so I hear. Something about the supply and demand of it all, I think. Too many adventurers, too few problems that need solving! At least around these parts.” The old man sighed thoughtfully. “This coast isn’t what it used to be. Time was you couldn’t take two steps on the road without running into bandits or cultists or a proper mountain troll. Now you’d be lucky to find a good sized rat nest to clean up.”

“Yeah, well. Killing rats doesn’t pay well,” Tim said.

The old man smiled, watching Tim over the rim of his glasses. His eyes were sharply blue, Tim noticed. “No,” the man agreed. “No it doesn’t.” He tilted his head. “Terribly sorry, but I’m afraid you’ll have to go further afield to find anything.”

“Thanks anyway,” Tim said, defeated.

“Although,” the old man said as Tim was turning away. Tim paused and looked back at him. “I’ve heard a rumour. There have been a few ships that have come into the harbour with some particularly strange news out of the Shivering Straight. Up north. Word is there have been a handful of whaling ships that have gone missing around Helkelson Bay. Only a couple of survivors. Those that do manage to best the frostbite say… well. You know how sailors can be, always creating the most fanciful stories. A ghost ship, they say! The mayor of Helkelson isn’t altogether convinced it’s anything so peculiar as that, though I hear he’s offering a handsome reward to anyone willing to… solve the problem. Whatever that problem may be.”

“Helkelson?” Tim said.

“That’s right,” the old man replied with a smile. “Ask around the docks, I’d say. Plenty of merchant ships coming and going that way. Of course, it’s only a rumour.”

Tim smiled back. “Better than nothing.”

It was at that moment the old man’s companion returned and gave Tim a wary look. Tim took it as his cue to leave with a nod of thanks and an imaginary tip of the hat before he returned to the table to join his companions.

“Let me start,” he said to them, “by saying you’re welcome. Now, any of you been to the Shivering Straight?”

#tma #the magnus archives #dnd au #fantasy au #tim stoker #sasha james #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #simon fairchild #fic #one shot #yes tim is a bard #fanart

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conchcronch · 1 month

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Making a Mess Part 2

Sanji x Zoro

It may have started with a night of drinking, but the morning after starts with a migraine and ends with something much nicer.

If you haven’t already, please read part 1 before!

NSFW Below the Cut

“He’s been like that since I got up this morning.” Nami whispered to Robin as they picked at the breakfast that had been prepared by the cook with less love than normal.

Sanji had woken up with a hangover, the kind of hangover that makes it feel like your stomach is full of magma and all you want to do is crawl under a rock and hibernate for a week and a half. Unfortunately Sanji didn’t have that luxury, at least he didn’t award himself with it. He quietly worked on breakfast for the crew, the only thing keeping him from throwing up was his undying refusal to waste food and the half a pack of cigarettes he’s smoked his way through since rolling out of bed.

“He’s barely said a sentence in an hour” Robin said between bites of fruit that had been cut into hearts and stars.

“I almost miss being fawned over,” Nami said with a giggle. She noticed Zoro climbing down the ladder and braced for the impending argument between him and the clearly off cook, but when he quietly sat down at the end of the table she shot Robin a look. Sanji walked over to the table from where he had been preparing food and silently put a plate of Omurice in front of Zoro before returning to preparing more food for whenever Luffy rolled out of bed. “What the hell is going on here?!” Nami finally gets sick of the tension that’s stifling the air.

“N-Nami-swan? What do you mean?” Sanji looked up from the fruit he was delicately chopping. His eyes were tired and a cigarette was loosely hanging from his lips.

“You’re acting so weird!” He smiled gently, shaking his head.

“I must just be hung over from last night, thank you for your concern. Let me prepare you two something special for caring so much for me!” And that’s when he made a mistake. He brought a hand up, loosening his tie so he could rub at his neck.

Robin was the first to spot his neck. She sipped at her tea, her expression unchanged. Nami walked over to Zoro who was quietly (for once) eating, she snatched the spoon from his tired grasp. “What do you want, woman?!” Nami held the spoon just out of his reach.

“What did you do to Sanji?!” Without even looking up Sanji heard Zoro snort before continuing the battle for his spoon.

“I didn’t do shit!” He finally managed to rip the spoon from Nami’s hand and resumed eating as he bickered with his mouth full.

The arguing faded into the background of Sanji’s mind as he tried to focus on cooking, something that normally helped him clear his mind but today it felt more like a chore than anything. He was in his own world, paying no attention to anyone around him even though Nami and Robin had been talking about him as though he wasn’t even there. But he might as well have been in another room since he was giving them no attention. It wasn’t until Robin cupped his face in two hands and felt how warm he felt that she became very concerned. Despite Sanji reassuring her that he was fine and was perfectly capable of finishing breakfast she walks him to Chopper’s office. This is how he ended up getting sent to bed having only finished half of the breakfast prep, falling asleep the moment his head touched his pillow despite his shirt and pants crumpling on the floor while his tie was still loosely tied around his neck.

“Only you could manage to get your dick sucked AND told to nap all day,” Zoro grumbled as he quietly padded across the shared boy’s room to where Sanij was going in and out of sleep. Slowly waking up when he heard the sound of a glass being set down on the small table next to his cot.

“W-wha are you doing?” Sanji asked, half annoyed, half confused as his head was still throbbing.

“Brought you water.” Sanji rubbed his eyes as he sat up enough to reach over for the glass.

“Since when do you bring anyone water?”

“Drew the short straw.” That was, in fact, a lie. But Sanji didn’t know that. “I didn’t think I’d live to see the day you got a hangover.” Sanji half smiled as he gulped the water down, setting the glass back on the table and reaching for his pants that were just out of his grasp on the floor. He dug through the pocket of his pants until he found the crumpled carton of cigarettes in one and his lighter in the other. He opened the carton pulling out the last one, lighting it and inhaling as though it was going to be his last breath.

“It takes a lot, that’s for sure.” His voice was still scratchy from his midday nap. As he pushed himself up into an upright sitting position, his blanket slid down into his lap leaving his chest bare to the swordsman. Zoro tried to fight the proud smirk that forced its way across his lips as he saw the roadmap of bruises left from the night before. ”Can’t say feeling like this makes me want to drink again any time soon.” Sanji huffed out a lazy laugh, not noticing how Zoro was staring at him like a hungry lion stares at a hearty gazelle.

After a few moments of comfortable silence between them Zoro decided to take his leave, knowing that if he sat much longer he might be inclined to repeat the night prior, and he couldn’t say for sure whether the other man would remember the events let alone want to repeat them. As he turned towards the door he leaned down and grabbed Sanji’s discarded dress shirt and hurled it in his direction, “You’ll probably want to put this on, Chopper’s gonna’ come check on you next and I don’t think you want him to see all that,” Zoro’s hand gripped the handle to the door, pausing for a second before saying, “Shame you won’t be drinking anytime soon, was hoping for another round.” Zoro allowed himself to look over his shoulder just to see the realization smack Sanji before his face turned a bright shade of red, mouth agape as Zoro closed the door so he could be alone with his hazy memories.

Sanji should have known that was more than a drunken dream. The more he recalled, the more clearly he remembered everything. The way Zoro’s calloused hands had felt on his thighs as they slid around to grip the meat of his ass. He recalled thinking how good Zoro looked between his legs, the way his eyes watered every time Sanji’s cock hit the back of his throat but never pushing him away. The more he thought about the previous night the more his cock stirred. Part of him was begging him to call Zoro back, to lock the door, slam the larger man against the wood and do anything in his power to get Zoro to make those sounds again. But despite Sanji’s will being weaker than normal with each ebb of his migraine his resolve was still strong enough to force himself to lay back down and deal with the issue at hand his own way.

He scooted back down into bed, pulling the blanket over his body and fishing out his aching cock from his boxers. He knew it wasn’t going to feel as good as Zoro’s hand, he would never admit that, going as far as to silently vow to take the fact to his grave. He slid his hand along his shaft, closing his eyes as he tried to imagine his last sexual encounter with a woman. No matter what he thought about, his mind would always go back to Zoro, how every possible sexual act would feel with him in a woman’s place. Surely his pecs could work in place as tits, he wondered if Zoro would have the same reaction to having his nipples toyed with as his last partner did. If circling them with his tongue would have Zoro begging for more, how would Zoro sound if he begged. Would Zoro beg? He definitely seemed more submissive than Sanji would have expected. His orgasm caught him entirely by surprise, ripping a loud moan from his lips that he normally would stifle with ease.

Zoro couldn’t help the pride that swelled in his chest as he heard his name be moaned as he walked by the shared men’s quarters in the direction of the shower. As if his cock weren’t straining enough against his track pants, he couldn’t get to the empty shower fast enough after hearing that. After knowing that Sanji was thinking of him. That he was so caught up in his fantasies that he couldn’t catch Zoro’s name before it pushed past his lips as he came. The why didn’t matter much to the swordsman, what mattered was the fact that Sanji had gotten so aroused by the memories that had flooded back that he came in less than 5 minutes since Zoro had left his side. He was desperate and so was Zoro.

#one piece smut #one piece zosan #zosan #zosan fanfic #roronoa zoro #sanji smut #zoro smut #sanji x zoro #ao3 author #one piece

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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 2 months

Text

flowers in the window - ep40

summary: elias pettersson x f!reader // inspired by this song! // just moments of your relationship with elias (each break has a timeskip of a few years)

warnings: mentions of drinking alcohol, reader can play the piano, fluff, i think there might be some tense mistakes at the start, panic attacks, anxiety, angst, swearing, , stress relating to teaching/work, mentions of dying alone, mentions of marriage, babies (+Quinn's fictional partner is called Kat!)

word count: 8.1k

You watched the slender fingers dance playfully over the keys, catching occasionally on the ebony, tapping out a random and entirely chaotic tune that had you trying not to smile at the attempt to pull something out of you – mostly anything to distract you from the lies Brock had fed you in order to promise your attendance, and to his efforts, it was working.

The loud chatter and bustling crowds were still on your mind, there was no doubt about that, but with your back to everything and your ‘peace-offering’ doing his best to distract you, it was starting to work. Although, it was hard to break the habit of looking at your watch every five minutes, knowing that you’d have to get out of bed early the next morning for work. In fact, it was that knowledge that made you reluctant to even attend this ‘small gathering’ in the first place, something Brock had taken in his stride and then proceeded to lie about.

Hence, the peace offering in the form of a very familiar Swede, who was a little too willing to get you to crack a smile for someone who didn’t usually do that kind of thing.

You shook your head at his obnoxious banging of keys, the sound hardly even heard over the voices behind you, and gently reached your own hands to tap his away as you played out a short snippet of something that at least sounded vaguely nicer than his nonsensical mess.

You could feel his eyes intently watching where you put your fingers, his own palms resting against the tops of his jean-clad thighs. The tune was one of the first ones you’d learnt as a kid: Für Elise, and although the notes of the piano were quieter due to the party-scene raging, you could tell Elias was still trying to commit your motions to memory, just further down on the piano.

His hands came to rest against the keys once more, head tilting back in your direction to where your own fingers were still poised over the correct keys, translating the pattern to his own hands. Back and forth, back and forth between his hands and yours, and his sheer concentration on getting his fingers in the correct place actually prompted a soft laugh from you.

Despite his focus on his hands, you saw the way the corner of his mouth quirked up at the sound, a triumphant little smile that stuck around until you began slowly playing the first couple of notes for him to copy – then it faded a little, upon the realisation that he couldn’t quite assemble his fingers and move them to the correct notes in the right order.

“Here.” You mumbled, scooching across what little space was left between you both, until your shoulders, hips and thighs were pressed together, and reached under his fingers to place your own hands.

His hands were a little cold, and almost without even intending to, your attention shot briefly to the sweating bottle of beer placed rightfully on a coaster on top of the lip to the piano, before shooting back down to your hands. His touch was delicate, as though he was half-hesitating on whether or not he should fully allow his weight to rest over the backs of your hands, and you pushed your hands a little further into the palms of his, encouraging him to place his fingers over the back of yours.

