#Ray Tracing Options

[fogaminghub]

🚀 Attention gamers! Marvel's Spider-Man 2 is heading to PC, and it’s unleashing some jaw-dropping ray tracing effects! Imagine swinging through a stunningly realistic New York City, complete with detailed reflections and shadows. With support for ultra-wide monitors and advanced settings available, this game is set to redefine your gaming adventure. Get hyped! 🎮🌟

[awkward-teabag]

You know what, I'm going to add to this after all. Ray tracing is a gimmick and infamous for how intensive it is on hardware where it updates in real time, such as in video games. Before it was considered at all feasible outside rendering CGI, there were other methods of simulating light that were far easier for hardware to handle and, honestly, the difference between them (I can't remember what the name of the algorithm is) and ray tracing is minimal.

Adding to the problem is video card manufacturers pushing it while not increasing the VRAM on cards that are now expected to handle ray tracing, NPC scripts/AI, all other graphics, and stream encoding at the same time. GPUs have not seen a meaningful increase in VRAM in years despite the push of 4k graphics and ray tracing.

Oh and handling generating in-between frames to increase FPS/hide poor optimisation and up-scaling from 1080p to 4k or 8k. Sometimes both at the same time (in addition to the rest).

Further compounding it is consoles using stripped down versions of GPUs but not allowing users to upgrade them or other hardware. At least not in an easy way that doesn't void the warranty.

There's only so much that can be off-loaded to other components and it is a Choice™ to decide not to include an option to disable features that minimally improve the graphics (I specify graphics since more than one game has been released where turning off ray tracing wasn't the first thing recommended to turn off if you wanted to hit 30+ FPS) but can and do overwhelm GPUs.

Mandatory Ray Tracing should be banned in games. Genuinely absurd to think the majority of consumers are running high performing RTX graphics cards.

[stargrltara]

𝒞𝒪𝒲𝐵𝒪𝒴

MDNI 18+

Being new to the X-Mansion wasn’t easy. Actually, it’s been the hardest adjustment you think you’ve ever encountered.

It started when Charles Xavier found you, ridding you from your family who despised mutants and decided you’d be an amazing student at the school even though you were over 18, clearly reading some sort of potential. At first you were hesitant, but after a brief explanation and clearance you knew you didn’t really have a second option.

In fact, it was all going smoothly. You made friends really quick, probably due to your charm and your fascinating abilities. You were a really kind and nurturing person naturally, very talkative but also an observer from afar.

You had a decent roommate, though they snored and sometimes would have not so private make out sessions with their boyfriend every now and again. God you wish you could get a break from that.

Everything was way too good to be true, until, the Wolverine showed up. He walked in like he owned the place, his hair jet black and slightly mishevelled but so perfectly carved into little ears at the top. A rugged beared covered his jaw and he had these alluring hazel eyes that twinkled when they traced over your figure.

You were with your new best friend Rogue, who happened to be close with him. She immediately ran to him, “Hey, Kid.” he rumbled, and his lips curved into a smirk as he listened to her saying how much she missed him and asking him about his trip of some sort. You always heard stories about him, but seeing him in person is different, and you’re not sure why.

You stood there, arms folded over your chest as you examined him from afar. His gruff demeanour, the way his voice lowers almost into a growl when he speaks. He keeps his sentences short snd sharp, almost cold. His eyes tilted to your figure, glancing an eye before turning back to Rogue and you felt your heart drop into your stomach at the way you two locked eyes for a split second

A few hours later, you find yourself in class, daydreaming as your professor leisure’s the class on information already covered. Your mind flutters and you find yourself in a trance of thoughts. Wolverine. Thats when your teacher pulled you back into reality when she you called your name to answer a question which unfortunately you weren’t even paying attention to. Fuck.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

The whole day you couldn’t stop thinking about him. And throughout a few weeks, you two were playing eye tag in the corridors or when he’d walk into your class to grab something. Even during training, you’d bat your lashes up at him as he’d scold your class on how to properly handle missions, to be honest, your mind was elsewhere, gazing into the ember of his eyes worried that he would catch a glimpse of you staring.

Thinking about how he looked in person, how tough and mean he was as everyone described. You were almost intimated; he was way bigger than you. You bet he could pick you up and throw you over his shoulder if he wanted, or wrap his bicep around your neck like a necklace. But you shouldn’t be thinking about this, especially not with him. He’s older. Over 100 years old, though he still looks perfect.

You stare at your ceiling, trying to block out the thoughts although it’s hard when you’re listening to the heavy making out happening in the bed next to you. Again. Jesus, people can be inconsiderate. But it’s impossible to block out the cacophony, so you found yourself wandering around the mansion.

The X-Mansion is gorgeous. The antique furniture and wooden walls reflecting the moons beams of ray. You carried on your journey until you got to the kitchen, it was empty, thank god, you weren’t in the mood for anyone right now.

Your tiredness had escaped after a whole bowl of icecream, you leaned against the counter beside the fridge with a spoon in mouth, about to add some more icecream to the bowl until you heard heavy footsteps.

Your ears perked up in alert. The thudding inched closer until you finally saw the source. It was him. Logan. His towering figure, his white tank top clad chest which did nothing to cover his broad shoulders and bulging biceps. His forearms veined and pure muscle.

He looked you up and down, eyes trailing down your frame as your lips parted. You didn’t know what to say, though you were salivating at the mouth; you bit back every word which strived to flutter from your lips. Instead, he muttered to you first.

“Hey.” He wasn’t new to people being surprised at his presence, being almost intimidated but also in a state of fret. You swallowed hard before planting a soft smile on your face, “Hey.” you returned, before avoiding eye contact to try and conclude the growing tension, and looking back down at your icecream.

He huffed before walking closer, every step making fire burn through your veins. “Jesus, doesn’t anybody sleep around here?” he groaned, although there was slight humour behind his voice, it was covered by his gruffness.

“Aparently not.” You gave your answers short and sweet, your voice soft, almost too inviting, incase your words triggered him or made him angry. You didn’t wanna regret saying anything.

A scoff erupted from his throat which faded into a dry chuckle, as his figure walked past you, you could smell the lingering stench of cigars and leather. You could almost sense the sin which clung to his clothes like a parasite. It invaded your nostrils, covering them like a blanket as he searched in the fridge for something.

You were curious, people have said you have no filter, you enjoy speaking your mind. You find it refreshing, and even if you didn’t, those telepaths would know anyway. Your couldnt hold yourself back. “What’cha lookin’ for—?” You muttered, head tilting before he cut you off. “—Beer. “

You smacked your lips together in acceptance of his cold attitude, knowing it was coming. His looming figure turned you turned to you, and his eyes raked over your features as they sharpened so glamorously in the moonlit sky which painted the walls a glowy silver.

Your eyes locked with his, and now you notice every crevice on his face. His gaze turned to your low cut T, fit with some shorts and your little slippers. You could feel his stare burning through your skin as he stared at your stomach, the way your shirt rid up lightly as you leaned against the counter. Though, the fire burnt so good as you knew he was almost intrigued by you.

His lips opened to speak, his voice a rough huff, “Got any beer ‘n this place?” he raised a brow, his glare still piercing your skin and shocking through your veins. God, the way he leaned an arm over the top of the fridge made him look so massive compared to you.

Looking up at him, “ ‘m not sure.. “ you trailed off, trying to recall if any of your teachers had a secret stash somewhere. “—I mean, I don’t drink, so like..” you muttered, trying to find the right words, earning a snicker from him.

“ ‘course you don’t, kid.” he chuckled, and you narrowed your eyes at his nickname for you. “Not that I’m not allowed to drink.” you asserted, “I just don’t.” He raised a brow, confused on why you’re going on a little side rant.

Truth be told, you’re just nervous. And praying that he couldn’t hear the way your heart beat out of your chest. “..right.” he muttered, before you spoke up again. “—but i’m pretty sure one of my professors have some in the cupboard somewhere.” you motioned to all the cupboards above you and beside you.

His eyes lit up, and he immediately reached for the cupboard over your head. You glared at him through your lashes as you felt the heat radiating off of his body. Almost corrupting you. He chuckled to himself in achievement before leaning against the counter beside you, popping the cap open like it was nothing and taking a long swig of the beer.

His fingers wrap around the neck of the bottle, and your eyes bore at his hands, wondering how it’d look if he got his claws out right at this very moment.

You were yearning for some sort of conversation, some communication. You wanted to hear his voice echo through your ears again, wanted to feel your heart drop into your stomach as he growled lowly. “..soo, what’s your excuse for being awake?” you attempted to should as nonchalant and unbothered as possible, your eyes locking with eachother intensely.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He answered hoarsely, and you hummed. The corner of Logan's lips quirks up in a slight, barely discernible smirk at your question. He pulls out a cigar from his pocket before lighting it like light work before taking a drag of his cigar, the smoke curling around him before he exhales.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” you sympathised but he was quick to respond, Logan catches the subtle shift in your gaze, and he can't help but notice the flicker of curiosity and unease in your eyes. His lips curl into a wry smirk at your words, his gruff exterior shielding his own weariness. “—don’t waste your apologies on me, darlin’.”

He gives a dismissive wave with the hand holding the cigar, the smoke spiralling around him like a wispy tendril. He takes a step closer, shortening the distance between you, his gaze never leaving yours. The nickname does nothing but make a pool in your stomach heat, the thick tension almost suffocating you whole.

Logan's voice is gruff and gravelly, yet there's a subtle hint of exhaustion underlying his words. He locks eyes with you, his gaze holding a steely determination. He takes a moment to study your expression, observing the lines of exhaustion that slightly crease your face, the way your eyes seem to flicker with something enticing. “What’s yours?”

“—oh, I couldn’t sleep either.” You brushed off, honestly surprised by how he’s keeping up the small talk. “My roommate and her boyfriend are always doing.. stuff.” you groaned lightly at the thought of it, and Logan cocked an almost suggestive smirk at you.

“I've had my fair share of noisy roommates back in the day, kid. I guess you jus’ gotta have the talent for blocking it all out.“ He takes another sip of his beer, his gaze briefly lingering on the curve of your small of your neck as you tilt your head.

“I guess.” You repeat with a nod, “—but you’re so lucky you get your own room.” you groan fed up of your roommate always making sleeping so hard, your voice slightly envious as you watch him cross him arms over his broad chest, his muscles now flexing, and your gaze burning shaking chills down your spine.

“..I need my privacy sometimes.” His eyes narrow slightly as he looks at you, the gruffness in his tone betraying a hint of something deeper. Something more captivating.

Your brows raise instinctively, and you grin almost playfully at his words, “Oh, yeah, cowboy?” you giggled as he scoffed, but betraying a small gruff chuckle behind it.

Logan notices the suggestiveness of your smirk and can't help but huff out a small laugh. He leans back against the counter; Logan's gaze flicks between you and his cigar.

He takes another drag, the smoke encircling him like a veil, masking his subtle glances at your form. You cant deny it fuelled something in you, finally being able to talk with a man you’ve been almost stalking for weeks. A slight smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he responds, his rough voice more playful than before

“You know, you've got a real smart mouth on ya', kid. Careful, or it might get you into trouble.” He keeps his gaze locked on you, his eyes flickering over your form, appreciating your confidence.

You don’t know what’d gotten into you, but you felt yourself just spilling out whatever came to mind now. “As long as you don’t snitch on me.” Your voice was a seductive purr, low and inviting as you found yourself falling into Logan’s spell. Yes, it was your true self, but Logan seemed almost surprised at how you were drawing him in, almost enchantingly.

Logan’s baby pink lips curved into a grin, he knew what you were doing. He could sense how badly you wanted him, the way you grazed his arm softly but the touch sent ripples to his core. He put out his cigar, stubbing it onto his hand before putting it back into his pocket.

He could smell the slick growing in your underwear. He could feel the heat radiating off of your skin, seeping through his. “Don’t you worry, sugar. Your secrets safe with me.” he grumbled gruffly, though there was a glint of tempt in his words, as if he was going to give in.

You giggled softly and that only fuelled his temptation, your sweet little lips tilting into a smirk as you watched him lean closer. Taking another puff of his cigar and gazing through the haze of the smoke. You couldn’t hold back, you inched closer as did he.

“Y’know, ‘f you ever need another room to crash in..” his voice was low and dangerous, you both knew his implications. “—got a whole king sized bed to myself..” he leaned into you, your bodies were so close you could feel his weight on your petite body as you felt pinned to the counter behind you.

His rough exterior, ragged beard scratched your cheek as he leaned into your ear, his warmth fanning your skin. “—know a few ways I could put ya’ to sleep,” his chuckle was a growl, a primal growl and you gasped lightly.

Your hands flew up, grazing the sides of his arms and snaking up to his biceps, his shoulders. His face leaned back to look into your glimmering orbs and he just grinned almost hungrily at you, like he was holding back. You parted your lips, breath staggered as you whispered, “Wolverine.. It’s not a good idea—“

“Logan.” he interrupted. You repeated, “—logan.” and it rolled off your tongue so naturally, so gracefully and all he could imagine was you screaming that name all night, your voice bouncing off the walls and his hands all over you.

“Cmon.. scared you’ll like it?” he breathed, leaning in so close your lips were almost touching. You knew it was wrong, though you knew you were so tempted, so eager to just taste his liquor lips. You couldn’t form a word for once, for once you were finally silenced, beaten at your own game. You never expected this to happen.

So, you didn’t say anything. Instead, you slammed your lips against his into a starved kiss , the bold action catching him off guard but as he got into the rhythm, it flowed like a perfect melody.

The kiss was hot, passionate and raw. Teeth clashing and the lewd sounds filling the atmosphere of the kitchen. He slid his tongue past your mouth,, tasting you and savouring the flavour. Your head tilted and you moaned into his mouth, warming his lips as his fingertips drew fire at its wake on your stomach. His fingers grazed up, past your ribcage then back down to your hips. He stopped at your thighs, gripping them firmly before lifting you on the counter and breaking the hot kiss.

You were left panting, lips swollen but still wanting more. As soon as you were seated on the counter top, his big hands firmly gripped your hips like nothing, wrapping around your figure as he pulled you closer.

Your arms wrapped around his neck and his lips abruptly crashed into yours again. He growled a guttural moan into your mouth as he bit your bottom lip, this time the kiss was more eager, rough filthy even. Your tongue came out, now licking his top lip hungrily. He deepened the kiss, and you could taste the strong malt liquor and cigars that lingered on his tongue. Leaning further in, he felt a shock down in his core, bulge growing bigger and bigger by the second.

You scratched your manicured nails up the back of his neck, surely drawing blood but his skin healing in a matter of seconds as you now interlocked in his messy hair as you tugged on his scalp lightly, earning another primal groan from his lips. Your hips consciously grinded against his belt, his jeans, looking for some sort of release for the growing arousal in your panties.

He pulled away again, a stray line of spit connecting your lips before he began to lay rough open mouthed kisses all over your jaw, down to your neck and licking a long stripe up your throat before catching your lips in one more short kiss.

He unbuckled his belt, tossing it onto the ground with a loud thud and watching you bite your nails in anticipation, “..need you so bad, Logan.” you almost whined, rubbing your thighs together to ease the temptation; glaring at his with doe eyes but only sin and seduction behind them. He could feel himself growing harder at your neediness for him as you were drawing him in.

“Don’t you worry, darlin’ , “ he breathed, leaning in as his eyes locked with yours, hands coming to your hips, pulling you closer to you could feel his heat seeping onto your skin.

“..you’ll be takin’ all of me tonight.”

a/n: hey cuties!! as requested, logan howlett!! ik it’s pretty long and there isn’t any smut but i’m more than happy to make a part 2 if anyone wants<3 . xoxo. T

[fawnsmagicalisland]

the water's edge ₊˚✧ ﾟ. || (c.yj)

desc: siren!yeonjun x reader

warnings: smut, mdni!, siren!yeonjun x afab!reader, actual plot wow, no pronouns are used for reader, kind of dubcon but also not really?, reader is affected by siren’s allure, fingering, oral (r receiving), face-fucking, cum eating, praise, yeonjun is inexperienced, sort of sub!yeonjun but not necessarily, interrupted sex, beomgyu cameo, slight angst at the end

wc: 2.5K

the sun bounced off the surface of the water, small circles rippling among the lake every now and then. a slight breeze in the air carried the scent of honeysuckle, the nostalgic sweetness carrying with it a sense of calm. it was about midday with the sun in the center of the crisp blue sky. all you could really think to yourself was that you really should have come here sooner–you had forgotten just how much you missed this place. 

you closed your eyes as you soaked up the sun’s rays, sitting on a grassy knoll above the water. your legs dangled and your toes grazed the surface of the lake, the water cool to the touch. you must have sat in this exact spot countless times. you could practically feel the slight indentation in the earth underneath you, as though you were right where you belonged. maybe you did belong. maybe you could just quit your job and all your worldly responsibilities to live as one with the lake and all its inhabitants. if only.

it took quite a bit of convincing to get here and now that you were here, you never wanted to leave. working in corporate was not exactly your favorite thing in the world, and it made you forget how to relax, much less breathe. you hadn’t exactly forgotten about the summer cabin your father owned, but you never thought about returning. after all, the last time you were here, you were about twelve, right before your parents’ divorce. you worried that returning here would only dredge up memories of life before their separation, causing new pain to bubble up. but that currently was at the very back burner of your mind as you stared out at the lake and trees beyond. 

out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a few inconsistent ripples, as though there were a creature lurking below. you ignored it, deciding it was probably a particularly large fish and instead opting to look down at your phone. you noticed a few new messages from your best friend, beomgyu, who suggested you stay at the cabin in the first place. you smiled to yourself, typing out a response that yes, you arrived safely and he was right, it was nice to be back out here. after you hit send, you placed your phone back down then immediately made eye contact with a man standing in the lake. you considered taking a photo of the beautiful landscape around you when you realized–there was a man in front of you standing in the lake.

his eyes, which were just above the surface of the water, widened with surprise as you stared directly into them. you too widened your eyes, except in horror. how long had he been there? and how did he get in the middle of the lake without you seeing?

“um, excuse me, this is private property.” you called out, your voice crack betraying you. “i’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

the man continued staring at you for a few seconds then sunk down into the water, leaving ripples in his wake. what the hell? 

you waited for several seconds, the silence spanning into minutes. was he not going to come up for air? should you do something? call the cops? jump in and save him?

after weighing the options, you let out a sigh and slipped off your shorts and tank top before diving into the lake. you swam out to the middle where he was supposed to be, finding no trace of him. what if he had sunk to the bottom?

