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wol-fica · 8 months

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LET US FUCK TARA ON THE COUNTER

ask and you shall definitely receive

summary - tara has been over worked with studying and testing, so you decide to help her out a little bit

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“Tara, baby, why don’t you let me cook?” You asked from your seated position at the table, watching your girlfriend carefully.

It’s testing time for her in college, and it’s been kicking her butt. Almost every night she is up late studying some sort of film or useless assignment, which has been causing her to gain at most 3 hours of sleep.

You’ve tried your hardest to get her to take some sort of break, but Tara is one of the most stubborn people you know so your efforts make no dent.

“I’m basically done, don’t worry.” She reassured you, stirring the bubbling soup with the ladle before closing the lid on it, “Just needs to simmer.”

“If you say so…” You muttered, watching her pick up her phone and lean herself against the counter.

Her body bent over the counter, her ass sticking back out while her back arched slightly as she scrolled on her phone. Your eyes bore into her, a blush coating your cheeks from the lack of coverage her thin sleep shorts provided.

“Are you studying tonight?” You asked, slowly standing up as to stay undetected.

“Yeah, I have a slasher film final in a couple days.” Tara replied, not paying you any attention.

“You don’t even need to study for that.” You mumbled, sliding up behind her while undoing the tie on your sweats.

“Yes I do, if I don’t then i’ll most definitely NOT make a 100.” She quipped back, leaning her weight onto one leg.

You hummed, kicking your discarded pants behind you before taking her hips in your hands. She was warm under your touch, and even warmer when you pressed your hard bulge into her ass.

She froze at the feeling, her eyes locked in on a cup in front of her. Her phone long forgotten, she pushed herself up on her hands and let you invade her space. Your face immediately went for her neck, burying there and leaving little love bites everywhere you could reach.

Your hands roamed her body, squeezing her hips, rubbing her sides, ghosting over her breasts, slipping under her shirt to feel the soft skin of her stomach. You were soon humping against her, huffing and whining in her ear all while you did.

“Y/N.” Tara whispered, inhaling sharply when you cupped her breasts under her shirt, “T-the soup.”

“Fuck the soup.” You grumbled, squeezing her soft breasts while grinding your hips against her ass, “I want you for dinner.”

She whimpered at your words, blushing heavily from the noises you were producing. You were panting in her ear, whispering her name like it was the last thing you would ever say, and it was making her knees weak.

Wordlessly, you placed one hand on her back to bend her over the counter, keeping your other hand on her hip to guide her however you pleased. She seemed to vibrate in your hold, unsure of what you wanted her to do and choosing to carefully follow along instead.

“You’ve been overworking yourself.” You said breathlessly, pathetically humping into her, “You need a break.”

Your thumbs hooked into the waistband of her sleep shorts, pulling them off and letting them fall around her ankles. You then removed your boxers, kicking them behind you before kneeling on the ground.

You nudged her legs apart, giving her thigh a little nibble before leaning in to run your tongue through her folds. She jumped, letting out a vocal gasp at the feeling. You licked up her slick, moaning at the taste of her before finding her entrance and pushing your tongue inside.

“Shit, Y/N!” Tara cried out, letting her hips push back against your tongue, “Ah~!”

You hummed, making her moan pleasantly, and buried your face closer into her heat. Your teeth caught her clit each time your jaw opened wider, which caused her knees to begin to shake. Out of fear of her potentially collapsing, you removed your face from between her thighs while she whined in protest.

“Wha-.” Tara started to say, before stopping when she felt your cock run though her folds, “Y/N.”

“Hm.” You replied, smiling as you watched her arousal leak around the head of your penis.

“I swear to god,” She breathed, turning her head to the side to acknowledge you, “If you don’t stop teaSING!”

Her statement ended in a shrill scream when you swiftly pushed into her, your thick shaft stretching her far apart. Your hand went around to cup her mouth, leaning over her to whisper next to her ear.

“Stay quiet, or the neighbors will kill us.” You purred, before standing back up with her hips in your hands.

You didn’t give her a chance to protest, letting your hips pull back and slam back into hers in a rhythmic motion. You squeezed the fat of her ass, thrusting your cock deep inside of her. She whimpered from each trust, the painful feeling of you splitting her apart mixed with the awareness that you were hitting her g-spot each time, made her see stars in her eyes.

You kept your focus on your cock appearing and disappearing inside of her, biting your lips at her puffy and soaked folds. Her ass jiggled with each pound you gave her, bouncing back and forth from the force you produced. It was an attractive sight, a hot one.

“Damn babe, you’re so thicc.” You mumble to her, a moan tumbling from her mouth in response, “I could fuck this pussy all day.”

One of your hands slid up to her back, pressing down so her back would go into a pretty arch. Your other hand went down to find her clit, pressing and rolling it to the rhythm of your thrusts. She let out a cry, her head dropping onto the counter from the different stimulation.

You felt a sudden gush of wetness on your cock, and looked back down to see a new layer of cum on your abdomen. A smirk graced your face, and you turned your attention back to Tara’s moans and cries of your name. Your hips stilled, cock stuffed deep inside of her cunt.

“Did I say you could cum?” You asked her, reaching under to press on the large bulge in her stomach, “Or did you just decide to disobey me?”

“F-fuck.” She sobbed, reaching back to attempt to push your hand away from her, but you didn’t move, “Y/N please.”

“Please what? You have a mouth, you can use it.”

“I…I can’t…” She cut herself off with a cry when you added more pressure to the bulge, “Ah~!”

“If you wanna act like a slut, I’ll treat you like one.” You growled, rocking your palm into her stomach while your hips started to pick up pace.

Tara let out a wail of pleasure, her eyes squeezing shut when you gyrated your hips into hers. The head of your cock pressed against her g-spot with each thrust you produced, making her chant your name like a church prayer. You let your hand slid up from her clit and back to her hip, giving yourself leverage to search for her sweet spot while you fucked her.

You drilled your hips into her, still pressing on the bulge while pushing her hips left and right to find the sensitive spot that would make her cry for you to stop and beg for more at the same time. With a aggressive pound, you felt the spongy texture of her sweet spot and focused your attention there.

It was too much for Tara, with the pressure on her stomach and the repeated thrusts against her sensitive spot, she all but collapsed onto the counter with a weak mewl. Pitiful whimpers exited through her mouth each time you railed into that spongy spot, white spots appearing in her sight.

You leaned over her, your other hand coming up and threading into her hair. You pulled her head back, arching her back more for you while you fucked her dumb. Her knee’s threatened to buckle under your weight, but before she could she felt a soft ‘pop’ inside of her.

Suddenly, an abundant amount of pleasure shot through her, causing her to grip the counter and scream your name from the feeling. You nuzzled your face into her neck, using the last of your energy to push you both over the edge of your orgasms.

Tara went first, her body tensing and a pathetically broken cry of your name leaving her mouth before she went limp. You followed suit, pulling her hips tight against yours and letting the hot knot snap. Your cum pumped deep into her pussy, soothing her walls with the warm liquid.

“Jesus.” You mumbled, hips still humping, “I wish i could stay in your cunt forever.”

Tara whined, unable to form a sentence let alone words at all. You got the hint though, taking your hand away from her belly to place on her hips so you could pull out. She groaned when you did, the release of pressure making it feel like her stomach was dropping. You responded with kisses on her spine, slowly dragging your cock out of her.

As soon as you were out, she slipped down to her knees, letting her forehead rest against the cold wood of the cabinet door. She exhaled softly, letting out a quiet ‘mmmm’ when your hand ran up her back. You had already cleaned yourself up and put your clothes back on, now you just needed to help your girlfriend do the same.

“Baby.” You said to her, rubbing in between her shoulder blades, “Can I pick you up?”

Tara nodded weakly, groaning slightly when you hooked your arms under her to pick her up. Once she was settled in your arms, you left the kitchen and went to your bedroom, wordlessly heading towards the bathroom.

You set her on her feet, letting her lean her full weight into you while you got her out of her loose shirt. You then had her lean against the wall so you could start a bath for her. Once the tub was filled, you helped her into the warm water, her body shaking slightly from the lack of energy she had.

You pressed a kiss to her temple, telling her you would be back after you turned the stove off. She replied with a hum and a nod, weakly waving you away. Hurriedly, you went to the kitchen to turn the burner off and move the pot over before jogging back to your bathroom.

“The soup smells good.” You said, grabbing her shampoo and conditioner so you could wash her hair, “I bet it will taste even better.”

“If you’re still trying to distract me from studying, it ain’t happening.” Tara mumbled, sighing when you began to massage the shampoo into her wet hair, “I can’t fail this test.”

“You wouldn’t even if you didn’t study Tar.” You replied, tilting her head back to rinse the suds out with a cup of water, “You need to relax.”

“Is breaking my back considered relaxing?” She teased, reaching up to run her fingers along your bicep, “Cause that was just an energy drainer.”

“I thought it was quite good.” You retorted, massaging the conditioner into her scalp before adding quietly, “But i’m sorry if it wasn’t enjoyable for you.”

Tara snorted, slapping your hand away before reaching up and grabbing your face to pull your lips to hers. She kissed you lovingly, smiling into it while rubbing your cheeks with her thumbs.

“You were fantastic love.” She praised, kissing your nose a few times before letting you go, “It was very enjoyable for me.”

“Phew, I thought you didn’t like any of it and then I was gonna feel like a dick for the rest of my life.” You said, wiping imaginary sweat off of your forehead.

“Awww baby.” Tara cooed, poking your chin with a wet finger, “I would’ve let you know if I didn’t like it.”

You nodded, leaning your head into the palm of her hand. She giggled and leaned up to kiss you again, letting your hearts intertwine in the peaceful bathroom glow.

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happy bday @tonyspank

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nouearth · 4 months

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breaking news.

bruce wayne x male reader headcanon.

summary: bruce has been making national headlines once again, but this time, you're caught up in it.

warnings: bale!bruce, panicked!reader, media frenzy surrounding relationship with bruce!

dating bruce wayne in public included explosive media coverage when the news of your relationship first leaked. for weeks upon weeks, it was all every news outlet and the public could talk about—gossip about. people couldn't flip through their tv, or scroll through their phone without seeing:

THIS JUST IN: BRUCE WAYNE, MULTI-BILLIONAIRE PHILANTHROPIST AND PLAYBOY, CAUGHT IN ROMANTIC RENDEZVOUS WITH... A MAN?

it all started with a photo; a voyeuristic shot that framed you and bruce sitting in one of the restaurants that he'd invested in, holding hands and laughing by the candle light. it was one of the many dates where he closed business for the night for privacy reasons—to keep you safe from the public's eye. and judging from the angle, it was evident that it was one of the employees that had managed to stay back in the building.

to be honest, it was tasteful. nothing scandalous or even remotely explicit, especially if you had to compare to the scandals of men of bruce's status. as much as you felt like your privacy was invaded, you couldn't help but feel relieved when you saw bruce's smile in the photo. the way he looked at you with such doting eyes, his thumb caressing over the bridge between your index and thumb, the plates of food left cold because you were addicted to his company, and vice versa.

it was an intimate moment that was ruined by selfishness—greed.

for a brief moment, you felt... scared. the windows in your apartment were immediately shut and blinded by curtains; the locks in your doors were triple-checked; your passwords were immediately changed to new ones you'd probably forget in the future. you felt eyes on your back, pierced through the walls, watching your every move even if they hadn't.

and as much as you teased bruce about leaving him after your fifteen minutes of fame, you needed him more than ever.

"bruce, what do i—what's happening?""alfred's coming, you're at home, right? i'm talking with my security team right now and—"

it wouldn't be long until people found out who the 'mysterious man' in question was.

in less than an hour, your social media presence had a tenfold increase. photos on your feed received more comments and likes you could ever count. many of them ran with the narrative that you were simply an object of bruce's undisclosed desire for men, his boy toy. and before you knew it, the news outlet began reporting the same, including their own findings of your life.

dating bruce wayne in public included him hugging you as soon as you arrived to his manor. it was a protective instinct that had been brewing since he heard how panicked—how afraid you were—on the phone. while multiple phones rang off the hook, bruce took the time to let you breathe into you, to find a sense of peace as he held you, comforted you with affectionate words in your ear, affectionate touches that rendered you calm and ultimately safe again.

dating bruce wayne in public included bruce addressing his relationship with you in a press conference. it was silly that it had come to this point, but he made sure his feelings regarding how the news outlets had turned a relationship between two men into a media frenzy were known.

"yes, i am in a loving relationship with (M/N)." "no, i am not dating a man for relevancy." "who wears the pants—really? security, let's escort him out, please?" "no, my fiancé is not what those rumors have suggested." "and yes, (M/N) is my fiancé. be kinder, and i ever so might have the fleeting thought to invite you all to my wedding."

dating bruce wayne in public meant that you were advised to keep your answers as vague as possible when you were approached by paparazzis. there were few times where you could escape, but they came in massive groups, bombarding you, and the security team that bruce had hired to protect you, with questions that would guarantee the tabloids massive engagement, but you wouldn't falter.

"ah... yes—he's doing very well, thank you." "oh? my coat? bruce gifted it to me on my birthday a few years ago!" "what do i like... uh, cooking! i make a mean burger—ask bruce yourself!"

and as the public began to know you more, through your timid answers, to the wary and tired smile that only emphasized the dark circles on your face, you were rather... charming? compared to bruce, they've quickly fallen in love with how personal you could be at times. where bruce was always stoic and formal in his answers, you stuttered and answered with a laugh, unexpectedly cracking a joke in between.

it didn't take much interaction before the public realized what made bruce fall in love with a man like you.

dating bruce wayne in public included you becoming quite of a celebrity yourself. alongside bruce's, your day was documented from the very minute you stepped onto a sidewalk and started your day. what was your order at the local coffee shop? what did you like having for lunch? your favorite movie? your favorite thing about bruce?

you were a hot commodity and everyone wanted a piece of you.

though, that never stopped your weekly dates with him. golfing, swimming, hiking, eating; you'd hear the clicks of photos being taken from the shadows, and it was bruce who always held you closer, by the shoulders or by the hand to remind you that you were safe with him.

"they'll get tired of us eventually.""hopefully..."

with him by your side, it wasn't so bad that the camera flashes never failed to blind you whenever you two shared a sweet kiss.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

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st-danger · 11 months

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What about the ghouls' horns being an erogenous zone for the ghouls and one of the Papas not realising while giving them horn scritches?

Terzo and Copia? Both touchy in their own ways. But while Terzo was intentional, every brush of fingers a loaded gun, a promise, Copia is...not so aware.

Aether is, perhaps, a little nasty for taking advantage of that. For getting a little something out of Copia that he doesn't know he's giving. Perverted. Just a little headache, he'd told him when Copia had found him resting his head in his hands. Paracetamol and other drug store sundries never work well for ghouls, even when they're taking a more human form, and certainly the effort of holding a glamour up when aching does nothing to help. So when Copia offers Aether his bed, offers to let him rest in his lap so he can rub his temples, of course he's quick to say yes.

He's a little wrong for asking Copia to remove his gloves. And he's nasty for not stopping him when absently, his fingers stroke away from his temple to rub at the base of a horn. The shock of pleasure is instant, sharp and intense and- he gasps, stomach clenching and Copia immediately withdraws.

"Oh. Is it very painful there?"

Aether sucks in a breath, and feels momentarily guilty. This behavior, he could expect it from someone like Omega. Dew, maybe. Ifrit for sure.

"It's sore," Aether mumbles, lying through his pointed teeth. Even just that little touch makes his tail go stiff. And he's about to use him to get stiff in other places, too. Oh, he shouldn't. He really shouldn't. Bad. Wrong. Dirty. And yet... "Would probably helped if you rubbed there for a little bit."

"Certainly," Copia says, and begins a gentle caress. "As long as you'd like."

Aether shuts his eyes tight, and bites his tongue at the sensation, frissions of pleasure sparking down his spine to somewhere lower. More private.

"And how is that?"

Aether curls up, draws the knee of his outside leg up just enough to provide a little coverage of his lap. Afford him a little privacy because this is going to get him hard in no time at all, and he ought to be truly ashamed.

"S'good," he says. Feeling Copia's bare hand there, when usually there is leather in the way feels even more perverse. His fingertips trace the seam where his horn meets his head and his cock begins to tingle. True to his word, he just...rubs. Touches. Hums contentedly while he thinks he's helping Aether handle the worst of his headache, wickedly unaware that he's doing more to help get his short, thick cock all red and heavy than he is the headache.

He tries very hard to keep his breath steady. To hold the whines and the low moan that threatens to bubble up safe within. He should stop Copia. But then what? Stand up and try to leave the room with his back turned so Copia doesn't see his cock pressed against his pants, tenting?

"Do your horns ever hurt?" Copia asks, and the question pulls him out of his thoughts in an instant. "I've had toothaches. Is it like that?"

"I don't know," Aether says, "I've never had one."

"Well I suppose it isn't the tooth itself that hurts, is it?" Copia muses. "It's the nerves inside, really." Oh, he does not want to listen to Copia discuss teeth. "Do your horns have nerves inside?"

They do. He doesn't need to know how many, though.

"Could you try rubbing those too? Might help. Maybe." Like he doesn't know. Like he isn't aware of the effect it has, like he's never asked Dew to stroke them while he masturbates to send him hurtling over the edge.

Slow, careful fingers start to slide up and down one, and then the other, and he feels himself grow hot and fat in his pants.

"How is that?"

"Would it- I'm a little cold," Aether lies. "Would you hand me a blanket?"

"Oh, certainly," Copia says with zero hesitation, leaning away for a moment to snatch a throw, and peel it open from how it's been folded. Draping it over Aether. Covering. Privacy. Brings it up to his neck.

He tries to make it look like a casual adjustment in position, snuggling under and crossing his hands over his chest. He has to fight to hold the moan when Copia's hands return to his head, only this time, it's both hands, one on each horn.

He uses his thumbs to brush over his nipples, feel them peaked through his shirt. Brushing back and forth and getting them good and stiff. Copia can't see under the blanket. He can pleasure himself here and he won't be any the wiser.

His face his hot.

Nasty, he thinks. So bad. But he wants to be touched and made to feel good and-

"Okay?" Copia asks.

"Maybe a little faster?" Aether asks in a small voice. The guilt leaking through. Copia doesn't notice.

"Of course, my ghoul," he says.

Aether gives his nipples a surreptitious little tweak.

"Just relax, eh? No need to be so tense. Relax for your Papa."

"Okay," he manages.

He forces himself to draw a deep breath.

Under the blanket, his dick throbs.

"Once we get this sorted, I'll rub you there, too." Copia hums. Knowing. He sounds amused.

Aether whimpers, ashamed, face hot.

#st-speaks #ghost #the band ghost #ghost fic #ghost fanfiction #ghost headcanons #aether ghoul #nameless ghouls #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus #copia/aether #copia x aether #papa/aether #papa x aether #copia

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bewilderedbunny · 1 year

Text

Hold it (Eddie x Reader watersports smut)

Cw: 18+ only! minors dni. Piss kink (please do not read this if that bothers you) holding your pee, overstimulation, fem!sub!reader, dom!Eddie, just a hint of mean!Eddie, marijuana use, unprotected piv, creampie (please use protection irl) fingering and clitoral stimulation, dacryphilia, mentions of both parties peeing on each other, reader does end up pissing ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ All in all, a wholesome Christmas time.

It started with a giggly, weed-induced question. You and Eddie were entwined on his couch, sharing a joint and talking about nothing in particular when you felt the familiar feeling of needing to pee sneak up on you.

"Do you ever hold your pee just because it feels good?" You asked the question before realizing how strange it sounded.

Eddie's eyes went wide as you tried to backtrack.

"You don't have to answer that, I'm-"

"No, I haven't. Do you ever do that, sweetheart?"

"Uh yeah? Sometimes. Is that weird?" Your mouth feels dry as you worry you've scared him off.