You lowered your fingers to the keys, ensuring to press slowly so the pattern would be easier to digest, and then stopped. When you tilted your head a little to gauge his reaction, his eyes were already fixed on you, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

He wasn’t even watching what you were trying to show him.

“I didn’t know you could play.” He said, lifting his hands from yours so you could remove yourself from his grip.

“I just know a few things.” You shook your head, dismissing his comment with a few melodic taps against the keys, drawing his attention from you to the piano under your hands, “How do you know I can play anyway, we can barely hear it over Brock’s racket?”

“I just…” He trailed off, his fingers tapping out what you’d shown him, before pausing. Your eyes snapped to his side profile, taking in the slight furrow of his brow and the slight part of his mouth when he got stuck on the next key.

You straightened on the bench, leaning over to move his fingers to the right keys, and, like a switch had been flicked, he seemed to relax, his fingers continuing as though he’d not had that small stumble in the first place.

“I guess it’s just blind faith.” He laughed a little under his breath, the avoidance of eye contact screaming everything he didn’t say, and you felt your face flush a little at the insinuation.

His honesty, no matter how long you’d known him or how long you’d been dating, never really failed to stun you. You weren’t sure if he knew what he was doing to you when he said things like that so effortlessly and so easily, and you felt your breath hitch a little in your chest.

No one really knew about you guys – Quinn definitely did, but that was only because he, quote, unquote: could just tell. Neither you or Elias were putting in much effort to hide your relationship, but it had slowly gotten to the point where Brock was trying to set you guys up with other people; at first it was a little amusing, but as the weeks drifted by and he still remained insistent in the matter, it became less endearing.

Though, there had been many times where Brock had done or said something that might have hinted at him knowing something. For instance, today’s ‘peace offering’ came in the form of Petey sitting by himself, his back to the party and his elbow draped across the shut lid as he drafted a text to you and it wasn’t the first time Brock had used Petey as a selling point whenever you were sceptical of going out.

You inhaled, blinking away from him, “Noted.”

He nudged you with his elbow teasingly, “Are you turning red?”

You rolled your eyes fondly, shaking your head, “Give me a song.”

“Uh,” he leant his head back slightly in thought, “do you know the Blinding Lights intro?” He quirked a brow in your direction, blue eyes staring straight into yours with a softness you’d learnt was mostly reserved for you.

You swallowed, “Yeah, I can try to…just give me a minute.” You tapped on a few keys, trying to match it to the intro you knew, vaguely aware of Elias’s intent gaze now locked on you, a far cry from the subtlety he usually reserved for you in public settings.

It was partially why you weren’t surprised when his phone buzzed on top of the piano, a message notification from Brock. He sighed audibly, you continuing to play around with the keys, and swiped the notification open, sneakily tilting his phone in your direction when he read the screen.

You pretended to keep playing, your eyes now taking in the message, before rolling your eyes with an amused smile.

Brock Canucks: When I start kicking people out it doesn’t apply to you guys

“I knew he’d regret inviting this many people.” You muttered, your attention suddenly getting stolen by a wet nose nudging your leg. Your hands flew off the piano, reaching down to show Milo some love, before hauling him up to sit on your knee.

Fifteen minutes later all three of you had migrated to the couch, all seemingly a little too tired to be actively engaged in the conversation Brock had instigated with Quinn and JT. Elias had shivered when he’d sat down, the sudden loss of the crowd sending the temperature plummeting in Brock’s apartment and subsequently doing nothing to shield his bare arms in his short-sleeved t-shirt.

You hadn’t said anything to him, just thrown the blanket you knew to rest across the back of the couch across both your laps, and watched him settle his head snugly against your ribs, the blanket pulled right up to his chin and his legs kicked out across the carpet. Milo had somehow buried himself under the blanket too, his nose tucked under Elias’s chin and body draped across the both of you, acting as a living, breathing hot water bottle.

After a while, though, Elias’s hand stroking Milo’s head had slowed, and his eyes had fluttered closed after a yawn, and from your higher position, you could just make out the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. You didn’t know if it was because he was already exhausted before he even left the house, or the combination of alcohol, warmth and the gentle sweep of your fingers across the bridge of his nose and cheekbones that had sent him over the edge, but you’d made sure the latter was hidden from his teammates by the lump of Milo’s body.

Brock must have seen, though, but he hadn’t said anything, just smiled.

***

It was a knock at the door that had you peering over the top of your laptop screen to share a confused glance with Petey. His hand momentarily tightened on your calf when he turned around to glance at the front door, turning back to you with a ‘what the hell?’ look pasted on his face.

“Are we expecting anyone?” You asked, snapping the lid of your laptop shut and swinging your legs out of Elias’s lap to put the laptop on the coffee table.

It was always a shock when someone knocked on your apartment door, mostly because the only people who could essentially get that far in the building were people that lived there, otherwise security would have buzzed up. Needless to say, when that person knocked again, you were both propelled so quickly off the sofa that your newly-adopted dog startled awake and eagerly followed you both on your heels as you rushed to the door, slipping slightly in your socks.

It was Elias that managed to slide to the door quicker, rolling his eyes and immediately retreating back to the couch after peeking through the peephole. You watched him with a frown, the dog between you both snapping his head back and forth, eventually settling for rejoining the Swede on the cushions once more.

“Who…” You started, immediately understanding the lack of enthusiastic reaction when it was Brock on the other side of the door, pink-cheeked and looking a little nervous.

“Hi.” You threw open the door with a friendly smile, a hand coming to rest on your hip as Brock seemed to let out a sigh of relief.

“Hey, sorry to barge in here unannounced,” he started, stuffing his hands in his pockets, stepping into the apartment when you opened the door to let him in. He seemed to scan the entire room, the worried crease between his brows disappearing when he couldn’t see Elias, who, rather rudely, had hidden himself on the sofa, not a single socked foot or hair visible from where Brock seemed to lead you over to the kitchen island, “I just need to talk to you now Petey’s not here.”

Your eyes zipped to the sofa, a little suspicious but entirely too invested in the anticipation to even bother correcting Brock – probably at his own expense, but you had no issue dealing with any potential fallout later.

He rifled through your cupboards, not saying anything else until he’d pulled out a glass and filled it with water from the tap, before turning to you and gesturing to the island stool, a nervous expression on his face.

You swallowed, a sudden pebble of dread settling in your stomach as you took the seat, too apprehensive to tease him for making himself at home.

“So…” he started, clearing his throat, before deciding to take a sip of water.

“You’re kind of freaking me out–”

“It’s nothing bad, I swear.” He interrupted, spluttering slightly as his cheeks coloured, “In fact, it’s really good.”

You blinked, a little unsure, “Okay.”

“Thank you.” He said, a little breathlessly and with an air of finality, an awkward smile on his face.

You blinked, expecting him to elaborate, but when all he did next was take another sip of water, you felt your face contort into a confused frown. You’d known Brock for years, he’d been the one to introduce you and Petey in the first place, but even after finding out about you two, he’d never acted weirder than he was now. He was tetchy, out of breath and pink – the latter wasn’t exactly unusual for him, but combined with the other two things?

Concerning.

“What for?” You asked, folding your arms against the countertop.

There was a clacking of paws and a chinkling of a collar making its way towards where you and Brock were in the kitchen, and you instinctively reached a hand down, a wet nose greeting the inside of your palm before wandering over to nudge Brock in the leg.

He bent down, using the interruption as a reprieve from answering your question, “Hey, girl.” He cooed, scratching Tuesday behind the ears until her attention had dwindled and she silently padded back to the sofa, disappearing from sight once more as she presumably curled up against Elias once more.

Brock cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, “Um…I don’t know how to say it.”

You inhaled, pursing your lips, “Right.” There was a pause, neither of you quite knowing where to go from there, “Just say what you’re thinking and then correct it if it doesn’t sound right.”

He nodded, running a hand through his hair, “I guess I just wanted to thank you for loving Petey the way you do, and I know that’s a weird thing to thank someone for, because a thank you implies that it’s some kind of chore, which it isn’t but…It’s comforting to know my best friends are happy with each other and have someone looking out for them.” He took a breath, watching you carefully, “I think it’s kinda weird, actually, because I remember this one time distinctly before he met you and he’d had quite a lot to drink, he ended up talking about how he was probably gonna die alone, so it’s just nice to know that that’s not the case. Also, you guys are good together. Just wanted to say that because I don’t think I’ve ever said how glad I am that you found each other when you did.”

The only thing you could truly register was the pounding of your heart against your sternum. That, and the way your jaw seemed to have dropped as you took in everything Brock was saying. It was a lot.

“Oh.” Was all you could say, entirely too overwhelmed with gratitude and appreciation for the man in front of you, his hands clenching and unclenching as though he wasn’t sure if he should approach you or not, to even get anything else out.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly, leaning his head down to get a look at your face. When he realised you weren’t in the least bit upset at what he’d said, he seemed to relax, an easy smile making its way onto his face.

There was a distant shuffle from somewhere behind you, and you saw Brock’s eyes dart to the sofa, mouth immediately setting itself into a hard line as his head dipped down mid-sigh. It was pretty easy to guess what he’d figured out when his eyes swung back to you, now shooting a sheepish smile in his direction, “Is he over there?” He mouthed, and it was the slight wince in his features that you took pity on, shaking your head.

“He’s asleep.” You lied, voice loud enough to make sure Elias would get the memo in case Brock decided to do some investigating of his own, “And I’m fine, I just wasn’t expecting you to say all of that.”

He shrugged, buying your excuse, “It needed to be said.”

You reached a hand across the counter to lovingly pat his own, “Thank you.”

He smiled, exhaling, “I promise my speech will be better at your wedding.” He grinned cheekily, clearly getting a jab in at Elias where he could, and you simply rolled your eyes, unable to help breathing a laugh at him.

Brock’s eyes flickered back to the couch, before settling on you, your cheeks a little pinker at his insinuation. You didn’t correct him, there wouldn’t be much of a point – marriage had been talked about so often between you and Elias that the nerves surrounding the entire thing were little to none. You had plans, and Brock was aware of those plans. It still didn’t stop him teasing the both of you every now and then.

Yet, because you and Elias had talked about it, it also meant you were privy to some information that Brock wasn’t – not that he knew any better when it came to your word.

“What makes you think you’re going to be the best man?” You asked, raising an eyebrow in his direction.

He blinked, before tilting his head, “I’m not?”

He was. Maybe.

You shrugged coyly, enjoying the furrow in his brow and his stuttering, “Well, who is if not me?” His voice was shrill with disbelief, perhaps verging on being a little bit panicky – as though he hadn’t ever thought of the possibility of not being the best man, and you felt a stab of guilt at his sudden change in demeanour, “Is it Quinn?”

And because he looked so heartbroken at the possibility, you couldn’t not tell him a partial truth; the only thing stopping you was the tiny likelihood of Elias changing his mind, “I don’t know, we haven’t actually talked about that.” Was what you settled for.

He nodded, relaxing almost immediately. It was difficult to miss the way his gaze darted to the empty space on your left ring finger, brows twitching.

You leant across the counter, mindful to lower your voice so Elias couldn’t overhear, “Do you know something I don’t?” You whispered, eyes wide. You could feel your pulse pounding in your ears when he shrugged, trying not to smile at you.

“I love what you’ve done with the place.” He said loudly, pointedly looking everywhere but at you, which did nothing but tell you more than his avoidance on the matter did.

You said nothing, but delighted in the new slip of information, unable to help laughing at the blonde in front of you, “You know we haven’t redecorated since we moved in.”

Brock smiled, “How long ago was that, again? Two years?”

“Three.”

“Ah.” His smile didn’t waver, though there was an added layer of mischief, one which had you squinting curiously in his direction.

He was hinting at something, that much was for certain.

“Right.” He sighed, sticking his hands in his pockets and shrugging, fully aware of the seed he’d just planted in your mind, “I best get going. Coolie and Milo can only be away from me for so long until they get separation anxiety, so…It was nice to see you.” He trailed off, making his way to the door, you not too far behind.