“hello?” you called out, breaking the surface of the water for air. “hello? are you there?” 

you continued scanning both the water and bank for him, still seeing no sign of him. then you felt a breath on your neck, and you whirled around, coming face-to-face with single-handedly the most beautiful person you had ever seen. you sputtered for words, looking like a fish out of water.

“who-who are you?” your voice was accusatory even as you stayed still, not backing away.

the man tilted his head slightly, a soft smile playing on his lips. “you mean you don’t remember? i guess it has been a while.” 

“what are you talking about? i think i’d remember someone like you.” you regretted it as soon as you said it, internally cringing. 

but he just let out a giggle. “you really don’t remember? we used to play all the time.” he paused but still saw no layer of recognition in your eyes. “it’s me. yeonjun.” 

you never thought you’d hear that name again, it being buried under a thick layer of dust within your mind. “yeonjun? you mean my imaginary friend?”

he giggled again, which would be infuriating if it wasn’t so cute. “i’m hardly imaginary.” he grabbed your hand and placed it on his forearm. “see?” 

you shook your head and retracted your hand. “no, i’m saying you’ve got to be lying. wait a minute… is this one of beomgyu’s pranks?”

his eyebrows furrowed. “beomgyu? who’s beomgyu?”

you rolled your eyes. “yeah, right. beomgyu. you know, my best friend.”

his face fell at that. “i thought i was your best friend…”

“i don’t know you.” you said a bit harshly, then sighed. “listen, i don’t know what you’re on, but there’s no way you’re yeonjun. he was some mermaid guy that i imagined up–”

“i prefer the term ‘siren.’ although even that has been tainted by greek mythos.” 

“you’re kidding.”

“do i look like i am?”

you finally backed up. “look, if you want, i can take you to the nearest hospital. it seems that you’ve suffered some kind of… something.” 

he inched closer to you. “why don’t you take a closer look at my hand?”

“what?” pretty or not, this guy was sounding absolutely nuts. 

he brought his hand up to your face, extending his fingers. that’s when you noticed it: webbed skin connecting each of the digits. your eyes widened and you looked down, staring at the aquamarine tail that was located where his legs should have been. 

“oh… my god.” 

“do you believe me now? it’s me. it’s really me. and… it’s really you. i missed you so much, y/n. i was afraid that you would never come back.” yeonjun pulled you into a tight yet warm embrace, his hands holding you close. 

“i… i don’t know what to say. did i hit my head?” you murmured, the shock of the situation clouding your mind. 

“no, this is real. i’m real. and most importantly, you’re real.” yeonjun pulled away, holding you at arm’s length. he was looking at you so fondly, a wide grin on his face. “now we can play again! just like old times.” 

“wait, wait… yeonjun, this is a lot to process.”

he frowned slightly. “oh, yes, of course. sorry. i guess i’m getting a bit carried away.” he gently let go of you, albeit reluctantly. 

“let me… hold on, my arms are getting tired.” you quickly swam back to the grassy knoll, yeonjun trailing not far behind. once you made it back, you plopped onto the earth with a grunt. then you rolled over and peered down at yeonjun, who was peering up at you expectantly. that was when you remembered you were only in your bra and panties. you quickly placed an arm across your chest and your hand in front of your crotch.

“um, can you turn around?”

“what? why?” yeonjun’s voice was laced with genuine confusion. 

“uh, because i’m, like, half naked.”

“oh. you are?” 

before you responded, you realized this was a mermaid–siren–not a human. he’d probably only ever seen humans in bikinis, and he likely didn’t know the difference. you slowly retracted your arm and hand, scooting back to sit up.

“right, anyway. this is crazy. i can’t believe you’re real.” 

yeonjun smiled lopsidedly up at you. “yep, sure am. it’s so good to see you… you’ve become so beautiful.” his eyes widened slightly. “not that you weren’t before. it’s just… you know, we were young. and now…” 

“all grown up.” you said. “you’re beautiful too. like… alarmingly so.”

“it’s the siren genes.” yeonjun said offhandedly with a shrug. “humans are especially susceptible to it. it’s the siren’s allure.”

“well that sounds suspicious. and yet somehow i don’t care.”

“again, the siren’s allure.” yeonjun rested his chin on the bank. “but don’t worry. i don’t plan on having you for dinner.” 

“why not?” 

“huh?” 

you let out a giggle, looking down into his sweet eyes. you kind of wanted him. like… kind of really wanted him. the desire hit you like a wave, seemingly coming from nowhere yet everywhere all at once. 

“y/n?” yeonjun tilted his head again. “are you okay? you look a little dazed.” 

“come here.” you patted the space next to you.

yeonjun complied, lifting himself out of the water and plopping down next to you. his blue-green scales shimmered in the sunlight as he stared at you curiously. 

“have you ever touched a human before, yeonjun?” 

“i mean, yeah. i’ve touched your arm before, i think.” 

you giggled again. “no, not like that. like this.” you took his hand, guiding it between your legs on your cunt. you inhaled sharply at the contact and yeonjun’s eyes widened.

“y/n… what are you doing?”

“i need you. i need you so badly.” 

yeonjun tried to retract his hand but you held it there. “this is just the allure talking. i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have gotten so close to you. i should’ve known this would happen.”

“i don’t care if it’s the allure. please, i need you. are you going to make me beg?” 

yeonjun nibbled on his lip, looking between your face and his hand that was against your wet cunt. as he sat there in thought, you let go of his hand, giving him the opportunity to pull it away. he did not. you closed the gap and left light kisses along his neck, stopping to nip occasionally at the skin. yeonjun gasped at the contact, craning his neck to give you better access. you sucked more harshly, causing red and purple marks to bloom across his skin. 

“c-can i touch you?” yeonjun asked timidly, his finger pads pressing gently against your clothed folds. you nodded feverishly and pushed your panties to the side, watching his face as he pushed two fingers inside of you. you let out a soft moan, throwing your head forward against his shoulder.

“i um… i’ve never done this before. so let me know if i do something wrong.” he said quickly, his face heating up with embarrassment. he then began slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you, squelching noises filling the air as you felt yourself getting more and more wet. 

“doing so well.” you murmured in his ear before grabbing his chin to connect his lips with yours. yeonjun stiffened before relaxing, allowing you to take the lead. you slipped your tongue in between his lips, exploring his mouth as he began picking up the pace. you pulled away with a cry, feeling his fingers against your gummy walls.

“does it feel good?” yeonjun rasped, placing kisses along your jawline.

“so good, baby. making me feel so good.”

he smiled at the nickname then pulled his fingers out of you, slowly sliding them in between his lips. yeonjun sucked them clean with the world’s most beautiful moan, closing his eyes.

you felt your cunt clench at the sight, and whined softly at the lack of his fingers.

“can i…” yeonjun gestured at your pussy with a blush. “i wanna try… you know.”

“wanna try what, baby?” you teased, cupping his cheek.

“i wanna try eating you out.” he said, barely audible. 

“of course you can. wanna make me feel good, hmm?”

“yes, more than anything.” he said, scooting down so that he was in between your legs. he grabbed onto your thighs, locking eyes with your entrance. “are you… are you ready?”

you let out a laugh. “yeah, i’m ready. are you?”

his blush grew, feeling increasingly more embarrassed. “yeah, yes. i am.” 

then he pressed his lips against your clit, sucking experimentally. your loud moan spurred him on, sucking more harshly and darting his tongue between your folds. your hand went instinctively to rest on the top of his head, gently grabbing a handful of his hair. 

“fuck… just like that, yeonjun.” 

he made out with your cunt like his life depended on it, your moans increasing in volume until eventually you felt the familiar intensity in your stomach.

“i-i’m gonna cum, fuck!” you cried out, fucking yourself against his face. yeonjun flattened his tongue and allowed you to use him as he felt a warm liquid on his tongue. you felt like your body was on fire as you came, your body shuddering with pleasure. you rode out your high until it was becoming too much, finally letting go of yeonjun’s head. as you caught your breath, yeonjun came up from between your legs, a dopey grin on his face. your arousal coated his mouth and chin and his hair was sticking out in all directions, looking absolutely fucked out even though you hadn’t even touched him. it was truly a sight to behold.

“y/n!” 

you whipped your head around, hearing a familiar voice you couldn’t fully recognize in your post-orgasm high. you turned back to yeonjun with wide eyes only to see he was gone, a set of ripples left in his wake. you pulled your underwear back over your cunt and quickly stood up, grabbing your shirt and shorts.

a wolf whistle caused you to turn around again, seeing beomgyu and his stupid grin. “damn, y/n. you’re really letting loose out here, huh?” 

“beomgyu… what are you doing here?” you hurriedly pulling on your shirt. 

“thought i’d join you. i figured you might be lonely out here all by yourself. that and potentially in danger. who knows what’s lurking out there in the woods? or even the lake?”

“nothing. nothing is in the lake.” you said quickly, tugging on your shorts.

beomgyu let out a laugh. “i’m just kidding, y/n. but even if there were, i’m here to protect you now. you don’t have to worry. come on, i brought us some takeout.” he turned and began walking toward the direction of the cabin.

“okay, i’ll be right there. just give me a second.” you called after him. once he was out of sight, you turned back to the lake. surely enough, yeonjun’s head was peeking out of the water.

“is that him?” his voice had an edge to it that you didn’t expect.

“yeah, beomgyu.” you let out a sigh. “i’m so sorry, but do you think we can maybe continue this later? beomgyu would become suspicious if i’m out here for too long.”

“sure, yeah.”

you nodded awkwardly. “um… i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” you gave him a last look before turning around, making your way to the cabin.

yeonjun watched your retreating figure, his eyes seething with jealousy. then he was gone in an instant, the ripples on the water slowly spreading until the lake became still once more.

a/n: no one asked for this but yay my first txt post woo 🥳

[fayes-fics]

The Secrets We Keep: Pt II

<< Part I

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Knowing someone your whole life doesn’t mean they can’t surprise you… (part II, see above for link to part I)

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, oral sex (m to f), cunnilingus, hand job, vaginal sex, woman on top, orgasm. Also a lot of fluff and a few dashes of angst.

Word Count: 8.5k (13.6k for complete fic, including Pt I)

Authors Note: Part 2 of 2. Part 1 linked above. My longest gestating WIP! It’s been more than 18 months since I received a request for this secret diary fic. Tulip Anon, I have no idea if you still follow me, but I hope you think I did your detailed request justice. Here is the conclusion to this Benepic! Betaed by the awesome @colettebronte, who I can’t thank enough. Enjoy! 🫶

-vii-

The first thing you feel is throbbing pain, an insistent drum in your head, mouth dry as if you have been chewing cotton wool—the instant regret of excessive drinking floods through you. However, when your eyes reluctantly peel open, your predicament escalates.

You have no earthly idea where you are. Or how you got here. The last thing you remember was Benedict kissing you; then the room was literally spinning from entirely too much brandy. 

Still in the dress you wore yesterday, but tucked under crisp white linens. A trace of a familiar scent upon the pillow that you cannot quite place in your fuzzy state. Gingerly sitting up, you try to get your bearings, not yet awake enough to have any reaction beyond puzzlement. 

The room is darkened, thankfully, save for a sliver of the rising sun that slashes across the bed through a narrow gap in the curtains. You are in a large mahogany four-poster bed; the room is decorated in rich jewel tones—heavy velvet burgundy drapes and dark blue Persian rugs, panelled walls on which stunning artwork hangs. Embers glow in a nearby fireplace as you spy your pelisse hanging on the back of a door and your shoes neatly arranged nearby.

Then you twist and see the bedside cabinet, and your stomach plunges.

There, alongside a glass of water, is your notebook. Your secret notebook. The one that should still be concealed within the hidden pocket of your pelisse. But instead, it is here. And what is worse, it is open. Open to a page with one of your favourite sketches of Benedict: his eyes crinkling against the strong rays of the sun, a carefree smile on his face.

Instantly, you grab it and slam it shut. Fingernails drumming urgently on its silken cover, now hugged into your chest. Horrified that your mystery generous benefactor, who must have seen you to bed, has also been privy to your most private thoughts. 

Galvanised by a need to solve the mystery of who, you relinquish your tight hold on the tome. It is then that a folded letter slips out of its pages and drops into your lap. Tentatively, you unfurl the paper and are aghast by the headed notepaper declaring the author and revealing your host. The worst possible person you could think of.

But then your gaze falls to the elegant script inked onto its thick parchment, and your life is indelibly altered.

Dearest Y/n

I hope you are well-rested. There are so many things I am impatient to impart, but I must begin with an explanation and, indeed, an apology.

You are in my bedroom, at my lodgings. I brought you here as I saw no other option that would guarantee your safety and welfare, which is always my utmost concern.  I made pains to ensure your arrival here was not seen, and I must assure you, in case your recall is uncertain, that nothing has happened between us beyond our kiss. 

Now onto my apology, which is two-fold, although I suspect it should contain multitudes more. Firstly, my most sincere and unreserved apologies for my ungentlemanly conduct at our last two encounters. As wondrous as those kisses were, they were nonetheless inexcusable. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive my impulsive actions.

Secondly, I must apologise for my discovery of this, your private diary. My knowledge of its existence is purely accidental; I removed it from your coat merely as a wish for your possessions to be in neat order upon your awakening. My knowledge of its contents, however… for that, I must throw myself at your mercy and beg for your forgiveness. Curiosity and liquor are not the best companions, and it seems both got the better of me. 

In what I hope is partial recompense, I will confess a secret of mine. Arguably selfish in nature and most likely the worst possible timing, too. However, given what I have now seen, I am utterly compelled to convey it….

I love you, y/n.

Most ardently and most truly. 

There is no person in the world I would rather spend time with. Whose thoughts I am always impatient to know and whose every moment I wish to be a part of. For some time now, you have occupied my every thought. 

It is why I felt compelled to act when I heard from Eloise about your impossible situation. I will do anything within my power to assist you. It is why I said that I want to alleviate your burdens. I meant every word and more. My happiness is seemingly inextricably calibrated to yours—when I see you happy, it brings me great joy, and when I see you are not, it brings a pang to my chest I know not what do with. 

I would have taken these feelings to my grave… were it not for this diary. When what I found hidden within ts pages gave me the exquisite burden of hope. Hope that perhaps you return my affections? May indeed have done so for quite some time as well? 

I must also take a moment to compliment your poetic talent, and that is to say nothing of your artistic abilities, which quite frankly are humbling. Dare I dream of a day that we could paint together? Sorry (Again! Multitudes indeed!), I am likely getting far ahead of myself.

I will not be home when you read this. Partial cowardice on my part, no doubt, but born out of utmost respect. You always deserve the right to choose, y/n, and that includes what you do with this confession. I do not wish for you to be obligated to see me or let me know your response, thoroughly eager though I am to hear of it. 

If you wish to speak to me before your wedding ceremony, please leave your hair ribbon tied to my phaeton upon your departure. I will find a way to see you. If you do not, I shall, of course, respect your decision. 

A vila mon coeur, gardi li mo: You will always have my heart; I hope you also choose to be its haven.

Benedict

You could read this confession a thousand times over and still scarcely believe it; the depth of his feelings declared plainly, boldly, and so lyrically in writing. You pour over it once more, giddily aglow, your fingers tracing across his elegant, looped script, your lips moving as you mouth his words, needing to have them within you somehow. Then, you lovingly refold and place the letter between the last two blank pages of your notebook—a more fitting denouement to its contents you could not imagine.

You put on your shoes and pelisse, still floating on a cloud. A valet meets you in the hallway and, with a wordless nod of acknowledgement, leads you out of the rear mews entrance, handing you a large silk scarf to conceal yourself under. With one final glance up at Benedict’s abode, you unfurl the ribbon from your hair and, insides aflutter, tie it in a neat bow onto his phaeton before wrapping the scarf around your head and stealing out onto the streets of Mayfair. 

-viii-

Still in a daze about Benedict’s confession, you slip into the servant's entrance of your family home, tiptoeing through the dormant kitchen and tugging off the scarf. Just as you believe yourself home-free, Mrs White, head cook and ersatz maternal figure, materialises from the pantry, nearly dropping a bag of flour in surprise.

“Lawks alive, sweet child, you gave me a fright!” she exclaims, clutching her chest. “Pray tell, why are you sneaking into my kitchen at the crack of dawn?”

You cringe and turn sheepishly to meet her gaze. “Sorry for the scare, Mrs White. I, um, indulged rather too heavily last night. I was in no fit state to return home. I stayed with a trusted friend.” The truth, albeit behind a veil of obfuscation. “Please do not tell Father!” you add hurriedly.

As she plunks down the flour and smacks her fingers together to rid them of its nascent dust, she chuckles. “I shall not divulge if you do not… for I was already under your father’s employ when I did the same many years ago, the night before I made my Harry an honest man.”

“Deal!” you giggle, clutching your notebook tight to your chest, unable to quash the ebullience fizzing in your being.

“You look as if you caught a rainbow and sold it to the sky,” she declares, crossing her arms and observing you closely. “Wedding day excitement, yes?!” she adds pointedly with a raised eyebrow, even as her tone very much suggests she suspects otherwise. 

“Of course, Mrs White…” you concur, attempting to conceal the quirk of your lip. 

She rolls her eyes and shoos you affectionately towards the hallway. “Away with you! I suspect the less I truly know, the better…”

You say nothing; just give her a nod and race up the servant's stairs, keen to make it to your bedroom unseen. 

As soon as you are safely there, you toe off your shoes and only then relinquish your vice-like grip upon your notebook to hurriedly change into your nightgown as if you had been asleep in the house all night. Enacting a plan you conceived on the brisk walk home, you grab a night bag from your ottoman. Flinging open your wardrobe, patently ignoring the wedding dress hung upon its door, you bundle the notebook with a couple of your favourite outfits and stuff them into the bag. Buckling it shut while you scoot across the room, you open the sash window and  - with a quick check of the garden below - drop the bag into the large rhododendron beneath, hopeful the dense, fragrant blooms will conceal its presence for now.

Just as you are closing the window, a gaggle of ladies descend upon your room, led by your fussing mother, your ladies' maid Rachel among them. Realising she has had to lie to keep your cover since yesterday at the modiste, you silently shoot her a brief look of reassurance.