"Yes, it is weird. I like it. Please, tell me more."

The two of you talked about it for a bit. Eddie's cock grows hard as you explain that the extra pressure of having to pee sometimes felt good, almost sexual.

"Want to see if you can hold it while we fuck?"

"What? What if I can't?"

"I believe in you. And, if you can't keep it in, no biggie. What's a few more stains on my mattress?"

His lax attitude settles some of your nerves. You stand up and grab his hand before leading him to his bedroom. As you undress each other, the full feeling in your bladder increases, and your nerves creep back. Eddie senses your unease and breaks apart from you to dash to the bathroom. You watch his cute little pale butt as he leaves. When he returns, he's holding an old, tattered towel. He lays it on his bed and displays the towel for you with open arms.

"Only the finest for you, my love."

You roll your eyes, but the extra coverage of the towel does help settle your nerves. You lay down on the towel, then Eddie climbs on top of you, slotting himself between your legs. He kisses you greedily, licking into your mouth and sucking on your bottom lip. His hand reaches down and ghosts over your clit, causing you to mewl and buck your hips.

"Shit, you're so sensitive right now."

He adds a little more pressure and circles your clit. You're already getting dizzy and you've only just started. He sits back on his heels and lets out a chuckle.

"Oh, baby. This is going to be fun."

Your eyes widen. With his judgment-free gentlemen facade, you've forgotten Eddie can be a little mean.

He dips his middle finger into your hole and revels at how wet you already are. He adds another finger and curls them up. The muscles in your legs clench as he massages your sweet spot. You give yourself a leg cramp when he starts rubbing your clit with his thumb. With how sensitive you are, you figured you'd be cumming in seconds, but you don't. The pressure just sits and festers there while you squirm.

He ignores his painfully hard cock and places his free hand on your lower belly as he fucks you with his fingers. You puff and pant at the extra force on your bladder.

You whine out, "Please, please fuck me, Eddie. I need it."

He wishes he had the self-restraint to tease you all night, but he can't help giving you what you want. He grabs his cock and runs it up and down your folds before slapping your clit with his tip, causing you to sob and shudder. Every slap sends shocks through your body. He savors your reaction for a moment before lining up at your entrance. You claw at the sheets as he enters you, inch by inch. Once his cock is all the way in, he buries his face into your neck and settles on top of you. The added force of his body weight along with his cock inside you is overwhelming. He drags out his first thrust, nearly pulling out completely before slamming back in. You cry out and writhe beneath him. You feel his lips smile against your skin. He grinds his hips into yours, pressing you deep into the mattress. Your bladder is practically screaming at you.

You whine out, "Need you to hurry up, Eddie. I'm not going to last much longer."

He groans against your neck and says, "You better hold it. If you let go, I'm not stopping. I'll fuck the piss right into your cunt."

You clench and choke on a breath at his words. He continues,

"Is that what you want? Filling you with my cum isn't enough? Greedy girl needs to be filled with piss too?"

You're unbearably close to cumming while your stomach twists in discomfort. Mercifully, he picks up his pace. He fucks you fast and haphazardly.

Suddenly the hypersensitivity you had been feeling dulls out. You feel numb and achy for a moment. You begin to wonder what happened, then your orgasm overtakes you. Waves of pleasure wash over you and your legs turn into jelly as you come undone, still desperately trying not to piss.

"There you go, honey. Keep cumming but don't let go yet, 'kay?" Eddie grunts.

You whine and try to clench your trembling thighs together but Eddie's torso is in the way.

Your eyes roll back as your climax continues tearing through you. The frustration and pleasure you're feeling culminate in tears rolling down your cheeks. Eddie pulls back and smiles at your wrecked appearance.

"Fuck, you're just wet all over, huh? My leaky little lady."

Your breaths are shaky and labored as aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through you. Eddie presses into you deeper and whispers, "Let go." in your ear

You gasp and finally unleash the pressure that's been building. The relief that comes with finally being able to let go feels like another orgasm itself. You can feel your heartbeat vibrate through your entire body.

"Jesus Christ, you're so f-fucking sloppy." The clench of your cunt and the warmth of your urine has Eddie reaching his own orgasm. He curses as his cum paints your walls.

Your belly aches in emptiness as you both catch your breath.

"We should go shower." You sigh.

Eddie nods and replies, "Definitely. But, first, I think I heard someone mention something about me pissing inside of you?"

#eddie x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x you smut #eddie x you smut #tw piss

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truth-bound · 2 years

Text

To the new players on Splatoon 3!

For any battle type:

Always remember to booyah back! this means at the start of the round when a player on your team presses booyah, say booyah too! it lets old players know youre communicative and pay attention to your teammates. Its friendly. Its polite. Its honestly gonna make the whole game more enjoyable if you can use the little bit of communication there is.

theres no in game chat function so booyah and this way are the best way to let your team know what's up! booyah when your teammate did something cool! its a morale booster

plan your specials around your teammates. is your special better for support or slaying? check to see if there is already a cooler up if u have it, cus the effects do not stack. and in salmon run specials can be what saves the whole team!!

check your map! not only does it show the current ink coverage, it also shows enemy players if they have taken damage even without being marked. you can jump back to spawn if things seem dangerous and you can jump to teammates. keep in mind that teammates might not be in a safe position for you to land in. anyone can see where you will land and can try to jump kill you. knowing the map itself for good jump points and seeing if the teammate is in a well inked area helps.

Ink spawn. Always. Dont think it applies to X mode? It does. Even in anarchy battles (which splat 2 players might still call ranked out of habit) you should ink spawn. Why? multiple reasons! It keeps your base safer than not. helps maneuverability in getting back in. It helps build your special, which can be incredibly useful for a push. generally speaking, an inked base is a happy base. EDIT: I dont mean ink spawn immediately for anarchy battle, the first push is critical! Use the spawn for free specials to push when you're behind! And dont be thorough in anarchy battle either, prioritize the objective over turf inked unless you have a very good reason otherwise. the movement is also more for a path back to spawn than anything. having escape routes is important.

For turf war:

Inking ground takes priority over killing. Yes if they are dead they cant ink but the respawn time is pretty fast, about 5 to 7 seconds. Also, inking builds special. it is the only way you build special. kills do not build your special. Inked ground both gives a tiny amount of damage to the enemy when they step on it, AND gives you more coverage, AND gives you quicker escape options, AND is the deciding factor of winning the game.

Walls do not count towards points. Only ground. Inking walls isnt useless though, but don't think that inking them all will help you win, its more for maneuverability.

Last second bombs can decide a match. If you have a sub to throw and there is roughly one or two seconds left on the clock, throw it no hesitation. after the match time is over, it will still pause for a second to allow all subs and specials that were out at the last second to explode.

Hide in ink. This should be self explanatory. You aren't as visible if you are submerged in ink and you are faster in ink than walking. if you hide while an enemy player is nearby, and they dont think to check whatever puddle youre in, you could get a sneak attack. another point to focus on inking!

For salmon run:

Learn to squid party! its just jumping and changing in and out of squid to inkling (or octopus to octoling) form very fast so u kinda look like a blob. it might be frowned upon to squid party in other modes but this is totally fine and encouraged!

Pay attention to your teammates positions. Dead teammates cannot help more than sit there and hold a single egg. throw a bomb or shoot at them to revive them. they take priority over eggs in most cases.

Use this way liberally. This way points towards where youre looking. Use it to say hey theres a boss here.

LISTEN TO TEAMMATES. if someone says help or this way go to them. its worth it. they know what theyre doing. usually.

Losing on wave 3 doesnt lower pay grade. It sucks to lose but wave 3 sucks slightly less to lose on.

thats all for now! have fun and i hope you enjoy my favorite game series of all time ever. woomy!

#splatoon #splatoon 3 #inkling #octoling #splat3n

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beautification-tales · 24 days

Text

The Caregiver

An Outbreak story

Sandra was concerned about her stepson Jim. She is certain he has the virus. The symptoms had been there for three days now: Complete physical changes along with mental ones. Jim seemed more aggressive lately and more irritable. She was so tempted to call the authorities but was scared of what experiments they would do to her sweet boy.

“You can’t keep me cooped inside forever Sandra!” Jim growled. He paced back and forth, his eyes burning with anger. Sandra stood her ground, her expression calm but firm. “Jim, baby you’re sick! If people find out you have the virus.. they’ll put you in a research facility. You know that right?” She took a step closer, reaching out to touch his arm. But he flinched away, his fists clenched at his sides.

He looked at his stepmother as some clarity returned to his mind. He unclenched his fists and sighed. “I’m sorry mom. It’s so hard to think lately… All I want to do is…” Jim looked at his mother with compassion but with a hunger she never saw before. “What is it baby?” she asked softly, taking another step closer. Jim stepped back fighting the natural urges the virus had brought forth. “It’s nothing mom… I just need to be alone.”

Jim walked swiftly and ran up the stairs. Sandra heard her stepson’s door close behind him. Santa looked over at their family portrait in the middle of the living room. “Oh Jack! How am I going to protect him?” Sandra was scared as her sweet nerdy stepson had returned a different man. Sandra had always been afraid of losing Jim ever since Jack passed away. Now the fear was exacerbated by his current… ailment.

Sandra placed her hand on her heart as she felt it beating fast. It was from fear but it was also from her stepson’s presence. She looked at the picture of Jack and how strong and handsome he was. Jim looked so much like him now and it was affecting her.

Sandra turned on the television as the news was still talking about the outbreak. The anchor was discussing the news with their health correspondent. “Yes it has spread throughout Asia and it is confirmed to have hit Australia.” The correspondent said with a grave expression. Sandra felt a chill run down her spine. She could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on her shoulders. “And what about the flight that landed in LAX? The one with the two ehhh affected flight attendants?” The anchor asked cautiously. Sandra knew that flight well. It was the one that Jim had taken to come from a school trip just 4 days ago. “Well it seems to have transformed them into blonde…. And I’m sorry to say… bimbos. They have insatiable libidos and irresistible pheromones. The good news is the strain they have is not airborne and only transferred by fluids. They seemed to have only transferred the virus to the two pilots of the plane.” The correspondent explained. “Thank you Dr. Mullin. We remind our viewers if you notice any physical or mental changes in any of your friends or family please isolate them and call the proper authorities. When we come back more ‘outbreak’ coverage.” The anchor said as the screen cut to a commercial break.

Sandra turned off the television and sighed. She rubbed her temples as she slowly walked up the stairs. She decided to check on her stepson. The sound of grunts and slapping came from his room. Sandra shook her head knowing the sound of her son masturbating. Sandra turned to walk to her room but stopped when she heard Jim scream “mom!” Sandra rushed quickly to her son’s call. She opened the door to find her son still pleasing his engorged cock. Sandra gasped as she realized the extent of Jim’s transformation.

Jim’s body was covered in shapely muscle as his abs flexed as his hips gyrated into his hand. The room’s scent was strong as it was filled with the smell of sweat and cum. Sandra inhaled deeply and felt herself become wet with desire. Sandra looked higher and saw that Jim had a pair of her pantyhose covering his eyes and nose. “Ung mom, yes suck my cock like that.” Jim panted as Sandra felt herself walking closer to her son.

She found herself at the foot of the bed as she licked her lips. The temptation to touch her own stepson was great. “Yes, you’re gonna make me cum!” Jim’s cock erupted as streams of cum landed everywhere. Sandra quickly exited as her son uncovered his face and cleaned himself off.

Sandra rushed into her room and closed her door. She could feel her heart racing as the images were fresh in her mind. Jim’s toned body covered in sweat as he called for her. Jim holding her pantyhose to his face. He must have imagined herself sitting on him. He was so large and he came so much. “No! Stop it!” Sandra said out loud hoping to silence her naughty thoughts.

Sandra knew that Jim wasn’t her own but she practically raised him. Jack found her as a lonely young woman longing for a family. She remembered fondly the first time Jack introduced Jim to her as a young boy ten years old all that time ago. He hugged her tightly as she felt her eyes fill with tears. Sandra knew then she had found her family and she would never let anyone take it from her.

“I have to call the authorities…. For Jim’s sake.” Sandra muttered to herself as she prepared to take a shower. She reached down to undo her jeans. She gasped as felt a wet spot on her pocket. “Oh my God… is that his cum?” Sandra felt awkward as the substance covered her fingers. She played with it a bit as it felt very sticky. She smelled it as her whole body reacted. Sandra’s eyes rolled back as she felt goosebumps and her nipples hardened. She began licking her fingers as it tasted like sweet honey in her mouth. She began sucking her fingers until she realized what she was doing. She undressed and showered with cold water before hitting the bed.

“I know you want me to Sandra.” Jim said at the foot of her bed. Sandra jumped up as she saw Jim naked stroking his hard manhood. “Jim you know I hate it when you call me… Jim stop that!” Jim laughed as he walked closer to her. His body glistening with sweat, his muscles bulging under his tight skin. He smelled intoxicating, a mixture of sex and desire. She wanted to resist but couldn't find the strength. “C’mon mom you promised to take care of me when dad died. Let’s take care of each other.” Jim said as he climbed on the bed and straddled her. His thick cock pointed at her lips. Sandra felt her heart race as she opened her mouth and took him in. Jim moaned loudly as she began to suck him off. His sweet taste filled her mouth and she couldn't help but swallow.

Sandra awoke from her dream drenched in sweat as she tried to catch her breath. Her body ached as she was tempted to touch herself. She stopped herself as in a trance she got up and disrobed her pajamas. She put on her black lace bra and panties and her thigh high stockings. An outfit she hadn’t worn since Jack’s passing and walked to Jim’s bedroom.

Sandra opened the door and found Jim tossing and turning in bed. He was naked, his muscular body covered in sweat. The sheets were tangled around his legs, and he was moaning softly in his sleep. Her heart raced as she took a step closer to the bed. She reached out and gently ran her hand through his sweaty hair, causing him to stir slightly. She leaned down and kissed his forehead, her lips lingering there for a moment before pulling back.

"Jimmy?" she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. He didn't respond, still lost in his dreams. Sandra climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips, and laid her head on his chest. His heartbeat thundered in her ears, matching her own racing pulse. She could feel the heat radiating off of him, and the scent of his skin filled her nostrils. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly, feeling the warmth of his skin against her own.

She let her fingers wander, tracing the lines of his abs, teasing the hairs on his chest. Jim moaned softly, his body tensing beneath her touch. She leaned forward, capturing one of his nipples between her teeth, gently biting down. He cried out, his hips bucking upwards, seeking contact with her. She released his nipple, feeling the hard peak beneath her fingertips as it stood at attention.

Her heart raced, her breath coming faster as she leaned forward, her lips brushing against his ear. "You feel so good, Jimmy," she whispered, her voice husky. "So alive." She slid her hand lower, over his abdomen and toward his hip. Her fingers found the soft cotton of his boxers, tracing the outline of his erection through the fabric. "Let me help you feel better," she breathed, her hand moving lower still, reaching beneath the fabric and grasping him firmly.

Jim awoke and quickly jerked up. He looked around confused before focusing on his mother. "Mom?" he said, his voice thick with desire. Sandra smiled softly, her eyes locked on his erection. "You're so big," she breathed, running her hand up and down his shaft. "So hard." She leaned forward, taking him into her mouth, sucking gently at first before deepening the kiss, her tongue swirling around the head of his cock. Jim's hips bucked, pushing deeper into her mouth as he moaned loudly.

Sandra increased speed as her head jerked up and down on Jim’s cock. His hips began to thrust forward, meeting her movements with an urgency that she hadn't expected. His moans filled the room, mixing with her own wet, slurping sounds as she sucked him deeper. She could feel his hot seed building in his veins, ready to explode. “Yes please taste my cum!” he gasped, his voice hoarse.

With one last powerful thrust, Jim came, his seed erupting from his cock and splashing onto the back of her throat. Sandra swallowed eagerly, savoring the salty taste as it filled her mouth. Jim collapsed back onto the bed, his chest heaving as he fought for air. Sandra slowly pulled her mouth away, her lips still wet with his cum, and looked up at him.

“You taste so good. Ahhhh” Sandra moaned as she felt her body shake. The virus flowed into her as her older skin tightened and gained a more youthful color. The crows feet under eyes vanished as she felt her breasts firm up. She grabbed them and felt them grow in her hands. Her graying blond hair gained its vibrant blonde color of her youth. Sandra’s back arched as she felt her ass grow. The stockings stretched as her thighs got a bit thicker and her calves got strong. She stood on her toes as her foot arch returned to her dancing form. She felt her tight abdomen as she smiled remembering how men desired her. She was even better than how she was then and an even more handsome man than Jack was before her.

Jim felt his cock come back to attention as he saw his mom become even hotter than she was. Jim was always attracted to her but the virus had made his desires impossible to ignore. “Damn Sandra you’re smoking hot.” Sandra with lightning speed jumped on Jim as she guided his hard member into her wet pussy. She began gyrating as Jim fell back on the bed paralyzed by pleasure. “What did I say about calling me that? I’m mommy baby” she moaned as she squeezed her inner muscles around him. Jim moaned as he felt every inch of her tight, wet heat envelop him. He thrust into her, meeting her rhythm, their skin slapping together in perfect harmony.

Jim finally looked up and caressed her body freeing her breasts from her bra. “Yes mommy. Ungh you feel so good.” Sandra moaned as she felt his hands on her. She reached down and held his wrists, guiding them up above his head, pinning him down as she continued to ride him. Jim felt helpless and utterly at her mercy, his hips bucking uselessly against the bed.

Sandra grabbed Jim’s hands and placed them on her hosiery covered thighs. Jim groaned loudly as he felt his cock twitch. “You like when mommy wears these?” she asked, her voice husky with desire. Jim nodded weakly, his hips moving involuntarily against the bed. She smiled down at him, her eyes flashing with lust. With a swift motion, she slid her hand down between their bodies and began rubbing her clit as she continued to ride him.

Her other hand moved up to cup his face, her thumb tracing circles around his lips. Jim opened his mouth, eager to taste her as she leaned down and brushed their lips together. Their tongues tangled, their breath mixing as they shared the sensation of her body moving against his.

Sandra arched her back, her nails digging into his chest as her orgasm washed over her. She cried out, her body shuddering with pleasure as she came. Jim felt her walls squeeze tight around him, her muscles contracting in the most exquisite way. His own release followed close behind, his seed spilling deep inside her as he groaned.

They both collapsed on the bed as their morals disappeared and their desires increased.

“I was so wrong to keep you cooped up here in the house. I better let you go back to school baby.”

1 week later

Jim was brought into the research facility when a student called the CDC. Apparently Jim couldn’t recall how many students he had sex with. The CDC began testing students to see who was infected and found them all. The virus was contained.

“Sir, he did spend time home before coming back to school. Should we test the mother too?”

“Negative, the virus is only transmitted via fluids. He wouldn’t fuck his mom.”

And so the virus spread.

#beautification #transformation #f2f transformation #breast expansion #bimboification #origin stories #ass expansion #beauty is power #virus #mind corruption #stepmom

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 3 months

Note

I think your analysis of the current BRF situation is SPOT ON.