He stopped in the doorway, the wall shielding him from any blonde Swede potentially watching from his seat, and turned to you with a gentle, genuine smile on his face, “He’s not asleep, is he?”

You shook your head, “No.”

“Give Petey my love.” Brock said, once more loud enough for Petey to have heard him, and he wasted no time in wrapping you up in a brief hug.

“Thanks for what you said, it means a lot.” You mumbled, “Love you too, y’know?”

He pulled away, “Yeah, I know.”

“I’ll see you next week?” You asked hopefully, Brock opening the door and stepping out into the hallway, hands tucked securely in his pockets as he nodded.

“See you.”

As soon as you shut the door, you found yourself making your way back to the couch with some urgency, only to falter at the sight of Tuesday draped across Elias’s torso, her nose tucked into his shoulder as he hugged her to him. His eyes were open, and there was a rueful smile on his face that remained, even when you sat on the edge of the coffee table and folded your arms, attempting to look a little annoyed.

“So…” You started, tilting your head.

“So…” He echoed, pursing his lips in an effort not to laugh.

“We have really good friends.”

He just nodded, one hand absent-mindedly rubbing across Tuesday’s back.

“Almost too good, I mean, you could argue Brock’s loyalty lies more towards me than you.” You looked away from him pointedly, disappointed that the coffee table was too low for you to start swinging your legs, and when you looked at him out of the corner of your eye, he’d perked up a little.

There was a small crease between his brows, and the sheepish smile on his lips had vanished, his suspicion piqued at your words.

“What did he say?”

“Well,” you shrugged sarcastically, “you’d know if you didn’t choose to ignore him at the door.”

He groaned, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, “In my defence, Quinn sent me a text telling me if I saw Brock and he came in asking for you, to make myself scarce. I’d have said something if he hadn’t initially asked if I was there.” He sighed, turning to you, “Now, what did he say?”

“Nothing I didn’t already know.”

***

You were pacing, hand against your chest in a futile attempt to calm your racing heart and the crush of dread coursing through your veins. You’d ended up in this situation a little too often lately for comfort: on the verge of a panic attack at the mere thought of your job. It certainly wasn’t a good sign. Not only that but it was terribly inconvenient, too.

You were at some gala Elias had been invited to along with a few other teammates, and all it had taken was for a well-meaning, polite ‘so, what do you do?’ from a kind stranger for everything to come crashing down. You’d answered easily, trying to ignore the way the world seemed to fall away at the time, but almost as soon as you’d answered, you’d excused yourself and shut yourself in one of the farthest rooms from where the event was taking place.

This was the fourth time these mini-panic attacks had happened – though, three out of four times you’d managed to calm yourself down to a sensible enough composure and prevent it from ever reaching the ‘panic or heart attack?’ stage that you’d dealt with the first time.

Elias didn’t know about them. No one knew – but this time you just knew you were going to have to come clean because the truth of the matter was that you were having a hard time, and Elias knew you were, but you didn’t talk about it, and you knew he was worried for you. You’d caught him looking at you differently lately, and if you were being honest, the longer you left it before you told him, the worse it’d get, and that wouldn’t be good for anyone – least of all you.

Your chest was aching, and even despite your hand massaging the tenderness, it did little to ease the pain.

The door creaked open slowly, and you stopped pacing, still continuing to inhale and exhale steadily as you watched it carefully, anticipating someone to clearly stick their head through the door–

“Thank fuck, what are you doing here?” You seemed to recognise his voice before your brain could comprehend his blonde buzzcut and piercing eyes, and the anxiety bubbling away under your skin seemed to react accordingly, prickling a little as the heaviness momentarily spiked.

He’d never seen you like this: every time you’d had these little episodes he hadn’t even been in the house, or you were hiding in a closet in the school away from everyone, and for a second you were scared of what he’d think of you.

Only, when he stepped further into the room and shut the door behind him, all that self-consciousness seemed to melt away when he immediately clocked onto the way your hand was rubbing insistently at your chest. You couldn't even imagine what your face looked like, but you knew your eyes would be rimmed red (you absolutely refused to cry because you’d spent a long time getting ready for this, and ruining your makeup at this point would only make things worse), and that alone was enough for him to say something.

You frowned, not hearing anything but the rushing of blood in your ears, and then you were worried for him. He was looking at you, and you couldn’t remember if he’d ever looked at you with such concern before. If he had, you were almost certain you’d never seen it, but if he hadn’t, that meant that he knew something was very, very wrong.

Sometimes you really didn’t know why you underestimated his ability to read you and to know you as well as he did, because it was beginning to get to the point where he could read you more often than he couldn’t, and you were exhausting any possible methods of trying to hide things from him, because, as usual, he’d begin to see through those behaviours too.

“Huh?” You asked, a little breathlessly.

He hesitated, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as though he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself, “What’s wrong?” He repeated, looking so utterly serious that you suddenly had the urge to laugh.

You didn’t, though. In fact, your face barely moved from what it looked like, and you were too overwhelmed to even think about wondering what it looked like, because your heart was racing and panic still had an iron grip on your heart, and you were sure you were rubbing the skin on your chest red with the heel of your hand, but if you stopped, you had the bizarre notion that things would only worsen.

“I…” You started, swallowing and inhaling sharply. It was difficult to look him in the eyes and say what you wanted to say, what you’d planned to say, and even though you could just tell he had a million questions on the tip of his tongue, he was going to great lengths to keep them at bay for your sake, and you loved him even more for it in that moment.

His eyes drifted to your hand, and you looked away – there was a painting on the wall and if you focused on that…You didn’t even know, but it felt right to focus on that.

“Can I touch you?” He asked softly, and you nodded, inhaling through your nose and exhaling through your mouth, eyes fixated on the painting.

It looked like it could be a replica Monet.

He seemed to breathe a quiet sigh of relief, and before you had time to think about it, his cold hands came to close around yours, and you stopped rubbing your chest, a shaky exhale passing your lips. You had no idea if he could feel your heart hammering wildly, and if he could he made no move to show it.

His cold hands felt nice against your burning skin. Some of the pain alleviated a little, and the tightness eased – not completely, it was still there – but the cold touch was heavenly. Against your own will, you felt your eyes flutter shut.

“This isn’t the first time this has happened, is it?” He whispered, and you shook your head, concentrating on your breathing. Calming an erratic heart rate was hard when it mattered, though it was undoubtedly easier with someone else to distract you a little bit.

He didn’t say anything in reply, but his hands squeezed yours and this time you felt it within yourself to manage words.

“How’d you know that?” You whispered, peeling your eyes open slowly.

His lips twitched upwards a little bit after you looked at him, a small triumph in the grand scheme of things, but you couldn’t quite reciprocate it just yet. Though, when you asked the question, it seemed to flicker and he fell back into that concerned stare, the smile melting completely off his face, “You were already doing breathing techniques.”

You nodded.

“This room’s cute.” He mumbled, turning his head.

It was the first time you’d noticed it, actually. There were windows on your left, and you could see the view from the building: the event wasn’t that high up, but from where you were standing the building directly opposite the street was much smaller, meaning you could see for a couple of blocks around. The sun was beginning to set, and the orange light was reflecting off the glass, and you knew if it had been under any other circumstance, you’d have thought this room to be a little romantic. The paintings certainly helped, but the wooden shelves seemed to ruin the whole mood.

Still, you agreed with him. Partly because it did help to take your mind off everything, and partly because you knew the engagement would help him too. It was a win-win.

“I think that painting’s a Monet one.” You muttered, using your free hand to point over his shoulder. He kept his own securely wrapped around the one pressed to your chest, and turned to look.

“Looks like it.” He paused, before turning to look at it again, “It’d look good in our living room, don’t you think?”

You pulled a face, “Nah, it’ll clash with the walls.”

“And for that reason, it’d be a solid pick for Brock’s taste.”

This time you laughed – it felt a bit pathetic, but the endorphins helped ease the tension everywhere, and with a bout of relief, the tightness seemed to fade further, and your heart rate decreased, and you found you could actually hear the event down the hall; you could smell the woody scent of the room, and how it must have grown stronger in the warmth, and you could smell Elias’s aftershave.

The latter felt like a soft nudge in the ribs, one of nostalgia, like your brain saying ‘hey, we know that smell, it means good things’, and with that your shoulders relaxed.

“Sorry.” You said, your head still a little fuzzy.

“Don’t apologise–”

“I should have told you.”

He shook his head, but didn’t say anything. If he was being honest, he didn’t know what to say in this kind of situation.

“It’s work.” You continued, taking another deep breath; the hand on your chest flexed, and Elias took the hint, unravelling his hands, only for you to still grab ahold of one. You needed it, especially if you were about to talk about the very thing that sent you into this panic in the first place, “The new head of department is…He’s really unhelpful, not approachable, and a fucking dick, like…” you breathed a bitter laugh, beginning to feel your eyes water, “He’s changed the entire department’s structure, doubled the amount of practicals and added new stuff and I’ve been trying to plan new lessons in the middle of the lessons because I’m not allowed to work overtime and get it done then, which is why I’ve been doing it at home. And half the department’s off with stress already, so I’ve been teaching food, too, on top of textiles, and…” You took a breath, realising Elias already knew half of what you were saying, but he was still listening as intently as he would have done the first time you’d said it, “He’s friends with the Principal, too, so even if I wanted to complain about him it wouldn’t get very far.”

He inhaled sharply, “He’s friends with the Principal?”

“Unfortunately, yeah.”

“Fucking hell.” He groaned like someone had just shot down the only idea in his arsenal for this conversation, “I knew it was bad, but I didn’t know it was that bad.”

“Um…I had a plan, like what I was going to tell you, but I can’t remember that now because I obviously wasn’t expecting this to happen now.” You laughed a little, even despite yourself, but it lacked energy, and it was strangely empty.

Elias tilted his head, brows knitting together, and he sighed sadly, his thumb tracing across the back of your hand. And because you knew him, you knew that keeping this huge thing from him hurt him. He didn’t show it outwardly, though, not intentionally, “You know you don’t need a plan with me, right?”

You felt your chin wobble – completely out of your control, “Ye–You’re gonna make me cry, and I spent hours on–”

“-Your makeup, yeah. Come here.” He used your interlocked hands as leverage to pull you into him, your chin resting on his shoulder thanks to your heels, and you sniffed, once more turning to focus on the painting behind him, trying to ward off possible tears.

“I’m gonna book a Doctor’s appointment and get a sick note, I don’t know how long for, and I’m gonna take some time off to figure it out, y’know, maybe it’ll be okay if I move schools, or–or maybe I don’t want to be a teacher anymore, I don’t know.” You trailed off, squeezing your eyes shut.

Teaching had been a large chunk of your career, and you knew it was a big bomb to drop in probably not the best moment: his team were outside, as were important donors and sponsors, and here you were, shut in a room together, because maybe the degree you went to college for wasn’t actually something you were meant to do, and everyone around you had these big plans, ambitions for their futures, and you didn’t. You hated your job, now. Most mornings you’d get up and have to fight with yourself to just get ready for school, and the more you thought about it, the more you knew you should have told him sooner.

“That’s okay, y’know? It’s okay.” Was all he said, his arms wrapped securely across your shoulders, “It’s okay if you don’t want to go back into teaching, too.”

You almost started crying then and there, but you held off, “I don’t know what I’d do, though.”

He shrugged, “You don’t have to do anything.”

There was a thinly veiled insinuation there, one that he’d made before, mostly as a reassuring joke, but to say it in this moment, to say it now, you knew he wasn’t joking anymore. Maybe he hadn’t ever been joking.

“I think I’d go crazy if I didn’t do anything.”

He huffed a laugh, “We don’t have to think about that yet, though.”

“I should’ve told you.” He’d have helped make you feel better, perhaps take some of the weight off your shoulders.

“You told me now. There’s no point dwelling.”

“I can feel a ‘but’ coming…”

“Not a ‘but’, but…” you both huffed a laugh, “Part of my job, not as a hockey player, but as your boyfriend is to help you with this kind of thing. We share the load, right?”

“Yeah.”