“Rise and shine, darling!” your mother chimes. “‘Tis your most special day!”

And then everything is a blur as the preparation for your wedding starts in earnest, you still slightly detached from it all, your thoughts purely of Benedict. It is only sometime later that you get a few moments of peace with just Rachel as she puts the finishing touches to your look.

“You seem changed, my lady…” Rachel opines sotto voce, sliding a pin into your hair.

You say nothing, even as your eyes meet in the vanity table mirror, unwilling to confess details of what has transpired just yet. Unsure yourself even what it could mean until you get the chance to see Benedict yourself, your stomach in knots to do so.

“I told your family you took dinner alone last night in your room after returning from the modiste, and then you went to sleep…” she whispers, leaning in even though you are alone.

“Thank you. I am truly grateful,” you offer sincerely before adding: “I will tell you more when I am able. I do beg one more favour of you…?”

She makes eye contact again in your reflection, giving a brief tentative nod after a pause.

“If you should hear from a Bridgerton valet, please follow any directions he provides,” you implore, the image of your hair ribbon fluttering gently in the breeze emblazoned in your mind.

“A valet? Not a ladies’ maid?” she checks softly, frowning.

“Yes, just please… do as he asks?”

“Yes, my lady,” she demures before reaching for your jewellery.

It is only as the carriage you and your mother ride in shudders over the cobblestones towards St George’s church an hour or so later that reality comes crashing in. 

So engrossed in thoughts of seeing Benedict all morning, you had almost forgotten the dreadful fate that likely awaits you. A sudden spike of fear that he will not turn up, that something will prevent him from seeing you, or, heaven forfend, today’s stiff breeze has blown your hair ribbon asunder. 

All at once, your head is spinning, your dress feels too tight, and there is a plunging dread in the pit of your stomach, your skin prickling hard before your vision seems to swim with dots before narrowing to blackness…

“Y/n!? Whatever is the matter?!” your mother’s alarmed voice rings out as you woozily return.

You are slumped sideways against the glass window, its cool surface a balm on your suddenly fevered temple.

“Is it what I told you about your wedding night…?!” she frets, her laced glove tickling your forehead as she appears to be checking your temperature. “I can assure you, you will get used to it…”

You bat her away and slowly sit upright, taking a calming breath while also trying to blot out the memory of her talk about marital relations right before you left the house. Not able to confess it as unnecessary without raising suspicion, you had to endure a stumbling, unhelpful explanation of things you already know. Indeed, you have witnessed at Granville’s parties, even if you have not taken part yourself. 

But then the sudden thought of being required to do such with Lord Farringdon has you grasping the curtain, your empty stomach heaving at the mere prospect. The silent hope that Benedict can assist you at the eleventh hour is the only thing that stops you from passing out anew.

With a shaky gait and a queasy, oily feeling, you alight a few moments later, your mother lending an arm of support as your father and brothers pile out of the other carriage. This is to be the entirety of your wedding guest list. You have pulled into a side courtyard of the church, concealed behind high walls, away from the inquisitive sights of the Ton. The rushed nature of the union and Whistledown’s latest means your family has no wish for this to be a public event, keen to be rid of scandal. Only your immediate family, your husband-to-be and the vicar - a friend of your father’s - know of today’s ceremony. Well, and Benedict. You did not even get the chance to inform Eloise of this expedited schedule.

As he leads you up the stairs and into the side vestibule, your father informs you that Lord Farringdon is already awaiting you at that altar and that he will appreciate a swift ceremony. You swallow thickly and nod mutely, sensing the window of opportunity creaking closed with alarming alacrity, each incessant tick of the church clock seeming like both forever and not enough time, scrabbling for any chance to stall.

Just as you are about to lose all sense of hope, you see movement over your father's shoulder that has your heart leaping into your throat. There, through a mullioned window, you see the distorted outline of a phaeton swiftly pulling up on the other side of the church from where you entered, a palpable wave of relief and excitement washing over you. 

Benedict has come!

-ix-

“Father, may I please have a moment alone?” you rush out breathlessly, pulse-pounding hard in your ears. Hoping he will interpret your request as mere nervousness about the imminent ceremony, you add: “Before I must take this big step and become a wife?”

He reluctantly grants your wishes, brusquely telling you it should be brief before following the rest of your family through the doors into the nave. 

As soon as the coast is clear, you are darting out the entrance again and running around the outside of the church, wedding dress swishing around your legs, until you skid to a halt next to a pillar that conceals you from the street.

There, before you, arrestingly beautiful and jumping athletically down to the pavement, is Benedict—a vision in a blue velvet jacket and teal cravat. 

Your eyes meet, and your knees want to buckle; such is the magnitude of the moment. He bounds up the granite steps and crushes his lips to yours briefly.

“No time to talk,” he rushes out. “If you wish to escape, take my hand, for we must depart now!”

Your heart hammers as you do the only thing you could ever want to: grab tightly onto his proffered hand as his face breaks out into the most arresting smile. Then it's a blur as he whisks you down the steps to his phaeton, hoisting you up onto its leather bench and throwing a blanket into your lap, then clambering in himself. With a shake of the reins, you lurch and take off down an alleyway at a rapid pace. The velocity of motion, red bricks of buildings whizzing by mere feet away, has you momentarily stunned and so you almost jump out of your skin when he speaks loudly over the rushing noise.

“Cover yourself before we get to the street,” Benedict advises quick-fire, only taking his attention off the road briefly to nod to the blanket. Just as you are struggling to conceal yourself, the horses careen onto Park Lane, attracting attention for the speed you are already travelling.

“Benedict!” you chastise, your arm shooting out to grab the side of the partial umbrella-like hood that arches over you, having to cling on for dear life. “This is not exactly a stealthy escape!”

“I know,” he grimaces, not looking at you, “but we must make haste and be as far away as we can as soon as possible.”

“Regardless of destination, we will need to stop at my house!” you almost have to yell to be heard over the jostling wheels on either side of you.

“Why??” His whole face screwed up in disbelief.

“I must gather some things! I will not leave without them, Benedict!!” you warn.

“What could possibly be worth stopping for?” he decries, the whole vehicle swaying violently as he rounds another bend.

“Perchance, other clothing?!” you wither loudly, frowning that he had not considered such, before adding: “And your letter!?” 

His head whips around to look at you and there is an intensity in his gaze that has your heart stuttering. An all-consuming want to kiss his lips as his gaze falls to your mouth. Only the urgent yelp of a pedestrian you narrowly avoid colliding into rips your attention away from each other. 

He rights the phaeton, tugging the reins so the horses slow.

“Alright,” he concedes, quieter, calmer. “But please do be as quick as you are able…”

You don't get the chance to inform him you have already packed and stowed a bag because he is pulling up in the quiet mews behind your family home. You jump down and take off, sprinting through the small gate and across the lawn. Soon, you are diving into the large bushes on the side of the house beneath your bedroom window. Fumbling around, you have to wrestle your dress from a branch before you reach the wall. Emitting a muted noise of victory as you are finally able to grab your bag and out of the foliage without looking.

“Miss y/l/n!?”

You jump out of your skin, spinning to see Mrs White standing at a nearby door, wielding a rolling pin.

“Mrs White, please,” you beseech, “please, do not tell anyone!” 

She takes stock of you: your animated state, your wedding dress torn over your knee where it snagged upon that branch, a night bag grasped in your ringless left hand… and she appears to make a calculated decision.

“I fear I could not, my child,” she offers with a shrug, “I do not see anyone for me to tell of…” 

The small, sympathetic nod and smile toying her lips has you barreling towards her, throwing your free arm tight around her as flour dust puffs onto the silk of your dress. You utter your thanks, flooded with gratitude, hugging her close before disentangling, you take off sprinting before she can say anymore.

-x-

As you depart from your family home, a companionable silence settles between you—a tacit understanding that there is much to discuss, but the journey is not the ideal place to do so. Both resolute to put some miles between yourselves and your family, likely now emerging from the church and wondering where on earth you are. A flare of guilt in your belly for not informing Rachel or even your mother. You resolve to send word tomorrow that you are safe without providing details.

As the edges of London give way to the countryside, you do decide to ask one simple question. 

“Where are we headed, Benedict?”

“I have a suggested destination….” he begins enigmatically, an odd cadence to his voice, “but we will discuss that later, once we stop for the night at an inn.”

There is a little flutter behind your ribs at the thought, but it is forgotten as a strong gust of wind whistles over the carriage, making you shiver and burrow into the blanket, wishing you had grabbed your pelisse from the night bag before setting off.

You startle as Benedict pulls you snugly into his side, adjusting the carriage hood and then the blanket, too, so he provides partial shelter from the winds as they whip across the fields. 

“I am sorry I do not have an enclosed carriage for you to journey in comfort,” he winces, his speech humming into you. “But it is best we use this speedier option anyway. We will cover more ground swiftly travelling light.”

You nod in acknowledgement. “Thank you for the blanket, at least; it is very considerate,” you respond, not unpleased to have an excuse to cuddle into him as you reassure him: “I am well now.”

Indeed, the warmth of his flank on yours and the steady rocking motion of the carriage is soporific, the whirlwind of the day hitting you even though it is merely lunchtime.

“Please rest if you need to,” he intuits, “I will wake you if needed.”

And despite the elements, you find the lure of sleep inevitable.

A warm wetness on your brow stirs you.

“Y/n…”

You wish you could always be roused like this; your name a soft rumble from Benedict’s lips as they trace gently over your forehead. You nuzzle unthinkingly into the sound and feel, which has him chuckling into your skin.

“We are here, at the inn….” he murmurs, his breath hot into your hairline.

You blink awake. “We are?!’” You twist to see you are stopped alongside an elegant Tudor wood building. “How long have I been asleep?!”

“All afternoon,” he admits, a touch sheepish. “You looked so peaceful and I assume you must need the rest after a tumultuous few days.”

His touching manner has a warmth spreading behind your ribs that makes you push up and land a kiss on his jaw.

“Thank you,” you whisper, pulling away but pleased to see a dot of colour high on his cheekbones.

“‘Tis nothing,” he demures before changing the topic. “I am sure you are hungry and in need of refreshments. So we shall dine and remain here for the night. We have covered a considerable distance from London already—around forty miles.” He jumps down and stands expectantly holding out a hand for you to follow suit as he continues speaking. “To avoid attention, we should present ourselves as family relations—cousins, perhaps?” 

“I am in a wedding dress,” you remind as you wrestle your way out of the blanket and reach for him to descend.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he scans down your form, lingering slightly.

“Oh yes. Well. Umm. Perchance as husband and wife then?” he flusters as you step down with his assistance.

“Would that not draw the attention you mentioned we should avoid?” you murmur, your hands still joined even though you are on the ground now.

“Do you have another suggestion?” he queries, his breath warm on your face as you stand entirely too close, fingers flexing around yours.

“Unless you wish me to remove my dress out here…” you goad, a little crest of victory as his pupils rapidly dilate and he huffs a breath, “...then I do not.”

“We have much to discuss,” he almost growls, which stokes something low in your belly as he tugs you along towards the entrance, only stopping to nod briefly to the inn’s groomsman who emerges to take care of your horses.

-xi-

The tavern at the inn is a warm, convivial space, wood-panelled, the smell of delicious foods wafting in the air alongside the tannin of wine and the ferrous tang of dark beer as crowds of people of all walks of life gather. Benedict sees you into a corner booth away from other patrons as he orders food, then goes to secure your accommodation for the night.

As he returns, passing you a glass of wine, there is a nervous churning in your gut; this is the first opportunity you have had to talk properly since you awoke to his life-changing letter.

“I have no idea where to begin,” he confesses, looking perplexed, and it makes you reach out in reassurance over the table, pulse strong in his raised veins under your fingertips.

“Your letter was the single most wondrous thing I have ever received,” you offer honestly, his eyes softening, making your heart flutter. “Benedict,” you take a steadying breath before ploughing on with the truth you have never spoken aloud before, “I have loved you for as long as I can remember…”

His face lights up, and his hand turns under yours, your palms touching as he laces your fingers together in a tight knot, then brings your joined fists to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently. 

“Why did you never tell me?” He entreats softly.

“Why did you never tell me?” You return lightning quick, a quirk on your lips that has him chuckling.

“An entirely fair accusation,” he concedes, shuffling closer and grabbing your other hand, your heads so close together now. “I suppose I thought my feelings irrelevant, futile even, that you would secure a titled husband. Though why your father chose such a vile one confounds me, I must confess.”

“I believe that a chastisement,” you commence but are interrupted by food arriving at your table. 

So, as you eat, you explain the whole story between mouthfuls. That you were able to delay your debut last season in your father’s absence, but it meant this season, he was determined to see you matched swiftly. Recounting fondly your time spent with your Aunt Eliza, Benedict appearing impressed as you reel off all the skills you now possess. You also talk in detail about how her encouragement meant you fell into the London art scene and how you know Henry Granville. Benedict listens intently, taking bites of his dinner, but his attention never wavers from you as you recount everything. 

“So yes, I believe the match was about my father’s wish to quash a perceived rebellion more than a match society might deem appropriate for the firstborn daughter of a Viscount.” 

“An untitled second son, even less so,” Benedict muses softly, downcasting his eyes, a flare of insecurity that has you putting down your cutlery and grabbing his jaw.

“Benedict, please do not,” you petition, rubbing a thumb over his cheek. “You know me. You know that I have never cared what society might think! If I were to marry, I would only ever want it to be a love match. I would not give a damn if my husband were a penniless beggar as long as he loves and respects me.” 

You pause as he raises his soulful gaze to yours, your faces so close.

“Luckily for me, the man who stole my heart fifteen years ago is neither penniless nor a beggar. He is a wonderful, caring, handsome, passionate artist who I would indeed be lucky to paint next to,” you conclude with reference to a line in his letter, a scene you can picture so clearly it seems more premonition than a dream.

“Fifteen years?” he repeats, a look of utter wonderment as he turns his lips aside to kiss your palm where you still cup his face. You nod, a little nostalgic smile tugging at your lips as he adds: “Then I must confess… I have never been more grateful for my incessant curiosity; it led me to your diary and thus to this very moment.”

He takes your hands from his jaw, then kisses both of your knuckles again in turn, but this time, he lingers, his lips warm, damp and pursed open, and a trace of his tongue dabs your protruding bone. A shiver runs down your spine, stoking something acute, dangerous and exhilarating.

“Do you know I have kept that notebook hidden since I was fourteen? Sewing a secret pocket into all of my coats or hiding it under floorboards so it would never be found. For six years. Yet it took you less than one evening…” 

“Maybe it was waiting to reveal itself to the one person who needed to see it the most…” he muses between kisses, his breath gusting hot over your fingers. 

That seismic but simple poetic sentence devastates your ability or wish to talk anymore—a thronging need for him that you are powerless to resist any longer.

“Take me to our room, Benedict,” you command, voice tremulant with want and hope. 

His head shoots up, his face a captivating tapestry of barely bridled passion and astonishment.

“But I-I booked us separate rooms,” he stumbles, confounded, and that gentlemanly act just makes you want him all the more.

Uncaring that you are sitting in a wedding dress in a public tavern, you pitch forward and capture his lips in a kiss that instantly becomes passionate and demanding, your hand running into his hair and tugging him closer.

“You should return the key and request your money back, for that will not be necessary…” you decree, breathing the words into his mouth.

That seems to light a fire in him. He shoves back the table and sweeps you into his arms bridal style, striding out of the room purposefully, his mouth hot on yours, your pounding heartbeat almost drowning out the bawdy, raucous cheers from the drunken patrons you pass.

-xii-

Once the room door clicks closed behind you, his demeanour softens. He gently removes your shoes before setting your stockinged feet down on a plush rug in front of a roaring fire. He tugs his jacket off so he stands before you in a colourful waistcoat and ruffled shirt.

“Are you certain?” His ask is chivalrous, tinged with such delicate hope it makes you melt.

“I have never been more certain of anything in my entire life,” you declare candidly, boldly stepping towards him.

His hands encircle your waist as yours slide up his biceps, the warmth of his skin through the crisp white fabric making your blood run warm. 

“I may be chaste, but I know of what we are to do; I have been at Granville’s, remember. I also know that I want this. So very much.”

“I am the luckiest man…” he asserts in a low rumble, your honesty seeming to ignite him again as he crowds into you.

It’s an electrifying kiss that has your scalp tingling: his hands moulded to you, mapping your every curve as you take from each other as you never have before, desperation bubbling over with each parry of tongues. His fingers land on the buttons of your dress, between your shoulder blades, silently asking permission.

“Rip it off me,” you urge impulsively, chest heaving within your stays. “I want you to destroy this very dress and everything it represents….”

His responding growl inflames your core, molten liquid heat as his large hands grab the material and tear it asunder from your body so you stand before him, trembling with desire in just your stays and chemise.

He guides your fingers to his waistcoat, the crackle of the fire and the huff of his breaths the only sound in the room. His chest rises and falls steadily as you work on each button. When you reach the last one, he shucks the garment from his torso, then crosses his arms and discards his shirt in one swift motion, sailing away in a puffed arch. The broad expanse of smooth chest before you has you tongue-tied. A lean musculature and pale complexion reminiscent of Italian renaissance sculpture… but living, breathing and looking at you as if you are the most precious thing on earth. 

Long arms wrap around you, enveloping you in his warmth, fingers spidering up the notches of your spine through the thin cotton of your chemise until they reach your stays and pluck upon the laces there. He unties them slowly as his lips trail hotly down your throat. You have observed forms of intimacy but didn't expect the firsthand experience to be so rich, so all-consuming. The sights, the sensations, the scents. Like the tangy undernotes lurking beneath his woody cologne, an aroma that is all him, his bare skin. It makes your mouth water and lean into him; a want to be a part of him almost—so much heat and touch.

As your loosened stays drop to the floor behind you, a clawing need for his flesh on yours has you rapidly discarding your chemise over your head, naked now save your stockings. But before he has the chance to see, you propel yourself into him again, his solid chest colliding with your breasts, your peaked nipples trapped against his warmth. A loud groan from his lips that you swallow as you push up onto tiptoes and wrap your arms around his strong neck, kissing him ferociously. His grip slides down to grasp your bottom, pulling you into him, something rigid pressing your stomach through the refined wool of his trousers. 