However, as a Brit, I would like to add one further caveat. Whether the Sussexes become working royals is not down to the Sussexes, Charles, the Palace or anyone. It is down to the British public. The ENTIRE job of the British royal family is to bring a sprinkle of royal fairy dust and magic to an event or cause in a neutral, apolitical way that everyone can support. Be it the Duke of Gloucester popping into a local school initiative which is subsequently then reported in the local paper, or a glittering State banquet with many royals and tiaras garnering international headlines, that is what they do. In addition, a very few royals (currently William and Catherine, Charles and Camilla) have enough star power and magic (some combination of their titles and personal charisma - William has enough of both that he can bring people together on a global basis) that they can bring people together and CREATE events and initiatives (Earthshot, the Prince's Trust, the Early Years work, Queen Camilla's Lit Fest etc. etc.) but still it is the event, cause or initiative that is the important thing. Harry used to be in the latter camp, with his involvement and name being vital to creating things like Invictus or Sentebale but he has now thrown most of that goodwill away. Meghan has NEVER understood that she was supposed to be casting a spotlight on others, instead of making things all about her own celebrity (as is happening now with Invictus). Together they have created a Sussex brand that is so damaged and polarising that, rightly or wrongly, they would only bring negative publicity to whatever cause or event they were sent to support and people wouldn't want them there. The royal job only works if most people involved agree that royal attendance is a plus. These two have pissed off at least 75% of the British public. There is no way they can do the job, even if H&M, Charles, William and the Govt wanted them to, until their support is round 40-50% at least. That's why these polls happen. Yes, maybe they could embark on a long term rehabilitation process as has happened with Camilla and to a lesser extent the Edinburghs, but as you rightly point out, they a) don't have the patience b) would hate doing all the boring, small, bread & butter events that would entail c) are not getting any younger or more glamorous d) are being rapidly overtaken by the immense star power of the Wales kids. In fifteen years who would you rather attends your event? Bald Uncle Harry and his ageing sex kitten wife? Or young, beautiful Charlotte, Princess Royal?

Yep. It's the one thing universally understood: people in positions of power are only there by popular support. Doesn't matter whether it's soft power (eg celebrities, royal families, influencers, athletes) or hard power (eg governments, corporations, media).

There are also two ways to get popular support: by public consent (eg votes, likes, follower counts) or by leadership force (eg invasion, coups, control).

It looks like Harry and Meghan understand this, but they actually don't. They see Charles and William blocking their ascent to power via consent of the public, which leaves them no choice but to force their way to the top. It's is exactly what they've done: they're controlling press and media coverage (tell-alls about the horrors of the royal family while making sure there's only positive coverage of them), they've established a rival court, and they're securing allies (WME, Tyler Perry, Jamaica, veterans). All the signs are there: the Sussexes are launching a hostile takeover of the royal family. But where they keep fucking up is by not accounting for the British public.

They think if they just get rid of Charles and William, the public will love them. That's why all previous attempts of hostile takeovers (Oprah, Netflix, Spare) have failed; they don't realize that the British public is completely separate from the royal family.

Which is ironic because that's literally the lesson from Diana - the British public will support the people they like irrespective of what the royal family/monarchy tells them to do.

#ask #brf

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nerdpoe · 1 year

Text

TWINcognito mode Part 4 (Tim and Danny Pretend to be Twins AU) (is it still pretending if they genuinely consider each other as twins?)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 5, Part 6, AO3

Danny had a bandage on his hand.

Tim stared at it, then his twin, then the hospital room around them, and finally at Jason.

“Jason what the fuck,” he breathed quietly, gesturing helplessly at the hospital patient on the bed.

“No, you’re what the fuck,” Jason hissed, shoving a finger in Tim’s chest, “You did this on purpose, didn’t you? Well fuck you Replacement, I know where you keep your precious BatMobile and I’m not afraid to torch it.”

How the hell did Jason know where the secret BatMobile was?

Wait, not important.

“Danny, you good?” Tim asked, pushing Jason’s hand away and moving towards his probably slightly high twin, “Did he cut off any fingers?” Did Tim have to cut off any of Jason’s in return?

Because he’d do it. He’d do it in a fucking heartbeat.

Jason could stand to lose a few fingers.

Danny’s too-wide eyes gazed into his, and then the little shit started giggling nonstop.

“Oh yeah, they gave him morphine. Did it even though I told them that giving a meta morphine is a bad idea, but I think they thought he was you, so. They learned the hard way.”

There was energy dancing in arcs around Danny’s fingertips, and Tim was fairly certain he knew that the fake incident of blasting a hole in the wall had just become a real one.

“Tim?” Danny asked, reaching out and burning the lapel he’d managed to grab with the energy running unchecked through his hands.

Tim was so suing the hospital for this.

“Yes, Danny?” He sighed, delicately removing the sparking appendage from his clothes.

“Tim, I think I broke a wall.”

“That’s fine, they deserved it for not listening to your medical proxy.”

Tim heard Jason distantly give a flat “What”.

It was fine, a few seconds of typing and it’d look like Jason had always been a listed emergency contact and medical proxy. He could figure out how to explain that to Bruce later.

He’d also need one of Jason’s aliases.

“Everything is moving, and the ceiling is melting.”

Tim frowned. Usually when he saw shit like that it meant-

-Danny abruptly leaned forward and emptied his stomach on Tim’s shoes.

Tim squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the sound of Jason’s hysterical laughter.

He could also hear a few shutter clicks, god damn it, one of the vultures had trailed in after him.

"Jason, two mill to play bodyguard and handle the vulture behind me."

The laughter stopped abruptly, and Jason went after the paparazzi with far too much enthusiasm.

Tim listened to the distant sound of a bone breaking and agonized screams as he reached forward and rubbed Danny's back.

Danny whined, leaning into his stomach.

"Don't worry; I've got everything handled," Tim was already texting his team of lawyers in one group chat and the Wayne Industries PR team in another.

He'd take care of it; taking care of family was what he did best.

~~~~~~

The phone rang exactly twice before it was picked up.

“Bruce Wayne speaking,” Bruce Wayne answered, not really paying attention to his work phone as he focused on the blueprints to Black Masks newest HQ in front of him.

“Mr. Wayne, we understand that you have a good working relationship with us at the Daily Planet, for all that we’re from your sister city,” a nervous voice sounded on the other side, and Bruce was suddenly paying attention, “And we were wondering if you would be willing to have an interview concerning Tim Drake-Wayne’s hidden twin? The public has many questions, and you know that we’ll treat the story with the respect it des-”

“Danny doesn’t like reporters,” Bruce lied through his teeth; he had no idea what Danny did or did not like, and he would address the lack of press coverage later once he found out what was going on, “How did this get out?”

“Ah, well there may have been a slight incident at the local hospital, and it’s a little hard to hide a wall with a hole blown in it from a high meta.”

What.

“What hospital?”

The line went quiet.

“I…I’m feeling a bit like I’ve just ratted them out, sir.”

“I’m their father, it’s fine; what hospital?”

“Gotham General, sir. Mr. Daniel’s bodyguard broke a paparazzi’s legs as well, so…there’s also questions about using excessive force.”

Bruce allowed himself a moment to close his eyes and lament his quiet evening.

That was Jason. That was 100% Jason. This was absolutely something that had happened between the twins and Jason that they hadn’t wanted Bruce to know.

“I’ll get back to you on that interview,” Bruce said, hanging up without waiting for so much as a goodbye.

Without a word, he walked out of the BatCave and headed towards the garage, trying to occupy his mind to steer it away from imagining catastrophic injuries.

How unfortunate that his brain was insistent on catastrophizing something, and if it wasn’t allowed to imagine injuries, it was going to find something else.

Danny had been largely unknown to the press.

Gotham press Bruce could understand; they would understand the unspoken rule laid out by Janet and Jack to Not Talk About The Twin. But Metropolis news? They wouldn’t care at all.

There would have been reports on it. The Daily Planet would have called to ask for a story on property damage, not about the ‘hidden twin’.

There were other inconsistencies.

There were no pictures of Danny in the Manor, aside from the new one on the mantel that Alfred had managed to get the boy to sit still for. However, he was in the background of all of the photos he’d found of the Drake family online.

If it wasn’t for Barbara stating that she knew him, and for Tim’s easy familial interactions with him, Bruce would swear that Danny really hadn’t existed prior to-

…

Danny hadn’t existed.

He didn’t want to consider the possibility that Barbara lied, but if he did…

Tim enjoyed pranks. Danny was confirmed to have been captured by Ra’s. Danny had escaped. Tim had found Danny. More than likely, they had moved forward from there, and Tim was prone to becoming obsessively protective of family, and Danny was…

Ra’s had reached into a different dimension and grabbed that universe’s version of Tim. Except he hadn’t, because in that universe Tim had been born with an identical twin, and it would have been an easy mistake for someone not expecting that.

Tim and Barbara were trying their hardest to make sure that Danny had a place in this universe. They were trying their hardest to keep him.

Tim was absolutely not researching how to send Danny back; if he had been, he would have started refusing cases for the sake of research.

Bruce hauled himself into his car, started it, and took a moment to rest his forehead on the steering wheel.

He understood it, really. He did.

Danny fit into their family like a missing puzzle piece; he belonged with them.

But Danny was from a different dimension. He had to go home, no matter how much they wanted him to stay. His version of Bruce was probably tearing the laws of reality apart to get him back.

Bruce would do the same for any of his children, especially if it had been a kidnapping and not an accident.

Bruce sighed and slammed the car into reverse.

He didn’t have enough evidence, he would have to ask for further information.

And how he loathed admitting he did not know something.

In the meantime, he called the one person he would never have thought he’d have to ask for help.

He called John Constantine and told him, as Batman, that the Wayne family had a situation.

~~~~~~

John hated the rich.

Unless they were paying him, of course.

Which Bruce bloody Wayne would, if he wanted his help.

It had taken a bit of wandering, fending off hospital security, and walking past a smoking hole in a wall-fucking Gotham-before he’d managed to convince someone to just guide him to the room in question.

And because John was a snoop, and he knew he was, he stopped outside the door to listen in.

“-I know you’re from a different dimension, Danny, we just want to help you go back.”

“I don’t understand what I did wrong, why do you want to kill me?”

“Bruce what the fuck-”

“Old Man you’ve got it wrong-”

“John Constantine is on the way to pinpoint what Dimension you’re from. Danny, this hurts, I don’t want to do this, but you have to go back home.”

“But if you do that I’ll die!”

“Yeah Bruce he’ll-wait you’ll what? What?! Back the fuck up Old Man!”

“B, calm down. Your conclusion is inaccurate and you need to step back.”

“Danny, stop overreacting; your version of Bruce is probably very worried.”

Well this sounded like a lovely family conversation to walk into.

He opened the door without any fanfare and…yup. Rich people.

There was a revenant standing in front of an eldritch being waving an unused IV pole at Bruce Wayne while the CEO of Wayne Industries was trying to pull the old CEO away from the people in front of him.

Bruce Wayne was not moving.

“Right, so…I’m here to take a look at the…” John trailed off, finally getting a good look at the eldritch thing behind the revenant.

That was no kid.

That was an Ancient.

That was not just an Ancient.

That was the High King of the Infinite Realms, trapped in a mortal body and shackled to life.

This was not a God of Death, this was The God of Death; but tiny and human. Tiny, human, and for some unknown reason had chosen the Wayne family to live his life with.

John wasn’t going to pretend to know what went on in the mind of an Ancient Spirit turned God, but he did know how to take in what was in front of him.

The soul was seamlessly integrated into the body, only barely leaking out. There was a tether, presumably to the Infinite Realms, for the overflow of power that the mortal body could not handle. This looked like any other reincarnation, but with something more powerful than a normal soul.

Which meant that this was deliberate, and usually the reincarnated only held bare bone memories of their past life. If John actually did send the kid back to his home dimension, it was literally going to kill him. The only way for the tiny Royal in front of him to go back was through dying.

For all intents and purposes, this was just a kid. A kid acting as the eyes for a literal God.

And Bruce Wayne was about to royally fuck up said God’s judgment of their world.

“Wayne,” John whispered, eyes not leaving the Royal in front of him, “Wayne, we need to talk.”

“Ah, Mr. Constantine, you’re here. If you could-”

“Wayne,” John snapped, voice hoarse, “Get your bloody arse out of the bloody room right bloody now and listen to me!” by the end of his demand, John was not ashamed to admit that his voice had started hitting some very high notes.

Bruce Wayne’s eyes widened, and the fool finally acquiesced.

“Why is that guy always so gross?” He heard behind him as he closed the door.

He elected to ignore it in favor of setting the pompous rich arse in front of him straight.

“He isn’t lying; you send him back to his home dimension, he dies.”

Wayne looked stricken. Good. Now he had his attention.

“He’s a reincarnated soul from the Infinite Realms, and for whatever reason he decided that your family was the one he wanted to have. Why is he this old and a twin to someone who did not have a twin before? No idea. Not my business. But Wayne,” John walked forward, resting his hand on the man's chest before gripping his suit and yanking him down to eye level, “That kid is acting as the Eyes of a God. If you bugger this up, you bugger us up.”

John let the man go and walked away, throwing his business card over his shoulder.