You stood like that for a while, until your breathing and heart calmed, until the pain in your chest subsided, and until it looked like you weren’t about to start crying.

“Do you want to go home?” Elias mumbled into your hair, ever patient.

“Not yet. We should stay for a bit longer.”

He hummed, the vibration ticking the skin on your forehead, “You wanna stay here for a bit longer or go back in?”

“Stay here. Five minutes.”

***

Elias was a little nervous at exactly what would happen when Quinn would come down the steps with his brand new baby girl in his arms, but admittedly not for the reasons anyone would expect. He’d held newborn babies before, Quinn wasn’t the first teammate to have a child and he certainly won’t be the last – no, Elias wasn’t worried about that.

His apprehension stemmed from something inside his own mind, a paranoia of sorts. You guys had been together for six years and married for two, and so he knew the expectations of the natural order to follow after that much time together. It was only typical for people to assume that kids were the next thing: his own parents were bad enough, asking when they were going to get a grandbaby on their hands, and if he was being honest, Elias felt like everyone was looking at him for it.

Which was illogical, because not only was no one looking at him; he knew the teasing was utterly and completely harmless…only, the more he got chirped for it, the more he seemed to doubt his own thoughts.

He was thirty now. You guys had talked about having kids in your future, they were on the cards, but he didn’t want them yet. He guessed he was lucky in the fact that you didn’t either, but he was afraid that baby Lily Hughes, with her little fists and chubby legs, would change his mind.

And a change of mind was the last thing Elias wanted. If he was being completely honest, he wouldn’t mind having kids right now – he was broody, he was starting to pay more attention to names and clothes, and he felt a pang of something in his chest when he’d see his teammates with their kids at the family skate sessions. Yet, the one thing holding him back the most was his career.

When he eventually has kids of his own, he doesn’t want to leave both you and your child at home for weeks on end whilst he was off skating fuck knows where. He didn’t think he could do that; it was already hard leaving you alone, but there was something so utterly heart-wrenching about the thought of adding a child into that mix.

He’d be a fucking mess. The guilt? The loneliness? He’d miss his family too much.

But, there was a little voice in the back of his mind, known as Kris Letang – or rather, words that he’d spoken and Elias had read once upon a time – telling him that maybe it wouldn’t be all that bad if he had a child that grew up understanding and appreciating what it was he did.

The idea of taking a mini-you and mini-him to those family skating sessions sounded like an absolute dream. As did having a little one behind the boards at his games, and a plethora of other things, too.

And to top it all off, he was standing in his best friend’s living room, staring at the cards and flowers in the window, you upstairs and out of sight at Kat’s bedside, and everything he’d tried to bottle was coming to the surface and he essentially had absolutely nothing to stop it.

Except–

“Hey,” Quinn pushed open the door, Elias’s attention snapping to the bundle of blankets in his arms, “Lily, meet your Uncle Petey.” Quinn cooed, face alight with utter joy as he positioned the baby girl in his arms for Elias to peer down–

Oh.

Elias swallowed, something in chest melting at the brown eyes blinking wearily up at him and little fists struggling in the air.

She’s gorgeous.

“I know, right?” Quinn breathed, watching Petey’s reaction with glistening eyes.

Had he said that out loud?

He had no time to dwell on it before Quinn was talking again, “You wanna hold her?”

He felt himself nodding before he even thought about speaking, and Quinn carefully, slowly, gently lifted Lily into Elias’s waiting arms, adjusting his arms to support her head. Elias blinked, registering the warmth seeping into his arms from the blankets, the weight in his arms almost too light to be an entire human being – she was so tiny.

She wasn’t that much bigger than his entire hand.

He traced a finger so gently across her cheek, unable to really realise that Quinn was laughing at him as he wandered into the kitchen to get a start on making some coffees.

In fact, Elias couldn’t really look away until he heard your footsteps coming down the stairs. Only then was he able to realise that he hadn’t even moved from his spot when Quinn had handed him Lily initially. Though, when he took a quick glance down at her, her eyes were shut, mouth open a little as she slept, and he seemed to fall even deeper down the rabbit hole of what-the-fuck-I-might-want-a-baby.

That was how you found him when you finally entered the living room: standing as still as humanly possible by the window, his gaze locked firmly on the bundle in his arms and something in his entire demeanour that had you sharing a rather bewildered glance with Quinn, who was blinking tiredly from where he’d sat down on the couch.

Despite Petey’s clear hesitancy to move in fear of waking her up, he looked strangely natural holding Lily with such care and adoration. You didn’t say anything or approach him, but you did take a seat next to Quinn.

“You did good.” You whispered, a smile on your face, “She’s gorgeous.”

He grinned, “I know.”

“Is anyone else coming today or are we your last visitors?”

His eyes zipped to the clock on the mantelpiece, “You guys are the last ones for today. We’ve got the grandparents tomorrow.”

“Grandparents.” Then, after a brief pause, “It feels so surreal that you’re a Dad now. A good surreal, but…”

“Weird?” He offered, and you nodded, “You know what’s next?”

You hummed, feeling his foot nudge your leg playfully, “What?”

“Baby Peteys.”

You rolled your eyes, “We’ll see.”

You nodded your head in the direction of Elias, who still had his back to you, and Quinn smiled in understanding, letting you go.

“Hi.” You mumbled into Elias’s shoulder, resting your cheek against him and looking at baby Lily asleep.

“Hi,” he greeted back, and you could feel the heat of his eyes on the side of your face as you stroked her cheek, your nose scrunching up in a managed reaction to her cuteness when she stirred. Gosh, she was too cute. Elias must have been thinking the same thing, because just as you thought those words, he was talking, “She’s so cute.”

You breathed a quiet laugh, “Of course she’s cute, look at her parents.”

“Quinn isn’t cute.” He teased, throwing his head back and winking at his friend with humour, before turning back to you, “Baby cuddles?”

You shook your head, “I had baby cuddles upstairs.” You rubbed his arm, “I think we need to go–”

“Already? We just got here.” Elias protested, pulling his mouth downwards much to your amusement.

“I know, but they’re tired. It’s only been four days, they need some time to themselves without having to wait on other people.”

It didn’t come as much of a shock when the first thing he said after shutting the door behind him was “I think we should talk when we get back”.

***

You hope the blonde stays forever, and with Elias’s Swedish genes and being very blonde himself, you had a feeling that was going to be the case, because Hanna’s almost white hair peeking out from under her pink bucket hat, still a little damp from the seawater, was just too adorable to cope with.

She was every bit Elias’s twin, and it was so hilariously obvious when they were sitting side by side, Hanna in her high chair and Elias with one arm draped over the back of it, conversing with her unintelligible baby babble with a sweet grin on his face only ever reserved for her. She had his deep blue eyes and an adorably infectious giggle, even as he playfully swiped suncream across her face.

“It’s such a lovely day–”

“Sea!” Hanna yelped, a chubby arm almost smacking Elias in the face as she pointed to the blue sparkling water over the decking of the restaurant, the word startling both you and Elias into a dumbfounded silence.

You swallowed, sharing a look with him, and a smile broke onto your face at the way he seemed so utterly speechless; his mouth was parted slightly, and his eyes were wide and before he could regain his senses, you leant across the table, successfully garnering Hanna’s attention from where her arm was still outstretched and her eyes were fixed on Elias.

“Baby, can you say that again for us?” You asked, heart melting when she blinked and reached to grab a small chunk of cut up apple from her bowl.

Elias seemed to snap out of his shock because he pointed to the water over his shoulder, “Sea.”

Hanna stuffed the piece of apple into her mouth, head swivelling back and forth between you and Elias with an adorable blend of confusion and curiosity, seemingly refusing to say anything else after a heavy pause filled with a kind of excited anticipation, the both of you wanting nothing more than for her to repeat what she just said.

You’d had these heart-stopping moments on a few occasions now, where Hanna would say something that sounded like a word and point to something that could be related to what she’d said, but she’d yet to repeat it.

Technically, her first word was ‘woof’, though arguably it wasn’t really much of a word, but she had been pointing to a dog at the time, which kind of made you think that she had some level of understanding about what was being said around her, but…it could be a fluke.

Elias groaned jokingly, ducking his head down only to be attacked by a little palm patting the top of his cap, before looking back up at you, a slightly bewildered look on his face.

It was nice to see him unwind after the chaos of the end of the Canucks’ season; Stanley Cup winners the year before meant that the expectation of possibly winning again this year was pretty high, mostly for Quinn (as much as he tried to deny it), but you could also tell it had taken its toll on Elias, too. It was mainly the questions from reporters repeatedly asking them what they were gonna do to help maintain their win streaks, and answering the same questions paired with unsolicited criticism from fans and almost every other person in the conference rooms that was so exhausting.

They hadn’t won this year, much to everyone’s dismay, but they’d held on until the seventh game of the third round of the play-offs.

Needless to say, a break to Sweden to see his family was definitely a good choice if the constant grinning was anything to go by.

“What is it?” Elias asked, a knowing glint in his eye as he adjusted the hat on Hanna’s head.

You hadn’t even realised you’d been staring, but there wasn’t a single part of you that felt embarrassed by having been caught in the act: you’d known each other for so long now that things like getting caught admiring each other was an honest blessing. He knew why you were staring, you knew why you were staring; it was hard not to stare most of the time when Elias always looked so good, but there was something about the way he seemed to radiate pure joy when he was around Hanna (and you – but that went without saying) that always seemed to captivate your whole attention.

Moments like that were worth the difficult goodbyes and the time apart and the rough nights.

You just shook your head, resting your cheek on your fist, “Nothing.”

There was an unreadable expression on his face, but the slight squint of his eyes told you everything you needed to know, before you were sighing, eyes zipping to Hanna, because whilst you weren’t bothered about getting caught staring, it didn’t mean you don’t still get nervous when he divided his entire attention to you, “You look really happy right now.” Was what you settled for.

He softened, a smile melting onto his face as he moved one of his hands to the middle of the table to take yours so he could place a delicate kiss on the inside of your wrist, “I am.”

#elias pettersson oneshot #elias pettersson x reader #elias pettersson fic #elias pettersson imagine #nhl fic #hockey fic #nhl oneshot #hockey oneshot #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

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cononeillbreastingboobily · 7 months

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Thoughts and feelings about Izzy in s2ep4 and what it means to me as a fellow disabled person:

Yeah, so, that episode, huh?

You know, I already knew going into this new season that Izzy's storyline is going to hit me hard regardless of the exact little plot points it might have, but it's only now, several hours after I've watched eps 4&5 that I'm really starting to digest what his story means to me in it's current shape. This is... a bit long. I also mention a character from a different show - Isaac from Sex Education.

Izzy has always been a bit of a dick, right? That's the reason a lot of people hated him in the first season.

Well, now he is a bit of a dick and disabled. And let me tell you how fucking ecstatic I am about that.

You see, looking for disabled characters in media I consume has rarely been gratifying - if they are there at all, which already is rare, they have very little to do, and if they're even semi-important, they're almost always the epitomes of goodness. Nice, understanding, quiet, patient.

Barely there.

The first time I truly felt something change in this area was with the appearance of Isaac in Netflix's Sex Education. He's sarcastic, funny, talented, honest and mean.

The fandom of that show hated Isaac, let me tell you.

It was mostly because he took direct action to separate the main ship of the show that had many people obsessed. As you'd expect. People's ableism immediately jumped out. As you'd expect.

Because how dare he have his own motivations and wants, and to do what he thinks is right?

Barely there.

And now we have Izzy. Izzy, who also did what he thought was right, which in s1 of the show was trying to separate Ed and Stede. He wasn't trying to make himself too likeable at any point (well. when the crew almost mutinied on him in s1 he did do a last ditch effort but. you remember how well that went).

My point is that now we have someone who isn't particularly nice, and now he's dealing with a sudden loss of ability in his body, which is going to make him even worse. He's angry! Of course he is! He's hobbling around with half a leg gone, humiliated, exhausted, barely recovered from impromptu amputation, no anesthesia. And a suicide attempt! He's angry at himself, his body, at Ed, at Stede, at God if he still believes in one, and who knows who else.