“Let me look at you,” he pleads, withdrawing a half step, his eyes sweeping covetously down your body as you feel aglow in the heat of the adjacent fire. “You are so beautiful,” he attests shakily, an insistent throbbing between your legs that is all of his making, so close without any stimulation.

“Touch me, Benedict.” 

It’s equal parts order and request, grabbing his wrist and guiding it low over your belly. His elegant fingertips curl through the patch of hair before swiping between your legs, dilated pupils boring into yours as you emit a wanton moan, knees almost buckling. A strong arm wraps around you to keep you steady as he observes you up close, repeating the motion, parting your folds this time, you honeying upon his fingertips as he glances over your swollen clit. 

You whimper his name, and he claims your lips again, sliding the pad of his fingers over that spot over and over. Fingernails digging into his arm at his expert touch, the air swirling with the wet sound and scent of your arousal.

“You smell so utterly divine,” he groans, pitching forward and almost biting your bottom lip in a toothful, desperate meeting, your moans echoing over his tongue. “I need to taste you,” he stutters.

You have to shoot out an arm to grasp the mantlepiece as he suddenly drops to his knees before you and buries his face into your mound, inhaling deeply, his nose pressed onto your clitoral hood. He is so primal in his desperation as he lifts one of your legs and places it over his shoulder, diving into your folds, his tongue a wet, hot spear over your swollen nub. Your other hand burrows into his thick head of hair, scratching along his scalp as he hums his approval into your damp heat, the vibration causing sparks of pleasure to fan out.

It takes what little shred of concentration you have left to stay upright, clinging to the fireplace and him, rocketing skyward so dizzyingly fast, slack-jawed, breathless, rooted in your body as you gawk down at him. You had no idea this would be so intense, so carnal. His stare is fixated upwards on you, reading your reactions like a book, his glazed jaw moving with expert precision buried between your legs—an intoxicating sight that burns into your retinas.

“I need you to come for me, y/n,” he begs hotly into your soaked flesh, his tongue a muscular swipe greater than his fingers, his fingers plucking the ribbons holding your stockings loose so they slide down to your feet.

“I want to do so with you…” you gasp, unable to prevent whatever forms in your mouth from slipping out, leaking profusely onto his chin.

“You will; I promise,” his gravelly assurance, the permission you need to let go, riding his tongue with abandon, your body undulating, chasing that ephemeral high you have only experienced from your own touch before. But this is so much more, so wholly other, magnitudes indeed, the words from his letter never far from your thoughts even as you spiral somewhere close to bliss. His gaze locked onto you, able to read all your signs: skin flushed, ragged pants, shuddering with each quest of his tongue.

And then he gently bites your clit, and you are gone, his hands needing to clamp onto your hips to hold you upright as your body convulses. You cry out, sagging onto him as your body races with a high that fizzes in every cell, radiating in waves of pleasure that have you calling out, uncaring who may hear, incapable of anything but clinging to his hair for dear life and scrunching your toes into the thick wool rug underfoot.

You know you utter a curse, entirely overpowered by the euphoria coursing through you as he stands back up and pulls you into his arms, kissing your cheek chastely, the scent of you strong on his face. But as you come back to yourself, renewed passion stokes in you, determination to give as good as you have been given, a drive for mutual pleasure that has you shoving him backwards forcefully.

He falls back onto the bed, a look of total surprise claiming his face as you crowd over him, attacking his trouser buttons with a vigour that has him stunned, his mouth agape. But he doesn't move to stop you, far from it. There is a flash in his eye as you grab his hands and cage them onto the sheets briefly before returning to attack his clothing. Wordlessly, he lifts his pelvis when you tap his hipbone, and then you are tugging his trousers down and off, flinging them across the room.

You are momentarily taken aback when you look down and realise he is without underwear, now as naked as you. His cock, nestled in a small patch of hair, is larger than you have seen before, tinged dark pink and leaking from the tip. It looks so good you bite your lip, a twinge deep inside that is pure want. 

His moan is beautiful as you take him in hand. He is hot and steely in your grip as you move your hand up and down, learning his contours, fascinated by the contrast of how silky his skin is.

“I am so glad you have seen things you should not have,” he groans, squirming delightfully, so very responsive to your touch. It makes you greedy always to have him like this, yearning for you as much as you do him, stuttering your name as you change your grip and move a little faster.

“Please stop…” he grits out, his hand covering yours and slowing your motions, but you can tell it is utterly reluctant. “I am too close, my love…”

That reflexive term of endearment makes something melt behind your ribs, and you crawl up over him as you release his cock, claiming his lips in a kiss, his hands encircling your waist, pulling you down so that his cock is trapped under your pubic bone.

“I love you,” you breathe quietly over his lips, holding his face, wanting to convey the depth of feelings you have for this man.

“I love you too, y/n,” he replies earnestly, his eyes glassy, a cloud of emotion claiming his expression as his hands cup your jaw as well, a profound moment of heartfelt sincerity amid this tableau of fevered physicality.

“May I?” 

Your ask is hesitant as you rearrange, sliding your legs up either side of his hips, signalling your wish to ride him, a need to be the one to give your virginity to him more than him to take it. Something achingly significant in the ability to choose.

He nods a reassuring and spellbound look, and a beguiling hitch in his throat as his tip brushes your entrance.

“It may hurt a little, my love,” he advises, wincing as if wishing that was not the case for you.

“I know,” you murmur back, grabbing his hands to aid you in sitting up so you have more range of motion. 

And then, with a steadying breath, you lower yourself onto him, mouth falling open at the invasive stretch with barely a fraction of him inside you. His face is a kaleidoscope of everything you hope for him—joy and bliss. Your fingers grasp tight around his knuckles, your joined hands a knotted fist, as you feel a pinch of pain that makes you suck air through your teeth, knowing this is the moment you become a woman. So glad it is with him, the categorical love of your life.

Luckily, the ache is fleeting, and you sink lower, him moaning your name lyrically, you puffing a breath at the complete fullness. A pressure holding you open that is so galvanic you now understand the hedonism of what you have previously witnessed—the drive to satisfy an urge that is innate and potent.  

“Oh my god, Benedict,” you stutter, as finally he is fully seated within your body, clinging to him, held open in the most arresting way.

“I know, my love, I know…” he soothes, untangling your hands to touch your skin, running his palms reverentially down your body. “You are amazing, a wonder…” 

“Guide me…?”

He smiles and whispers gentle instructions for you to push up with your thighs and then sink back down, his hands now clamped around your waist to assist you. The sensation is indescribable, the drag of his cock against your walls as you slowly ascend and descend, trying to catalogue every second as a precious memory.

Your speed increases as you get used to the physicality of movement, a cloying, dewy heat spreading over both your bodies as you move in unison. He starts to tilt his hips off the bed to assist in your strokes, pushing to a new depth that catches your breath and has you muttering a curse, your hands scrabbling his abdomen, enjoying the flex of muscles there. His grip moves to your breasts, teasing your nipples in a way that has you gasping and riding harder. His fingers snagging on your sensitive buds is a beeline zipping to your engorged clit, that mashes into his body with every downward stroke you take. Still on a high from your last orgasm, it won't take much more for you to come again; this time, you hope in tandem.

His movements become more urgent, his noises louder, his touch firmer, squeezing you, bucking up with force now, making you moan with each new plunge onto him, as if he craves to leave an imprint of himself inside you.

“Are you close, my love?” you query, borrowing his term of endearment. It has his screwed-shut eyes flying open, his hands flexing on your hips, and a ripple up his rigid cock you can actually feel.

“Yesssss,” he hisses back, “please call me that again,” he entreats through clenched teeth, a prominent vein in his neck pulsing hard as his whole being seems to tense.

“My love,” you coo, treating it like a gift to bestow, addicted already to the effect it has on him, his fingers digging into your flesh in a way that will leave marks you will be proud to wear.

You move faster now, the sturdy bed squeaking in protest, the sound of your damp skin slapping together, taking even yourself by surprise at how visceral this is, especially for a first time. Expecting it to be less somehow and enraptured that instead, it is better, burning brighter than anything you have ever fantasised of—skin and sweat, muscle and bone, heart and body in rhapsody. 

One of his hands squirrels between your legs, fingertips hooking against your clit, and within seconds, you are breaking. Your vision whiting out as you slam onto him, your pussy clenching in waves, his cock almost too much as you float somewhere that is both within you and a thousand miles above. Dimly, you sense his nails scrape your flesh as he calls out your name, loudly, debauched, wrecked, a strong pulse through his length as he shudders then goes entirely still, a warmth blooming deep inside your channel that is his seed, something about it so very primaeval. 

You slump inelegantly onto his chest, huffing breaths, altered fundamentally by this magical experience. His touch is soothing, encouraging to lay upon him as he softens within you, eventually slipping out as you lay nuzzled together, exchanging soft words of sated joy—a sudden tide of fatigue lapping your edges. Fuzzily, you feel Benedict chuckle under you and, with hushed, tender words, rearrange your pliant body, rolling you onto your side and curling protectively around you, a warming presence that has sleep seizing you almost immediately.

Awakening the following morning in Benedict’s arms is sublime, his stubbled lips grazing your neck as he rolls you under his warm weight. Just as your body stirs under his sensual kisses, he stops and sighs, dropping his forehead onto your clavicle.

“I wish to spend a lifetime right here, entwined naked with you, my love, but alas, I must desist,” he laments softly. “We need to get moving…”

“You never did say your planned destination,” you point out, running your fingers into his lush hair as he tilts his handsome face up to meet your gaze.

“Did I not?” He lilts, feigning ignorance. “I blame you entirely; your beauty is far too distracting..” Flattery falling from his lips reflexively. “Well, anyway, we must make haste if we are to reach Scotland by Friday as I have planned.”

“Scotland?” you echo breathlessly. “That is so far! Why there?”

“Gretna Green, my love,” his eyes sparkling as he hovers over you, entwining the fingers of your left hands together, his thumb brushing your ring finger. “I hope you are amenable to my proposal...”

And your heart veritably explodes.

-xiii-

The journey is long but worth it. Your wedding, five days later, over the border in Scotland, is everything you could hope for—a beautiful, romantic, private moment for just the two of you, promising your lives to each other in secret. Something thrillingly illicit about its location, too, the place to which all forbidden lovers escape. You do not wear a wedding dress, just a simple light blue chiffon one you had thrown into your night bag, always a favourite since Benedict once complimented you in it. He wears a cravat in the same colour. Exchanging matching wedding bands engraved inside with the same phrase Benedict signed off his love confession with: A vila mon coeur, gardi li mo (Here is my heart, guard it well).

You are happily ensconced in his idyllic Wiltshire cottage by the time family reactions to your elopement reach you almost two weeks later. The Bridgertons are supportive if a little shocked; the dowager Viscountess is always enamoured with a dramatic love story. Your family is less so, but they cannot deny a match with a Bridgerton is no bad thing, even if it was fleeting gossip fodder. You hear from your mother that Lord Farringdon did not demand compensation for your abscondment from the altar. Apparently, you were not the first to do so. Rumour has it that the odious man is negotiating a marriage deal with the Cowpers for their wayward daughter. It may be the first time you have felt a pang of sympathy for Cressida. 

Mostly, you are grateful that the more scandalous truth surrounding your union - Benedict stealing you away on your wedding day - never becomes public knowledge. Every couple must keep some secrets from the world, no? 

Although, a couple of weeks later, on a leisurely Sunday morning, you discover your marriage can no longer be considered as such.

“Darling, you might want to see this…” Benedict drawls casually, wandering into the bathroom as you luxuriate in warm water. 

He drops the latest issue of Lady Whistledown onto a nearby stool as he tugs off his shirt, apparently planning to join you in your bath. Your mouth falls open in shock as you grab the pamphlet. But it is not from his naked form as his trousers hit the floor; it's from what you read:

Lastly, this author may have to eat her hat. News has reached me that Mr Benedict Bridgerton had indeed done the almost unthinkable and married the spirited Miss Y/n Y/l/n. They exchanged vows in a quiet ceremony far from the prying eyes of the Ton and will now settle in Wiltshire, I hear. 

“How did she find out?” you ponder aloud as he slides into the tub behind you. Surely Whistledown must be close to the Bridgertons to discover as such?

“I have not a clue. But perhaps I should send her some honey from our hives to make her headwear more digestible?” he jests, interrupting your reading by pulling you backwards into his arms. 

“Mr Bridgerton!” you chastise playfully, holding the paper aloft to save it from the sloshing he creates as he surrounds you, laughing carefree, so much delightfully naked skin around yours.

“Are you done reading Mrs Bridgerton?” His tone changes to a husky murmur in your ear, his fingers trailing distractingly upwards over your ribs under the water.

“You just brought this to me, husband,” you riposte pointedly, but your argument dies off into a wanton noise as his hands slide up and cup your breasts, his thumbs circling your nipples expertly. You abandon any attempt to focus on the page, tossing the paper aside and twisting to capture his lips with yours.

Upon the floor, as water splashes onto the wood nearby, the last few sentences you missed glow in a shaft of sunlight:

Congratulations on the latest Bridgerton love match, and I wish them a lifetime of happiness. As I am certain, do all of you. 

What secrets will I unearth next, dear readers? Even I do not yet know. But I look forward to it. Don’t you?

Yours sincerely,

Lady Whistledown

masterlist • wips • taglist (follow this blog to be tagged)

Benedict taglist pt1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

[prettydaisygirl]

oh em gee i absolutely adore your Rafe zombie AU!! could you write something where Rafe x reader go on a supply run and they find a kid? maybe reader would want to protect them, but Rafe is totally against it & wants to leave the kid behind? would love to see how that dynamic plays out <3

Hi nonnie! Thank you so much for your request! I love how much all of you guys love my zombie AUs! Speaking of which, because I have zombie AUs for multiple characters now, I have made them their own series titles, which is why things look different & also i got pictures. Hope you enjoy, this one was fun! <3

Us and Them (zombie au): Chapter Eleven

Rafe Cameron x fem!reader who learns her lesson ✿ 1.7k words

cw: zombie apocalypse, fem reader, reader wants to help a child, rafe is rough with reader physically, unnamed character dies from a gunshot

rafe cameron masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

This might be the worst idea Rafe has had since he found you at the beginning. Normally, you can trust him to be level headed and careful, but this might be the first time you hesitate to. 

Skyscrapers sprawl around you. You’ve been in cities before, obviously, but when you’ve become accustomed to small sheds and run down cabins, these tall monstrosities only serve to make you anxious. 

“Is this a good idea?” You ask, and the shake in your voice betrays your frayed nerves. “I thought you said we shouldn’t go into cities.”

“We shouldn’t.” Rafe’s voice is clipped and he tightens the grip he has on your hand. He’s in a bad mood today. “But if we try to go around, we’ll be wasting time. Days. Days we don’t have before it gets too fuckin’ hot.”

You know he’s right, he usually is. As harsh and uncaring as your boyfriend can be, he’s also the smartest person you’ve ever met. If he thinks cutting through the city is right, you know it’s probably the best option. It doesn’t make it any less eerie, though. 

It feels like every footstep echoes for miles, the sound waves bouncing off of metal and concrete. Your eyes dart around, sure that something sinister is going to crawl out of every shadow or alleyway. 

Rafe tugs on your arm again, pulling you down another street. Everything feels empty, but you know better. You know the reasons why the two of you have avoided cities before: too many hiding places, too many buildings and rooms, too much risk. It certainly feels risky. 

Your skin burns under the light of the sun. Winter had lingered on forever, far longer than it should’ve, and in just a few weeks things have completely flipped. Instead of your body being frigid with cold, your skin stings and your eyes burn with sweat. The concrete and pavement of the city only amplify the heat, reflecting the sunlight's rays. 

You’re turning onto another street when something in the opposite direction catches your eye. When you look again, steps lingering, there’s nothing. Rafe’s grip on your arm tightens when you hesitate to follow, but you look again, eyes tracing through the concrete jungle.

There. You see it again. A flash of color that catches your eye. It gets smaller as Rafe pulls you further in the opposite direction, but it moves again and suddenly the shape becomes unmistakable.

It’s a child, a little boy. Your heart sinks. He seems to be running up and down the different streets, you watch as he turns and disappears behind a row of buildings. Is he alone, or hurt? What if he’s looking for help?

“Rafe, wait-” You try to pull against his grip and he shoots you a look over his shoulder. You tug again, and this time, your wrist breaks free. In a split second decision, you turn, taking off down the street in the direction you saw the child. Your eyes scan over the dull grey tones, but you don’t see him.

You don’t get far running, obviously. Rafe’s loud steps catch up to you before you even make it back to the intersection. His eyes are fierce as he grips at your bicep, rough and harder than he should.

“The fuck is goin' on?” His question is harsh and low, and you should know better than to argue with him, but you do it anyway.

“Rafe, there’s a kid! I saw-” You point in the direction where you saw the little boy running, tugging almost desperately against Rafe’s grasp. The kid still hasn’t run back around the corner again. What if he’s stuck somewhere alone?

“Stop.” Rafe growls, jerking you into his chest and using his other arm to trap you there. You wriggle in his grasp, trying to escape even though you know it’s pointless.

“What if he’s hurt?” You ask, turning your head back in the direction you’d seen the boy, “What if he’s all alone?”

If you were looking at Rafe, you’d see the way his face softens. Just for a second, just a little, but it does.

“Baby,” Rafe says, freeing your arm and using his hand to turn your face back toward him. “He’s not hurt, and he isn’t alone.”

“How can you know that?” You ask, and you hate the way you can feel your eyes begin to burn. You know Rafe probably thinks you’re stupid and pathetic. “You can’t just-”

“How would he have made it this long in the city on his own? He didn’t.” Rafe’s eyes are stormy still, but the tone in his voice has calmed some. “And if he was hurt? You wouldn’t have seen him at all. It’s a trap, baby.”

“How can you know that?” You ask again, taking in a shaking breath. You look back and there’s still no sign of the boy, no evidence he’d ever been there at all. “Rafe, we can’t just leave him…”

“We can, we should, and we will.” Rafe’s hand slides down your arm to interlace your fingers together, no tugging or pulling this time. “We can’t help anyone else right now, you know that.”

You do know. You know he’s right, he always is. Even if it’s not a trap, if the child is alone, would you and Rafe be able to take care of him? You can barely feed yourselves. Even still, your heart aches, feeling split into pieces like shards of broken glass in your chest. 

“What if he’s not okay?” Your voice is weaker this time, your eyes glassy as Rafe shuffles you forward with a gruff ‘c’mon’.