“The JLD will keep in touch.”

~~~~~~

Tim had miscalculated.

Danny was still too high to be of any use.

Jason’s eyes were a luminescent green, so his cognitive faculties were essentially gone as well. Honestly it wasn’t a huge loss on his part, he doubted Jason would have had valuable input anyways.

His only saving grace was the occultist that had actually done something useful; he’d bought Tim time.

A quick text to Barbara that Bruce had catastrophized into the worst case scenario, again, and Tim got to work.

He stripped out of his suit jacket and pointed at Danny, catching Jason’s eyes.

“We’re switching places; help him undress and escort him out. Pay raise to-”

“You don’t have to pay me fucking money to make sure one of my brothers isn’t killed, Replacement,” Jason snarled, dropping the IV stand and turning to make quick work of Danny’s hoodie.

Danny tried to help, really, he did, but he couldn’t seem to find the coordination for it.

Regardless, in the three minutes it took for Constantine to lay into Bruce, he and Danny had managed to not only swap clothes, but to place an identical bandage on Tim’s hand.

Jason had only just managed to get Danny’s hair in the same style as Tim had when he’d walked in before they heard the door start to open again.

Jason took a half step back and placed himself squarely in front of the twins.

Tim was not surprised.

Jason's second worst nightmare, after all, was Bruce becoming a version of Willis he could not protect his siblings from.

From the look on Bruce’s face, he knew it, too.

Tim curled his hand around the batarang he’d hidden up his sleeve, fully prepared to do what he could to buy even more time for whoever Barbara had called as reinforcement to arrive.

But Tim didn’t get a chance to do that, because between one second and the next he was outside and being handed off to Kon by an only slightly winded Bart.

“Guys,” he started, feeling the migraine starting to build.

“It’s okay Danny we’ll break you out of Gotham and then Tim can come with you and then you can live with us forever because Speedsters are the best and-”

“Oracle said you’d been dosed with morphine, so I’m gonna have to carry you like Tim for a bit man. Sorry.”

“Guys-” Tim tried, but was manhandled into Kon’s arms.

“Don’t you worry about a thing Dantheman we’re gonna make sure you’re safe and then you can share your house with Kon because no one messes with Kon and you’ll be safe forever and-”

“You have the wrong twin, buffoons,” a young voice cut through, drawing their attention to the youngest Wayne.

Damian looked thoroughly unimpressed.

The look deepened when they heard the fire alarms start going off in the hospital that were more than likely, statistically speaking, courtesy of Jason.

“Come, Timothy; we must clean up the mess your poor planning has made,” the little demon brat ordered imperiously, turning on his heel and marching into the chaotic hospital.

Tim managed to wriggle out of Kon’s hold and patted his chest.

“Thanks, man,” he sighed, mentally preparing himself for the bullshit he was about to walk into.

Kon gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“I’ve decided that I’m gonna hang out in Gotham for a bit; just call my name if you need me, bro.”

Oh, Tim would.

He paused as he watched a very familiar motorcycle tear down the street.

In fact, Tim was tempted to call for Kon right that very moment.

“Timothy!”

…But he would have to face the consequences of his actions first.

@terzatheunderscorerima @darkbiscuitvoidstudent @akikkobara @reach-for-the-horizon @bitter-coffeecup @moodycow210 @kisatamao @thefantasmarex @fisher-with-the-morbs @jaguarthecat @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair @moonshell25 @tundra1029 @hoarder-of-gender @depressed-bitchy-demon @kisatamao @countessdragon

#dcxdp #dpxdc #TWINcognito mode #tim and danny pretend to be twins au #phanfic

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slutforfictionalwomen · 8 months

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Kinktober Day 1

Natasha Romanoff x Fem Reader

This is my first Tumblr post, I don't know how everything works yet. Normally I write on Wattpad, but I wanted a bigger audience for kinktober, so here I am.

Warnings: Dom/sub, Painkink, Praisekink, Light degration, Spanking.

"Sit down." I just walked into the office of our new Russian teacher, and this is the first thing she says. Hello would've been nice. My first day at college has been finished for ten minutes, and yes, I already got detention on my first day.

"So, miss y/l/n. Could you please explain your behaviour in today's lesson to me?" Professor Romanoff leans slightly forward, holding eye contact.

Thinking back to today's Russian lesson, I didn't really do anything at all. Well, I got late because I couldn't find my cat in the morning when I had to give him his medicine, but that's all really. Though later on, the girl next to me asked me a question. Professor Romanoff heard me speaking when I responded to the girl, and that was detention for me.

"Uhm, I spoke during your lecture, answering another student's question." I escape from her gaze, looking away from her emerald green eyes.

"Eyes on me, miss y/l/n. Now, do you believe that it's appropriate to speak during my lecture?" I look back at her quickly. I immediately look down again, nervously. I catch a glimpse of her cleavage, as she has the top of her shirt unbuttoned.

"Your eyes are travelling places where they're not supposed to be. Answer my question."

My heart skips a beat. Why did she have to notice that? I have to answer her question. She asked if I thought of my behaviour as appropriate.

"No." I answer quickly.

"No who?" She looks at me, clearly unhappy with my short answer. Why does she have to be so strict but so breathtaking?

"No, professor."

"Good girl." She walks over to my side of the desk, circling me. "Now, what are we gonna do about your behaviour in class today?"

I keep quiet, not knowing what she's thinking about. My breathing gets heavier as my ability to think dissappears.

"At a loss of words, huh? Now, be a good girl and bend over the desk for me." She takes my arm and pulls me up.

"W-what?"

"You heard me, bend over the desk, y/n."

I do as she says, I don't know why I keep listening to the older woman. Any normal student would've run out, heading for the principal's office. But I want this. The second I walked into her classroom, she got me nervous. Not because I felt threatened by her, but everyone can see that Natasha Romanoff is stunning.

"You know, detka, you're under no obligation to do this. If you say stop, I will immediately." The professor whispers in my ear, making sure that I'm okay with this.

I nod my head, allowing her to do whatever she wants to me. She truly is the woman of my dreams.

"Use your words, malishka."

"Go ahead, professor." I shiver as her hand slides over my clothed back and butt.

"Good girl, can I take this off?" She tugs on my skirt.

"Yes, professor," I answer, my voice becoming smaller at her actions.

I feel the piece of clothing coming off.

"This one is gonna have to disappear, too," she says, removing my shirt from my body. Now that the shirt falls to the ground, I'm nearly naked. My only coverage is the forest green underwear I chose to put on in the early morning.

"Now, I think ten will be enough." Professor Romanoff is stroking my hair, to my back, to my arse. She keeps doing that for a short while, coaxing me to relaxation.

A sharp pain on my left buttcheek takes me out of my slumber. A yelp escapes my lips at the suddenness of the smack.

Suprisinly, I didn't dislike it. I feel excitement growing between my thighs.

"Stay focused, detka." She chuckles at the suprise in my body language. Then her hand comes down again, on my right buttcheek this time.

This time, I flinch, but I don't make a sound.

Professor Romanoff presses a kiss to my lower back, right before her hand meets my arse for the third time, this time with a lot more fierce.

I keep in the sound that wants to escape, wetness rushing to my pussy.

"Where are those sweet sounds of yours? You're allowed to express your feelings, love." She pulls my thong down, stroking my butt with her fingertips. I let out a sigh at the soft touch.

Her hand comes down harder than before, making me gasp loudly. Professor Romanoff chuckles at my reaction, smacking my buttcheeks for a fifth time. I whimper at her harshness, gripping the edge of the desk.

"Ahw malishka, do you have to hold on to the desk? Don't worry, we're halfway through." She kisses my neck, grazing it with her teeth as she pulls away.

Her hand comes down for the sixth time, lower on my buttcheek. I hold onto the desk, moaning out.

I feel how the wetness between my legs has grown and clench my thighs together, which the older woman immediately notices.

"Nuh uh." She spreads my legs with a quick move. She then pulls me down, so she has access to my pussy.

"Someone is turned on for her teacher, just a little slut." She gathers some of the wetness on her fingers and starts circling my bundle of nerves. I shudder against her, whimpering at the sensation.

With her other hand, she smacks me for the seventh time. She keeps circling my clit, pressing her lips onto my lower back. I feel her smile on my skin.

"Just three more times, sweety, then it will be over." I hear her raspy voice close to my ear. A moan escapes my mouth.

"Ahh!" Her hand comes down on my butt really hard, as she pushes a finger in my pussy. I move my hips against her hand, but pain shoots through my arse. "Hey, stop that now." Professor Romanoff's rigorous voice echos through the room.

I stop my movements for her to push a second finger in. She is clearly experienced since she knows how to hit the perfect spots inside me.

I arch my back, and I feel a hard, last smack of her hand, forcing a squeal out of me.

"I'm so proud of you, detka. You've been such a good girl for me." After pulling her fingers out, she starts pressing wet kisses onto my sore arse.

"Miss?" I ask politely.

"What's it, sweety?" The Russian professor asks between kisses.

"D-don't I get to... uhm, yeah, finish?" I say with a soft voice.

"Oh no, malishka, this was your punishment. But you know, if you come back tomorrow, maybe I'll think otherwise."

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #marvel #kinktober #natasha romanoff x reader

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abarbaricyalp · 4 months

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No Gasoline (The World's on Fire)

I said I was going to write a 'Bucky takes care of Sam fic' that involved a bath and Bucky getting in fully clothed. Voila. On AO3 here

Oddly, it was early morning when Sam dragged himself through the front door of the house he and Bucky shared. Usually, he got home in the afternoon or early evening. He must’ve gotten in late, stayed too long to do paperwork or debriefs, and slept at HQ last night. Usually, he was better about texting Bucky about those kinds of things. True, Bucky had promised to stay off official channels when he wasn’t part of a mission, but Sam had to know that Bucky was keeping tabs on when the jet landed back in New York or DC or LA or wherever it put wheels down.

He looked exhausted. He was still soot covered and bloodied, which meant he hadn’t spent time at HQ. He’d either been traveling this whole time or the fight had gone on far longer than Bucky guessed. Bucky immediately dropped what he was doing–it was dishes, no hardship there–and strode across the room to wrap Sam in his arms. Sam actually went lax against Bucky. Evidently even more exhausted than he looked.

“Hey, I’ve got you,” Bucky breathed. And then he took away the pretense of Sam standing on his own feet and swept him into a bridal hold.

“It went straight to shit, Buck,” Sam mumbled, head lolling against Bucky’s shoulder. “I barely pulled it all back together. There was so much…”

He didn’t finish his sentence. Bucky could guess. Destruction. Devastation. So many casualties. So much blood. Bucky had been kept entirely out of the loop on this one. He didn’t even know where Sam had been, who the antagonist was, what the conflict was. There’d been nothing on the news as far as Bucky could tell, and he paid more attention when Sam went out on things like this. The lack of media coverage at least suggested this wasn’t civilian based. Sam always took those failures, or near failures, harder.

“Stop thinking about it,” he said, like that was possible, like he had any room to say something like that. “You’re home. It’s over. You’re safe, alright?” He pressed a fierce kiss to Sam’s hairline and brought him into the bedroom, sitting him on the edge of the bed.

Sam, of course, immediately stood. “I need to get out of this,” he mumbled, pawing at the star on his chest and then reaching up for his cowl when that didn’t easily give.

“I know, I know,” Bucky assured, reaching for his wrists and holding both between his metal fingers. “I’ve got you,” he repeated. He reached up to finish tugging the cowl off and then reached for the fastens of the suit. Yes, it had the retractable vibra-something technology, but that taxed the materials and, more importantly, Sam needed to feel the suit coming off. He may want to rush through it, but it was just as important that he be grounded in the moment of having it removed from his shoulders.

Once the suit was suitably loosened–though not removed entirely–Bucky held up a finder and ducked into their bathroom to get the tub water running. Their hot water heater was pretty instantaneous, so didn’t have to wait long before stopping up the drain and returning to the bedroom.

Sam had, of course, begun to peel himself out of the suit. The jacket hung around his waist, impeding his access to the pants. Quickly again, Bucky stepped up against him, tucked a knuckle under his chin to make him lift his eyes, and then rested their foreheads together.

“Sam, I’ve got it,” he promised. “I’m right here. Let me help.”

Sam went lax against him again, giving up the fight. Bucky let them stand like that, forehead to forehead and shoulder to shoulder increasingly, as he undressed him. First was freeing the jacket from the pants, exposing Sam’s taut stomach, still tense and battle ready. Then he undid the fastens of the pants and pushed them down Sam’s hips, rested his own knee against Sam’s to keep him from shaking too harshly. He put a hand to Sam’s shoulder until Sam stood back a little, and then he sank to his knees to undo the shinguards Sam wore and the clasps of his boots. Sam swayed slightly on his feet, hip brushing over Bucky’s hair every few breaths. Bucky kept one hand on the back of Sam’s opposite knee when he stood on one foot each to get the boots off, and he finished pulling Sam’s pants down as well.

Then Sam was just in his under armour, which was still damp with sweat. He made fast work of removing the shirt and shorts himself. Bucky ran a hand down Sam’s side, from his ribs, which his heart was thudding heavily against, to his waist, molten with bruises already, to his hips, and then over his flank. Muscles were tense and coiled wherever he touched.

“I’ve got you,” he said again, just in case Sam hadn’t heard him yet. He picked Sam up again, intending to make quick work of getting him into the warm bath, but Sam had tucked his face against Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky tightened his hold around Sam and leaned down to kiss his hairline again before just resting there while Sam panted out desperate, upset breaths against Bucky’s collarbone.

The warm water wouldn’t wait, though. Bucky had to turn it off, if nothing else. He carried Sam into the bathroom, managed to balance him in one arm long enough to turn the water off, and then carefully lowered him into the bath.

The bathtub was a freestanding thing, deep blue with gold accents, ridiculously regal for how the rest of the house looked. There was a drain in the floor for when they inevitably got distracted and overfilled it. The far edges were high arching, perfect for resting their heads back, and it was huge. Definitely big enough for the both of them to fit in together without constantly jarring elbows on the side of the tub.

Sam did lean back into the headrest, eyes closed, face still pinched with frustration and defeat. Bucky ran a hand from his bunched shoulder, down his tight chest. He let his hand get under the water, low on Sam’s ribs, before he leaned forward to kiss his neck softly.

“Doll, you have to breathe. You can get mad again once you’re clean, but you have to breathe and relax in the bathtub.”

Sam tilted his head back to give Bucky more access to his neck, give himself space to sigh with irritation, avoid looking at Bucky.

“They’re going to write it down as a success,” he said. It wasn’t quite through his teeth, but Bucky thought that was only because he was too exhausted to clench his jaw. Probably a good thing. If he tightened one more muscle, he’d snap like a bad rubber band. “Technically the data was gathered. Technically the goal was met.”

“But?” Bucky prompted as he reached for some magic washcloth that they had stumbled upon ages ago. It was always soft, always fluffy. Kept warm water in. Made suds constantly with little soap. He held it over his palm and drizzled lavender scented soap onto the cloth before beginning to run it over Sam’s shoulders. They’d have to go through the process several times. Might even have to drain the tub to get the murkiness out at some point. It was fine. Between them both, they had enough soap to stay entertained for days.

“But it wasn’t a damn success. People died. Information got out. It wasn’t a full on trap. It didn’t feel like they knew the whole plan, but someone found something out in just enough time to throw our intel off. Good agents died.” Beneath the water, Sam’s fingers curled into fists against his legs. Bucky reached down to hold one hand before he could really dig his knuckles into the meat of his thigh.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Bucky placated meaninglessly. He could say it until his tongue went numb and fell out of his mouth. Sam would never believe it and it wouldn’t stymie any of his anger and guilt. Still, Bucky would say it over and over, hoping it’d get through just once.

“I’m Captain America. It’s my mission, my team. Someone somewhere knew and I should have caught it. We just walked in, so damn sure of ourselves.” Sam’s head turned further away so he was entirely facing the far wall. There was a window there–three panes thick and frosted all to hell so there was no clear sight in or out–but it was too dark outside still to see anything. Just the reflection of the two of them.

He closed his eyes again and Bucky switched to a different washcloth to begin clearing away the blood and early scabbing on his chest. There was nothing violently serious. Scrapes and bruises for the most part. There was a blade graze high up on Sam’s right shoulder, but Bucky had seen him cut deeper when he missed a carrot and hit his finger. Bucky maintained, the leather suit was always better protection than all of the high-tech fancy contraptions the newest acronym organization wanted to give him.

“You still wanna talk about it?” he asked, kissing a scrape behind Sam’s ear. Bucky could imagine a thousand ways he’d gotten it. Most of them involved him hitting the ground, which about made Bucky see red.

Sam shook his head. The fight left him. Some of the tension went with it, but not enough. “I’ve been talking about it for hours. No one’s listening.”

“I am,” Bucky offered softly. He squeezed Sam’s hand until the fist finally opened up and he was able to tangle their fingers together. “I’m right here.”

“It’s not gonna change anything. And I know you’re gonna use it as an excuse to climb into the wheel well of the jet next time you don’t get called out with me.”

“I’ve never considered the wheel well,” Bucky lied. “Wouldn’t be so bad. The metal arm would keep me locked in. The wind chafing couldn’t be that bad.”

Sam reached over to shove Bucky’s head in tired, but playful, admonishment. It got water everywhere. “Your nose gets red enough as it is.”

Bucky made a face that Sam missed because he wasn’t looking. “My nose doesn’t get red,” he said, going back to soaping up Sam’s back. Sam leaned forward against the arm across his chest, holding onto Bucky’s forearm to keep him there.

“It gets totally red when you lie,” Sam continued. “You’re a terrible liar. Outta all the spy skills in the world, you can’t lie for shit.”

“I lie perfectly fine!” Bucky objected.

Sam shook his head. “You really don’t. I can catch a lie a mile off. You don’t even have to open your mouth. You start flushing just at the idea of lying to me.”

Bucky scowled at the side of Sam’s head. “I lie fine,” he repeated in a grumble. He rinsed the cloth off in the water and then replaced the soap with some antibacterial thing that smelled like mint. As he started to wipe over Sam’s chest again, he leaned forward to get his mouth on his neck again too. Mostly because he wanted to, partially to distract him from the topic at hand.

Sam’s head lolled, looser this time. His closed eyes weren’t so pinched and his eyelashes almost fluttered as his eyes moved back and forth behind his eyelids. “If you don’t wanna talk about it, do you want a distraction?” he offered instead.

Read the rest on AO3 here

#sambucky #bucky barnes #sam wilson #captain america #sambucky fanfic #the falcon and the winter soldier #writing

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averagewriter-inthedark · 1 year

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Ridin’ The Waves 🏄‍♀️ | Javy “Coyote” Machado Imagine

Takes place before, during and after the events of TGM

TGM masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Javy “Coyote” Machado x pro surfer!reader (romantic), dagger squad (platonic)

Content Warnings: fluff, profanity, pop culture references, details of the 2020 Tokyo Olympics | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 9.1k

Requested 📨 yes/no (for @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby)

Premise: From the moment she could walk Y/n L/n belonged to the sea. Riding the waves that started as a hobby, only to lead her to the world’s greatest sporting stage. It would take time before her dream of Olympic Gold would happen as surfing had yet to be recognized by the IOC. But in her pursuit of becoming the greatest female surfer of all time, Y/n found who she believed was the closest person to paradise.

Note: I gotta say writing athlete/Olympian!reader imagines with the dagger squad are truly some of my favorite. Gosh I cannot wait for next year because that means…..2024 Olympics 👀 Guys I’m almost done with my semester! I have less than two weeks and all i have left to do is a paper and final project !! Almost to the finish thank goodness and then I move in with my friend before starting my summer job! Hope y’all enjoyed this work and let me know what you think!

Be sure to watch the video I linked during the Rock’s segment. I didn’t make it up it actually was a segment during the opening ceremonies on NBC’s coverage.

————————

“Is this heaven?” He laid on the surfboard beside her, feet in the water with the warmth of the sun hit his back. A cool breeze was starting to set in as the most beautiful sunset was before him, painting the sky an endless murrel of pink and orange. Only the subtle echo of the low tide filled his ears. Javy pressed his cheek onto the board, finding her smile which made his own appear at her words.

“More like paradise.”

Everyone had their own definition of paradise. Maybe it was the quiet plains of Montana or the mountains of Appalachia. Maybe it was strolling down the streets of Paris with the Eiffel Tower in the distance. Rain pouring down on New York City with a steaming cup of tea in hand or driving down the Pacific Coast Highway with “California Love” blasting through the radio. Reading a book by the fire next to their soulmate, dancing with strangers at a concert. Ask anyone what they viewed as their own personal paradise and the responses will vary.

Y/n L/n felt she was in paradise almost everyday of her life. Waking up to the view of the ocean while birds flew overhead. Feet hitting the sand as she ran to the waters with her board, anxiously waiting to ride the waves. Salt water coating skin and hair, sun beaming down.

Paradise.

From the moment she could walk the beach became her second home. Having grown up on the island of O’ahu Y/n learned how to surf before riding a bike. Her parents surfed. As did her siblings. Getting an instructor wasn’t needed with a family who knew everything there was about the art of surfing. Y/n received her first board at age four, and from then on her life was devoted to the water. Owning more swimsuits than t-shirts and shorts by the time she reached fifth grade.