He isn't suddenly going to become nicer to people just because. He doesn't need to be humbled.

(a little sidenote: I do not accept the reasoning that Izzy somehow deserved to lose his leg, that "oh what did he expect riling up Ed when he was heartbroken?" etc. He wasn't expecting to get shot in the fucking leg. Nobody fucking deserves that, and if you think that Ed shooting him in the leg and Izzy subsequently having to have it amputated was an "appropriate punishment" for "what he's done", you're just cruel and wrong. Now scram.)

But that's the point. Disabled people deserve help regardless of whether or not we are nice.

Thankfully (not from Izzy's point of view - his pride was definitely bruised in that moment) the crew saw him struggle, and acted in kind. Because Izzy is their dick. And now - also their unicorn.

And it means so much to me that we get the representation of disabled people who thrash around and rattle the bars of their societal cages, furious at the world that isn't welcoming to us, and receive love and care and an invitation to a loving community regardless.

We shouldn't have to be here just when ableds are ready to give. We aren't meek vessels for your good will. Izzy is such a painfully realistic (as far as the universe of the show permits, given it's unavoidable goofiness) portrayal of the anger of someone who's lost some of their body's past ability, and how one might deal with it.

And I really wanted to say something about that, because I'm afraid it might get lost in the discussion about the more popular and more easily digestible aspects of the show.

#ofmd #our flag means death #izzy hands #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #long post #disability #ableism #disability in media #tw suicide attempt #ofmd meta #ofmd s2 meta

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doe-eyed-fool · 3 months

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Fallen {Chapter Four}

Alastor x (fem)Reader

I sat on the bed of my room, it was nicer than I expected it to be. Quite spacious too. My mind was still racing from what just happened. I spoke face to face with Lucifer himself. And what's worse? He's suspicious. He might not know I'm an angel, thanks to Alastor's help. But didn't make me feel any better that he suspects something. What would he do if he caught me?

I shutter, trying to shake the thought from my head. Alastor made it clear that demons would jump at the chance to get ahold of an angel. I didn't even want to think about what Lucifer would do. My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of my door opening. I look over to see Alastor standing in the doorway.

"Quite the day you've had." He says before stepping inside and shutting the door. I only nod. "You fell from heaven and got to meet the devil himself all in one day."

I grimace. "I uh, didn't expect him to look like that." I muttered. "Expecting a red demon with horns and a pitch fork?" Alastor raises an eyebrow with a smug grin. I shrug. "I guess?"

Alastor chuckled at my words, he walked over to a near by window and looked out of it. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't expect that either when I ended up here." I look over at him. As much as he has already explained to me, I was still confused to as to just what exactly he is. Who he is. I choose my next words carefully as I ask.

"How does one become a overlord?" I asked. Alastor's grin widened at my question. "Why, earning it of course! You don't become as feared as I am over night. Though, I will admit I earned my position rather quickly. Maybe a month or two at the most." Alastor went on.

"There are plenty more like me out there. I tend to keep my distance from them however. We do not share the same ideals, so I see no point in trying to "get along" with any of them. Especially that damn flatscreen faced fool."

Alastor's expression soured slightly at the mention of the "flatscreen faced fool". Such an odd nickname for someone. I couldn't help but wonder just who he was talking about.

"So, you're all pretty strong? From what you said, a lot of people here are afraid of you." Alastor nods. "Strong is an understatement my dear. But yes, we are." I then thought back to Lucifer. "But not stronger than Lucifer?"

Alastor's eyebrow twitched. "Unfortunately." I had thought as much. Though, I didn't speak much more on the subject, clearly Alastor wasn't too happy about it. "And you, an overlord, work at a hotel? Why would you do that?"

"Sheer boredom." Alastor says with a shrug. "I've reached a low point believe it or not. Things are starting to repeat. So, why not join in on the princess' little project? Sinners given the chance to be redeemed? Ha! Now that's entertaining!"

I didn't much like the way he laughed off Charlie's idea. She had a good heart, and wanted to see the best in others. She didn't want them to be in this place forever. It was nice, and she wasn't hurting anyone. If she could pull it off, than good on her.

"About Charlie. Has she always been like this? So...nice?" I asked. "I have only known her for a week. But I assume so. She's one of the more polite demons I've met, given who her father is." He chuckles. "And her idea, this belief that sinners can be redeemed. It's adorable."

I furrow my brows. "At least she's trying to care about the people down here." Alastor raised an eyebrow at my words. "So what if it's unheard of? Or if it's even possible at that? She believes in a good cause, and she just wants everyone to have a fair shot at being the best version of themselves they can be. Sure, some if not most of the people down here actually deserve to be here. But those who have done small sins, theft, substance abuse, things like that. Maybe they could make a turn around and be better people. We don't know these people's stories. Charlie's idea, this hotel, is what they might need."

"An angel indeed." Alastor smirks. "So naive, so innocent." I huff and look away from him. "Well forgive me for being considerate for others. I was kinda taught to do so my whole life." I cross my arms, a slight pout on my face. "Yes, about that." Alastor hums. "You seem pretty young my dear. How old are you?" I glance at him.

"I'm twenty five" I answer him with uncertainty. "So young, and already off in heaven? What happened?" My irritation slowly turned into sadness, I look away from him once again, my shoulders slumping slightly.

Alastor spoke after I refused to answer, this time his voice laced with a bit of sincerity. "I see it's a sore subject for you. Never mind it." He says softly. I only nod before more silence fell between us both. "If you truly believe in the princess' cause, why not help her out?"

"But she believes I'm already a sinner in need of rehabilitation. How could I work here?" I asked him. "Easily. Just ask. And showing some interest in helping your fellow sinner wouldn't hurt either." Alastor explains. "It could prove to help you in the long run. Maybe the big man upstairs will see your effort and grant your reentrance into heaven."

I perked up at the idea. Maybe that could work after all. If I can prove that even in hell I can be good and show kindness and love to others, maybe god will accept me again. "Perhaps that could work." I tell him. "Do you think Charlie would let me apply for a position?"

"She could use all the help she can get. I'm sure she wouldn't turn you away." Alastor assures me. "And, how can I be sure that her father won't show up again?" I ask, he only shrugs.

"You can't. Lucifer shows no interest in this hotel or it's ideals, so I doubt he'd be here often. However, I can not guarantee he will never be here. I understand your worry, but there is no need to fret. I have it under control. As long as you have this..." He carefully lifts my necklace by the gemstone. "Then you will be hidden from him, and everyone else in this god forsaken cesspool." He lets go of the necklace, I look down at it.

"The second it comes off, your disguise disappears. And your true form will be revealed." I place my hand over it. "I'll be sure to take great care of it." I promise him. Alastor grins. "I'll hold you to it." He walks back to the door. "I must be off now, I trust you'll stay here in the hotel until I return?" I nod. "Very good." He says before leaving my room.

I sigh before standing from my bed and walking towards the small bathroom in my room. I look into the mirror and stare at my reflection. I still couldn't get over my new look, I'd never thought I'd ever look like this. Like a demon.

Though, it was for the best. As long as I looked like this, I'll be safe. I place my hand on the necklace, my mind then went to Alastor and the deal I made with him. He said he would help me get back into heaven, and all I had to do was amuse him. I furrow my brow at the idea. Just how exactly was I suppose to do that?

I'm not exactly a comedian. Unless, his idea of amusement was some form of comedy at my own expense. I grumble as I step out of my bathroom.

"I wouldn't be surprised if some bodily harm is involved." I mutter before leaving my room. I made way through the halls and down the staircase into the main lobby. I turn my head and see a small bar with that same winged cat demon manning it.

I look around, no one else seemed to be around. Maybe they were all busy? "Hey you." The demon's gruff voice caught my attention. "Ya gonna say something or are ya just gonna stand there lookin like a fucking idiot?"

I bite back a sour expression before walking over. "Sorry." I apologize. "You're Husk, right? Where is everyone?" I ask him. Husk looked up from a glass he was wiping. "Charlie's is up in her office, and I assume her girlfriend is with her. Nifty's off somewhere cleaning something. And I don't know where Angel is. Probably out sucking dick."

Again, I hide my distaste for his choice of words, and only nod. "And as for Alastor? Who the hell knows? I'm sure he's up to no good though. Anyways." Husk puts the glass away. "What will it be?" He asks, turning to the many bottles of liquor on the wall.

"Oh, uh, no I don't drink." I tell him. Husk turns back to me with a raised eyebrow. "You don't drink?" He asks, very confused. And perhaps a little suspicious. Oh, that probably wasn't the best thing I could have said.

Almost everyone in hell drinks, I assume. It would be more than odd if someone down here didn't drink, even if not just a little. "W-Well, I mean, I just say that because people usually don't make it the way I like." I lie.

"Well, you ain't had me make it. What is it, exactly?" Husks asks. Darn. "A whisky." I say uncertainly. Husk nods and begins to make it. "Anything specific added to it?" He asks. Gosh darn it. "...Vodka." Husk raises his brows before returning his expression to normal. "Bold, I'll give you that." He pours the drink before passing the glass to me.

I took a sniff before taking a small sip, failing to hold back my disgust. I set the glass down and just barely repressed a gag. I coughed a few times, blinking back a few tears, a slight shutter going throughout my body.

"Wow." Husk mutters. "You weren't lying when you said you don't drink." I sigh shakily. "Sorry. I didn't mean to make you pour that drink for nothing." Husk shrugs before taking the glass and downing it easily.

My shocked and admittedly impressed expression caused him to chuckle. "You get use to it after a while." He tells me before making another drink. Before I could refuse it, he put my worry to ease. "It's just sprite." I thank him before taking a much appreciated swig of the drink, grateful that the horrible taste of the whisky was quickly washed away.

"So, what do you do if you don't drink?" Husks asks me. I just shrug. "Other things." I hoped he wouldn't press further. Thankfully he didn't. "Whatcha here for?" Husk asks me, I look up at him from my drink. "Pardon?" I tilt my head.

"You're here for rehabilitation right? What for?" Oh, I was no prepared to answer a question like that. Though, it might have been wise of me to think of something beforehand. Husk raised an eyebrow, I was taking to long to answer. "I stole." I finally managed to say. "I uh, robbed some people when I was alive."

"I see." Husk nod turning his attention away from me. "So. Heard Alastor's the one who showed you to this lovely hotel." Husk says casually. "Surprised that bastard would do something like that." I glance up at him.

"Why's that?" I asked. Husk gave me a look as if I should already know the answer. "He doesn't give a shit about this hotel. All he cares about is the suffering of others. Why the fuck would he care about advertising the hotel to others?" I didn't doubt that. He's been pretty obvious about his disinterest in the hotel. But it wasn't like I could tell him exactly why I was here.

"You two friends or something?" My mind raced as I tried to quickly think up of an answer.

I had a feeling that Alastor had no interest in considering me a friend. We weren't even acquaintances. We were simply just, helping each other out. If that's what you can call it. I went to open my mouth to answer but Husk beat me to it.

"Don't tell me you made a deal with him." His tone wavered on pity and annoyance. My heart skipped a beat, my body language seemed to have given me away as Husked sighed heavily. "Fuck, that's not good. You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into."

I already knew nothing good could come from it. But his words made my unease grow. It was like he had a first hand experience to Alastor's dealings. Suddenly the sound of Alastor's voice caused both of us to freeze.

"Husker my dear friend." I felt Alastor's presence from right behind me, though I didn't turn to acknowledge him. Husk's harden expression fell slightly. His brow twitched, ears flattening against his head a bit.

"I don't believe our business is any of your concern."

#alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel

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blayresmuses · 2 years

Note

smutty soft dom daemon one shot with his handmaiden 🫣🫣

say yes to heaven

summary: you and daemon have never went further than flirting until one night the tension becomes too much.

warnings: softish!daemon, fem!reader and female masturbation, sexual themes

‘how do i look Y/N?’

you straightened daemons tunic one last time. when you deigned to look up at him, he was wetting his lips, his eyes bright with nothing other than mischief. your eyes focused in on his mouth, your brain tumbling down a rabbit hole of thoughts that were less than proper.

and like the arsehole he was daemon smirked.

he knew. you knew that he knew. everything the man did set your every nerve alight. the lust and desire, you’d never felt such a thing before and daemon being daemon never failed to rub your nose in it. subtle touches here and there, brushing your hair behind your ear, whispering to you and laughing when you blushed. he revelled in it almost, enjoying the pleasure he got from teasing you.

you took a steadying breath and tried to look composed. ‘you look suitable for a wedding, my prince,’ you answered, giving him nothing to boost his ego even more.

daemons eyebrows lifted in surprise but a chuckle left his mouth anyway. ‘you flatter me, Y/N,’ daemon replied, taking a step towards you, crowding every one of your senses as he brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear. he leaned in and the feel of his breath against you made you shudder. ‘i had assumed you’d have something nicer to say since you’re always admiring me.’

you smiled falsely, your gaze turning sweet all of a sudden even though being so close to him made your knees want to buckle. you’d play his game with him, he might be able to see how attracted you were to him but you’d never have to admit to it. ‘you’re fine clothes do nothing to hide what you are, you’re still a rogue underneath aren’t you?’

quickly, before you could even draw breath daemon had your head cradled in his hands, his grip tight and unyielding as he drew down to your height. you were supposed to be intimidated but you loved every second of it, the empty aching already blooming between your thighs. ‘watch your mouth or it’ll get you into trouble.’

‘and if i don’t?’ you were shocked at your own bravery, the words having slipped out without thinking.

daemon grinned and it was a chilling sight to behold. he straightened and removed his grip on you. you hated it but your stomach sank in disappointment as you watched him walk away towards the door, not even sparing you another glance. ‘then i would have to teach you a lesson wouldn’t i?’ he said to you over his shoulder. ‘be here when i get back.’

your mood grew fouler as the hours passed. not only were you growing tired but you were slowly drowning in everything daemon. the smell of him was everywhere, his possessions, his spirit almost. he was haunting you, consuming you whole. the chambers alone sent you on edge and with nothing to keep you entertained you could do nothing but think of him.

he was down there surrounded by dozens of gorgeous women, highborn women that you could never come close to. jealousy was an ugly emotion you knew but it was eating you alive. you wanted to dance with him, be seen in public with him and be something more than just his handmaiden.

the slamming of the door made you jump and you quickly snapped out of your depressive thoughts. daemon entered, looking contented and pleased. of course he was, he’d enjoyed a wedding and the party that followed suit whilst you’d sat around all day and into the night waiting on him.

you jumped up out of your chair instantly and stormed over to him, immediately you tried to get him out of his tunic so you could finish your duties and get out of the personal hell you found yourself in. ‘is there a problem Y/N?’ daemon queried, amusement dancing on his features. ‘i normally like to undress my women first before myself.’

my women.

‘some of us have been up since the crack of dawn running about after arrogant arses like yourself,’ you snapped, finally able to get the material loose on him. ‘then you swan off to enjoy yourself and leave me sitting here alone, for hours.’

‘what did i tell you about the attitude, my darling Y/N?’ the pet name rolled from his tongue so prettily your mouth fell slightly open, the anger drifting from you with every heavy breath you took. ‘i thought you’d be happy to see me, didn’t you miss me?’

the cockiness dripped from daemon’s very pores as he shrugged off his tunic and dropped it to the floor. the effect he had on your body was maddening, your body was already heating up at the sight of him. his short hair was messier than when he’d left and you could smell the sweet scent of wine on his breath when he took a step closer to you, tilting your chin up with his thumb. ‘i’m tired daemon.’

but you’d caught a glance of yourself in the mirror not a moment before and you didn’t look tired at all. you looked more awake than you’d ever seen yourself, eyes bright with flushed cheeks. he had this effect on you, he made you come alive and he loved it. your chest rose and fell in anticipation as daemon lowered and brushed a kiss against your cheek and then the other one. wildfire burned through your whole body as one hot hand grasped the small of your back, so warm you could feel it through the fabric of your dress.

‘my apologies for leaving you so lonely tonight,’ daemon whispered, picking up your hand and leaving a kiss there too. you didn’t know what had gotten into him, you didn’t care really. your stomach was filled with butterflies, your brain so hazy you felt drunk. you couldn’t imagine what state you’d be left in if he actually touched you. ‘let me make it up to you. a reward we’ll call it, for being so good to me.’

your head dropped back as you rose up on your tiptoes, pressing yourself right into him. daemon groaned, his cock rubbing against the softness of your tummy. his hand dropped down over your bum to grip your thigh. it was growing more inappropriate as the seconds ticked by but your body physically tensed at the mere idea of pulling away.

‘we shouldn’t,’ you said breathily. ‘daemon-‘ you were cut off when his mouth pressed greedy, open mouthed kisses against your neck. you were gone in that moment. your hands fisted in the fabric of his undershirt and with impatience you positioned yourself so you could make all your dirty thoughts come true and kiss him.

it was soft at first, a little bit of insecurity coming through on your part as you realised how experienced he was compared to you and so you moaned when daemon took control, using both hands to cup your face and bring you to him. you let out needy breaths into his mouth, burning completely for him. when he pulled away you expected some sort of degrading comment about your desperation but his gaze was soft as he thumbed at the swollen pout of your mouth. ‘let me touch you,’ daemon urged, his own eagerness shining through. it flattered you, you felt yourself heat up even more but another part of you felt oddly emotional having finally been validated - your feelings weren’t one sided after all. ‘i’ll make you feel good, sweet girl. i swear it.’

a nod was all it took for him to have his hands in the silk of your dress, not bothering to be careful either and with murmurs of i’ll buy you another he managed to tear the material from you. it spilled around your feet and you stood there bare in front of him. daemon wasted no time in backing you in the direction of his bed, his expression turning into something more predatory.

‘do you know how good you are Y/N? how beautiful?’ daemon praised as you gently fell back into the sheets. his eyes devoured every detail of your body but you weren’t scared, not of being so vulnerable when you could make out the ridge of his cock through his trousers. the intenseness of his gaze made you shiver, you felt wanted, desired. ‘men would fall at your feet but they can’t, can they? because you’re mine. all mine.’

a gasp slipped through your parted lips when daemon slid his finger down your slit, not touching any particular spot but driving you mad with want all the same. ‘no one else could do this to you. look at you,’ daemon murmured, holding his finger up into the candlelight so you could see it glisten with the proof of how much you ached for him. ‘do you normally get this wet when you think of me?’

deep inside you knew the words should make you embarrassed. although you weren’t from a particularly wealthy family you should still act like a lady but here you were writhing naked in the princes bed. shutting off those thoughts you nodded your head, wetting your lips before you answered. ‘yes daemon,’ you breathed, flushing at your own honesty. it was nerve wracking but you continued, wanting to please him. ‘late at night, when i’m alone, i think about you.’

daemon hovered over you, the most comforting shadow you could imagine. he came down over the top of your body, both hands supporting himself by your head with one knee in between yours to keep you spread. it was hard not to grind yourself downwards, your cunt trying to find any pleasure it could. stray strands of his hair fell down over his forehead, small beads of sweat gathering there too. you found him to be so otherworldly attractive, a feeling you’d never encountered before. ‘show me.’ it was a demand, delivered in a tone of voice that sent sparks of pleasure straight to your clit. ‘touch yourself for me.’

your body was practically trained to obey his every wish. slowly you edged your fingers down your sides, over the swell of your hips. daemons heavy breaths accompanied your movements, his keen eyes watching like you were the most fascinating sight in the seven kingdoms. ‘what do you think about?’ daemon asked, his voice a delicious rasp that had your back arching as your fingers finally met your inner thigh. ‘what kind of filthy things does that sweet mind of yours come up with?’

you gasped first, one finger finally coming into contact with your clit before it travelled down to gather the wetness that had gathered at your cunt. you easily slid two in, thrusting slowly as your thighs threatened to close around deamon’s leg. ‘everything,’ you whimpered, the words a struggle to release. ‘the way you look at me, the way you touch me, the things you say but you’re not doing it to tease me, you want me. in all the ways that i want you.’

you couldn’t help but tear your eyes from his form, the admission leaving a burning sensation in your throat. it was the first time since your dress came off that you really felt bare, having given him some semblance of admission. you were sure he’d only use your feelings to his advantage. your fingers kept moving even as your eyes burned. ‘look at me,’ daemon commanded, using the tips of his fingers to move your chin. your eyes met his, a storm of emotions swirled in them but the one that came through the most was fire. lust and desire, passion - all for you.

daemon took his cock in one hand, gripping it through the material of his trousers before using it to slide against your clit. it was exquisite, the roughness of the fabric but more so just having the tiniest feel of him against you. you wanted him inside you, so badly your mouth practically watered as he did it again, a smirk ghosting his mouth as he watched your reaction. ‘see, you can feel that can’t you,’ daemon said. ‘solid proof of how badly i want you Y/N.’

a gentle kiss was pressed to your mouth and you eagerly reciprocated, a whine escaping you when he left your clit neglected once more. daemons tongue took your mouth, it was sloppy but it had your toes curling and your thighs wrapping around his waist. your fingers moved faster in desperation as daemon took your bottom lip between his teeth. ‘i’ve never wanted anything more,’ he groaned as he watched the erotic movements of your body.

‘please daemon,’ you begged wantonly, throwing your pride out the window. ‘i want you, i want you inside me. please.’

‘as much as i love hearing you beg so prettily,’ daemon praised, bending down to suck your nipple into his mouth. ‘you’re going to make yourself cum first, i’m going to see what the mere thought of me can do to you.’

you huffed but didn’t disobey, your fingers slipping out covered in your wetness. you brought them up to your clit and began rubbing it in tight circles. you felt momentary relief at the sensitive spot finally being given it’s attention but as time passed you grew more needy, chasing your relief as daemon stared you down, his mouth open at the sight of your writhing form underneath him.

your pleasure finally hit its peak and you purposely stared daemon in the eye as you climaxed, moans of his name falling from your swollen lips. your whole body shook from the intensity of it. ‘beautiful,’ daemon praised, his thumb coasting over your cheekbones as you recovered with deep breaths.

you watched as he dragged it down over your chest, down your body until he got to the sensitive skin you’d just touched so dutifully for him. you were overstimulated, a broken cry filled the room as you arched against him, unsure of wether to back away from his touch or beg him for more. you slapped his hand away halfheartedly, not bothering to try a second time when he easily slipped back to you. ‘now, now Y/N,’ daemon tutted. ‘you've had your turn, its mine now.’

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon fanfic

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melanieph321 · 10 months

Note

Can you write something about Ruben based on “Beautiful liar” by Beyoncé&Shakira? I don’t think he is that kind of guy but I don’t know why I though about him while listening it😂

Yeah, so this request is too good to be a one shot. I'm making it into a three part series!⭐️⭐️⭐️

Ruben Dias x Reader - Beautiful Liar Part 1/3

Enjoy!

"You snore when you sleep, did you know that?"

"I don't." You muttered.

Rubens hands moved under the bed covers, caressing and grouping your naked body.

"You're gonna be late for work."

He grinned. "Let me work on you first."

It had been your first time spending the night. Sex with Ruben was just as you expected, eager and a bit needy. His egerness and need for your body showed long into the early morning. Who knows, you two might have been fucking each other all night.

"Ruben, go!" You groaned. But he rolled on top of you in a pathetic attempt to get a quicky in before work.

"Five more minutes."

He traced sloppy kisses down your body, his head disappearing beneath the duvet.

"Fuck."

His hands spread your legs like butter whilst his tounge swirled your clit like a popsicle.

"You can leave whenever, no stress."

Following a hot shower together, you found yourself in Ruben's kitchen. He was getting dressed for work, whilst you sat nibbling on a cluster of sweet grapes.

"What, no making me breakfast?"

He turned to you, his shirt yet buttoned and a sloppy black tie hanging around his neck.

"Seems like your eating me up right now." He smiled. Your eyes were sinfully scoping out his sculptured body.