There’s an awkward, icy tension between the two of you. You can tell Rafe is annoyed by your behavior, his jaw clenched tight and his eyes hard and narrow. Your stomach churns, heavy with guilt, and your feet shuffle against the pavement as you follow behind your boyfriend, fingers still interlaced with his despite your dragging. 

The two of you duck into a small, abandoned clothing store for lunch. It’s still hot inside, given the lack of electricity and AC, but being out of the direct sunlight helps. The two of you share a stale pack of old, crumbled crackers, choking them down with hot water from Rafe’s bottle. 

You lay your head against his shoulder for a while, letting yourself rest with your eyes closed. Rafe rubs your back, a gentle movement that silently tells you he’s sorry for jerking you around earlier. You weren’t mad about that, but you relish in the soft touch anyway. 

Rafe must feel really sorry, because he kisses your forehead before he stands up and then holds his hands out to help you. You take them, standing up and then brushing the dust off your pants. 

You follow him out of the shop and back into the street. You’ve made it five or six blocks when the sound of yelling catches your attention. The both of you duck immediately out of the road, crouching down behind some abandoned cars.

You see the little boy first, and your heart sinks. From here, you can tell he’s fine. He runs up to the stop sign and pauses, turning around. Right behind him is a woman. You give Rafe a side-eyed glance and his gaze meets yours, the both of you pressing closer to the car.

“Hey!” The woman seems out of breath, like maybe she’s been chasing the boy for a while. “Hey, little boy, uh… are you alone out here?” The woman looks at the boy, who stands completely silent. 

Nothing happens for a moment, the woman looks around nervously like she’s unsure of what to do. “If you’re sick, I can help you!” She calls out to the boy, who continues to stand still and silent. “I have a group, there’s… there’s other kids! We can-”

Rafe’s hand instinctively reaches for you at the sound of the gunshot. One shot, through the woman’s head, and she’s on the ground. The boy doesn’t flinch, not at the shot or at the sound of the body hitting the pavement, but you and Rafe do. You feel your head spinning and you feel like you might be sick, envisioning yourself on the ground instead of the other woman. 

The boy stands still for a long stretch of time, long enough that you start to wonder if the two of you should move. You open your mouth to whisper to Rafe, but stop when the boy’s head turns. A man comes out from behind the wall, holding a rifle. He ruffles the little boy’s hair before kneeling down to dig through the woman’s things. He takes everything, digging through her pockets and handing stuff to the boy to carry. 

“Come on, boy,” The man claps the boy on the back, who smiles proudly, and the two of them take off in the direction the man had come from. 

You and Rafe don’t talk about it, not until it’s late and you’re outside of city limits, wrapped in each other’s arms under the moonlight. The crickets are extra loud tonight, and you find yourself snuggling further into Rafe’s chest in your sleeping bag. His hand trails up and down your spine, the other tangled in your hair. You listen to his heartbeat for a while before you finally decide to talk.

“I’m sorry for being stupid.” You whisper, shame and regret coursing through your veins. Rafe’s hand stops in its path but he doesn’t speak, letting you continue. “I should have known better, but I almost fell for it.”

There’s a long moment of silence, then Rafe hums and his hand continues, up and down your spine. You let the silence linger even longer before you question him.

“Are you… not going to say anything?”

“Well… I think you already know that you messed up.” He tilts his head down to look at you, and you raise your eyes to meet his gaze even though you’re nervous. “You lived, that’s what matters. Every day, we keep moving forward.”

“Yeah.” You find yourself agreeing softly, though you still feel a pit in your stomach. You bury your face into Rafe’s neck and try to sleep, hoping to forget the city and the vision of the other woman's body on the ground soon. 

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[whatlurksbean]

Prefacing this with a note that WLB is absolutely one of my top two favorite comics (out of many) at the moment, and I look forward to every new page. There's just one thing that's been bugging me a lot.

Do the cats on the island not have a sense of smell, is there some other explanation, or is the fact that certain things are never noticed through smell an oversight? There are two major plot points that make me ask this.

The first is Thresher being poisoned. Lavender is one hell of a fragrant plant- my shitty human nose can pick it up easily just walking by it outside. The cats even remark on the smell of lavender in contexts aside from the Big One. If the lavender was straight up visible in Thresher's poisoned prey, surely someone would've noticed the smell? Especially Thresher himself with his nose right up in it.

The second is even bigger- Gull and the Family assuming Tusk ate her baby. Even assuming Tusk could somehow have eaten an entire infant child without getting blood on her face or the ground, surely the lack of the scent of fresh blood and gore would've been very obvious. Was this just Gull that nose-blinded by hate, and got everyone else to follow along, while Tusk's supporters were too panicked to think to point this out?

If it is an oversight, I can't blame you, I also write xenofiction and it's hard to consistently consider the physiological differences another species has from us. I just keep thinking about it and I'm really curious what the actual situation is.

There is logic to my choices, but i'm surely underestimating the power of the cat sniffer.

For Thresher, I don't think the family cats are well versed in plants from the forest. The do not have an official medic role, there is very little medical training around for them about plants. Sturgeon only knows lavender is poisonous from Petrel. Thresher may have noticed a smell, or even seen the plant, and he would have just brushed it off as something the bird / mouse ate or lived near before dying.

Auklet only picked up on it being a problem because he is more perceptive to his brothers health. Initially I didn't have him say that he "noticed the lavender" but rather "I've seen plants in his food." but people were getting confused enough on what Sturgeon was doing, so I decided to clarify it better and just make Auklet a little smarter. Because I don't think he or thresher would really know what Lavender is. It doesnt grow on the beaches. But I will make that logic sacrifice for clarity.

As for Gull, I think she was already convinced by her own bigotry that Tusk was guilty, despite what logic pointed to. Tusk was alone with her deceased kitten for hours and hours, and then he disappears without a trace. And Tusk hasnt left the cave, and surely no one would help her break the law and bury ray, and hake was within her sights the whole time. There was only one option in Gulls mind, and no one else in the family cared enough to fact check her. Gull is an elder and has helped deliver most of their kittens in the family, why would she lie? Tusk must be the monster here.

And cats CAN cannibalize their newborn kittens, it does happen and it is absolutely possible for there to be nothing left. It especially tends to happen with stillborn or sickly kittens, like tusks.

The smell part is definitely an oversight on that part though, I don't think I even thought about it for that scene. I don't think about what my food smelled like after i've eaten it. But I think that even if this was brought up by Hake or whoever, Gull wouldn't be convinced she's wrong. And it's not like Tusk would offer them to smell her breath.

idk, there is logic to my choices but it is certainly not wholey realistic, and it never would be in a xenofiction story, so I am okay with that.

[skay-ali]

The sacrifice of a poor soul

Prólogo

"Is it safe?" You hesitated, reflecting on the proposal from a few minutes ago.

"Oh, come on, you only live once, well, twice in your case." His voice was delicate, charming, with your guard down, capable of intoxicating any unhappy man or woman.

Your humanity was fading; you were certain. You no longer recognized yourself. As much as you repulsed the things your new partner made you do, you had no other options. Besides, a part of you had also begun to love the things you did.

You wanted to shed tears; you were filled with fear and anxiety. Paralyzed.

"Ohh, you're going to cry again," came a condescending tone, followed by a laugh.

"Just do it, do it, do it, do it," I chanted playfully.

"Don't play the victim. You've done it before."

With that, thousands of clips flooded your mind again: replays of what happened after you freed yourself, how you exacted your revenge, the screams of terror that served as music, along with pleading and whimpering, the smell of blood in the air, sharp claws scything through your attackers, desperate pleas before a deafening silence.

Finally, bodies with no trace of life, full of scratches, dried blood, pale faces, chests without a single vital organ, without a heart.

You didn't feel your body move, it just happened. Your muscles and bones didn't follow orders; they automatically headed toward your destination.

"This will be fun," you heard the creature laughing nonstop.

You smiled too. Somehow, your fear vanished. Now you felt nothing but a latent excitement to get back on your feet.

"Did you need me?"

Wow, was he that naive?

"It affected you so much that I changed you," the boy continued, with an air of grandeur.

Wow, what white skin and full lips.

"The mouse ate your tongue. I see you're still the same." He walked carefully to where you were watching him, your body motionless.

"But that's your charm, isn't it? Being a complacent little mouse who only wants love." His hand roughly took your chin.

Wow, he really does look like a big, bad wolf.

"We can't go back now. What kind of person would I become if I ever had to repeat my meal?" he continued carelessly.

"But... I think we can keep it a secret."

You didn't think twice and threw your jacket to the floor. Earning a big, toothy smile from the blond boy.

You looked into his eyes, innocent and with sparkling eyes.

Slowly, you undid each button on your blouse. With each button dangling in the air, the boy came closer.

When you finished, you knew it was enough, even with his hands running over different parts of your frozen body.

You opened your mouth, revealing fangs that grew in seconds, and claws on your fingers dug into your victim's neck and back.

You were quick, lowering your head to his chest, where you sank your teeth.

Wow, what a delicious food you got yourself.

Was it poetic justice?

To kill the love of your life, steal his heart, and destroy him swiftly, like he did to you.

You were just giving him what he deserved. You breathed calmly in your seat, your hands shielding your face from the light as you thought.

Then you felt warmth, happiness, a new light; you felt alive.

A small smile formed on your lips, then giggles came out.

Your body shuddered.

You burst out laughing.

"See, I told you, it was for the best." The other being followed you at your moment.

Your hands left your face downcast, and you looked back at the landscape.

The big car kept moving, on its way to its next destination. The lifeless gray sky let a few rays of sunlight pass through, entering the car and illuminating it in some places.

It was a tense dinner. After news of what had happened at the prestigious school you attended spread, everyone was alarmed, even your extended family.

Without interest, you paid all your attention to your plate.

You played with your fork, moving the food around.

It looked appetizing; it surely tasted exquisite. Alfred prepared it because it wouldn't.

So why didn't you devour it completely?

Easy, it disgusted you. Maybe it tasted passable to your new palate, unlike fresh meat, much less human meat.

But your demon didn't like the idea of ​​consuming disgusting human food, so it made you dislike it either.

Besides, you were already full from your afternoon meal.

"Are you going to the funeral, Tim?" one of your sisters asked.

That caught your attention.

His dear business friend would be attending the funeral.

"I have to go. His family is partners in the company. It would be best if we all went, to keep up appearances and not lose the family."

"Miss ___, my deepest condolences." The butler asserted his condolences and patted your back, which brought the hectic scene to a halt.

Uneasy glances settled on your body.

"For?" You bowed your head without interest.

"For young Koch... her boyfriend."

"You were dating his sister," Estefany asked, shocked.

"I thought they already knew about Tim," you spoke listlessly. Anyone who noticed would think you were in mourning.

"I didn't think it was important."

"It isn't. He broke up with me after getting what he wanted."

"Who would have thought, that bastard had his perfect ending." You leaned back in your dining room chair.

You didn't hold back your happiness.

"But don't worry, Alfred. My heart's already healed from the breakup, so forget the condolences for my destroyed relationship."

"___, I don't think he knows about your... relationship."

"Isn't that right? Then what are they for?" You weren't naive; they were surely words for your dear love. But he didn't ask you to care less; they were better as words of condolence for you and your former teenage love.

"For your deceased boyfriend, silly," your younger brother replied irritably.

"Ahh, it was so bad that he died."

You shocked the family, even when you left your plate full of food. Your words were so serious, confident, carefree, self-centered, and cold.

They weren't polite, peaceful, emotional, selfless, and weak words.

Something truly strange was happening to you.

It was unsettling, filled with concern for those present, some more than others.

"I thought you and your family weren't on good terms."

"Why do you think that's not the case?" you questioned the demon.

"Just now you seemed a little cold, but close."

"Ahhggg, that's how it's supposed to be, at least to the average person." You left your uncomfortable bed with displeasure.

It felt uncomfortable, difficult to relax and rest.

"Dirty human, you're comparing me to the other worms," ​​you heard him go wild, which brought an amused smile to your face.

"Relax, I was just joking. The truth is, I'm nothing more than a pretty but forgotten object in the mansion," you said listlessly.

You checked if the armchair in your room was suitable, but it wasn't either; the fluffy carpet was much worse. You rolled your body and ended up under your bed—almost, but still not the right one.

"Besides, it's easier to please them, to make them believe everything is fine, rather than showing my anger and making them decide to annoy me."

You left the dark, cramped place that was the hole under your bed.

You paused for a moment before remembering a place you hadn't checked yet. You gathered your blankets and pillows, piled them with difficulty in your arms, and carried them with you.

"So the cute, trembling, and meek little mouse is a fake?"

"Uhhh, not entirely. I actually preferred to stay that way to avoid chaos. That included my family too."

You opened your closet door. It was made of mahogany, with elegant and precise carvings.

You examined the closet with your eyes. You came to the conclusion that it was perfect.

Closed, dark, difficult to monitor, they wouldn't find you easily, and by giving you a few minutes' notice, they'd prepare you to attack quickly.

"So, I've thought about it, and I guess it wasn't so bad that I joined your miserable life."

"Is that how you think?" you asked curiously; it was a strange way of thinking.

You carefully arranged the blankets and pillows in the closet; luckily you got in, and there was still room to spare.

"Of course, now you won't keep your feelings to yourself. You don't need to because you can show what you're capable of and no one will object, not with my power."

"Your former ritual partners were an example."

Your face distorted at the mention of those people.

"Then your boyfriend."

"Ex-boyfriend," you interrupted.

"Well, that inferior being, you were able to get your revenge."

"What you're trying to say is that you're good to me, and that I need you more than you need me," you summarized the demon's long words.

"Exactly, it seems you can think like a human."

"Well, I don't have this brain for nothing," you pointed to your head.

"I think I'm starting to notice."

Carefully, you pulled out the dagger you kept in a box inside one of your small stuffed pillows. You placed the sharp object near your legs, right where the boards were, so they covered the back of the closet.

With this, no one will know what happened if they dare to harm you.

"So what's the plan?" you questioned the demon. It had materialized, turning into a little thing with a body, two arms, and two legs, a rather long tail with an arrowhead, and two little horns. "

First, gather forces, gather allies, or rather slaves, prevent my number one enemy from taking over my world and destroying it."

The creature wandered in its thoughts, speaking excitedly as it settled into your lap, just like a cat, but you didn't dare comment; you didn't want to earn its wrath.

"Finally, by finishing off the heroes, I will conquer all!"

Just as its evil monologue ended, you saw it fall exhausted into your lap. It seems it had fallen asleep.

Ha, it seems you have a lot to do.

You didn't expect to take this path, but you had no other choice.

Technically, you were dead.

This demon is the only one who ever cared about you.

You assume you owe him loyalty and service.

[felassan]

Cliff notes from the latest blogpost:

BioWare created a dedicated team to focus on PC & the PC experience

PC made up 40% of their platform testing effort

They did 200,000+ hours of performance and compatibility testing

They did almost 10,000 hours of user research testing to ensure good controls and UI for both KBM and controllers

Native support for PS5 DualSense controllers with haptics support (along with Xbox & KBM)

Seamlessly transition between controllers and KBM in gameplay or menus

Customize class-specific keybinds

Full HDR support at launch

Full support for 21:9 Ultrawide monitors

Disabling the Cinematic Aspect Ratio option removes the enforced black bars so cinematics aren't affected

Adjust FOV with FOV slider

Uncapped framerate option

Most changes to graphics & display settings are reflected in real time

The cutout in UI allows you to see the effects of settings changes

DA:TV is Steam Native

DA:TV is Steam Deck Verified

Support for Cloud Save on Steam

Switch seamlessly between PC & Steamdeck

Remote Play (for TV) enabled. To utilize it EA account linking is optional

Support for suite of Ray Tracing features

"Ultra RT" mode for very high end PCs

Several types of upscaling available: NVIDIA DLSS 3, FSR 2.2, and XeSS

FSR 2.2 has been heavily modified specifically for DA:TV

DLSS3 with frame generation supported

NVIDIA Reflex supported

PC specs and details summary

More info on PC features to come

More info on combat, companions, explorations and more also to come

[source]

[gnocchisworld]

Beautiful Stranger

Joost Klein x singer!reader

Summary: reader is playing at a festival and her set is right after Joost's, they meet in the backstage tent after his stage and hang out after reader does hers! Rumors circulate after fans spotted the pair and they reconnect after missed opportunities when they were together :PP

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: no use of y/n, YEARNING! no physical description of reader but uses of she/her and feminine descriptors!

A/N: omgomg this is my first fic ever on here so anyways I am a firm believer of the meeting people twice theory like yes second chances yes reconnection yes!

Entering the backstage tent of the festival, you were immediately hit with a wave of scorching heat, the sun's relentless rays seeping even through the canvas. The energy from the performance on stage outside was pulsing and lively, carried by the young artist who commanded the crowd's attention, music increasing the adrenaline in your blood. Yet even as you prepared for your own set, the background noise and excitement faded to a muted hum as you focused on your vocal exercises and cues. As you readied yourself, the atmosphere surrounding you was as sultry and intense as the heat outside, the hot air seemingly alive with a buzz of anticipation. 

With as much haste as the sound disappeared from your brain, a new, baritone voice flowed through the air. 

“Ah, sorry. Didn’t see you here.” 

You looked up from your daze and were met with a deep, hypnotic blue, one that would make even the skies jealous. The angles of his nose were perfectly shaped, as if God had taken extra time to mould the clay that would later take on his form. From the standpoint of a bystander, the two would seem like the sun and the moon; two opposites that seemingly complimented each other like second nature. As the silence lingered for a second too long and his gaze set comfortably on yours, you choked up the first words that came to mind.

“No worries! I was just lost in my own world there for a moment.”

He was entirely captivating — you were unsure of how to compose yourself as you burned under his stare. As if reading your mind, he quickly offers his hand out to you, eager to make any form of connection.

“You can call me Joost.” He urges, carefully tracing his eyes over every line in your face for a reaction.

Taking his hand in yours, you promptly share your name. A subtle yet powerful exchange — trading names — the fibres in which every invisible string between two people begins to entangle together. His hands felt as though they had once held the warmth of a flame, having the ability to breathe life into anything it touched. For lack of better word, you were electrified.

A careful knocking on the stage door alerted the two and prompted the release of your hands. Your manager walks in, choosing to ignore the other figure in the room.

“Sorry, you’re on in 3.” 