She was a natural at best. Always predicting when and where the best waves would be. Timing the push up so perfect others—even her family—were unable to keep up.

“C’mon, leave some for the rest of us,” her brother would groan, missing a wave due to her swooping in at the last second. Y/n only laughed in return.

“Gotta be faster than that.”

Her parents, surfers themselves, were basically her coaches. On weekends they were waking her up at the crack of dawn, breakfast on the counter and telling her to be on the beach when she was done. Then of course she had to apply sunscreen, the substance coating every inch of her skin. Once on the beach a thirty minute run and stretching was mandatory before she could get in the water.

Skipping such a step would have her sore all night.

“We’re gonna work on your 360, cutback, and tube ride before finishing the day with cleaning up your alley oop.”

“If I don’t make a lot of mistakes can we watch Lilo & Stitch after dinner?”

“Yes, that is a fair deal.”

Mistakes? What are those? Mistakes weren’t in Y/n’s nature and if they occurred it was a rare sighting. Only time Y/n ever did mess up on a maneuver was when she was first learning it. Once she had it down it was impossible to lose.

All the friends she made loved going to the beaches after school and on weekends—getting all their homework done during the school hours so their entire afternoon was free. They signed up for competitions together, Y/n entering her first at age 14 for the 2004 Juniors season after competitions in regionals since age 11. “You’re gonna win the comp, Y/n.”

“Oh stop playing,” she brushed her best friend off, only to hear the murmurs of agreement from the rest of the group.

“I’m serious! You catch the best waves and ride them perfectly. Those judges are gonna be amazed on Saturday—I bet you’ll even get a sponsor.”

Her best friend was right. Not only did Rip Curl—THE Rip Curl want Y/n to be the face of their new campaign, but the surfing world would know her name for generations to come.

“Welcome back to our coverage of the 2004 ISA World Junior Surf Championship here in beautiful O’ahu, Hawaii here on ESPN. We’re dwindling down on the final competition with the defending champion from last year's event, sixteen-year-old Carolina Kanoa, and newcomer, Y/n L/n. If you’ve been watching the competition then you know all eyes have been on the fourteen-year-old native of Kapolei here on O’ahu, who scored the highest in her heats and received all tens in the quarterfinals after a perfect run.”

“It was quite the sight, Tom. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so effortless in this competition. Y/n’s delivered a captivating performance each wave she’s catched—always getting the first one in her heats and pulling out a big score putting her high on the leaderboard. I wouldn’t be surprised if we see her on top of the podium today.”

“For anyone watching at home who are new to surfing or just want a little refresh on the scoring system, here is how it works: a panel of five judges determine a score one through ten, ten being the best, for each surfer on their wave based on degree of difficulty, innovative maneuvers, combination of major maneuvers, the variety of said maneuvers, and the speed, power, and flow. The highest and lowest score are thrown out leaving the remaining three, which are then averaged out. Now a surfer can catch as many waves as they please but only the two highest scoring waves will be added together to give the total score for that heat. From there competitors are eliminated until there are two finalists.”

Treading water, Y/n paid close attention to the scene in front of her. With only three minutes left on the clock, she was one wave away from crowning herself the Junior World Champion.

“Give me a sign,” she breathed in the salty air. Her thoughts were answered seconds later by a chill running down her neck, gaze snapping to the left where she saw the water draw back. Springing into action, Y/n paddled towards the forming wave, timing it at the perfect moment to end the competition on a bang. She heard the crowd cheer when she stood up, increasing each maneuver she did until finally riding out the end of the wave right as the bullhorn sounded.

Her heart pounded, “Did I just win?” Damn sure she did. Nothing could describe the feeling of holding the championship trophy at the top of the podium. And what made it ten times better, an ambassador of Rip Curl offered her a sponsorship. Before long Y/n’s name and face were plastered across all their campaigns. After winning the ISA Junior World Championships three years in a row—making her a household name in surfing—Y/n went on to senior international competitions. From there her glory only skyrocketed.

ISA World Surfing Games, World Surf League, Rip Curl Pro, Big Wave Tour, Vans Triple Crown of Surfing. Y/n’s little shelf of trophies turned into a full length china cabinet. Traveling back and forth from O’ahu to America. Sometimes even going to South America and Japan for international comps. By age 19 she had created her own maneuver earning her even more attention due to the level of difficulty.

“I don’t see what the fuss is about?” She chewed on a piece of spam, leaning her elbows on the kitchen counter. “All I did was add a couple of extra spins on my aerial.” Her mother gave her a bewildered look.

“That move in itself is difficult, Y/n. Not many perform it in competition and the fact you successfully landed one—with your little spoof nonetheless, people are gonna be amazed.”

“Well, I guess I just got lucky.”

Following high school Y/n turned professional and moved to Honolulu to attend the University of Hawai’i at Mānoa where she studied sports management with a minor in sports science. A family friend had an old Volkswagen Type 2 and Y/n was happy to take it off their hands, fixing it up to have the perfect beach van. Once classes were done for the day Y/n was packing it up with her board, cooler, boombox, and her closest friends.

“You sure this thing isn’t gonna break down on us?”

“Don’t insult Sandy. She’s as good as new,” okay that was a stretch, the van was literally 60 years old, “and I filled her up on gas this morning so we shouldn’t find ourselves on the side of the road.”

“Thanks for the confidence, Y/n. Much appreciated.”

It wasn’t uncommon for people to recognize her on campus. Having generated a public image in surfing—which many of her peers were also involved in—meant she was bound to hear, “Hey, you’re Y/n L/n?” “Oh my gosh I’ve been watching you compete since you were a junior competitor.” “Congrats on winning the Pro this year.”

There were times professors kindly asked, “Can you sign this for my kid? They’ve been into surfing lately and you’re their favorite athlete.” Taking photos with supporters happened occasionally as did giving advice to those wanting to get into surfing. It was a nice feeling for the woman to be able to inspire people and share the sport she loved.

Expanding the art of surfing to the world.

Four years of college seemed to fly by fast. Y/n was surprised she managed to pull through with a 3.6 GPA and graduate Cum Laude with everything in her life. A lot of the competitions were during the school year so Y/n had lots of work on her plate—thankfully some instructors were reasonable and allowed her to get an advance on the material. But she completed her degree with immense relief, aiming to get a career in sports going either by becoming a trainer or manager following her retirement from surfing.

“Y/n, It’s so great to see you again this year at the World Surf League World Championship. You recently graduated from the University of Hawai’i, you’re set to compete in today’s finals to defend your title—how many would this be for you? Number seven?”

Y/n chuckled with the reporter, brushing away a stray piece of hair. “Lucky number seven, yes. I’m so happy and grateful to be competing today—excited to hit the water and try to catch the best waves possible. Regardless of the outcome today I’m just really happy to be here again. I always look forward to this time of year—being able to compete and after working so hard in school this last semester, it’s definitely a relief to not have to worry about finishing a paper last minute once this comp ends.”

“There’s been recent talk of surfing possibly becoming an Olympic sport after much demand following the London Games this year. What are your thoughts? Do you think it’ll be featured in Rio and if so are you going to try and make the team?”

Since becoming a professional sport in 1959 following the first West Coast Surfing Championship in Huntington Beach, California, surfing had yet to reach the greatest sporting stage. The Olympic Games. Held every four years where thousands of athletes from around the globe come together to compete for the chance at gold. Duke Kahanamoku, the father of modern surfing and three-time Olympic freestyle swimming champion having won gold at the 1912 and 1920 Games respectively, first advocated the sport to be in the Olympics back in 1920. Had it not been for him, surfing may not have become as popular in the world as it was.

When it came to the Olympics, Y/n loved sitting by the tv to watch Team USA. Witnessing historic moments and record breaking finishes she was in awe of every athlete who came across the screen. Swimming, diving, track, gymnastics, soccer. So many sports events in a single fortnight. She hoped surfing would become an official sport in the Games. For she too had dreams of an Olympic gold around her neck.

Pausing for a moment, Y/n smiled at the thought of her becoming an Olympic Champion, “I think a lot of us can agree that we’d like to see surfing become part of the Olympic family. It’s one of the oldest sports and has its own professional circuit for decades now—I mean we’ve got people here today from Japan, Italy, El Salvador and Australia. Why not include it? And you can definitely expect me to be training the moment it is.”

It would be four years before Y/n could make do with that promise. On August 3, 2016, two days prior to the opening ceremonies of the Games of the XXXI Olympiad, the IOC announced surfing would finally be an Olympic sport.

“Exciting news for the surfing world,” the headline appeared on the screen of ESPN’s afternoon coverage, “the International Olympic Committee has just confirmed the sport will be introduced for the first time in its history at the Tokyo Olympics taking place in 2020–marking 100 years since surfing legend Duke Kahanamoku first started advocating for it to be featured. Professional surfing isn’t new to international competition having debuted at Huntington Beach, California in 1959. Since then there’s been several meets featuring surfers from all over the world—the most recent being the 2016 Rip Curl Pro where ten-time World Surf League champion Y/n L/n claimed the title once again for the fifth time since her senior international debut in 2007. L/n is just one of many professional surfers who’ve advocated for surfing to be in the Olympics over the years and expressed interest in competing for a chance at gold. With the confirmation by the IOC this morning, I’d say we’ll be seeing her at the trials in four years.”

The morning after the announcement Y/n headed to the beach to find her father propping her board into the sound. “So four years, huh?” Y/n crossed her arms over her chest, feeling the wind breeze past them.

“Seems like a long way, but it’ll be around the corner before we know it.”

“We better get started then.”

Morning, afternoon, evening. Every day Y/n was on the water catching waves left and right. Perfecting maneuvers, getting air in her aerials. When taking breaks she’d go on runs and to the gym. She still participated in yearly competitions and surfed with her friends, but her training habits became more intense as she prepped for Tokyo. When she wasn’t sleeping, eating, or competing she was on the water.

By 2019 Y/n had accumulated the most titles won by a female surfer with ten ISA World Surfing Games—formerly the World Surfing Championships, ten Rip Curl Pro trophies, five QuickSilver pro Gold Coast, five-time triple crown winner, and the 2016 champion of The Eddie Aikua Big Wave International. Winning The Eddie and becoming the first woman in history to do so after the event returned from a seven-year hiatus had Y/n on the front page of several sports magazines around the world. It was a huge accomplishment. Pushing Y/n as the favorite to win gold in Tokyo.

Towards the later end of the year, October in fact, Y/n found herself on the sunny beaches of San Diego, California. August to November were the best months to surf in the area, being it was late summer going into fall where the heat wasn’t excruciating. Still one had to wear a wetsuit to even touch the water.

Y/n was in town to visit an old friend from college and to help the Pacific Beach Surf Club with their beach cleanups and participate in a charity competition. Having traveled in San Diego a few times she was no stranger to the club and welcomed with open arms. Volunteering in their cleanups was the least she could do to prepare the beach for the charity event.

When they finished they all changed out of their clothes into wetsuits, wasting no time to hit the waves. “Hey!” Her friend yelled from where she was treading water, tone teasing, “be sure to leave some for the rest of us, yeah?” Y/n threw her head back in laughter.

“I make no promises!”

Anytime Y/n surfed out of training or competition she felt so free. No pressure to be perfect. No shouting from her father. No commentary from the sportscasters or questions from reporters. Only her, her board, and the beautiful sea.

She cheered on her friend and the people in their cleanup group when they caught waves. Complimenting them whenever they did a cool trick. In return they whistled and hollered for her. They soon developed an audience from the shore. Children and adults alike stop to watch them in awe. Instantly drawn to Y/n who glided effortlessly, guiding her board into a tube ride.

Unbeknownst to the surfer, a group of navy pilots had stopped their game of dogfight football to observe the show.

Jake whistled, “Damn she’s good.” Mickey agreed.

“I don’t think I’ve seen someone surf like that. She’s a natural.”

“Probably has been doing it for years,” Bradley commented, fixing his aviators. Natasha and Bob hummed in agreement.

“I think I’m in love,” Javy breathed out, simply in awe of what he was witnessing. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen showcasing talent on a board he could only dream of possessing.

He wondered what her laugh sounded like, seeing her head tilt back at something her friend said. Even from the distance her smile was breathtaking. Hair pulled back into a tight bun, body adored in a wetsuit to combat the cool water. A cheeky smirk thrown at her peers when she started paddling toward a forming wave. Standing on the board like a pro and making all kinds of turns and tricks Javy knew he’d wipe out the second he attempted them. Speaking of wiping out, she hadn’t done it once.

Jake nudging him from the side snapped him out of his daydream, “Go talk to her.” At the nod of his head, Javy realized she was running across the sand, stopping when she got to an area of coolers, towels, and backpacks.

“No!” He hissed, eyes reading, ‘are you crazy?’

“Why not? Just go up and start complimenting her. Ask her how long she’s been surfing. That’ll start a conversation.”

Javy scoffed, “Easy for you to say, Mr. Ken Barbie Doll who doesn’t need a confidence boost when talking to women.” Jake went to rebuttals but the sound of Reuben coughing stopped him.

“Uh guys….” He lifted a finger, their gazes following to find a family of four approaching the young woman. They couldn’t hear what was being said, but seeing her take a notepad from the little girl before scribbling in what appeared to be an autograph followed by the father snapping a photo with his phone, it was enough to conclude she was someone.

“Are…is she signing autographs?” Javy wondered aloud. He watched her sign the little boy's boogie board, posing for a photo with him before kneeling down to be on both the children’s level and smile for the camera. Hell even the parents wanted a photo, one of her friends coming over to hold the phone while they positioned themselves on either side. Then finally the whole family had a group one, saying their goodbyes and thank you’s to the woman who waved as they left.

“So she’s kinda famous,” Bradley said the obvious, everyone in a daze. Probably trying to figure out who the woman was, as none had recognized her as an actress or singer.

While they were busy investigating, Y/n unzipped her wetsuit leaving her bikini underneath and pulled on shorts with a graphic t-shirt overtop. “What are you guys doing after this?”

“We’re gonna grab some drinks at The Hard Deck. You down?”

“The Hard Deck?” She repeated with a tilt of the head. Never had she heard of the place.

“It’s that bar over there,” Y/n turned to the direction her friend was nodding at, eyes landing on a building not far from where they stood. “Great vibes, but I must warn ya it’s always filled with Navy fellas.” Y/n perked up slightly. Having lived on O’ahu all her life she was familiar with Navy personnel. After all, Pearl Harbor was located just on the coast of the island.

“Really?”

“Yeah, Miramar is not too far from here. It’s where the pilots train so expect to see some in flight suits.”

At around 6 the group packed it up and headed for the bar. Upon entry Y/n saw exactly what her friend had warned. The place was buzzing. Servicemen and women on every corner, music blasting from the jukebox. They approached the bar top to order a round of beers before settling over by the high top tables, splitting the group up since there were about eight of them.

“Check it out, Machado,” Payback clapped his friend’s back, making him turn to where his attention was. Javy’s eyes widened upon seeing the surfer.

“Did they just get here?”

“Looked like it. You should talk to her—especially since this is the second sighting in mere hours.” The pilot rolled his eyes.

“I don’t wanna come off as a creep, Fitch. What am I supposed to say ‘Hey, sorry if this is weird but I saw you surfing earlier—can I buy you a drink?’ She might throw me to the sharks.”

Natasha shook her head, “men.” A moment later Penny arrived with a tray of beers, placing them down on the seat beside Bob where the guys were shooting pool, “delivery for my favorite dagger squad.”

Thanks were sent her way followed by Jake asking, “Say Pen, you know those guys?” The bartender glanced over her shoulder to see who he was referring to, nodding with a smile.

“Oh that’s some members of the Pacific Beach Surf Club. They were cleaning up the beach earlier for tomorrow's charity competition. Expect the place to be packed if you drop by, it’s always a madhouse. This year they’ve got some of the best surfers participating.”

“Do you know if she’s one of them,” Javy tried to act cool when pointing out the woman.

Upon Penny’s smirk, the answer was clear, “Unless my eyes are deceiving me, I believe that’s ten-time world surfing champion Y/n L/n.”

“Ten?!” Mickey repeated, “Holy shit.” Around him the others were matching his expression. Javy immediately grabbed his phone to type in the name. Sure enough the image of the woman seated at the table appeared on his screen. Clicking on the Wikipedia page he started to read aloud for the group the opening paragraph.

“Y/n M/n L/n, born y/b/m yb/d, 1990 is an American professional surfer from Kapolei, O’ahu, Hawaii and a ten-time World Surf League Women’s World champion, the most titles won by any female surfer to date. L/n made her debut at the World Surf League Junior Championships at age 14 in 2004 in her native O’ahu, winning three consecutive times before turning to senior international competition where she’s won a total of forty world titles—including becoming a five-time triple crown winner. As of 2016, L/n is the defending champion and first women to win the Eddie Aikau Big Wave Invitational. She is set to compete at the first ever U.S Olympic Trials in hopes of making the Tokyo Olympic Team where surfing will make its debut at the Olympics.”

“Well I’ll be damned,” Jake peered over Javy’s shoulder, watching him scroll down to view Y/n’s career statistics. Mickey appeared on the opposite side, whistling under his breath. Natasha took out her own phone to search herself, Bradley, Bob, and Payback all glancing over to see.

“She’s literally called the greatest surfer of this generation,” Bradley pointed out. “Talk about intimidating.”

“Now you gotta buy her a drink, Machado,” Payback concluded, igniting another glare from his friend. “Say you pulled an Olympian.”

“I’ll take it to her,” Penny offered, and before Javy could stop her the woman was back behind the bar. They watched her take a Corona from the cooler, add a lime and proceed to the table the athlete was at. “From the gentlemen by the pool tables,” Penny smiled at Y/n, nodding to the group, “the one the blonde is pointing at.” Turning her head, Y/n saw the guy in question pushing his friend’s hand down, a reddish hue on his cheeks when they made eye contact followed by a wave.

‘Well hello there,’ she thought, smiling at the handsome man. He was in a pair of basketball shorts and t-shirt reading NAVY in bold letters. The group he was with all scattered to make it look like they weren’t eavesdropping when Y/n approached, Corona in hand, “Hi.”

“Hello,” even his voice was attractive. Everything about him was. From his clear smooth skin to his dazzling smile. Toned arms and legs.

“Thanks for the beer.”

“Anytime,” he tipped the one in his hand, Y/n clicking hers against it. “Sorry if this is weird at all. I saw you surfing earlier and was trying to muster up the courage to come talk to you….but couldn’t find the words to say.”

Y/n smirked, gesturing to an empty pool table, “how about a game? Maybe it’ll help loosen your nerves.” Moving to a cue Y/n sees his grin widen, “I’m Y/n by the way.”

“I’m Javy, but you can call me Coyote.”

“Coyote?” She repeats with a chuckle, “That’s an interesting nickname.”

“Callsign actually,” he politely corrects before explaining he was a naval aviator. Grabbing his own cue while she sets up the rack, he added, “Wasn’t my doing.”

“Then how’d you get it?”

“Um…” he made a face, as though he was embarrassed to say. “I’ll tell you if you win this match.” A sound between a scoff and a laugh escaped her.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be.” Javy raises his hands in defense, laughing with her. “And if you win?”

His own smirk appears, “You give me your phone number…maybe even let me take you out.” Biting back a grin and fighting the warm feeling in her chest, Y/n removes the rack leaving the pool balls neatly centered.

“Challenge accepted, Coyote.”

It was safe to say both came out as winners that night. Though Y/n won the game and got the scoop on Javy’s callsign origin, he walked away with her number and plans to have dinner the following night after her charity event. Javy made the promise to come out and watch her surf, excited to see her in action. Hearing Y/n talk about the sport and her accomplishments was even cooler in person than reading it off the internet. From her amateur days to becoming a full blown professional. Winning countless championship titles, being the first woman to win The Eddie and her dream to win gold at the Olympics.

Javy was smitten.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” She smiled when they reached her van at the end of the night. They talked for hours to the point they lost track of time. It was 11 o’clock and she had to be up at five.

“You said it starts at noon?” At her nod Javy continued, “I’ll be there. And I look forward to our dinner plans after.” Y/n felt the heat rise, hoping it wasn’t displaying on her face.

“Me too. Thank you for a fun night, Javy,” feeling bold, Y/n leans to place a kiss on his cheek. The action leaves him stunned, smile growing bigger as she pulls away. “See you on the beach.”

Now Javy had loved the beach before meeting Y/n. But his love for it and the ocean only grew the moment he watched her ride the waves. Cheering from the sand as she dropped down and glided the tide with ease. It made him want to stay there forever.

He understood quickly why she was regarded as the greatest female surfer of all time. Yeah it was a charity competition and not a world championship, but Y/n treated the waves no differently. She was a beast. Total control of her board, little to no mistakes.

Their dinner date was filled with laughter, flirty sarcasm, stories so outrageous one would think they were bluffing. Javy spoke of his time at Top Gun and his friendship with Jake. Y/n told him about her college days. Both engaged in conversations about dreams and aspirations. Yeah they had their dream careers, but one can always dream bigger. Dream about friendship, dream about love.