"Ha ha, very funny."

"Besides..." He said, working the buttons on his shirt. "I've already had my breakfast this morning. It was delicious."

You held your chuckle, thighs pressing together underneath the table. The sensation of him was still there, Ruben and his slippery tounge.

"Have a nice day at work." You said. He came over to the kitchen Island where you sat, tilting your head back by slightly pulling your hair.

"God you're so sexy." He said and kissed you lips.

"Thanks, you two."

He chuckled "Don't forget to lock the door when you leave. The key is in the little pot by the door.

"Okay, I will."

Your day was much slower than Rubens. Working from home was usually a bore, but Rubens apartment had a nicer view than yours.

You asked yourself if this was supposed to be a one night stand? Ruben had been very relentless about his attraction to you ever since you stepped into his office two months ago. It had gone all down hill from there. Telling him that you didn't date colleagues, let alone your boss' assistant only seemed to make him what you more. Forbidden love. Which hopless romantic hadn't fallen into that trap before? You were glad however, that Ruben had respected you needs to take things slow. He neither saw you as a tease or a office cunt for making him wait two months to get with you.

"Shoot!"

It was around lunchtime. You were headed towards your favorite café in Manchester, when you realized that you had forgotten your purse at Ruben's. You had no intention on going back there once you left. It would be better for Ruben not to hear from you in a while. This way rumors around the office would seize to spread. Nevertheless you needed your purse and Ruben had already told you where the spare key was. Your reaction though, stepping into his apartment and finding another woman in there, a pregnant one at that.

"Hello?" She smiled. "Can I help you?"

She was surprisingly calm for a woman being met by a stranger looking for a purse.

"Um...I just forgot my purse." You said, unsure how to introduce yourself to the woman. Was she Rubens sister, in that case had Ruben told her about you?

"Oh, this one?" She held up the bag in front if her, looking admirable at it. After all, it was your finest Louis Vuitton. Ruben got it for you on your birthday.

"Yes. Thank you." You stepped forwards to grab the bag, forcing yourself not to stare at the womas bloated belly.

"Are you Rubens assistant?" She asked, with a hand to her stomach. The ring on her finger was beautiful. You were a bit of a jewelry enthusiasts so seeing a fine diamond like that always caught your attention.

"No, I'm his....his...we work together. I'm his colleague." You didn't know who this woman was, she could be working for HR for all you know. You and Ruben had agreed to keep things on the low, at least until you switched office next month.

"How nice to finally meet one of Ruben's coworkers. I barely know what he does for a living. " The woman laughed, her laughter seemed to lift the whole apartment. She was beautiful, you thought. Plump lips and thick brown hair.

"Well, I couldn't tell you." You chuckled. "Other than being my boss assistant I barely know anything myself."

It was true, you weren't even sure when and if Ruben had lunch breaks.

"You're funny." The woman said, stretching out a hand for you to greet.

"Y/N."

"Y/N, how beautiful. I'm Charlotte Dias, Rubens wife."

A moment of silence, as time seemed to collapse around you.

"C...come again?"

"I'm Charlotte Dias, Ruben's wife?"

His pregnant wife.

The woman looked at you with furrowed brows. "Haven't Ruben told you about me?

"Um...no, no he hasn't." You felt lightheaded and a sudden need to vomit.

"Is everything okay hun?" Charlotte stepped forward, her hands looking ready to catch you if you fell.

Your steps were wobbly, however you had to get out of there.

"I'm sorry I..." You moved to the door, fumbling with its handle.

"Wait, do you need me to..."

The door slammed shut behind you before Ruben's wife could finnish her sentence. Coming down the elevator, you stepped onto a busy street, feeling like you've gone crazy. Ruben had been lying to you. Lying to you about everything. You felt a need to hold in your tears but the pain that came with it was unbearable to withstand and so you weeped. Right there on the busy street you sat down on the sidewalk and weeped. How could he do this to you? That fucking liar.

#fanfiction #manchester city #man city #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias #football imagine #footballer x reader #football angst #footballer imagine #football x reader #football #smut

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icey--stars · 1 year

Text

All Loose

female!reader x Bat boys word count: 4,081

this was requested by an anon! i hope its not too bad, since this took a while to squeeze out because of some weird moods for angst i've been having, but i hope you all enjoy regardless <3 might have to be limiting on smut requests, it takes a while to get these out lmao

WARNING: SMUT AHEAD! 18+ YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

It was a typical night at Rita's to be completely honest. Just chilling at the bar, watching as others got dragged into dances, throwing back shots, and scanning the crowd to see if there was anyone good enough to go talk to. Or at least looked more interesting than the others and usual customers. It'd been almost an hour since I gave up on finding someone good enough looking to take home with me, or go home with. It was still early in the night, but most people were here already. The sky outside was almost completely dark.

I leaned back into my chair more, scanning the fae dancing. The door to Rita's opened and I looked over curiously, sipping on my bourbon a bit. A golden haired female came in, dressed nicely in red which made her look gorgeous, but the males who entered after her took my eye almost immediately.

They all had black hair and a tan skin tone. The first to enter had violet eyes, and was dressed in finery even I wondered what the hell it cost. A brutish looking Illyrian warrior was next, two red stones glowing lightly on the back of his hands and his wings intimidatingly dark. The third to follow after everyone was also Illyrian, though I noticed quickly that swirls of darkness were floating around him, settling around his shoulders, twisting around his wings and just hovering in the air near him as well.

All, however, looked insanely good looking. I swallowed, throwing back the rest of my bourbon as I tried to mask the flash of heat that had shot through me as the violet-eyed one caught my eyes. Fucking hell, I swore.

Then quickly realized something as I saw a small dagger sheathe on the shadow Illyrian's thigh.

The violet-eyed one was probably Rhysand. High Lord of the Night Court, and the damned two warriors next to him were Cassian, general of the armies and Azriel, the spymaster. Why the hell did they catch my eye? Why Y/N? Just why?

I turned back to the bar, ordering a red wine, and tried to ignore the males behind me.

As the bartender came back with my wine, I jumped at a soft, sultry voice to my left. "Could I please get that bourbon?" The High Lord, beside me, pointed to something on the list covering the higher end of the wall across the counter.

He took a seat beside me. The other two warriors, the brutish one, Cassian, sat next to me and Azriel took his other side. I sipped my wine, swallowing quickly. I'd been going pretty light on alcohol all night, drinking a lot of water. But at this moment, I was regretting that. I seriously needed to be completely knock-me-on-my-ass drunk to deal with three extremely good-looking males who happened to be apart of the Inner Circle who had sat themselves right beside me. I glanced down at what I was wearing. A nicer dress I owned. This one had a low neckline.

"Hello darling, how are you doing tonight?" Rhysand asked beside me, his fingers making a slight contact with my hand that lay on the counter.

I swallowed, nervous, but responded in kind. "Doing just fine, and yourself?"

"I'm doing well." A beat passed. "You here alone?"

I nodded. "I find it easier to talk to people when my obnoxious friends aren't cataloguing everyone I talk to and trying to find out which ones are worth my time."

The general chuckled beside me. "Sounds to me like you might need some new friends."

I scoffed. "Nah, they're not too bad," I amended.

"What's your name sweetheart?" Cassian questioned, nudging me slightly with his shoulder.

I smirked into my wine. "Y/N, and yours?"

"Cassian. Say- could I buy your next drink?" The warrior asked.

I smiled faintly. "Yeah I suppose I could go for another I suppose."

Rhysand chuckled lowly beside me. "Cass, your beating me at my own game."

"Snooze you lose brother," Cassian retorted.

Azriel leaned onto the counter, smirking at me. "I'm here too idiots. We all saw the beautiful female and came running. But I'll be the first to ask her to a dance."

"Perhaps you could all have a turn," I suggested. "Could be fun. I'll dance, as long as you don't mind me being a clumsy idiot."

Azriel smirked. "I'd catch you angel, even if you are falling for me."

I rolled my eyes. "Smooth pun, smooth."

The Illyrian stood gracefully, and offered out a hand. "Take your drink, Cassian can have his fun after me," Azriel said. I grinned and picked up my wine glass and meeting both Cassian's and Rhysand's eyes for a split moment before Azriel whisked me away into the dancing.

Azriel was smooth, keeping me up even as I tripped. I got more and more tipsy with each spin of the music. I tipped my head back to drink the rest of my wine and met Azriel's eyes with a smirk. We'd been dancing for probably around 30 minutes.

"Time to give your friends a bit of attention handsome," I said.

"I suppose they do deserve a turn at your stunning beauty. Are you sure I can't hog you all to myself? We could have fun," he said suggestively.

I rolled my eyes. "Give them a chance to seduce me too Azzy. Like I said... you could take turns."

Azriel dipped me one last time, whispering in my ear. "As long as you get down on your pretty little knees for me."

I could barely breathe as he brought me up. Goddamn he was hot. I could always just go with Azriel... but if I could... I would rather have more than one tonight. I typically ended up with a pair of males, or a male and female, but they rarely knew each other. But, when they did know each other, it was at least ten times better. Whether couples, or some relaxed family... they just moved so seamlessly with each other.

Cassian had stood up to meet me as I wandered over, shaking my head clear of a bit of the dizziness.

"You alright sweetheart? Or did Az spin you too much?" He teased.

I rolled my eyes. "You try being spun like a doll with a shit ton of alcohol in your system," I retorted.

Azriel laughed. "I was wondering where the fiery part of you was."

"Oh it's there," I chuckled. "I just didn't want to scare off you pretty males before catching you in my net."

"Oh you caught us as soon as we walked in the door," Rhysand assured. "So now its our turn to catch you darling."

I rolled my eyes, sitting down between the two males again.

"What would you like to drink beautiful?" Cassian asked, putting a hand around my shoulder as he leaned over.

"Get me a margarita. I'm wanting something fruity. Get me all loose."

"Gotcha."

Cassian moved to order for me as Rhys leaned in closer to talk into my ear. I shivered as his warm breath made contact with my outer ear, making me buzz with energy. "I'll get you all loose darling."

I blushed, lowering my face to hide in my arms. "You idiot," I groaned.

"Aww, are you embarrassed?" Rhys teased with a cocky smile.

I lifted my head. "Yes, I am. What did you expect with that comment High Lord?"

Rhys chuckled, the tone deep. "You want to come back to my place then? I'll make good on my promise."

I rolled my eyes. "Sure you will. But I'm rather enjoying this. And I already promised Azriel you can take turns. So be patient. Lest you finish too quick off the mark."

The High Lord tipped his head back and laughed. Cassian turned back with a cocky smile as well, handing me my margarita. Assumingly, he'd heard most of that conversation.

"I'll prove to you darling, I can indeed hold myself back," Rhys answered, grinning.

Cassian chuckled. "Yeah sure you will Rhys. Poor lady won't even be close when you finish."

Rhys rolled his eyes. "As if you're any better Cass."

I sipped my drink, raising a brow in amusement as they continued bickering. I met Azriel's eyes with a little smirk.

The shadowsinger rolled his eyes. "Bickering fools," he commented.

I spoke loud enough for Rhys and Cassian to hear me over their own voices. "Just for this, Azriel gets first dibs."

They paused immediately, looking at me with shocked faces.

"What?" I asked, chuckling. "You two keep arguing. Azriel is sitting there all perfect looking and handsome."

Rhys scoffed. "I call next."

Cassian immediately barked in protest.

I laughed. "Let me finish this drink Cassian so graciously bought for me and then we can go. But you two keep arguing, it's entertaining."

They stopped arguing after that, as if the thought of them bickering being entertaining was so utterly wrong that they just came to an agree-to-disagree vantage point silently.

I'll admit, I took longer than necessary to finish my drink, enjoying seeing the males glance over at my glass in anticipation.

When I finally tipped back the last drops, I let out a satisfied sigh.

"Alright, you all want to show me what you got?" I prompted.

Immediately, they all stood. I laughed. Rhys smirked and offered out a hand to me.

I took it. Cassian took Rhys's other hand, while Azriel held Cassian's.