“I’ll be there, thanks, Jere.” He nods, closing the door with relative ease and resuming whatever words he was muttering into his walkie-talkie. 

A beat passes as Joost speaks up again, “Succes!” Smiling fervently, he lightly brushes the skin on your shoulder with his palm as he walks out into his own dressing room before you could even respond, taking with him the warmth of his presence.

Unsure of how to make sense of what had happened, you drowned in your own quandary. The blood in your veins were still pounding against the valves of your beating heart and your kidney was beginning to beat to the same rhythm. You were unsure of whether this was due to stage fright or your recent encounter, though it didn’t really matter anyways; it was the fact that they were both valid options. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------

As you step on stage, the roar of the crowd engulfed your senses like a crashing wave. Your eyes scan the sea of bodies, a kaleidoscope of colours and faces all there to witness your performance. Unconsciously, you were scouring for the blue that looked at you as if you had been the only girl in the world. 

Unbeknownst to you, he had joined the crowd to experience the passion that you had brought out with your music — he wanted to get to know you, and music is the window to one’s soul. As you sang your first song, it became adamantly clear to him how the atmosphere shifted and every light softened under your radiance. Your music highlighted the more subtle hues in life that Joost had not seen in awhile, eliciting memories of lustrous summers and fleeting springs; it felt as if his world, which was always turning at 100 kilometres an hour, began to slow. Your voice was mellow, it filled his eardrums and calmed the ringing which usually reverberated in every corner of his skull. He took note of everything you did, from the way you held your guitar to the reds blossoming on your fingertips as you held down on its strings. Ultimately, he was hopelessly captivated — by your lulling melody, your beauty, and the entirety of your being.

Diverting your eye from your guitar to the crowd, you locked your gaze on a familiar aquamarine — a shade you couldn’t get out of your head as it bloomed in your peripheral vision. A smile played on your lips; you couldn't help it. It was as if the corners of your mouth were tugged at, forcing them to curve upwards. The warmth which was previously absent in your stomach began to reignite and it felt as if rainbows were being drawn on the skies of your psyche. Being on stage in front of thousands has never felt so intimate before.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

As your final song comes to an end, your cheeks are numb from the constant smiling — not performatively but rather from sheer happiness. You step off the stage and back into the backstage tents, still dazed from the trance you were under as you had, prior, melted under the beautiful stranger’s gaze. You could feel a familiar set of eyes linger on you and you’re met at eye level with two deep blue pools. He spoke up gently, breaking the silence between the two before it could settle on your shoulders.

Joost grins at you, his eyes still sparkling with the same intensity as before. "You were phenomenal up there," he says. "I couldn't take my eyes off you."

You felt your cheeks flush a rosy pink, with a shy smile you replied, “you weren’t too bad either.”

Joost let out a hearty chuckle, amused by your comment. "Just 'not too bad'?" he teased, feigning offence. A beat passes as you forget to answer, as if wind had been sucked out of you from the mere sight of his laughter. Taking the initiative, he inquires you; “Hey, uh, I was thinking of walking around some more, take a look at some other stages if you wanted to hang out for a bit?”

Your eyes sparkle with a glint of excitement, “I was actually thinking the same thing — I’d love to join you.” Your voice cracking ever so subtly, betraying your nervous plight.

Carefully, he took your hand and started walking out of the tent, leading you towards the next stage — “so you don’t get lost.”

As you shuffle through the labyrinth of crowds, your bodies are constantly pushed together, every small touch prompting an exchange of warmth in return. His doting predisposition was almost overbearing, each time he looked back to make sure you were still behind him was so subtle, yet so appetent. The implications of it all, his hands on yours as you traverse the field of human bodies, wide open for the consumption of a myriad of prying eyes, was not lost on either of you, yet it remained a fact that both of you choose to ignore.

Breathing away the air of silence encapsulating the two of you, he speaks up. “What kind of music are you into? Like what artist do you want to see right now?”

You hadn’t realised how your gaze was so readily fixed on him — as if it were a force of habit, until his voice fills the silence you’d had in your head; racing at 100 kilometres an hour to catch up to the speed of your heart. Without much time to formulate a response, you quickly mutter the first few words that enter your thoughts. “I’ll watch anyone! Plus — maybe you could introduce me to some new music?”

Your words elicited a gentle smile as he tugged you towards a new area; “truth be told I don’t know who’s performing either — but we can discover together!”

As you settle into the crowd and your bodies blended in to the splatter of colour amidst dancing souls, he rested his hand on the small of your back, fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your top — holding dear to you and praying to a higher being so as to not get partitioned in the middle of thousands.

Although you were sure your attention was focused on the performance just ahead, you could feel each time his gaze averted into your eye line — his stare burned into your cheek the same way a kiss would; searing your flesh with a romance that lingered like sun rays on burnt skin. You used each chance he looked away to do the same — to leave a persistent stain on his peripheral vision which sent his heart to the moon. This prolonged back and forth lasted all the way to the end of the artist’s set, his songs being nothing more than background noise as your heart pounded prolifically in your ears. 

Eager to extend your time together, you asked to buy him a drink — with which he gladly accepted.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

Minutes passed into hours discreetly — you were lost in conversations about everything and nothing at the same time, until the noise settled and the crowd thinned, bringing your conversation down to weak attempts at staying in each other’s company.

You take the final sip of your drink; you promised yourself this’d be the last. Eased by the momentum of your mutual exchange, you ask him: “Do you ever look out into the crowd and realise that every person that everyone’s ever met was brought together by chance?”

“Like how your set just so happened to be right after mine?”

Hesitantly, you replied, stepping on eggshells as you cherry pick each word carefully, trying to gauge some meaning behind your blooming relationship. “Yeah, I mean like what if I hadn’t been in that tent when you came in? Would you still watch my set? Would you be having a drink with me right now?”

“I’m pretty sure someone with a presence like yours would’ve caught my attention one way or another.” His response was delivered almost immediately, as if the answer were the most obvious thing in the world.

Attempting to hide the smile inevitably slipping onto your face and the pink creeping up your cheeks, you let out a sincere chuckle. “I’m glad you think so.”

As your conversations drift with the sunlight, a call from your manager reminds you of your responsibilities, prompting an exchange of see you soons and subtle glances over the shoulder as you both depart from each other’s warmth.

It was hard to be around him — to be close but not close enough. To say he charmed you would be an understatement, and to say that he didn’t feel the same would be a lie. Being back in your hotel room reminded you of how intoxicating it felt to be near him, and it felt like an itch as you traced back the steps that you took so carefully around him; how the two of you danced around each other so gently. You weren't sure you'd ever cross paths again; the regret of not being forward about how you'd felt with him loomed around you as you lay in bed, phone in hand, wondering if he was still thinking about you. His name rested on the tip of your tongue as you drifted off to sleep, naturally burrowing a home in your chest.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

Waking up to waning notifications and texts hardly alerted you as you were seemingly stuck in the same state of wonderstruck that you had been in the day before. As you recollect your fleeing consciousness, the blots of colour on your screen begin to form coherent shapes, revealing texts from your manager and PR team, all addressed at several tweets and posts discussing you; their messages growing more and more panicked with each one. With a deep breath, you clicked on the Twitter app, bracing yourself for what you knew was coming.

The tweets were overwhelming, discussing everything from your performance to your interaction with Joost. People were making assumptions about your relationship and dissecting every detail of your interaction.

Mindlessly scrolling through the barrage of tweets, a text from a number you have labelled as “Joost :)” halts every single movement and thought previously in motion.

J: hello girlfriend :D 

R: joost?

J: have u seen what theyre saying about us??

R: its really brutal

they dont hesitate

J: this is my first time experiencing something like this (・´з`・)

R: me too!

i hope youre ok with that kind of stuff though, its pretty intrusive

J: yup, but im going to have to get used to this (╥﹏╥)

and you are cute, so i dont mind  (⁀ᗢ⁀)

R: oh thank you, youre cute too :D 

You smiled as you read Joost's messages, feeling a warm sense of relief and happiness. Despite the gossip and speculation online, he seemed to be handling it all in stride – easing any preexisting worry that he’d be weirded out or pushed away by the assumptions forced upon you and your relationship. You stared intently at your screen, your fingers hovering anxiously over the keypad. Your heart rate quickened as you contemplated hitting send on the message, a wave of trepidation washing over her. 

R: maybe we can talk more over lunch? just to make sure ure all good!

Was it too desperate? Did it seem like you wanted a second? First? Date amidst an unfortunate impasse? Would he be discouraged? Did he even want to see you again?

J: i’d love 2!!!!

Oh. You release the breath you hadn’t noticed you were holding in, letting the pressure dissipate from your shoulders. Despite the weight of the situation, you found solace in knowing that he had playfully accepted the circumstances and was willing to brace the full extent of the accusations by risking another day with you. Finalising the details for lunch, you got ready and swiftly made your way out the door – towards the destined spot.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

Stumbling through the city, you took in the sights as you passed by slews of oscillating buildings and unnamed parks. Unanswered messages from your manager remain rigid and unread as you lock away your phone, looking forward for signs of the restaurant you were to meet Joost in. Determination sets in to the anterior parts of your brain – the tenacity to express your interest in growing together with the man you had just met the day prior. Although it was sudden, you were sure that getting to know him would only continue to confirm the feelings beginning to harbour at the base of your judgement. Rounding the last corner, you were hit by a familiar warmth; it was sudden, intrusive, preponderant, and all-consuming simultaneously.

“Hallo!” The Dutch accent slipped into his greeting like honey, the same baritone voice you’d come to be acquainted with to fill the air around you, as a blanket would. Suddenly every smell, minute sound, or gentle breeze that was prevalent became subdued – every one of your senses focusing on the presence of the alluring companion standing in front of you.

Your grin evident in your voice, you reply tenderly, “hello, stranger.”

[muzansfangs]

Bloodstain.

Starring: Aizen Sosuke x f!reader; mention to past Shuhei Hisagi x f!reader; Shunsui Kyoraku;

Format: multi-chapters story;

Warnings for this chapter: nsfw, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, spitting kink, possessive behavior, slight degradation kink, hair pulling, scratching, touch-starved Sosuke, manhandling, creampie, both the reader and Sosuke are bad at feelings;

Plot: The ache between your thighs and in your head were all that was left about the previous night. A quick shower and more than a mere goodbye kiss were the proofs everything was over. Leaving Sosuke’s quarters, you accidentally bumped into the Captain Commander. Fooling Shunsui was impossible and this gave the man the idea of burdening you with a particularly hard task.

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | TO THE NEXT CHAPTER

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

𝐀 𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐮𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠.

The warm rays of the sun seeping through the window lunged over the bed, making you stir. The headache greeting you as you came back to your senses was the unequivocal sign you were experiencing a terrible hangover. Lazily lifting your eyelids, you rubbed your eyes and tried to roll over your side, hoping to indulge into the bed for some more minutes. Something weighing on your waist, however, prevented you from moving. Furrowing your eyebrows, you opened your eyes wider, letting your gaze drift downwards, only to spot a muscular arm draped over your body.

Connecting the dots, you felt your cheeks heat up, flashbacks of the lustful night you had spent with him resurfacing in the back of your mind. You truly had no idea how to deal with this. The ache between your thighs made you let out a stifled moan, as you gently grasped his wrist and tried to lift up his arm from your waist. Bad move, undoubtedly.

The disapproving guttural sound coming from the man beside you made you flinch and you turned your head to the side to peer at him curiously. Handsome as a fallen angel, Sosuke was resting closer to you than you remembered yesterday night. His soft, longer brown locks were delicately dangling over his visible eye, still closed. In moments like this, it was hard to believe he was a criminal, homicidal mastermind. On top of that, it was kind of unsettling you had let him ravage your body the night before. Physically, you surely did not regret it. Mentally, you had felt free, good, after so many months spent in crying your eyes out for the horror of the war, fearing of not making it out alive. What was now troubling you was thinking of what would have happened if someone found out about this.

“I’ve heard showing empathy to a partner the morning after is commonly appreciated. — Sosuke’s hoarsely said, causing your stomach to somersault, as you were absent-mindedly goggling at him — I was not expecting you to shove me off of you so cold-heartedly” he reasoned, his hand tracing the outline of your hipbone as you rolled your eyes at him and hid your face behind your hands to get a grip of yourself.

Having a soft spot for him was not an option you were willing to contemplate, but he was doing his best to make it hard for you to detach yourself from your feelings.

“I needed to go to the bathroom” you blatantly lied, hoping his brain was still not functioning correctly, considering it was early in the morning. Then again, Sosuke Aizen was not a mere human like you, nor a mere Soul Reaper.

“Ah, now you turned to the childish tactic of lying. That’s intriguing”.

“That’s simply trying to mark the line between us”.

Sosuke grinned, sitting up and hovering over you faster than you had anticipated. His hands latched around your wrists, pinning them together above your head. The warmth provided by his body, the way his abs grazed over your bare stomach and his cock was poking at your inner thigh was enough to set your body on fire and send your morals flying out of the window.

Dipping his head down towards your ear, Sosuke hummed and nosed the curve of your neck “Oh really? You know, this attitude of yours has got me thinking I should have probably fucked you harder yesterday night. — he cooed, inhaling deeply, as he now buried his face into the crook of your neck — Maybe, unable to walk straight, you would have had no troubles in admitting the already blurry line between us is no longer existing”.

You had almost forgotten how good he was at getting under the skin of his interlocutors. You had never been an exception. His charm, his way of making you question yourself and your own decisions, even bending your morals for him, were all signs you had never found the strength to build a wall between you two.

Therefore, staring up at him now, helpless as the bruising grip on your wrists did not loosen up, you snorted “Let me guess, you won’t let me go until I confess I enjoyed what happened last night?” you asked him, eyes narrowing as he ghosted his lips over your jawline, earning a sigh from you.

“Maybe I just want to fuck you again. — Sosuke replied, leisurely letting one of his hand glide down your body, tracing your belly, until it cupped your sex — Stuffing you so full of my seed it will dribble down your thighs, while you talk to your brother. What do you say?”.

Your lips parted, eyes widening even so slightly as you instictively tried to close your legs, unable to control the effect his lecherous words had had on your body. This time, you had no excuses, you were sober, you would have been convicted murderer of decency, if you let him in again. Still, as your legs were squeezed together, his hand did not move. His fingers, instead, spread your labia, his thumb searching for your clitoris and flicking it to watch the way your foreteeth sank onto your bottom lip not to moan. The signs of your arousal were crystal clear, though. From your labored breath, to your half-lidded eyes. Not to mention your juices seeping onto the pads of his fingers stroking your folds.

“I say you should let me go. — you breathed out, glancing at the sun raising outside — I need to make it back to the Inn, before my brother finds out I have not spent the night there” you reasoned, but the moment his finger eased into your core, curling, you gasped and a low moan fell from your lips.

Sosuke was staring at you intently, his free hand cupping your cheek “Look at me and tell me that you want me to stop” he stated calmly, your brows knitting whilst you struggled to steady your breath. The truth was you wanted more and you would have been damned, if you said you did not wish to experience the same overwhelming bliss you had gone through last night. Now that you were fully yourself, now that the sun was still not wholly up, nobody would have known about it. No one. No one, but you two.

“I should reject you” you murmured, nuzzling your cheek into the palm of his hand. You wondered why it always felt tender, why he was not imposing himself arrogantly as he always did.

“But your body can’t refuse, can it? Or, perhaps, you don’t want to at all” he whispered, easing a second finger into your sappy cunt. Thighs quivering, you gave up. Spreading them wider for him, you cupped his cheeks, cradling his face into your hands, and you knitted your eyebrows together.

“Promise me you won’t tell a soul” you blurted out through gritted teeth, cheeks heating up, as he bit onto your lower lip, tugging at it to assert his dominance.

You did not really need him to speak and assure you this défaillance was going to be your secret. Somehow, you knew he had no reason to spread the rumors around. Aizen Sosuke loved to watch people covet what was his, but he lurked in the shadows, keeping a low profile unless it was strictly necessary to make a scene, showing his cards.

Involving you into a passionate kiss, Sosuke groaned scissoring his fingers into you, as his tongue slipped into your mouth. There was something enthralling about his sinful hands on you, about the way he was so hungry for your flesh he almost trembled. You could not let it slide this time, not as you kissed down his jaw and brought your mouth to his ear.

“Why are you shuddering?” you whispered, hooded eyes fluttering close as he curled his fingers into you once again, stimulating that spongy spot that made your body shake in violent waves of pleasure.

He glared at you, teeth sinking onto the crook of your neck to leave the umpteenth mark since the previous night “Years go by, but you still run your mouth like a impudent toddler” he deadpanned, lapping at your now bruised skin before leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your cleavage, between the valley of your breasts.

You writhed beneath him, your hand gliding behind his neck, gripping his neck as he flicked his tongue over your right nipple. You could not take it anymore and he knew it, he could feel your inner walls tightening around his fingers, before he denied you your orgasm once again. He seemed to draw immense pleasure from torturing you. It was only now, as you opened your eyes again, watching how he grabbed his cock, giving it a few languid strokes to line it to your opening, that you connected the dots. He was, without the shadow of a doubt, touch-starved.

Caramel eye glimmering in wanton, his tip rubbed down your slit, collecting your juices meticulously.

“You’re touch-starved” you breathed out, softly, a pang of pity in your voice that visibly irked him.

“Shut up” he growled, before pushing himself deep into your core, pulling a loud moan from you, as your back arched in sheer pleasure. Your legs, hooked around his hips, tightened around him and squashed him even closer to you.

While the sting of pain caused by the sudden intrusion was already fading away, you instinctively let your nails dig onto his shoulderblades, crescent moon marks appearing on his flesh like a tattoo. Smoothly, he witherdrew slowly from you warm channel, only to thrust back inside vigorously. A breathy moan was ripped from your throat, while you lolled your head back and exposed your neck to his vicious mouth. The snaps of his hips were something out of this world. Never in your life you had ever felt such a pleasure, such a passion and mastery among the bedsheets. Sosuke was greedy, grunting softly next to your ear, making sure you could feel him wholly.

Toes curling, you let your thoughts run free “Is that what Muken has done to you?” you asked him, only for Sosuke to wrap one of his hand around your throat, firmly, but not enough to hurt you.

“That’s what you did to me”.