Dream about the future.

When the night came to an end, Y/n laid her head on the pillow with a smile on her face, “I think this might be paradise.”

23 July 2021–The Hard Deck, San Diego California.

“It’s almost time for USA!” Javy hushes everyone, grabbing the remote to increase the volume. The place was packed mostly with the squad's friends, colleagues, the Pacific Beach Surf Club, and college students from UC San Diego. Togethery they were gathered to watch the opening ceremonies of the 2020 Tokyo Olympics.

The Tokyo Olympics.

Finally after a whole year of waiting the Games were finally being held. A global pandemic sure would be the only thing to stop the most iconic two-week sporting event in the world.

And Javy’s girlfriend, 12x World champion Y/n L/n, was there to be part of surfing's Olympic debut. Gold on her mind.

The two had been long distance the majority of their relationship, but FaceTimed nearly every day with promises to visit as soon as restrictions were lifted. Y/n traveled to San Diego in the winter of 2020 to mark the couple’s one year anniversary. Then Javy flew to Hawaii in the spring, spending two weeks in Kapolei where most time was spent surfing and late night drive on the beach.

“There’s no place I’d rather be,” he sang at the top of his lungs, windows rolled down .

“Than on my surfboard out at sea,” Y/n followed, smile wide on her face with her hair blowing in the wind.

“Lingering in the ocean blue.”

“And if I had one wish come true.”

Together they sang, “I’d surf ‘til the sun sets beyond the horizon!”

Y/n tilted her head back, “‘Āwikiwiki, mai lohilohi. Lawe mai i ko papa he’e nalu.”

Belting out together once again, their voices echoed in the night, “Flying by on the Hawaiian roller coaster ride!!”

“‘Āwikiwiki, mai lohilohi. Lawe mai i ko papa he’e nalu.”

“Pi’i nā nalu lā lahalaha. ‘O ka Moana hānupanupa.”

“Lalala i ka lā hanahana. Me ke kai hoene i ka pu’e one.”

“Heel, hele mai kākou ē.”

“Hawaiian roller coaster ride!”

During the Olympic surf qualifying event in Huntington Beach the whole squad was in attendance to cheer Y/n on. Javy embraced her in tears, lifting her onto his shoulders to the hollars and whistles of their friends and family.

Y/n was officially an Olympian.

Now usually during the parade of nations of the opening ceremonies Greece is the first to enter the arena followed by the countries in alphabetical order with the hosting nation entering last. Having waited a whole year due to the Covid-19 pandemic, the world was excited to get the Games started. But to everyone’s surprise the order of the parade of nations would proceed differently than prior Olympics.

Greece still entered first, followed by the Refugee Olympic Team and then the nations paraded in based on where they fell on the Gojūon system. Japan would be the last country to march in, but for the first time ever the hosting countries of the next two Olympics entered before the hosting country. And what were those two countries?

France and The United States of America.

Paris was set to host the upcoming 2024 Games just three years away, and then in 2028 Los Angeles gets the honor once again of bringing the world together. The last time LA hosted was in 1984, and the last time America itself hosted the Summer Games was Atlanta 1996.

“Okay everyone shut up!!” The tv was turned to the loudest volume possible, all in attendance falling to hush whispers.

“Everything changes,” Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson’s voice echoes through the speakers, his silhouette figure walking into an empty arena. “The longest wait of their lives is over.” The beat of the music gets louder, building in pressure. “And the combination of their blood, sweat, and tears,” his face is revealed under the light, “finally arrives.”

The beat drops in time with the image of fireworks rocketing from the Rio arena, an announcer’s voice stating, “this is the moment that you all have been waiting for.”

“It’s not easy to bring the entire whole planet together,” the Rock states, “and it certainly wasn’t tonight. But, here we are.”

“Finally!”

“It’s finally here.”

“The Olympics are finally here,” Gold Medalist Simone Biles grins.

“Yeah, I’m hyped up.”

“Can’t wait to show the world what I got.”

The image shows Dwayne once again, “Tonight we are all so lucky to witness the hardest workers in the room.” Then it changes to athletes training, from gymnast Sam Mikulak to sprinter Noah Lyles. “The athletes who are a brilliant tapestry of talent, commitment, and drive.”

“Drive, drive, drive!”

“Now what was once considered unthinkable just one year ago has become a glorious reality. We come together united to celebrate the Olympians who exemplify the very best in all of us.”

🎼 legs are shaking, hands aching, 🎼

Simone Biles appears, determination in her gaze as she races down the vault runway. “It’s Simone’s party and everyone else is just a guest,” Tim Daggett’s voice cuts in during the clip of Simone at the World Championships, followed by the Rock.

“She is absolutely the greatest gymnast the world has ever seen. But even if there’s nothing left to prove, there’s a chance to launch herself even higher into the rarest air of immortality.”

As Simone lands her vault, it transitions into Katie Ledecky entering the pool. “The most dominant swimmer in the world.” “It’s just ridiculous!”

“She swims like a machine created to wreak havoc and decimate with impunity.”

“Katie Ledecky smashes her own world record!”

“But in reality she’s about the nicest person you’ll ever meet,” the rock’s face returns, bearing his own smile like Katie. “And kindness matters. Always.” Track star Noah Lyles running takes over. “He makes running as fast as you can look the way it’s supposed to look.”

“NOAH LYLES, WORLD CHAMPION!”

Dwayne grins, “Damn fun.” The next athlete featured was the one they were all waiting for.

“On dry land she’s impressive, in the water she’s simply lethal,” the Hard Deck erupted in cheers, Y/n flashing onto the screens showcasing her drop in during the WSL World Tour.

“That’s my baby!!!” Her name appeared in big bold letters like the others, ‘Y/n L/n. Kapolei, O’ahu, HI.’

“Monstruos wave for Y/n L/n, but she handles it like a pro.” The clip shows her pointing to the sky in victory following her win. “She’s here to prove why surfing should’ve been in the Olympics ages ago,” the Rock looks proud, “and look cool as hell while doing so.”

The tone of the video shifts, bringing forth the raw and emotional reality of athletes who’ve given every inch of their soul to be on the world’s greatest sporting stage. “They’re kids from Minneapolis—.”

“Kenny Harrison!” A girl crosses the finish line in joy, soon embraced by her father. “Raleigh.”

Fellow surfer and native Hawaiian Carissa Moore is shown, “And Honolulu.” A baby in a stroller being pushed by her mother. “They’re working moms with unfinished business.” Allison Felix with her daughter.

“This is what makes all the sacrifice worth it.”

Simone Manuel becoming the first Black woman to win an individual Olympic gold at the 2016 Rio Games. “The barrier breakers who’ve proven the power of the platform.”

“I can’t begin to tell you what this means for the sport of swimming in the United States.”

“There’s Jordan—!” A montage of Gold medal winning teams flashed. The Fab Five. The women’s soccer and basketball teams. The women’s rowing team. The Fierce and Final Five of U.S Gymnastics. “And the teams that have dominated for generations with no intention of changing the script for this one.”

“Get the gold medals ready. Again!”

“These awe-inspiring multi-talented athletes are taking on the world.”

🎼 ‘You bring me back to life.’ 🎼

Between the music and feel good montage, some of the viewers in the hard deck were having trouble holding back tears. Chills racking up their body. It made them want to get out and start training to be a world class athlete.

“They really are the best of us. They’re bringing us together.”

“That’s a new world record!”

“And they’re about to give you, at long last, the greatest two-week spectacle the world has ever seen.” Close ups of Team USA’s Olympians rolled, Javy wiping his eyes when Y/n appeared. “It is their Games. It is our Games.”

Absolute chills.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am so grateful to have the honor of presenting to you….Team USA.” At the last word the Rock disappears, cutting to Team USA entering the Tokyo dome—the American flag flying high, “USA! USA! USA!” Though they couldn’t hear the cheers from the Hard Deck across the ocean, that didn’t stop the building from erupting in whistles. It was only the opening ceremonies so one could imagine what it would be like come the 26th and 27th.

When Y/n hits the waves for a chance at Olympic gold.

Tsurigasaki Beach, located 40 miles from Tokyo, was the place where it would all happen. The damp sand beneath Y/n’s toes felt comforting. Although the overcast skies made her worried. Tropical Storm Nepartak caused the waves to be more aggressive and unpredictable. It was going to be an interesting day of competition.

After qualifying with a big score in her heat the previous day, Y/n was set to compete in the quarterfinals that morning. From there the semi-final contestants would be decided, going straight into the event before finals that afternoon. Three events in one day if she made it all the way to the end.

“I’m going to be so sore tonight.”

Shortboard in hand, Y/n raced to the water the second the horn sounded. Instant shivers along her arms from the cold feeling. Cloudy skies prevented the sun from heating the water, “goodness gracious.”

Quarterfinals breezed by. Y/n started off strong with a score of 7 for her first wave, going on to claim two more, another 7 and an 8 bringing her total score to a 15. Putting her, American Carissa Moore, South African Bianca Buitendag and Japan’s Amuro Tsuzuki into the semifinals.

“Stellar performance by Y/n L/n of the United States. She had a bit of trouble on her second wave—which we can’t blame her for; many competitors have been having difficulty today due to the impact of tropical storm Nepartak on the tide. L/n’s score of 15 puts her at the top for the quarterfinals, but that can all change when we return for the semifinals in the next hour. It looks like she’ll be up against Japan’s Amuro Tsuzuki for one of two spots in the gold medal match.”

“That’s how you do it,” Javy clapped at the tv, the footage replaying Y/n’s competition highlights. “Semi-finals here we go.”

During the semis the pressure was on. Y/n could feel it all over, anxiety coursing when the horn sounded. Thirty minutes on the clock, ticking down to eliminate either her or Amuro. Usually her luck turns out for the better whenever she gets the first wave, however, Amuro beats her to it. Catching the next one Y/n focuses on pulling speed and managing her flow into the maneuvers, receiving a score of 6.2 on her first wave, 8.3 on her second and 7 on her third. Unfortunately a wipe out early on her fourth and final wave results in a score of 3.

“Is that gonna be enough?” Jake cringes, noticing the look of unease on his friend's visage. Y/n appeared shaken from the wipe out. Very rare has she ever messed up greatly in competition. But there’s always a first for everything.

Javy had a paper in front of him, writing down Y/n’s scores and the ones of her competitors to predict what she needed and if she was qualified to the final round.

“Her six and seven will be dropped, putting her at 11.30,” he taps the pen on the bar surface, “if Amuro doesn’t get another wave in the next,” Javy checks the time, “two minutes then it should put Y/n through to the finals.”

Amuro did in fact catch another wave before the horn sounded, ending their round in the semis, but it wasn’t enough. Her total score accumulated a 7.43, eliminating her from the final competition.

“One more,” her father/coach took a hold of her shoulders. “You’re almost there, Y/n.” Almost to the gold. “Rest up, you got one hour.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice. Picking up a water bottle and plotting on the sand Y/n downed the liquid and munched on an apple. To pass time she scrolled through Tik Tok, sent a selfie to Javy—who sent one of him and the squad back—and called her family in O’ahu to calm her nerves. She had already talked with Javy that morning before quarterfinals, promising to FaceTime him after the finals.

It was nerve racking. Regardless of how the event went, Y/n was guaranteed the silver medal. USA would take home both Gold and Silver in surfing’s debut being fellow American Carissa Moore beat out South Africa’s Bianca Buitendag in their round.

One competition left.

Bidding good luck to Carissa, Y/n took her position and waited for the horn. Thirty minutes on the clock. Thirty minutes to a gold medal.

“Here we go,” Payback announced in time with Y/n paddling out to sea. Javy rubbed his hands together, eyes glued to the screen.

“And the two Americans are off in the first ever gold medal match for surfing. Carissa Moore, the 2019 WSL World Champion, and twelve-time title holder Y/n L/n head-to-head to declare who will become the woman to win surfing’s first gold medal. Both have exemplified great performances today—it’s not easy doing a quarterfinals, semi-finals, and finals all in one day, but these pros make it look easy.”

“There she goes!” Nat shouted, earning cheers at the bar when Y/n caught the first wave of the competition.

“Kicking off with the first wave, in just two minutes of the clock starting is Y/n L/n. Dropping in beautifully, easing into the wave…..Straight into an roundhouse cutback, which she does flawlessly. Bottom turn, I think she’s gonna try and do a off-the-lip right here….and she nails it! I think she’s hoping to elongate this wave as far out as she can. Carving now and finishing with a 360 into an Ariel. Wow! That was a great start by Y/n.”

“Yeah that’s what I’m talking about!” Javy shouted over the cheers, grin plastered wide only to brighten more when the score came back a 8.7. “HELL YEAH! LETS GO!”

Carissa’s wave was impressive. She managed to hold it down with complicated moves to earn a 8.5. Both women scored huge on the first waves followed by 7s across the board. Nearing the final five minutes Carissa managed to get a 6.43.

“She can’t get anything lower than a 6.23,” Javy felt sweat pool on his forehead, suddenly feeling hot in the bar despite it being the ass crack of dawn.

“She’s got this,” Nat patted his back.

The clock was ticking down. Two minutes to go and Y/n had yet to find a wave. Placing her palm onto the surface, she took a deep breath, “please, give me a sign.” Not a moment later she felt something in her say to look right.

There, brimming about fifteen feet away, was the perfect wave.

Wasting no time Y/n’s chest planted to her board, paddling as fast as possible. Her heart was pounding, salt water splashing. Positioning herself in front of the forming body, Y/n silently called out to whoever was listening for strength.

“Wow she’s going for that huge current out on the west side. Moore is too far back—it’s gonna be L/n on the final wave of the women’s competition. With one minute to go she’s dropping in—.”

Y/n allowed the adrenaline to consume her, giving it total control as she dropped in. The highest wave of the competition yet, Y/n knew she’d be having a tube ride with how it formed. Picking up speed, she knelt slightly, paralleling her chest with the wall of the wave, the water curving around her. Blocking the world from her view.

It was just her and the sea. No one else.

Closing her eyes briefly, she pictured she was back on O’ahu in the water she grew up in. Sun beating down and gentle hum of seagulls.

Like she was in paradise.

The image left as quick as it came. Y/n snapping out of her daydream to exit the tube ride to the cheers of her father on the beach, curing back into the wave to finish on a high note by performing her signature Ariel. Smiling the whole way down just as the horn signified the end of the competition.

“And there you have it folks. The women’s surfing finals has officially come to a close—Y/n L/n ending her Olympic Games with a remarkable last wave. Absolute perfection with speed, precision, and control. That’s gonna be the highest score for her I feel.”

“C’mon, c’mon,” Javy bit his nail, knee bouncing from the anxiety of not knowing. Carissa’s total score was displayed first, 14.93. Y/n’s lowest was a seven, highest 8.7. Her final wave was amazing, but judging was unpredictable. Anything could happen.

Then in the blink of an eye the hard deck exploded.

“I don’t believe it! Tens across the board for Y/n L/n bringing her total to 17.00!! Y/n L/n has won the gold for the United States—Carissa Moore with the silver. USA goes one and two in women’s surfing at its Olympic debut!!! Take it all in, we are witnessing history,” the screen shows Y/n and Carissa embracing, leaning over their boards to congratulate the other, “Team USA has much to celebrate, the world of surfing has their champion. Y/n L/n adds gold to her name—surfing’s first Olympic Champion here in Tokyo!!”

Y/n laughed the entire time she paddled to shore, raising to her feet to race towards her father. She was soaking wet but he didn’t care. “You did it!” He yelled, kissing her head with tears in his eyes. “You’re an Olympic champion! I’m so so proud of you!” Soon they were greeted by Carissa and the rest of Team USA’s surfing members. The two women were lifted onto shoulders, American flags draped over their backs with photographers surrounding them.

It was a moving image. Two women from Honolulu and Kapolei, Hawaii won surfing’s first Olympic silver and gold medal. If only Duke Kahanamoku could be there to witness.

Back at the hard deck celebratory drinks were served and toasts raised to Y/n. Javy barely contained his emotion, eyes watering the moment her name came back the winner. Natasha and Jake embraced him in a hug, the guys whistling and hollering. Penny rang the bell.

“She won! Oh my God my baby is a gold medalist!! This is the best day ever!!”

The entire podium ceremony Y/n was on cloud nine. Placing the gold medal around her neck, she took a moment to stare at it. Disbelief and awe in her eyes. ‘Wow, I actually did it.’

When the national anthem came to an end Y/n did the traditional bite of the medal for the cameras. Posing with Carissa and Bianca afterwards, Y/n was ushered to interviews.

“Hello, Y/n,” the reporter beamed, “congratulations are in store—what an amazing moment for you. You’re the first gold medalist in women’s surfing at the Olympics. How does it feel?”

“It’s absolutely a dream come true. For years the surfing community has wished for this—to be in the Olympics and for me to be part of its debut, winning the gold medal…I-I can’t put into words how much this means to me. I’m so grateful and honored.”

“You’ve been around for a while now,” the reporter mentioned, “2004 was the first time we saw you and you’ve gone on to have a stellar surfing career. Winning the WSL World Surfing Games twelve times now—competing when it was still called the WSL World Championships and became the first woman to win The Eddie Aikau Big Wave Invitational in 2016. This is your first Olympic Games, surfing will be at the Paris Games in three years. Can we expect to hopefully see you there?”

“I wouldn't rule it out,” Y/n winked with a giggle. “Paris is in three years and I would love to return to the Olympics again. After dreaming for so long I don’t want to let it go so easily. Of course anything can happen between now and 2024 but with my family, friends, and boyfriend cheering me on with their endless support…” she gave a cheeky shrug, “I’m gonna work hard and get back in the water once I’m home.”

“We’ll be rooting for you, Y/n. I don’t think the surfing world is ready to say goodbye to you. Anything else you’d like to say before you have to go. Anyone you’d like to say thanks to?”

Instantly the Olympian brightened, eyes locking on the camera. “I wanna give a shoutout to my hometown of Kapolei on O’ahu—the place where this journey started on the beautiful beaches and waters of my home. To my family and friends, thank you for your love, support, guidance and always cheering me on even when the going gets tough. My dad, who’s been my coach since I was seven is with me here to share this win, I couldn’t have done this without him. To my San Diego family watching, you better save me a beer at the Hard Deck when I come visit next week,” she winks, knowing the squad would get a kick out of it. Then Y/n softens, “and finally to my boyfriend, Javy, who’s with our friends in Fightertown. I love you so much, thank you for being my rock during quarantine and pushing me to do my best. I can’t wait to see you and this is for you.” Holding up the medal, Y/n blows a kiss to the screen before saying goodbye to the reporter.

Upon landing in San Diego two nights later, Y/n was greeted by a celebration from her friends. Members of the Pacific Beach Surf Club were there, as were the dagger squad. Javy met her in the middle the second she exited the terminal, lifting her in his arms. “Finally your back!! I’m so fucking proud of you!” Setting her down, he kept his arms around her and the two jumped up and down like school children in a heap of laughter.

Finally they calmed, sharing a sweet kiss. “How was your flight,” he walked when they pulled away, moving to grab her carryon back.

“Long,” she moaned, leaning into his side. “But worth it.” Soon she was surrounded by their friends. Congratulations all around, Mickey asking to see the medal, Jake saying all her drinks are on him, Nat telling her how much she missed having another girl around. “I missed you guys,” Y/n pouted, “man I wish you all could’ve been there.”

“Don’t worry, Y/n/n,” Bradley patted her shoulder, “We’ll be there in Paris.”

“That’s quite a bit away, Roo.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “but there’s no harm in planning now.”

“Let’s let the woman rest before kicking her training mode into gear,” Javy teased, earning a playful nudge from his girlfriend. Together they got her bags and headed straight for The Hard Deck. They drinked, they danced. Javy and Y/n had a rematch of their pool game.

“This feels a bit like deja vu,” she smirked, chalking up her cue. Javy winked, puckering his lips in an air kiss causing her to laugh.

For a week Y/n stayed in San Diego before flying home to Hawaii with Javy. Again she was greeted at the airport by her family and friends she’d grown up with. The local news station was present, students from schools wanting to join in on the celebration. It felt amazing to be home after two weeks away.

They settled in at her Honolulu home, finding the perfect place to display her medal and ordered take out since neither was in the mood to cook after a 6 ½ hour flight. Once finished with dinner Y/n gave her boyfriend a knowing look, “Wanna watch the sunset?”

She didn’t mean sitting on her porch or even the sand. No, she meant taking the boards and laying out on the sea as the calm surface of the water kept them afloat.

Javy agreed, rushing to get his swim trunks on while she put on a swimsuit. Grabbing their boards they locked up the house and jogged the quarter of a mile to the beach, paddling out to get a front row seat of the descending sun. Colors of bright orange and pink painted the sky. A beautiful contrast to the deep blues of the ocean.

“Is this heaven?” He whispered, finding her eyes staring back at him from where her cheek pressed to the board. All the love conveying in the simple look. And with her gentle words, Javy felt all the worry and unease he ever experienced lift from his soul.

“More like paradise.”

……………….

TGM Tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan , @caitsymichelle13 , @poppyalice2001 , @cutelittlepotatofry , @luckyladycreator2, @americaarse , @elenavampire21 , @back-tooo-black , @wildellaa , @artemissunn , @pinkpantheris

#Spotify #javy machado fic #javy machado imagine #javy coyote machado #javy machado x reader #javy machado x you #javy machado fluff #Javy Machado x y/n #coyote imagine #coyote x reader #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick fluff #top gun maverick imagine #tgm imagine #tgm x reader #athlete!reader #surfer!reader

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alli-a-baba · 10 months

Text

Happiness Is A Butterfly - Zack Addy x Reader

They/Them pronouns. 2,400 words. Pt.1.

Being a part of the rotating interns was difficult. Trying to keep up with Dr. Hodgins comments only his friends understood was difficult. Dr. Brennan's impossibly high standards for the professional environment were petrifying, and confusing from her friendly relationship with Agent Booth. Angela was emotionally intelligent but touchy on certain subjects. And Camille was the boss.