I felt that familar whir of winnowing, and then we stood in an empty bedroom Cauldron knows where. I rolled my eyes and faced them down. Then I met Azriel's eyes and marched forward, moving my hands up his chest to his shoulders and the back of his neck as I moved in to kiss him.

He leaned forward immediately, hands going to my waist to pull me closer. I groaned, opening up for him immediately as he licked my bottom lip.

Our tongues clashed together, but I eagerly let him explore my mouth all he wants. When he pulled back, he simply smirked and pecked my lips and then started to move down my jaw to my neck. I gasped at the first nip of his teeth, looking around the room.

Rhys came up from the side, leaning over to kiss me as well with a hand on my chin to lift it while Azriel sucked a mark into the base of my neck.

Cassian's hands trailed up my back and I groaned appreciatively.

When I pulled away from Rhys, I was panting hard. "Goddamn," I groaned when Azriel licked up the side of my neck, pausing at my pulse point.

Azriel's hands moved up my sides, pausing. His thumbs nudged at my breasts and my breath caught as I was forced to meet Rhys' eyes.

"Look at you, you already looked so fucked out," The High Lord crooned, rubbing his thumb along my swollen lips before kissing me again.

Azriel's hands moved to my shoulder straps.

I gasped, pulling away from Rhys. I felt Cassian unzipping my dress from the back, drawing the zipper all the way down to where it stopped at the small of my back.

Azriel pulled away, admiring his work as he pulled the shoulder straps off, letting the dress drop to the floor.

I wasn't wearing anything underneath. I'd normally forgo undergarments when I went to Rita's, and I could tell these males were very appreciative of that fact as they all appraised my body.

"Well? Aren't you all going to get undressed?" I asked, cocking a brow in a challenge.

Rhys snapped his fingers, and suddenly, he was in nothing but his under shorts, and I could see a very obvious bulge.

Azriel reached behind him, undoing some strap around his wings before tearing off his own shirt. I whistled as I beheld the muscle on them. Warriors, I thought, were fucking hot. So strong.

I traced my hand down Azriel's pectoral, snagging my thumb on his nipple just to hear his breath hitch. I grinned wildly.

"Get this off," I demanded as I grabbed his belt.

He smirked, quickly leaning down and undoing his boots and taking off his pants until he too, was only in his undershorts.

Cassian turned me so I could see all three of them. All three strong, impossibly sexy warriors.

"Fuck," I swore as I beheld every bit of them. I moved toward Rhys, unable to help myself. I leaned my head back to kiss him. He let me openly, placing his hands on my shoulders. I skillfully moved a hand between our bodies and cupped his bulge. He groaned into the kiss, pulling back to pant as I continued. When he started panting heavier, I pulled away and turned to Cassian.

I pulled at the hem of his undershorts, dipping into them to grab a hold of his erection. He moaned, leaning to seal a crushing kiss between us. I felt hands wander to my ass, grabbing two handfuls and squeezing. I groaned. Another pair of hands came up to cup my breasts, teasing the peaked nipples there.

I grabbed the hem of Cassian's undershorts, yanking them down to have more access.

He smirked and pushed my hand back. "Be patient darling," the brute purred. The hands around my breasts retreated.

Azriel dragged me to his front, his wings casting shadows in the room. His actual shadows also trailed across my body, and I whimpered when they suddenly tugged at the peaks of my breasts.

"I want to taste you," the male growled and pushed me toward the bed. "Lay down, hands above your head."

I smirked and did as I was told, settling with my head on the pillows and stretched my hands up toward the headboard. Rhys approached, pinning my hands as Azriel crawled up to me across the bed, grabbing my thighs in his hands- gods, they might be scarred, but I couldn't help but think that made them more attractive. He lifted my knees over his shoulders, those wings flaring up. I was mesmerized by the movement, my breath caught in my throat.

But Azriel's mouth on my inner thigh soon distracted me.

I whined, straining against the grip Rhys had on my hands as Azriel moved closer and closer to my center. Finally, I felt the male in between my legs lick into my folds, groaning against my center. I moaned, throwing my head back with my eyes closed as the feeling.

"Well aren't you excited sweetheart," Cassian chuckled, having come up on the other side of me from Rhys, watching as his brother got to work between my legs.

"Fuck," I groaned, looking down at Azriel. The male met my gaze, smirking and suckling gently at the apex in between my thighs. Whimpers and sighs escaped me as I neared my peak. I moaned when Cassian dived down to suck at my breast, biting gently before soothing the spot with his tongue.

"You close darling?" Rhys asked, voice a bit rougher than I last remembered. I nodded, throwing my head back into the pillow as Azriel redoubled his efforts between my legs.

I moaned loudly as the pleasure overwhelmed me as I reached my climax. Azriel's tongue worked to prolong my pleasure and when I became oversensitive, he pulled away with a smirk, licking his lips of the evidence of my pleasure. I slumped uselessly to the bed, sighing.

"Was that good enough for you angel?" Azriel asked, lowering my legs back to the bed with a satisfied male smile.

I rolled my eyes, not responding. Rhys chuckled, releasing my hands, allowing them to lay back down at my sides. "My turn," he growled and moved into Azriel's position, who took a seat beside me where Rhys previously was.

"I said I'd get you all loose," Rhys drawled, smirking as my breath caught. He settled between my thighs, reaching forward with his hand toward my center. The first brush sent me right back to whimpering. Cassian leaned down to suck a bruise into my throat with a satisfied groan. Rhys took advantage of my distraction and pressed two fingers up inside me.

I moaned, clenching down around those fingers. Rhys chuckled, smoothing his other hand around my thigh while he curled those digits inside of me, thrusting them slowly into me.

It felt so impossibly good. It'd been a long time since I'd felt so good, and this probably wasn't even the end. I'd yet to even barely touch them. That gave me an idea.

I reached for Cassian. "Cassian-" I begged. "Cassian." I couldn't convey what I wanted as Rhys sped up, causing me to moan and break off from my thoughts.

Luckily, he seemed to understand, shucking off his undershorts finally.

Through some silent language between the brothers or something, I was turned onto my my front, with my knees pressed to the bed. Cassian sat in front of me, lightly stroking himself. I moved forward, mouthing at the tip. Cassian moved his hand to the back of my head, fisting my hair lightly as I finally pulled him into my mouth. He was already by far one of the largest I'd taken into my mouth for a long time. I had a feeling it had something to do with those big wings he had.

I looked up, meeting Cassian's gaze as I went farther, holding back my gag reflex. He groaned. Rhys started what he was doing behind me again, adding a third finger and I moaned, my eyes falling closed. I choked around the shaft in my throat, pulling back to breathe for a moment before going back down.

I bobbed more on Cassian, moaning at Rhys's actions inside, as the pleasure began to meet a peak. I flew over the edge, just managing to remember to swallow as Cassian followed me over the edge with a groan.

When I pulled away, Rhys had removed his fingers, I was panting hard. I looked at the males around me with a hazy sated gaze.

"Oh we're not done yet darling," Rhys purred, slapping my behind lightly, causing me to jump slightly. I felt a slithering sensation come into my mind, wrapping around it gently.

You're going to get Azriel under you, me in front of you and Cassian behind you darling, Rhysand's voice played in my head. I raised my brows in surprise. I knew of my High Lord's mind abilities, but I didn't it expect to feel like that.

A snap went by, and Rhys handed something to Cassian. I finally got to admire the other two male's cocks, moaning lowly as I saw the precum gathering at their tips. It would only take a few more minutes before Cassian was the exact same.

Azriel settled down on the bed, half-spreading those magnificent wings below him. I settled on top of him, straddling his hips. Azriel smirked at me as my breath hitched as he grabbed onto my hips, squeezing lightly.

"What do you want angel?" He teased, brushing his tip against my center. "Tell me what you need."

I groaned at his rough, animalistic tone. "Fuck me, please," I begged, not embarrassed in the slightest.

"The lady knows what she wants," Rhys mused. "Give it to her Az, don't be cruel."

Azriel rolled his eyes, then reached to angle himself in. I moaned, slowly lowering myself down. It was a stretch, fucking hell, it was a damn stretch I hadn't felt in a long time. Where did Illyrians come from? And how the hell did they get such big damn cocks?

I groaned, catching myself on my elbows as I fell down. Finally, Azriel seemed to be all the way in and I stayed right where I was, needing a second for that adjustment.

"Good, you're doing so good," Azriel praised, wringing a whimper out from the bottom of my soul. "So good angel, you feel so amazing. Gods-" he swore. "So warm and perfect."

I ground my hips down at the dirty talk, groaning when he caught a particularly sensitive spot inside of me.

I felt an oiled finger poke at my rear entrance and I jumped, turning my head to find Cassian who smirked, motioning with his head toward me. I looked back, finding Rhys who had settled himself beside Azriel's head.

"Come on darling," Rhys purred. I lifted myself up immediately, sitting down on Azriel's hips. Rhys settled himself over his brother's chest, somehow managing to fit his knees somewhere with those wings. Cassian pushed in a finger, thrusting it gently. I groaned, pushing back, causing Azriel to groan in the process.

Everything was so much, but it was perfect.

Azriel began gently thrusting up into me as I attempted to buck my hips for more and more pleasure. I leaned forward onto my hands to take Rhys into my mouth.

The High Lord let out a pleasured groan, grabbing onto my hair with one hand.

My eyes caught on Azriel's wing, and curiously, I moved to support myself with one hand and brush against that strange membrane with a palm.

Azriel let out a punched out moan, thrusting up into me with more force. The shadows came to wrap around my wrist, pulling my hand away.

Rhys chuckled with amusement. I met his eyes, just as Cassian added a second finger, taking his sweet damn time preparing me.

"Illyrian wings as especially sensitive darling, I'd be wary," Rhys explained. I pulled back from his cock, licking my lips.

"That's interesting," I mused and immediately went back to trying to reach for Azriel's wing, but the shadows stopped me.

Azriel spoke up, "Not yet angel, not yet. If you want to touch my wings, you might be able to do it in a bit."

I grinned. Rhys pulled me back to himself, and Cassian pulled his fingers out, soon replacing it with his tip. He wrapped his arms around me as he slowly pushed in.

Soon, I was completely filled from all sides, and enjoying every damn second of it. Azriel and Cassian thrust in at the same time and I moaned around Rhys, closing my eyes against the intense pleasure.

Within a couple thrusts from all three males, I was nearing my peak, and went over it, clenching hard. Rhys pulled back to let me breathe, and the others barely slowed their pace.

After only a few seconds, I was back to my previous position, overcome with the intense pleasure across every single nerve ending in my body. Rhys was the first to show signs of getting close, groaning and clenching his fist more with my hair. The others soon showed signs as well, letting out moans and holding onto wherever they'd settled their hands on my body, harder.

"Come on darling, one more," Rhys purred. "Come once more for us..."

I moaned, and soared for my peak after only a few moment. I choked around Rhys, who pulled back and painted my face with come after only a second. I felt heat fill me up from the inside as Azriel and Cassian met their ends. In the throes of my fourth climax for the night, I hurtled for a fifth as Cassian circled his fingers on my clit, making me scream out in pleasure yet again.

As I came down, I was aware I was being moved gently from across Azriel to beside him. Cassian came up on my other side while Rhys gently pet my hair from the head of the bed.

"Fuck," I swore, utterly exhausted, but so impossibly sated from these perfect males.

Azriel chuckled, gently running his hand along the swell of my hip while Cassian opted for massaging my shoulders.

"You alright sweetheart?" Cassian asked.

I nodded, smiling. "So good," I answered.

Rhys hummed, chuckling a bit in amusement as I slumped to the bed, practically melting into the sheets, not caring for anything at the moment. Not the come on my face, or the juices spilling out from between my thighs.

"Come on," Azriel hummed, grabbing my hip gently. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"I still want to touch your wings after," I said.

Cassian laughed. "Maybe you can coax Rhys to bring out his too."

I lifted a brow in challenge. "I think I could handle that."

"We'll see darling," Rhys hummed and pulled me with him off the bed toward the bathroom.

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