The meaning behind his words was unknown to you. Did he mean he had longed for you for so long he had eventually lost his mind? However, you knew Sosuke enough to confidently say he did not care about anyone, or anything in this world except for himself. Maybe you were a whim he had finally satisfied, or maybe he was in denial upon ascertaining himself he was indeed touch-starved. He was smart, you were one-hundred percent sure he perfectly was aware of his own feelings and emotions. Admitting them out loud, though, was out of discussion.

When he felt your inner walls spasming around his cock, he gritted his teeth and sat back on his heels, hands sliding up your thighs and taking a hold of your ankles. Pushing your legs up, he buried himself into you until the hilt. The action stole the air from your lungs, as you just lied there, hips uncontrollably bucking up, while he pinned you down with a lustful glare.

“You should have not told me a fellow shinigami had fucked you before me” he rasped out, pausing only to give you a few rough thrusts that made you go in a frenzy.

This feeling, the way the tip of his cock bumped against your cervix, causing winces of pain to erupt from your throat should have been illegal. The pleasure, mingled to that numb pain, was too go to exist. All you could do was staring up at him, watching how his hips smoothly snapped upwards towards yours. His body was perfect, resembling one of those marble statues carved by a greek sculptor.

“I want him to see you struggling to walk, after you leave my quarters. I want him to smell me on your body, to taste my seed when he goes down on you and realizes you will not be satisfied ever again after me” he affirmed, nostrils flaring as he ravaged you at a breathtaking tempo.

His words ominously echoed in your head, as the face of Shuhei appeared before your eyes. You were not his girlfriend, you had never been, but you had promised him to talk about what you two might have had in the near future. If only he knew how you had spent the night and the early morning, he would have never looked at you the same way. Your fists clutched the white blankets at your sides tightly, a shameless moan leaving your lips as you felt him twitch into you. He was close and so were you. Stopping was pointless, by now. You had already made up your mind. You would have done what you did best, the very thing you had done with Shuhei: disappearing for a while. But could you really play your same old game with Sosuke? The way he now spread your legs wider, settling them onto his shoulders as he fucked you stupid, were suggesting you a different ending.

Sweat beaded his forehead as you tightened around him, earning a grunt from the man above you. The way he held you, the way he fucked you, it was possessive. The way he had expressed how much he would have liked to see Shuhei’s world crumble upon tasting his sperm into you spoke volumes. Then again, you refused to believe Sosuke was obsessed with you. No matter the deep conversations you two had had in the past, or the fact that he had saved your life more than once in Hueco Mundo.

You two were not meant to be.

You shuddered, you could feel his balls slapping against your ass, as he lunged over you and folded your body in half “Look at me. Look at me, while I make you come” he ordered, breath ragged as you stared deeply into his eye.

“It’s so fucking weird, Sosuke. — you stated, as his thrusts got sloppier — You… You craving my attention is not something I had forseen happening in my whole life”.

“Then it means you never paid attention to our interactions. That’s disappointing” he huskily replied, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Whatever. It’s not like I’ve ever cared about failing your expectations” you breathed out, before he reached his hand up and pushed his fingers into your mouth, forcing it open while he gave you a brutal thrust. And just like that, he spat into your mouth.

Your eyes grew round as his saliva slided over your tongue, his hand closing your mouth forcefully as he chased his orgasm with more urgency now. Degraded by the very man you had once hoped to destroy, you swallowed, too proud to belittle yourself with a row. Huffing, you just tugged at his hair harsher than you ever did, your eyes locked with his as you tightened around him and reached your climax with a strained moan.

Sosuke glared at you, before finally giving you a last thrust and finishing deep into your core. His warmth flooded in your gummy walls, your thighs quivering at the feeling, as he stayed still to make sure not a single drop was wasted. You were panting and he was too, when he slowly pulled out and proceeded to spread your labia to contemplate his work.

Still oversensitive, you flinched and tried to swat his hands away, but eventually you gave up, as he shot a cold glance at you.

“What’s your deal?” you queried, whilst he watched his cum ooze out of your core with sheer interest.

He smirked “Just wanted to carve in my mind the sight of my seed in your pussy, before you leave” he cooed, as you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. It was time to clean up and leave that room and the hellish man inhabiting it behind. As soon as possible.

Sitting up, you found the strength to push his hands off of you. Sosuke did not put up a fight this time, eyes merely following your movements as you attempted to stand up on your wobbly legs. Bending down, you collected your clothes from the floor and scowled at the thought of wearing them again, at least, until you could finally sneak back into your room at the Inn.

“Aren’t you going to gift me your underwear?” Sosuke spoke out from behind you, causing you to stop in your tracks.

“Excuse me?” you quipped, whipping your head back towards him.

“I thought it was a ‘human thing’ women did. — he casually replied, albeit you could tell he was clearly feigning ignorance to mess around with you — I saw it in a couple of movies”.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at him on your way to the bathroom “Don’t be ridiculous. Still, I didn’t think you were the type to sniff them in the dead of the night”.

You had not anticipated his comeback, though. The smug grin on your face dropped as quickly as it had stretched your lips, upon hearing his words.

“I don’t need to sniff your thong to smell your pussy. — he declared calmly, cocking his head to the side as he eyed your body — If I want to eat you out, all I have to do is ask you to spread your legs and I know for sure you’d do it without hesitating” he bantered, causing you to mentally curse yourself and dash into the bathroom.

Sliding the door shut, you rested your forehead against the smooth wooden surface and closed your eyes. You had a talent. An incredible talent at screwing up your already chaotic and messed up life. Sosuke was right. Even though your rationality suggested you not to let him touch you ever again, you perfectly knew that, after what had happened between you two, you would have not been capable to push him away if he touched you. But this toxic attraction was not healthy. Sosuke had been poisoning you for years, gradually, drop after drop. You knew that too. Nevertheless, you had let him do that, feeding you that insatiable thirst for his venom until you had let him own every inch of your body in the most visceral way imaginable.

You hated yourself for having played with Shuhei, for having let your relationship sink. Not even the war was an excuse for what you had done. If you want someone, you fight for him, you ignore the adversities life throws at your face. Through pain and blood, you do anything you can to get them. But the real question was: did you want him as much as he wanted you?

Now, letting the warm water cascade over your naked body, fingers rubbing your scalp gently, you felt like a bubble in the wind, waiting for an angular rock to pop you and let you explode in your misery. You needed to leave this place, to leave Sosuke’s barracks, go back to your room in the Inn to collect your belongings and find Shuhei. After that, you could finally go back to your ordinary life in the World of the livings. Or so you thought. Washing away quickly any trace of your misconducts, you lost no time in hopping out of the cubicle and wrapping a towel around your body. Drying your hair at the best you could, you did the same with your body and put back your uniform, before taking a deep breath and going back to the bedroom. Upon entering, you were not shocked to spot a still very naked Sosuke sitting on the edge of the bed. A silky black dressing gown was draped over his shoulder, his lips grazing the rim of a cup of a tea as his right leg was crossed over the other.

He reminded you of a bohémien artist, at first. But he was anything but that. Passing by him, you grasped your zanpakuto and secured it on your hip. Then, you halted and clenched your fists down your sides nervously.

“That’s the end of the road for us, I guess” he spoke out, saving you from babbling out idiotic phrases you would have regretted on your way out of there.

“Yes, it is” you shortly mumbled, nodding your head imperceptibly.

“I see. — he replied, pausing just to settle the now empty cup on top of the nightstand — Let me say my goodbyes properly, then” he chimed again, standing up and approaching you.

You were frozen in place, unable to move as he grasped your chin delicately between his thumb and forefinger. His hot breath fanned your cheek, as his lips ghosted over the skin leisurely, sending waves of electricity through your veins “I keenly look forward to seeing you again” he whispered, before capturing your lips with his in a demanding kiss you could not refuse.

One last kiss, one last taste of his sinful lips as you reciprocated it, as you let his tongue invade your mouth and strip you of your last shred of dignity left in you.

When it ended, you flicked your gaze up to meet his. Your breath was labored, your heart thrumming against your ribcage so violently you thought it was going to break the bones and jump out of your chest. Breathless, you shook your head and slided the door behind you open rather clumsily.

The still cool air of the early morning nipped your skin, as you glanced at him from the porch one last time “See you” you mumbled, before sprinting down the same path you had drunkely taken yesterday night.

You could have used the flash-step to get to your destination faster, but your legs were still kind of numb. The dull, steady thump of your feet hitting the floorboards was the only audible sound accompanying you, as you tried to concentrate on your task: getting to the Inn as soon as possible. Cussing under your breath, you turned to the left to get to the staircase, but your head was so in the clouds you had not even been capable of detecting the strong and familiar reiatsu coming from the that direction.

Your nose colliding with a broad, hairy chest and your ass landing onto the floor were enough to halt your run. Groaning softly in pain, your gazed up to see who was the man you had bumped into, only to gawk at the sight of the Captain Commander himself. You blinked, ascertaining you were far from being still drunk. He was there, grinning down at you amusedly as he immediately offered his hand to you to get back on your feet. Shunsui Kyoraku, the kindest shinigami you had ever had the pleasure to meet.

“Isn’t it too early for you to be up?” you nervously chortled, taking a hold of his hand and getting back on your feet.

The man in front of you sighed, head turning to the side as he clicked his tongue “At least someone remembers I am not an early bird. Being the Captain Commander is harder than you could ever imagine” he stated, rubbing his chin listlessly.

Fixing your uniform, you smiled at him and glanced up at the sky. It was still early, definitely too early for your brother to be roaming down the streets. But you needed to make enough time to take care of the various issues caused by your tendency to gum up your efforts of living a peaceful life.

“And what about you? All alone, disheveled, black circles under your eyes, hickeys on your neck… — Shunsui noted casually, your eyes darting on him as your hand instictively gripped the collar of your uniform to tug it up to cover the bitemarks — I can only think about a thing, miss Kurosaki” he stated, blessing you with one of his characteristic smiles.

Fooling Shunsui Kyoraku, a man who lived the life of a laidback lothario, drunk most of the times, someone who had no qualms in showing the world how much of an hedonist he was, was the equivalent of dressing up as a clown and pretending not to work in circus. You were toasted, as a matter of fact, but you still tried to push your luck. There was nothing wrong with having sex with someone, right? And you probably did not even expect him, out of everyone you knew, to give you the speach. You were a grown up woman, living up to the idea you could make your own decisions, when it came down to your body.

“And you’d be right. I drank a little too much yesterday night and I loosened up” you stated casually, already trying to turn your back at him, vainly hoping you had washed away Sosuke’s reiatsu and that his chamber was not the only one located in that direction. But Shunsui was not naive.

As his hand latched around your wrist, stopping you, it was clear he had got the hint of what had happened “How was it? Did he hurt you?” he asked, a concerned undertone echoing in his words as you twirled around to face him again.

Cold sweat collected behind your neck, your breath hitching as you gaped and stammered a simple “Who?”.

“I’m not here to judge you. I’m the last person who could do that anyway. I just wanted to check on you” Shunsui explained, this time sounding serious. His single grey eye was looking straight into yours, showing empathy as his grip on your wrist loosened and you dropped your arm back down your side.

Why lying now?

“Shunsui, promise—” you started, warning him with a glacial glare in your eyes as you took a step closer to him, checking the area as if you were looking for a possible passer-by.

The Captain Commander smiled, lowering his hat over his head to shield himself from the sunlight “Your secret is safe with me” he said and, in that very moment, you trusted him. How could you not, after all?

Straightening your back, you huffed and leaned against the wall at your back. Your eyes downcast, as you eventually decided to confirm his suspicions “It was consensual, if that’s your concern and… He has been actually exceptionally kind to me. I fainted in front of his room and he brought me in. I don’t think I need to explain what happened next” you replied, cheeks heating up, as you reminisced the actions that had led you to moan Sosuke’s name, as if your life depended on it.

If you closed your eyes, you could still feel his touch lingering on your skin, smell his cologne as he held you close to his body. But it was wrong and, now that the thrill had expired, you had no reason to think about it ever again.

Shunsui nodded, folding his arms against his chest “You know, it’s actually funny how the first person he talked about when I unsealed him was you. He was awfully concerned about your whereabouts”.

His words piqued your interest this time, your brows furrowing as you tilted your head to the side, inviting him to go on with his narration. After being unsealed, the first person that came to his mind was yours. Why? What did he want from you? Except for your body, obviously.

“What?” you quizzically asked him.

“That’s right. He wanted to know if you were alright. He told me he had sensed your reiatsu getting feeble. He wondered what had happened to you, but he obviously did not give away to me too much of his mind. I think I know why he was so invested into you now… — Shunsui said, scratching his stubble, as he eyed you up and down with a thoughtful gaze that did not promsie anything good — Which is giving me ideas”.

You blinked a few times, mostly puzzled by the informations you had just received by the former Captain of the Eight Division. Sosuke had sensed you had gotten badly injured and he had gone to the extent of asking Shunsui about your well-being. What was going on inside his mind was a mystery you were not capable of figuring out. Not yet, not even in the vulnerable state you had seemingly seen him at that morning. His solitude and his yearn for human touch were getting the best of him, even if he strived to carefully hide the truth.

“Ideas? I know that face and I really have no time to put up with your shit” you jabbed your finger at the man, arching an eyebrow up expectantly.

Shunsui, however, had already made up his mind. While he smiled at you, he did not reconsider even for a second his decision “Well, you can go to pack your stuff and say your goodbyes for now. But, unfortunately, I need your help with our special threat” he stated, earning a resentful look from your behalf.

He needed what now? Your help with who? With the very person you were avoiding to meet ever again? You thought he was jesting, at first, but when he did not join your soft chuckle, you realized he was serious and your smile dropped from your face instantly.

“Whatever you are thinking about, erase me from the list of people involved in your plan” you flatly said, but Shunsui shook his head.

“Ah, my dear Y/N, I am afraid I can’t. Not when you are the only person in the whole world he does not completely despise. Also… Come on, you guys are pretty close now” he started, subtly smirking as you stared at him horrified.

“Shunsui—”.

“I need someone to watch over him and…”.

“Awesome, ask someone—”.

“…You are going to let him live rent free in your house”.

“What?!” you snapped, colors draining from your face as you clasped your hand over your mouth in shock. You could not believe what you had just heard him saying. He was out of his mind, clearly.

But the moment you both sensed a powerful and tremendously strong reiatsu raining down on you, Shunsui chuckled and you had no other choice but to come to terms with the fact that you could not abandon your friend like that. Gritting your teeth, you stood back up and your eyes met with Sosuke’s ones. Fully dressed, he was standing a few feet away from Shunsui and you, his appearence radiating a sense of superiority that almost nauseated you.

“It’s rude to talk about people behind their backs. — Sosuke chided you both, as Shunsui huffed at his remark — Care to tell me what’s the deal with you two?” he asked you, his gaze lingering on you for way longer than you expected.

Shunsui raised his hands apologetically, taking a single step closer to Sosuke, his tone of voice uncharacteristically serious “How does it sound sharing a roof with this beautiful girl, Aizen-san?”.

And, God, the way Sosuke’s eye gleamed in mischief upon hearing those words was enough to make you realize how bad your situation was.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Here we are with the third part. The things I have planned for this one are scrumptious, I promise!❤️ Hit me with a feedback, if you want! Likes, comments and re-posts are greatly appreciated!

Until next,

X O X O

TAGS: @onyxino @seireiteihellbutterfly @pseudowho @areyouflying @bakugosgirl01

[pixelplayground]

PXL'S Anatomy of Screenshots

So you want to take better screenshots? There are multiple factors to consider, and if you don't enjoy tweaking reshade settings for every image, my ultimate method may not be for you. That being said, there are tips and resources in this guide that are applicable to everyone and you can select to explore those that are useful to your specific situation.

Disclaimer: I am not claiming to be an expert, nor am I offering to provide troubleshooting on an individual basis. This is a general guide and if you are unfamiliar with any of the concepts, please use the mighty power of the internet to find tutorials. I promise everything that I have learned over the years has been published and documented a thousand times better than I ever could.

There are five factors to address:

Your computer's inherent capabilities

The game's limitations

The mods you're using

Reshade

Post Processing

Graphics Card Settings & Drivers:

Become familiar with your graphic options. If you don't have a dedicated graphics card (i.e. a desktop or gaming laptop, these features may be unavailable and you should skip.)

I have an AMD Radeon Pro card which is designed for workstation level systems. It's overkill for sims, but useful for 3D rendering and modelling work. I have changed the following settings for DirectX 9 applications:

anti-aliasing - enhance application settings

anisotropic filtering - enabled

anisotropic filtering level - 16x

texture filtering quality - high

surface format optimization - high

Consider overclocking your graphics card to unlock it's full potential. DO NOT pursue this venture unless you are ok with the risk of burning out your card prematurely. I use at present, overclocked Bootcamp Drivers from BootcampDrivers.com obviously, if you're not playing on an intel based mac through Bootcamp, this is irrelevant to you.

None of these settings are useful until you address the default games limitations, which leads nicely into the next factor.

Addressing The Sims 4's Graphic Limitations:

Everyone should be familiar at this point with lighting mods, 4k, textures, disabling ssao, etc. but, I'm still going to spell it out. None of this is new information and has been covered many a time by various players ad nauseum.

remove ugly blue toned lighting in the world by choosing a lighting mod from @softerhaze here

overhaul your graphics.cfg file (i use a custom blend with features specific to me), however @simp4sims has done a ridiculous amount of work in providing a simple to install file that can be found here - read through their tutorials!! they have provided an excellent oversight of exactly what this does and why it matters

improve the indoor lighting for your sims - previously i used @luumia's no blu, no glo - recently i switched to @northernsiberiawinds better in game lighting mod here, though i have tweaked some of the settings to suit my own personal preferences

i don't use the HQ mod, i don't find that it makes enough difference for the amount of effort it requires to convert CAS CC

It should go without saying, but tweaking your graphics config file is absolutely useless if you can't play TS4 at it's maximum in game graphic settings!

The Mods You're Using:

Now that you've put in all this work into getting the game ready to make use of quality mods where do you start? Well, the CC you install matters. Whatever your preference, whether it be maxis-match, alpha or somewhere in between, priority should be given to using items textured in 2k or 4k resolutions, and specific attention should be paid to using wall and flooring textures with bump maps, and or high quality resolutions (this is important later for reshade if you intend to learn about ray tracing).

I will separately post a guide to creators with crispy textures because that is it's own novel.