The way they flowed together was unmatchable, it was good for Y/N.

When the team was boiled down to their main characteristics; Hodgins was sarcastic and wanted someone who had thick skin to appreciate his pointed remarks, but smart enough to understand them.

Dr. Brennan just wanted you to do your job, and be understanding of how much time you have to allocate to keep the position. Agent Booth wants someone to understand his un-scientific humor.

Angela likes to talk about things you see outside of the lab, but also wants the discourse and drama of the people inside. Camille wants you to be able to testify and not annoy her with anything other than basic polite company and case related topics.

Y/N is a chronic people pleaser.

Then their is Dr. Addy. Dr. Zachary Uriah Addy, to be precise.

Dr. Addy was Brennan's previous grad student, her set grad student. Until he made pals with a serial killer and ate somebody. Their was little media coverage on who was caught for the crimes the serial killer committed, but it happening at the Jeffersonian?

People talked, and you listened.

It was fascinating to be in the place where it all happened, but you couldn't ask any of your coworkers about him. Anytime his name was said it was followed by a quick glance and a reminder that "Dr. Addy no longer works here."

Camille never referred to him by name. Everyone else did. The case you were working on now Hodgins had him at the forefront of his mind, "Zack would know more about this.", "Zack would've said that-"

You can't be Zack, but the fascination pressed on.

"Ask him then." Y/N said bluntly. The skull had damage all over and they were examining it, subtly watching Hodgins mannerisms.

"It's not that simple and you know that" His face was a little red and he had a soft line in between his bushy eyebrows. He was annoyed.

"Would you hurry up with the head Brennan will be here any second and I have to get the particulates."

You raised your eyebrows and the sudden outburst. "Its 'The Cranium' actually." He gave a dejected snort and a small smile at your attempt to lighten the mood while handing over the skull.

"Why isn't it that simple?" He stopped, "What do you mean."

"Asking Zack?" He took a deep breath and kept walking back to his station. Inclined for an answer you followed.

"Right, I forget you don't know him."

"Dr. Addy did some bad things and isn't working here anymore that's all nothing more nothing less." Camille snapped a fresh pair of gloves on her hands.

"You said their was some flesh flakes for me Y/N?" You laughed a little, "Yes Dr. Saroyan theirs some skin left behind in between the metatarsal bones and phalanges on the feet, what do you make of the scraping? it's all over the remains." Camille's eyes slightly opened in recognition. She pressed her lips into a thin line, moving to the table the bones rested on, "I'm not sure that's more a... Dr. Brennan question."

"Okay sounds good I'll just wait I suppose." Camille gave you a tight lipped smile as she walked away to examine the skin.

"Put the markers on this and give it to Angela, I have to go talk to Brennan." Hodgins shoved the skull into your hands, the marks were rough to the touch. He shuffled down the stairs towards Dr. Brennan using the pole for support. Probably contaminating it with the gloves he carelessly forgot to remove.

While placing the identifying markers and cleaning the pole with a chlorine based disinfectant spray, Y/N listened in on their hushed conversation. Only hearing bits and pieces. Talk of Zack and the scraping looking familiar but deeper and more rigid. When they walked up to give Angela the skull, the conversation died out and Booth cleared his throat.

"I've placed the markers," Handing the skull to Angela, "-and the remains are ready for you Dr. Brennan."

"Yes lets do that now."

They suspect cannibalism, and you knew they were relating it to Zack.

Dr. sweets was your friend in all of this. Feeling left out of their flow you talked about them together. Growing up in a household with angry spontaneous parents, you read people. You knew what they were feeling and knew what to say to keep peace. Growing up in the foster system Lance did the same. You two had that in common.

"So the remains are covered in teeth marks, were suspecting cannibalism." Sweets choked on his Miami vice cocktail. He drinks them because he likes Miami vice as a show, but mostly he cant take the flavor of more 'manly' drinks.

"Sorry, here." you hand him a napkin.

"Their all relating it to Zack?" He said gingerly dabbing his mouth.

"Yeah, how'd you know?" He tilts his head to the side scanning the left side of his brain, recalling events.

"I was there when it happened. Even though I barely knew him, It's still the first thing in my mind."

You look down absent mindedly running the rim of your finger around the mouth of your drink resting your cheek on a loose fist. "What's on your mind Y/N?"

"Don't treat me like a patient Dr. Sweets," He gives a lopsided smile and ducks is head down to your slumped eye level. "They asked me to come back tomorrow since I've 'seen so much of the case already."

"Odd?"

"Yes!"

"And you're not happy?"

You sighed while sitting up to see him clearer,

"I'm happy, just tired." Sweets takes a sip of his drink to wet his throat,

"I'll see you tomorrow then-"

"Why"?

"Look whos asking questions now." He raises his eyebrows and gives you childish grin,

"They want me to ask Zack about some things, something sodium or the other. Which is salt so that is odd. I think everyone knows that's salt. Right? Anyone I was thinking someone should come with me but their all so hesitant to face him-"

"Sodium Bicarbonate, baking soda. We found traces if it on the remains- is that in invitation?" You both knew it was, but with sweets you don't need to read in between the lines when you can ask.

"Ill need to talk to Brennan and Booth but yeah, I need a mediator for the science talk."

"I think you could hold your own," You say, finishing off your drink, "but if I have to we should celebrate." they get up to order more drinks.

"Don't pretend like your not excited Y/N"

Case file in hand, you had everything laid out. You had your assumptions and everyone's findings written down systematically. Like how deep the teeth marks on the bones were, and the sodium bicarbonate particulates. As well as the traces of hydrofluoric acid in the left over skin on the toes. Having no clue on who he was besides talk, it was hard to think about how to act appropriately. So Y/N went with the basics. They dressed in blues since the color has calming properties, and parted their hair to the left, which conveys intelligence.

"Don't you look professional. Sweets said opening the door for them.

"I'm going for the nice kindergarten teacher look." Y/N said.

"More like the science teacher in middle school that plays movies every Friday after a shitty test." Perfect.

"Even better." He moves his arm behind their headrest to reverse,

"You nervous?" Completely and utterly, but saying that out loud made it true. Y/N was scared to meet him like one was scared to meet their favorite band. That they won't live up to unrealistic expectations.

"A little, but I'm mostly excited." He glances at you, he knows that's not the whole truth but it goes unspoken. The two of you are left with silence. But not a comfortable silence like usual.

"Don't get too excited he's not that cool." and then it melts away,

"Is someone jealous?"

"Get off your high horse, were here."

"Oh-" he softly grabs your hand and you flinch, "Y/N."

He takes the folder and sets it on the dash taking your other hand,

"are you okay?" He says quietly. You squeeze his hands and nod,

"You tore the folder a little with your nails, I know you're scared but he's harmless." Your eyes meet and he gives you a reassuring nod.

"He killed someone Lance, that's terrifying." He sighs and looks down before cupping his hand and whispering in your ear, "Between you and me, no, no he didn't"

"What-"

"Please state your name and why you're here?" The guard says though the speaker.

"Here to see inmate Zachary Addy, I have an appointment for 12:30?"

Sweets looked at you over his shoulder at you, apologetically.

"You can go through." The gate buzzes and slowly opens.

"We didn't have an appointment until Monday Dr. Sweets-" A voice says lowly through the door. As they walk through, he stops himself and stares at Y/N.

"who's that?" Zack asks tentatively, not bothering to ask you directly. His face was smooth having small patches of hair across his chin an jawline. It was light enough to be unnoticeable. It contrasted with his dark, disheveled hair.

"Their just here to explain the case better than I can Zack."

Zack thought for a moment, fiddling with the thick black gloves that encapsulated his hands.

"That was unnecessary, the file could've been handed over without explanation ." Zack holds his hand out for the folder, still staring at Lance. His eyes were dull and half lidded, emotionless to the situation. Sweets pulled out your chair for you and sat in his own, parallel to Zack. His hands were in cuffs with a chain linked to the table. It didn't calm Y/N's anxiety, he was a genius. Cuffs couldn't hold him if he truly wanted to get out.

The Dr. furrowed his brows in confusion, making connections in his mind. The cuffs, the way Dr. Sweets seemed to be so friendly with you, "You're my replacement."

He finally looked at you, his dull brown eyes swirled with something. Jealousy? Concern?

Y/N met his eye contact willingly, forcing the nervous cringe of their face back. You never show a predator weakness.

"Me an about a dozen other people." They flip open the folder and graze through the papers breaking the heavy eye contact, landing on the sheet that listed main points about the case. Picking out high resolution photos of the bones as well. They wanted to ask all about why Zack was in here. Why he was, how he could do that, what convinced him it was a good idea to cause such grief. Most of all if he really didn't kill that man.

He studied them, like a case of his own. Carefully looking them over, limb by limb, over the buttons on your shirt and the steady rise and fall of your chest. His eyes burnt into them, it was hard to focus.

"Their an intern Zack, we just have some questions and I'll be back tomorrow morning to pick up the file." Sweets was uncomfortable, Y/N handed him the sheets of paper so he could have a little control in the quickly unfolding scene. Lance gave you a small smile in return.

As he laid out each paper, you explained the case like you were on stand at trial. Dr. Addy never looked at the papers being placed on the table, opting to openly stare at Y/N. Wanting to keep their ground, they met his stare only glancing down every few moments to see which paper was next. It was a one sided conversation, and when you were finished he finally looked down at the images systematically placed in front of him.

"Can you work with that, Dr. Addy?" Y/N said, Zack's eyes widened at the professional connotation.

"Yes." Sweets stood up, "Great! Then were done here, Y/N?"

"I guess so." They stood up and ran their hands across the fabric of their top, smoothing out the imposed wrinkles from sitting down. Taking notice of Dr. Addy's brown eyes that followed the movement of their hands.

Zack stood up as well, stretching the chain on his cuffs to its full extent. He was tall. Taller than they thought, probably around 5'11 or 12. Y/N's eyes followed him up to the looming position he had over them. "I'll be seeing you both tomorrow then." His eyes met theirs, the smile paired with his relaxed eyes was unsettling. Involuntarily, Y/N shivered looking away at Lance. Breaking their stance in the unwavering staring contest he just wouldn't let go. Zack turned to Sweets, but never looked at him.

"No, just me Zack." He grabbed the folder that held the remainder of the case from your limp grasp, and tossed it on the table. The force made methodically laid out papers clash together. It startled Zack, his chains clamored together cutting through the silence. Lance grabbed your shoulder and pushed you to the door, swiping his card.

"Tomorrow then." Zack said.

Peeking out from behind Sweets, Y/N looked at Zack. The sides of his lips were turned, like he knew something they didn't. It was unsettling and you wanted to delve into his psyche and swim in his thoughts.

"Why won't this damn card work?"

#zack addy #zack addy x reader #bones #x reader

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ggidolsmuts · 2 years

Text

Special Treatment - Jang Yeeun

"Fucking health insurance..." you mutter under your breath. A physical is usually guaranteed to be covered, why is it so hard to find a doctor that's in-network?! The ones available are either too far away or completely booked. You scroll and scroll and scroll the portal, looking for available doctors in your area. The only one that fits your needs is an unrated one, seemingly fresh out of medical school. Well, you needed to get a physical done before your coverage rolls over, so you bite the bullet and book an appointment with Doctor Jang Yeeun.

3 months later you show up at her practice, which is thankfully very clean and in a nice part of town. The receptionist checks you in with a sweet smile, and a short while later you are waved in by the nurse. Nervously you confirm your name and date of birth while she takes your height and weight. You can't help but get a whiff of the nurse's perfume as she leans in to put the blood pressure cuff on you.

"Hmm, reading's a little high." The nurse frowns. “Let's try that again.” White coat syndrome is a real thing, but you had a higher pressure for other reasons—frankly, the nurse was hot, the perfect combination of pretty and cute. Another frown adorns her doll-like face when she takes the second reading.

"Any history of high blood pressure or heart disease in the family?"

"No."

"Do you smoke?"

"No."

"Drink?"

"Socially."

"Are you sexually active?"

"Sometimes."

She makes a note of your answers before turning to the computer.

"Okay, so you're just here for the physical?"

"Yes."

The nurse responds with a wordless note, guiding you to the examination chair. Her hand dances across your body.

"Do you feel this?" She presses a finger into your palm, and you nod.

"Close your eyes, how many fingers do I have on your back?"

"Three."

"Mmhmm, keep your knee relaxed." She taps it with a reflex hammer, and you body responds accordingly.

"Good, anything you want to bring up, anything feel off?"

"No. But umm, shouldn't the doctor be doing all of this?" you ask the nurse carefully.

"I am the doctor." You look at her previously flipped nametag, and indeed, it says Jang Yeeun on it. You looked her up on the clinic website, but wow, that photo does not do her justice.

"Ah, I'm sorry, I didn't see the coat, so I assumed—"

"Does this look better?" Yeeun laughs and throws the stereotypical doctor's coat over her petite frame.

"Yes, much like a doctor now, I'm so sorry."

"No problem, we're shorthanded, so I handle both the doctor and nurse duties here."

"I see, that's amazing. For such a pretty doctor to do all of this is really—" you blush and stop yourself, realizing what you said too late.

"A pretty doctor hmm?" Yeeun eyes you intently, a thousand mischievous thoughts running through her head. He's cute, should I...? The truth is, Yeeun has been running herself on fumes the past few months, managing and maintaining her own practice. It doesn't give her time for meeting people, and as a result she's been dry, for lack of a better word.

"Umm... Sorry, that slipped out."

"No, we should analyze, why did that slip out?"

"Sorry, I just thought you are really good looking, and—"

"Thank you. Now, just to clarify, you are sexually active yes? Are you seeing anyone at the moment?"

"No."

"Okay, I'm trying to figure out if you're sexually frustrated since you said that, which I might add, is highly inappropriate."

"I'm sorry, m-maybe, I'm trying to do no-nut November."

"Now why would you do that? It serves no purpose."

"Does it not?"

"Mmhmm, it's quite bad, you can't be going around spouting such comments at any pretty lady you see."

"Not just any, you're just really—" Yeeun interrupts you again.

"Ah ah ah, enough. You need special treatment, please come by my place as soon as possible."

"Um sure, yes of course. Will this be covered by my insurance?"

"Oh no need, we offer it free-of-charge, you will receive a message later today with the details."

Later that night Yeeun lounges in her recliner, debating on what message she should send you. If she didn't want to violate every professional rule about her job, the "place" she sends you to would just be her clinic again, and she'd do some simple placebo treatments for you. But the idle finger she traces between her legs does the thinking for her—she absolutely wanted you to violate her, and so she sends you a different location, the place she's in right now. She gathers her willpower and pulls her finger away from her body, typing out the message and sending it off to you. She breathes deeply and heavily as she tries to fall asleep—she is already looking forward to tomorrow.

Gulping, a few days later, you knock at the door, nervous about not being actually in a doctor's office for this "special treatment".

"Doctor Jang, I'm here."

"Welcome, please come in." Yeeun's dressed in her casual wear instead of looking like a medical professional, but your heart is beating rapidly anyways. Yeeun wears a simple but tightly fitted t-shirt and shorts, and the head below the belt thought that she looked simply delicious.

"Go through the door there, please strip to your underwear and put on the gown." You follow the doctor's instructions obediently.

"You can leave your clothes on the table, please, take a seat on the recliner and close your eyes, try to relax." Yeeun disappears from your view. "So, are you still doing no-nut November?"

"Umm yeah." You can't see Yeeun, but you can hear her step all around you.

"Have you failed? Did you masturbate since we last met?"

"What? No, it has only been a few days."

"Oh, that's no good, it is not good to be pent up." A finger traces your right forearm, and softly Yeeun mutters. "I can feel your muscles, makes me want to feel it working me over..."

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh, I mean, you should be exercising, to work off that testosterone. Have you been doing more exercise then? At least masturbation works this arm muscle here."

"Oh, umm, no, no extra exercise."

"That's no good at all! That can be very harmful to you!" Yeeun claims with a mock scandalized tone. Your gown is pulled open.

"Doctor?"

"Shh, I need to examine you, make sure there are no symptoms from lack of masturbation." Her finger traces your jawline dangerously, and going by her actions so far you were willing to let her dictate how far things were going to go tonight—Yeeun would be a wonderful reason to fail your "goal". But as she glides her nail down your neck, a tiny part of you wonders if she brought you here to kill you instead of fuck you. With your eyes closed, you focus and hear Yeeun's self-muttering all the more clearly, and it eliminates all doubt.

"What a nice strong jaw, makes me want to sit on it..."

"Doctor?"

"Shhh." Her hair tickles your chest—she's very near you. Brazenly her hands travel down your chest and stomach, and you reflexively suck your tummy in, and in response she pokes you with a laugh.

"No need to put on airs, I'm your doctor, remember?" Her whisper is a little higher pitched, teasing you. "It's quite firm regardless, not a six-pack, but something I wouldn't mind grinding on either. Now for something to ride on..."

You were hard before, and as Yeeun's fingers reaches your boxers you get extra sensitive, suddenly noticing the friction of the fabric against your shaft. But all she does is pull on them briefly before moving on. You gasp and buck your hip in response.

"Patience, my patient, the examination needs to be finished." Both your thighs are squeezed, and her hair tickles them, indicating where exactly her head is. Tension floods your body as her warm breath is on your thighs, seeming to move inwards. With a giggle she defuses you, her hands moving down to your calves and feet instead.

Unbeknownst to you Yeeun is soaking wet, her face already red at the scent between your legs—gods she wanted it so bad! But she denies both of you immediate gratification, knowing that the end result will be utterly explosive if she does it. Her hands massaging your calves and lightly touching your feet are just delaying the inevitable, working herself up to cross the next line.

You choke on your breath, gripping the recliner tightly as you feel her fingers on your boxers again.

"Lift your hips please." You almost rocket off the cushion to obey her. In an instant she has pulled them past your knees, and you hurriedly kick them off. Her hair tickles your cheeks once more, and you can't help but moan when you feel her lips pull on your earlobe.

"So hard, so thick, makes me want to fuck you over and over again."

"P-Please, please doctor!"

"It is time for your treatment, keep your eyes closed." Your cock jumps as she drifts her hand down your body, almost touching it. "You should not be denying yourself during an arbitrary month, you should orgasm often, orgasm freely as your needs dictate."

Suddenly you feel her hair tickle your thighs.

"You should cum for me."

You shout loudly into the room when her mouth envelopes your shaft, and a single lick of her tongue is enough to make you spew your pent up load down her throat. With one hand planted on the recliner, the other hand finds her head, and your hips buck off the cushion, trying to stuff your cock straight through Yeeun's face as you shoot rope after rope of cum into her. Yeeun's buried in your crotch, her nose inhaling your arousal, and she is dizzy with heat, either from her own burning need, or from the hot liquid you just put into her. Her hand massages your balls, and Yeeun shudders as you continue throbbing and feeding her rich semen—it makes its way through her body quickly, and every drop of cum you give her makes her produce her own slick, soaking through her panties.

You rest on the recliner, euphorically drained, too tired to even react when she release you with a pop, some cum leaking out the side of her lips. Absentmindedly she feels herself up in front of you while she waits, a hand drifting all over her midriff.

"Do you want me to help you?" you ask when you've finally gotten your wits about you.

"We should focus on your treatment, please go to the bedroom for step two." Yeeun heads in first, disappearing into the bathroom. She splashes herself with water, looking in the mirror at her blushing face. The line had been crossed, she had touched you, put you in her mouth and let you blow—and yet she can't wait to put you in her elsewhere. Yeeun touches herself—her nipples were hard and swollen, and she's sopping wet between her legs, she needed to get off now. She exits the bathroom and finds you sitting on the bed, almost obedient, waiting for her instructions.

"Now then, with your first orgasm out of the way, I need to make sure your arm muscles haven't atrophied."

Your eyes widen as Yeeun unbuttons her shorts, revealing to you black panties with a large and darker wet spot. She sits next to you, placing your hand on a delicious thigh.

"Please touch me, work your arm out as much as you can." Yeeun gasps as you move it swiftly, but not in towards her dripping core, but up to the hem of her underwear.

"Are you sure?" you ask, reveling in how fit Yeeun kept herself—her tummy's flat and very toned, and it twitched slightly in response to your touch. Yeeun nods hastily, her hand covering yours, trying to push you down further.

"Yes, ah, ahh!" Airily Yeeun whines as you immediately slip underneath her underwear, her heat almost overwhelming as you place your palm between her legs. You run two fingers along her labia, and they are instantly coated in slick. Daringly you cup and lift her just like that, pulling her petite frame into your lap, your other arm wrapped around her midriff. Now she's situated between your legs, and Yeeun forces your thighs open as she spreads her legs for you.

"Please show me how to workout, doctor?" Yeeun obliges and places a hand over yours, tensing as she pushes two of your fingers into her. Her back arches in response, and your free hand grabs at her clothed chest, pinning her back against your chest. Your palm grinds against her nipple roughly, and Yeeun bites her lower lip to stifle her moan. You are treated to the sight of her tummy twitching and undulating against you as you follow Yeeun's fingers into her.

"J-Just like that." Yeeun makes to lift her hand and leave you to it, but you are faster.

"No, let's workout together."

"Fuck!" Yeeun cries out as she is stuffed with four fingers for the first time. Her own fingers feel long and thin inside her, a sensation not too foreign to her. But stacked on top of those are your fingers, each seemingly way thicker, firmly pressing her own fingers into her snug walls. In her high arousal she bucks mindlessly against your hands, fucking it like a dildo, except it is one that could separate and push her open, then twist and seemingly screw inside her. Her own fingers are touching places she never thought to touch, places that she pulled away from normally due to how sensitive just getting close to them made her feel. Except now, your fingers are manipulating her, giving both of you an arm workout as you fingerfuck Yeeun with both sets of fingers.

Wait! Too much! Yeeun shouts in her mind, but all that comes out is a low groan. Her free hand scrabbles for your arm, urging you to stop moving, but imperiously you keep going, pumping your arm up and down as you sought to find her g-spot. Yeeun's world begins to go white, her body growing numb as it concentrates on the bubbling cauldron boiling between her legs. You push Yeeun on, both your fingers and hers ever so close to where you wanted to touch, where she needed to be touched. Her entire body tenses involuntarily when her fingerpad brushes against it, and you go in for the kill.

"Ohhhh! Oh nngh— God, oh fuck! Ohhhhh yessss..." Yeeun releases her first unreserved and satisfied moan of the night as you push your fingers against her g-spot repeatedly, fingerblasting her. A jet of juice sprays against her own palm, and you force it to splash back onto herself as you pump fingers viciously into her, the sound getting lewder and sloppier by the second.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck!" Yeeun stays rigid as her body continues to produce more slick, as if your fingers are poking holes in the dam of pleasure she has built up over her dry spell, and all of it is leaking out uncontrollably. Loud moans accompany every burst of squirt, and she can feel her own palm getting splashed with every orgasmic flash of white in her head. Over and over she goes over the edge until it is finally dulled by overstimulation, her body only able to twitch, unable to squirt anymore. You pull your fingers out, and when you flick your hand droplets of her girlcum are flung on to the bed.

"Good?" you ask her, holding your shining fingers to her face. Yeeun nods and takes your fingers in her mouth. Her tongue cleans them before she pulls you in for a fevered kiss, sticking her tongue down your throat, making sure you can taste her want. You grab her own slick hand and draw it across your jaw and neck, much like she did earlier.

"What did you say before doctor, this makes you want to sit on it?"

"Yes, give me a moment though—" she tries to get off you, but you hold her still.

"No, I want to taste this—" you take her fingers and suck them clean, "straight from the source. Either you sit on me, or I am pinning you to the bed and devouring you right now."

"Fine, fine, lie down, I need to evaluate your neck and jaw muscles."

"Good excuse doctor." You lie down obediently. Yeeun turns around and crawls on top of you, her legs shaky on the mattress. She pushes herself up and down your stomach, smearing it in her juices, and she fires you a smile—right, she wanted to grind on you.

"Breathe in please." You suck your stomach in, and Yeeun moves a little higher, dragging herself over your ribs, the bumps sending shivers up her spine. She grates herself on you, shredding the last of her inhibitions, turning them into a light glean on your torso.

"What happened to not putting on airs in front of you?" you joke as you have to exhale and catch your breath. "There's another way you can feel good doctor, without me having to suck my stomach in."

"Good, I need this so bad tonight." You hook her knees and pull her up your body. The heat on your chest grows, and Yeeun pants heavily on top of you. With your hands on her ass you push her towards you, and she grabs your hair, pulling your head off the bed. Soon you are forced to breathe through your nose, taking in oxygen and her scent as she rides your face, your tongue slurping her like the last bit of soup in a bowl. The bowl is self-filling though, and over and again you drink from Yeeun, each lick on her slit ending with a flick on her clit—it makes her leak even more, coating your chin.

"Hrghk!" Yeeun ignore your grunts and pulls you further in between her legs. If the presidential jet is Air Force One, your face is her Cloud Nine as she bounces up and down, back and forth over your mouth. Your hands are large and grabby on her ass, and part of her wonders if she should let you take over for part of the night, have you pin her down and devour her like you mentioned... her eyes disappear into her head when your tongue wraps around her pearl of a clit. Maybe later.

"Ah fuck, yes! I'm going to cum, I'm going to cum on your face!" Her fingers tug even more urgently on your hair, and her grinding becomes frantic and wild. The resulting act is half her fucking your face, and half you tonguefucking her. You grab her ass almost painfully to try and control Yeeun, but it only serves to drive her arousal higher, and there is no stopping the pleasure shooting up her spine. With a loud cry Yeeun climaxes on top of you, her pussy desperately trying to grab at your tongue, lewd squelching noises filling your ears.

Yeeun falls off you, and you take a moment to take everything in—you are drenched in slick, you're sweating, your face is red, you're gasping for breath, and yet you haven't done a damn thing to your bombshell of a doctor. Yeeun has no plans of letting up though, and she clambers on top of you before you could get the upper hand.

"How about you take a rest doctor?"

"No, I want to ride this cock, need to feel this in me." She has already lined herself up with you, and her guiding hand is already grasping you.

"So fucking needy—" you grunt in pleasure as you slip into Yeeun for the first time. You thought you were drenched in her slick already, but your cock feels like it's submerged in a pool of her juices, and somehow it is the tightest pool you've ever been in. The pool grows and deepens inch by inch, until Yeeun is sitting on your waist. She takes off her t-shirt and bra, and you get a peek at her breasts before she leans on top of you, kissing your neck.

"Damn doctor, you're a little nympho aren't you?"

"You would be too if you haven't gotten laid in so long, now shut up and let me ride, you can take over later." The prospect of finally fucking Yeeun shuts you up, and you focus your energies on holding your orgasm back. It is relatively easy at first, but as Yeeun picks up the pace the warmth of her body on yours becomes hot and slick, just like her pussy wrapped around you. You shut your eyes tightly, wishing you could plug your ears from her erotic moans.

Yeeun smiles at your closed eyes, knowing that she was getting to you just as much as you were getting to her. She throws her head back, closing her own eyes and focusing on the pleasure she's taking from you. God I can’t stop riding him! Her body's taut and her pussy's tight, clenching down on you whenever she falls on your lap. Yeeun wants nothing more than to have your cock permanently in her, and she grinds down on your groin demandingly, trying to make the two of you joined at the cock and pussy. The heat between two of you grows with the friction, and Yeeun's fallen on top of you.

"Fuck I'm going to cum, I'm going to cum all over you!" she screeches, and when Yeeun orgasms, she really does cum all over you, giving your cock and crotch a fresh coat of slick. She gasps and groans into your neck, each contraction of her pussy around you forcing both air and juice out of her. You bite your lip and curl your toes, desperately trying to hold on and not blow in or with Yeeun.

"That was so good... Oh, you're bleeding, let me put some pressure on it." Yeeun leans in for a firm kiss, the light sting of your lip bite overpowered by the softness of her lips and the sweet taste of her lip gloss. She breaks the kiss with a smirk. "Haven't cum yet? Good, I'll keep my word then, you can do what you want, just don't cum in me."

Without a further word you roll Yeeun off you, and she's a little disappointed when you get on top of her in the missionary position. She's less disappointed where you put her legs on your shoulders, cooing in delight as you slide back into her. With the help of gravity you get even deeper and feel even bigger inside her, and she's already quickening to her next peak. You examine Yeeun's depths thoroughly with your cock, an invasive search that leaves her breathless in joy. Her body is pliable, bending to your weight, and no problems with her reflexes are observed—when you pull out, she lifts her hips best she can, yearning for the next thrust of your cock; when you push in, Yeeun tightens around you immediately, her ankles hooked around your neck.

"Yes!" Yeeun moans shamelessly—she was so right to let you do this to her! The pressure you're exerting on her entire body is nothing like she would get if she's the one in command. The bed creaks under your pounding, and Yeeun bounces powerlessly on the bed, sprung up by the bedsprings when you pull back, only to be slapped down at the hips by your next downward slam.

This feels so wrong but so good! She's violated all professional conduct tonight, and now you're taking her to task, punishing her with overwhelming pleasure. Yeeun screams in climax right before your own orgasm hits you, and your load splatters all over her twitching body as she thrashes about underneath. She threatens to pull the sheets off the bed in the throes of pleasure, but you grab her attention by leaning forward, pushing down on her legs. She looks up at you, eyes unfocused, still lost in ecstasy—a whimper escapes her as you lean even further on her, almost snapping her in two at the hips, but she inches her head up, and you reward her by gently pushing her legs off your shoulders and kissing the pain away.

"Oh fuck, it feels so warm..." Yeeun sneaks a hand down her body, smearing and spreading your cum all over her skin. Her tummy's now shining with your seed, and a second wind takes you.

"You admit you're a nympho doctor?" You're already flipping her on her front, and Yeeun reacts accordingly, pushing herself to her knees.

Fuck yes! "Only if the sex is good," she mumbles into the pillow, still catching her breath.

"And is the sex good?" Is he hard aga- nngh! You're already feeding her pussy with cock, and she pushes her hips even higher.

"Yes, fuck yes!" Yeeun cries into the pillow, her arms already tired from pulling on the sheets so much. She's sore, sensitive, and delirious, mostly fucked out of her mind. But she wanted more, wanted you to fuck her again, wanted you to fuck another orgasm into her. You give her just that, and with a sound that is as unintelligible as a doctor's handwriting she clenches around you again. The jolts of pleasure you give her as you fuck her through her orgasm become hammers on her nerves—her body reacts for her, spreading her knees and dropping her hips low on the bed, away from you.

But like an ambulance chaser your hips follow her down, and you easily drill Yeeun's prone form into the bed. One hand presses down on her back, and the other goes round to her face, and you hook her by the mouth with two fingers, twisting her head around to face you. Her tongue flicks against your fingers, and you pull them out to smear her cheeks with her own spit.

"Please, please cum for me already," Yeeun begs, drooling from where you had hooked her, it was too much, far beyond what she had expected! You are just about at your limit too, and with a few rapid ruts into her overfucked pussy you pull out, lodging your cock between her butt cheeks and thrusting forward, shooting your load all over her flawless back. Yeeun hisses, the thick white fluid scalding red hot lava on her skin. She moans in relief when it quickly cools, and when your cock throbs and slowly gets smaller on her lower back, indicating the end of the night. You knock the breath out of Yeeun when you collapse on top of her, kissing her sweaty neck.

"Too much for the nympho doctor?"

"Mmhmm, fuck that was too good."

"Are we done with treatment then?"

"Yes, no problems with your lack of masturbation. Might need you to come back in for another round of treatment sometime." Yeeun cranes her neck to look at you.

"I'd like that." You capture her lips passionately, two people thoroughly satisfied.

But the talk after you're all cleaned up is awkward.

"You know I can't be your doctor anymore right, this is a huge violation."

"Of course, I understand. You're losing my business then, I get sick very easily." Yeeun scoffs in response before walking you to the door.

"Please, my business will be fine. But I won't be, give me your number."

"You already have it no, from my records?"

"Yeah but it feels wrong to use that." You oblige and type your number in, and she calls you back. "Good, I'll contact you for your next treatment— Wait! Don’t save my number as that!” Yeeun winces as you save her number as "Doctor Jang". She takes your phone away from you before slipping it back into your hand with a kiss and a wink.

"I'll let you know when to come over, and bring some clothes to change into next time."

You look down at your phone on the way home. Her contact name says "Nympho Yeeun" instead—and already she's sending you a text for when you should come over next. An apple a day keeps the doctor away, but a lay a day keeps your balls drained, and your nympho doctor Jang Yeeun will make sure of that.

A/N: Took my time writing this one, Yeeun is gorgeous. It might read a little similar to the Woohee story, but hope it’s different enough. Anyways thanks for reading, hope you enjoy the medical references!

#smut #jang yeeun #CLC

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mischiefmanaged71 · 1 year

Text

Let’s Fall In Love For The Night - (3/10)

Summary: Being the eldest daughter of a Duke and Duchess means that Lady Y/N has been prepared for society; to fulfil her duties as the next heir to her family name and estate. However, she dreams of so much more than that, particularly, finding someone she truly loves rather than a political match. Intrigue sparks an idea with the introduction of Tom Bennett, a soldier she meets on a Press tour - forming a new relationship that could either make or break her apart should things turn against her favour.

Pairing: Tom Bennett x fem! Reader

1938

The annual Westminster Charity for Orphaned Children, hosted by the House of Richmond, wrapped up last night. Photographs of the Duke and Duchess of Richmond featured with their children, Lady Y/N, Lord Matthew, and youngest Henry. Many stipulations over the Lady Y/N circulated with several people sighting an interaction with Lord Edward Dashwood.

***

1939

Coverage of the races over this past weekend saw many royals and sportsman's on the racing fields... A reported interaction with the Lady Y/N approaching one of the riders before the races began sparked discourse on the young woman's social circle, residing to herself.

***

Tuesday, the 19th March | 1940

The Duke Richard II and his daughter, the Lady Y/N, pictured below with naval soldiers. The ship is scheduled to depart in two months time where it will provide British allied support abroad.

The paper smacked against the breakfast table, the clinking of cutlery and chatter filling her ears once more.

"Darling, what is it?"

Y/N tilted her head, looking to her father at the end of the table, "Nothing. The publication is out now."

He stretched his hand out, accepting the paper from her. It wasn't necessarily the journalist's depiction of her in the article at all, moreso than the photograph. From another's perspective it was perfectly normal looking photo with Y/N standing at her father's side along with the rows of soldiers.

However, to her own knowledge, she could see the very moment before she turned away. It was the fact that Tom was still very much looking at her in the photograph. It had sent her heart racing off as she held the paper in her hands. Proof that it had happened. A reminder of the encounter. Of the day prior when she had returned to Manchester, Tom, keeping to his word, had shown her around the local square. He was kind, and playful, albeit flirtatious most of the time.

Her father nodded, "Hmm, you did splendidly, darling. I actually heard around you were quite popular with the soldiers."

She looked at him in astonishment, "What do you mean?"

He placed the butter knife down, "Well, I mean, they were pleased to meet you."

"Oh, yes." She looked down at her plate, hmming "Of course. Although, I gather being restrained to a ship of men for a time can do that to a person. Seeking out other attention."

"I suppose." Her father agreed, sipping his tea.

She glanced at her mother who eyed her after the comment. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Her mother nodded, glancing at her youngest sons as they munched on their toast before school.

"I understand we make these...appearances, but does it not grow tiresome?" She stared out the window into the garden.

"Elaborate." Her father beckoned.

"Pretending. Putting on a fake smile and accepting all the backhanded compliments and sly commentary on your life."

Her mother paused, "It's what we must do."

"It's how we work, darling. I understand it is difficult sometimes, but always been this way."

She nodded, swallowing the itch in her throat, "Course. But change isn't necessarily a bad thing, is it?"

A moment of silence passed as they soaked up the question.

"May I?" She stood from the table, gesturing at the paper. The Duke nodded and she grabbed the paper from the table before departing to her room.

***

A calm feeling flowed through her, thoughts fading into the background as Y/N brushed through the horse's mane. She found herself spending more time at the stables each day. Time she spent riding across the fields was a getaway from her overthinking and anxieties.

The sound of approaching footsteps broke her from her daze, turning to the doorway. Much to her surprise, she was met with a familiar mop of blonde hair, and that slight smirk.

"What are you doing here?" She breathed, "How did you even get on the premises?"

"I was in the neighbourhood." Tom shrugged, "Also, wasn't too hard to get past the back fence."

"That is reckless. You could have been caught."

He shrugged, "But, I wasn't. I managed to get here."

She sighed, a smile growing on her lips "And what other reasons brought you to my abode?"

"Oh, a promise. I believe I'm owed a tour?" He stepped forward.

She chuckled, a glint in her eye "Of course."

"Who's this?" He glanced at the horse between them. The black and white stallion grumbled, glancing around.

Y/N smiled fondly, patting his mane, "His name is Orion. I picked him out when I first started my lessons."

"Why Orion?"

"I've always had an affinity for history and mythology, especially Ancient Greece. The name suited him."

"You must come here often then." Glancing around.

A shy smile crossed her features as she flickered between the two, "This is my favourite place to get away."

"Won't say I'm jealous."

"Guess you'll have to settle for second then." She surmised, a grin tugging at her lips.

"I'll have to work on it." Lips pursed.

A glint in her eye, she hummed to herself and they made eye contact.

"What've you got in mind?"

"Have you been riding before?" She asked.

"A few times."

Tom followed as Y/N left him with a grin on her features, "What?"

***

The blood rushed in her ears, the thudding of the hooves beneath racing in tandem with her heart. She pushed on, the excitement of the wind blowing through her hair akin to flying as she raced through the field atop Orion. She glanced over her shoulder at Tom behind her. A laugh bubbled from her throat as she slowed and circled around, feeling breathless.

"I'd hardly call that fair, love." Tom called out, circling his horse to her side.

"You're not up for a game, then."

"Can't exactly compete." He retorted, a breathy laugh to follow.

"You're not bad for a beginner, you know."

"Yeah?"

"Although, my twelve-year old brother is far more competitive."

Tom shook his head at her, teasingly narrowing his eyes. Arriving at the stables, he hopped off his horse and glanced up at her.

"You bring all of the boys round here?"

"No." She replied immediately, hopping off Orion and landing on her feet. She found herself stood in front of Tom, now looking up at him. The silence drew them closer as she felt herself drift in his direction. The lingering stares drew to a tense close, his hand cupping her jaw. Her breath drawing shorter and eyes fluttered shut, breathing each other in and-

Footsteps drew close and Y/N turned, Tom's hand dropping from her face. Her heart raced in her chest as she saw Charlie, one of the carers approaching from the entrance. He was an older man in his sixties who dedicated himself to caring for the horses. He'd taught all of the children of their House to ride, including her father.

"Ma'am. I didn't expect you today."

She waved her hand, a flush to her cheeks "I took Orion for a ride. You know how he gets anxious staying in for too long."

Charlie nodded, glancing at Tom, "Who might this be?"

Her mouth opened and closed as she glanced at Tom, "This is Thomas. He is a new member of my security."

Charlie glanced between the two, clearly sceptical but nodded nonetheless. "Well. I'll leave you to it."

A sigh left her mouth as she finally looked Tom in the eye. "Thomas?"

"What?"

"Bit on the nose, isn't it?"

She rolled her eyes, tugging Orion's reigns to the stables.

"I'm joking!" He laughed, and she found herself smiling despite her effort to stifle it. She replaced Orion in his stable, removing the saddle and reigns to begin and placed them on the side. The door swung behind her and she turned and the air left her lungs as warm lips pressed against her. She gasped lightly into Tom's mouth, breathing him in. His touch sent shivers along her skin as he gently brushed the hair away from her neck. Her hands found their way around his neck, needing him closer. He deepened the kiss, only releasing for air as they exhaled deeply.

A neigh sounded in the background, but she was too absorbed in him leaning against her forehead, their exhales mixing together in the heat of things. Eyes half lidded, gazing into his blue eyes that faded into a gunmetal blue when fully blown.

"Charlie is probably still around." She whispered.

He hummed, "I don't think that's gonna stop me." Pressing another soft kiss to her lips as she sighed, hands resting on his chest.

***

The sun dipped below the horizon as they sat beneath the tree, settled in a comfortable silence. Y/N nestled her head in Tom's shoulder.

"This is nice."

"It is, isn't it?" He hummed, glancing at her. He brushed her hair from her face.

"Would you...want to do this again?"

"This?" He feigned confusion, begging her to elaborate.

She glanced up at him, "You know. Seeing each other."

"D'you mean as mates or..." He smiled at her, "Just thought I'd confirm."

She sat up, tucking her hair over her shoulder "As in, I'd like to see you again, Tom."

He smirked, "I'm only pulling your leg. I understand perfectly."

Leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek, "I'd love to see more of you. Just know, I'm known for getting into trouble sometimes."

"I'm certain there's never a dull moment with you." She remarked, breaking into a grin as he tugged her into his arms.

"So it's settled then?"

"Yeah." She breathed, glancing between his eyes and lips. "Although, there is the one thing. To keep this secret."

He listened, "The media are known for distorting stories, and I wouldn't want that for you...us."

"Okay. If that’s what you want." He nodded.

"Thank you." She smiled, caressing his hand. "My family wouldn't know either. They're...my parents are open-minded, but-right now, things are uncertain. I'm unsure of what they're thinking."

"Understandable." He replied, "Not sure about dad, but I think Lois would agree. Try not to worry about all that." Tom clasped their hands together. "Focus on right now."

She exhaled, "I'll try, yeah."

Although it was a wishful thought for the most part that they could exist together without question. Without doubt of intervention or disapproval of their relationship.

Tom tugged her into his chest, "One of these days, I will beat you in a race."

"Oh, yeah?" She tilted her head, "You're about twelve years behind in training. I'm sure you'll get there, though."

"Hey," he murmured in her ear in a teasing voice. She giggled and the sound caused his heart to flutter. "I could-"

"-I'm sure you will." Y/N laughed as he tickled her neck.