Reshade:

Phew. Still with me?

There are many many many reshade presets out there, most are alike, but none employ ray tracing, and that is because a) it needs to be manually adjusted for every screenshot, b) they are paid shaders, and c) this requires advanced knowledge of reshade and a decent enough graphics set up that won't overheat - games running native ray tracing recommend a minimum VRAM of 8GB (please note RAM and VRAM are not the same) - i therefore do not recommend pursuing this option if your system does not meet those minimum requirements.

Start here to understand what ray tracing for reshade is. In my opinion, the shaders are well worth the price of $5 for the amount of work that has gone into creating them by the talented Pascal Gilcher. That link is a comprehensive starting point into expanding your knowledge of reshade and it's capabilities.

I have always created my own reshade presets from scratch, and while the core colorization settings I utilize remain largely the same, using ray tracing and re-light means every screenshot needs to be manually adjusted (lights repositioned, bounce and AO factors adjusted, etc) before being captured. @pictureamoebae just published a very timely post discussing the re-light shader and you can read it here.

Post Processing

Reshade does 99.99% of the work that traditionally would be accomplished in a photo editing software like photoshop. Occasionally, I need to adjust exposure manually, add depth of field manually, or color correct. Beyond that I use it to scale images to fit the resolution and file size limits of various platforms. Conceptually this reduces the amount of uncontrolled loss encountered when platforms like tumblr auto compress files that are too large. In reality, tumblr still makes images crappy compared to how they appear in my file folder.

optimize your images for various social media platforms using this guide

fix exposure or colorization issues using a software like photoshop

I hope that this gives you a starting point into expanding your methodologies. My process is continuously evolving and I find this aspect of the game most entertaining. For others who don't enjoy this process, it's probably not worth it!

Thanks for reading ❤ PXL

[elderscrollsconceptart]

Some users on PC have an issue where the Oblivion Remaster shader compilation is not completing.

The game may crash during shader compilation and if you relaunch the game, you can play, but stutters and FPS issues will be worse than if you had successfully compiled shaders. Shader compilation cannot be automatically re-ran so you need to force your PC to restart the compilation.

Here are the steps I took to "fix" this issue:

1. Roll back your Nvidia GPU drivers to 572.83

If you have an AMD GPU, I believe AMD released an updated driver for Oblivion Remastered that should mean no driver rollback is needed.

2. Delete your shader cache via the Disk cleanup windows program

3. Cut/paste this file OUT of this folder path:

steamapps\common\Oblivion Remastered\Engine\Plugins\Marketplace\nvidia\DLSS\Streamline\Binaries\ThirdParty\Win64\sl.pcl.dll

I personally dropped it into a desktop folder so I have it saved somewhere. Just make sure this file is NOT in that folder path anymore.

4. Delete Oblivion.ini from this location:

\steamapps\common\Oblivion Remastered\OblivionRemastered\Content\Dev\ObvData\Oblivion.ini

5. Open Oblivion Remastered and shader compilation should now begin.

If all went well the shader compilation should complete (may take a long time) and you should notice *some* improvements to stuttering as shader are now fully compiled.

Make sure you re select your graphics settings as they will have reverted to default. See below for my personal settings and performance notes. 👇

---

Next part is how I personally went from ~40fps outdoors to a solid 60fps average with occasional dips to 50fps at the lowest.

Caveat I have a high end PC, play on a 4k TV and don't play above 60fps. Your Milage may vary as everyone has their own hardware setup and graphical preferences.

---

1. Make sure your game is installed on SSD. Game just runs alot better on SSD and even warns you to make sure its installed on one.

2. FPS lock/VSync. If you need Vsync to play games like I do. Turn OFF the in-game VSYNC and force VSYNC ON in Nvidia control panel. IDK how AMD gpus work but id imagine you'd use AMDs version of control panel to do the same.

Set the FPS limit to 60fps (or whatever your preference) in the in-game settings. This can also be done instead in the Nvidia control panel so if you set the limit there, be sure to NOT have a limit set in-game settings.

3. DLSS of some kind is a must for most games these days. Especially if playing with Ray Tracing (as you can note below)

Set DLSS to either performance (looks worse, runs better), Quality (looks better, runs a bit worse), or DLAA (looks alot better but most performance hit out of all DLSS settins).

Use FSR if you are on an AMD GPU.

4. DLSS Frame Generation. This literally will give you like 10+ FPS. BUUUTT it gives you CRAZY input lag. Make sure if you use this you also set NVIDIA Reflex to Enabled+Boost. For me this game me the free 10+fps while eliminating the input lag almost entirely.

Note: If you use Frame Generation you will notice the menus in-game have a weird flutter/lag. Beyond this tho the issues are minimal.

If you use AMD GPUs make sure to use the FSR/FSR Frame Generation/XeSS options as these are AMDs versions of the NVIDIA options i discussed above

I know alot of ppl play on different hardware in general so to summarize the graphics settings:

Turn off VYSNC in game and force it via your GPU control panel. Use frame generation and DLSS/FSR as specified above. If your settings don't give you the performance you want, roll them back bit by bit.

ALSO: This may be relevant but as a precaution, make any major graphics settings changes *FROM THE MAIN MENU* After you make the changes, exit and restart the game. Sometimes the changes don't work if you make them while you have a save loaded + don't restart the game.

Hope this all helps at least somebody out there. Send asks or DM if you need any clarification, and remember, Milage may vary so experiment with your settings as needed.

[aurorawritestoescape]

MORNING BLISS

Pairing: post outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel surprises you with a hammock and uses it to its full potential.

Tw: 18+ mdni smut, almost pwp, fluff, big age gap (reader in her early 20s, Joel’s in his late 50s), f!oral, somno, unprotected piv (wrap it up), creampie, breeding kink, pregnancy talk (not a lot), fingering, cumeating, swearing, pussy slapping, Joel can pick up reader.

Word count: 3,5k

A/n: I’m tired of winter and snow and would love to get dicked down by Joel under the sun. Thus the fic. Thank you to @milla-frenchy for beta reading😘 Hope y’all will like it!❤️

MASTERLIST

*****

The bright morning sun woke you up shining through a tiny crack between the drapes right in your face. You turned on your other side away from the light and saw the bed next to you empty.

You sat up looking around Joel’s bedroom and rubbing your sleepy eyes. It was 4:15 on the clock and you furrowed your brows. You remembered that it was his day off so he probably couldn’t sleep which wasn’t rare those days.

You sometimes teased him saying that old people always got up early. He grumbled at you but a little curve of his lips told you that he wasn't offended. He often said that the hefty age difference between you two made him feel younger.

You got out of bed to look for him. Joel’s tee enveloping you like a soft cloud and the wetness between your thighs reminded you of the night before. First you had made him forget his name sucking on his cock and then he’d fucked you hard and stuffed your pussy full of his seed. You felt it soaking your boyshorts as soon as you got up.

You could have gone back to sleep but the bright sun and the thoughts of Joel stole the last traces of your sleepiness.

You stuck your head out of the bedroom and called his name but everything was quiet. You went downstairs- nothing. The only other option was the backyard. You went to the back door, put on your zip up hoodie hanging there, shoved your feet into a pair of old crocs and went outside.

The summer sun blinded you for a second and you paused on the back porch. The rays were already hot but the morning breeze made you shiver and the skin on your naked legs erupted in goosebumps.

The backyard was quite big and it took you a few seconds to notice Joel crouching among the apple trees behind the bushes. The trees were old and tall and you loved sitting under them with a good book while the canopies were hiding you from the heat of the sun but still letting you bask in its warmth.

You stepped on the grass from the porch but immediately jumped back as the cold morning dew reached your feet. Inwardly you scolded yourself for getting so soft but that’s what the safe life in Jackson had done to you and you couldn’t complain.

“Joel!” you called, raising your voice but trying not to be too loud, afraid of waking up Joel’s neighbors. He didn’t turn around. The thought that his hearing had got worse panged your heart.

You shouted a little louder and he finally looked your way, got up and walked to you with a warm smile on his face. His forehead was glistening with sweat and his shirt was opened revealing a gray tee underneath.

“What are you doing over there?” You asked, hugging his middle as soon as he came up to you. The scent and warmth of his body enveloped you and you took a deep breath melting in his arms.

“Ehm..I have something for you.”

“Really? What?”

He chuckled, shaking his head as his big hands glided over your ass cheeks warming you up.

“Be patient, sweetheart. I need a couple minutes to finish up. Get me some water, would ya?”

You raised your brow. Joel wasn't one for surprises. He was loving, caring and sweet but loud gestures were not his thing, especially in your situation. Yet you saw his love in little things every day.

You pecked his scruffy cheek and went inside to pour him a glass of water.

When you came out again your impatience won over and you slowly walked to the trees trying not to spill the water.

You saw it immediately. Strung between two apple trees there was a light pink hammock. You came up to Joel who was tying one end of it to the trunk.

“Where did you find it?”

“In the clothing store. Thought you might like it. You always sit here reading and now you can lounge in this thing,” he replied, taking the glass from you.

“I love it, Joel! Thank you!” You kissed him and walked closer to the present while Joel was draning the water.

“It’s big enough for the two of us! Wanna cuddle?” you asked with a little bounce in your legs, your eyes full of hope.

Joel placed the empty grass on the ground and rubbed the back of his neck looking at the swaying bed.

“Baby, I’m too heavy for it. I ain’t risking your new reading spot,” he shook his head and offered, “Lie down and I’ll sit over there.”

He pointed to the spot under the tree and you pouted your lips regretting that you can’t enjoy the new bed together. But he was right - it didn’t look strong enough for the two of you especially with the canvas and the cords surely being more than 20 years old.

“Ok,” you sighed and stretched out your arm silently asking Joel to support you. When you got in, the bed swayed a little and you squeaked, but Joel immediately stopped the motion holding the bed steady.

“Scared little mouse. You’ll be fine,” he chuckled.

“Hey! How about you get in and risk falling on your ass!” You grumbled trying to hide your smile.

When you finally settled in, Joel sat on the grass facing you, leaning against the tree. He was intently watching you adjust to the new place, his face glowing with content.

“It’s amazing!” you exclaimed nesting in your new favorite spot in his house. Second favorite, you corrected yourself. The best place was in his arms without a doubt.

The material felt secure yet soft under you. You looked up and marveled at the golden rays filtering through the canopies of the apple trees.

“It’s perfect, Joel. Thank you,” you purred, lifting your head to give him a warm smile.

“I have a feeling you’ll be livin’ here now,” he said, feigning annoyance.

You giggled, putting your head down and closing your eyes. It seemed like you were flying, with the bed swaying a little in the air, the warmth of the sun relaxing you and lulling you to sleep.

It wasn’t surprising that soon you drifted off.

You woke up as suddenly as you fell asleep. Maybe the birds were chirping too loudly or maybe a hand gently caressing your inner thigh woke you up. You kept your eyes closed thinking that you were still dreaming. The hand slid up your leg to the apex of your thighs and you felt a finger caressing your clit over your boyshorts.

Your breath hitched when the finger slipped under the fabric and the skin on skin contact made you flutter your eyes open.

Joel was standing over you, his eyes glued to the place where his finger was swirling around your sensitive bud.

You moaned and he looked into your eyes.

“Sleep, baby, it’s still early,” he told you, his eyes dark and full of affection.

“Ahh, Joel,” you whispered, feeling a fire starting inside your core. “I want you.”

He hummed while his finger glided down to your hole to gather some of your slick. He brought it to your clit and you moaned louder as the added wetness made the caress ecstatically pleasant.

“Make me come, please,” you asked impatiently.

“Ya wanna come, sweetheart?”

You nodded your sleepy head. The sun was making you drowsy, everything felt more like a dream than a reality.

“Ok, baby. C’mon.”

You thought he was going to lie down next to you. But he took you in his arms and lifted your body, then carefully placed you across the hammock. This way one side of the canvas was under the middle of your thighs while the other - under your head. Your legs dangling without any support made the bed careen to one side but Joel hastily stood between your legs, clasped your thighs with his warm hands and kept you and the hammock straight. His hips were between your legs that way.

You felt yourself gush looking up at him towering over you, broad and strong.

“She wants you,” you purred as your fingers brushed your clothed pussy.

“I see that. Look at this needy wet spot.”

“Yes, Joel, and…”

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“Your cum from last night is leaking out”.

Joel growled hearing your words and in the next moment he kneeled down between your legs placing your thighs on his broad shoulders.

“Lemme see,” He almost whispered, fanning your crotch with his warm breath and making you whimper.

A nod of your head sent his hands up and he hooked his fingers under the waistband before peeling your shorts off. He was careful not to make you sway too much and fall and you helped him bucking your hips up. He put your shorts next to himself on the grass and returned his gaze to your now naked pussy.

He licked his plush lower lip and you swallowed loudly waiting for what he was about to do to you.

“Put your feet on the hammock, sweetheart,” he asked, holding your hips with his strong hands. You lifted your legs off his shoulders, bent your knees and placed your feet on the bed. Your pussy bloomed in front of his face and his satisfied groan mixed with the sounds of the early summer morning.

“She’s so pretty…and all mine,” he mumbled, pressing his thumbs to your folds and spreading them. Your clit was already pulsating and drops of creamy wetness beaded at your entrance.

“I’m all yours, Joel.”

“Good girl,” he praised you, brushing his fingers over your folds and then your mound but torturously avoiding your neediest places. You began squirming with impatience.

“Shh, keep still, baby, or you’ll fall. Let’s see what I left you last night.”

You opened your thighs wider and he pushed his middle finger into your hole, palm up. You gasped and your hips twitched making the hammock sway a little. Joel stopped the rocking with one hand splayed over your lower belly as his finger began rubbing your sweet spot. Drops of sweat appeared on your hairline and you opened your hoodie and lifted the tee. Joel cursed at the sight of your exposed breasts.

Then he pulled his finger out and raised it so you both could see. The pearly mixture of his cum and your slick coated his finger and your tongue darted out signaling him what you want.

He reached out his hand bringing it to your face and you hungrily took the glistening digit between your lips and sucked on it. You licked his finger and he intently followed every stroke of your tongue with his blown eyes.

“Will you put more inside me, Joel?” you asked when his clean finger left your mouth.

“Always have more for my pussy.”

You giggled at the ‘my’ and his gaze darkened.

“She’s mine, baby. You’re mine.”

“Yeah,” you whispered and felt the affection for him overwhelming you.

His hands glided over your belly and he rubbed your soft skin there.

“Gonna flood your little cunt… load after load.”

Then he placed his warm palm over your mound, squeezed it gently and you moaned at the pressure on your hardened clit.

“You lured me here to torture?” you whined and Joel glanced up at your needy expression and smirked.

He took his shirt off and the strain of his muscles visible through the tee, the wet spots under his arms sent a new wave of desire through your body.

He relaxed his hand on your mound and spread your folds with his thumbs again.

You tilted your hips so he could see your weeping hole better.

“Who’s lurin’ who now?” he mumbled with a lopsided smile.

First he kissed your inner thigh, darting the tip of his tongue out to taste your skin. Then he moved slightly to the center, took your lip in his mouth and sucked on it. The anticipation was slowly tormenting your aching pussy yet your orgasm was already building. Just the sight of that strong, broad man, the survivor, the fighter brutal force of whom was almost legendary, brought to his knees by your pussy was making you lose your mind. He was peppering kisses all over your mound and folds, his hands keeping you steady. His tongue was close to giving you ecstasy but he still was greedy.

“Joel, please,” you pleaded squirming under his torturous caress.

He looked up at you for a few moments taking in your shiny eyes, breasts glistening with sweat under the bright sun and he finally took misery on you.

The tip of his tongue flicked your clit and you jerked as a surge of pleasure shot through your core.

“Ahh,” you moaned. His expression was serious and focused.

“She’s so sensitive today.”

“You’ve been eating me out for so long tonight. She’s tired,” you smiled.

“Just love her taste, baby. Wish I could carry her around with me”.

You giggled merrily, startling a few birds and making them fly away from the tree above you.

He was watching you with love in his eyes.

“Let’s clean you up and then fill you again.”

He lowered his face and tilted the hammock up, making your hips raise to his mouth.

He pushed his tongue into your hole and hooked it up gathering your joined liquids.

You moaned, squeezing your breasts and twitching your nipples while his tongue was dancing in and around your hole. The sound of slurping quickly mixed with the bird chirping and your soft whimpers.

"Don't be shy, sweetheart. Wanna know I'm makin' you feel good."

"What if someone hears?"

As soon as those words left your lips you felt yourself gush more as the possibility of the neighbors hearing your moans burnt your core. Joel smirked, having noticed your reaction.

"Good. Wish I could let 'em know... claim you in front of everyone... Fuck you at the town square for everyone to see... to show them who you belong to."

His fantasy almost pushed you over the edge.

"Would you want that?" There was a glimmer in his dark eyes.

You bit your lip, your chest heaving while your mind was feeding you the images of Joel taking you in front of the whole town. You were so turned on it hurt and you wiggled your hips in a silent plea.

Joel got your signal and his tongue returned to your pussy.

He began plunging his hot muscle into your hole, rocking the hammock and making the momentum help him sink deeper into you.

You fluttered your eyes shut basking in the sun and the pleasure Joel was giving you.

Then his hands stopped the gentle swaying of the bed and you felt his slick-coated lips on your clit. He softly kissed it and then began expertly bringing you to the climax. He was alternating between sucking on your sensitive bud and caressing it with his tongue, swirling, flicking, making an absolute mess out of you. You felt your juices flow down to your tight ring and then soaking the fabric under your ass.

Your core tightened as your pussy began contracting around nothing, your climax approaching fast.

“Gonna come,” was all you managed to mumble before the waves of ecstasy overtook your body making you tremble and shake under Joel’s tongue. He quickly replaced it with his thumb as his mouth darted down to your hole to eagerly lap up everything your pussy would give him while his finger on your clit was prolonging your orgasm.

When your climax subsided, the burn of overstimulation made you push his hand away. Joel gently gathered the rest of your juices and began getting up.

“Fuckin’ knees will kill me later,” he growled stretching and shaking his legs. “But this cunt’s worth it.” He said with a smirk and gently slapped your soaked pussy making you gasp and jerk. A string of your slick connected his palm and your hole and mesmerized he slapped you again.

“Joel,” you whined trying to close your legs but he held your thighs open.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he apologized palming himself and you saw a huge tent in his stained sweatpants.

He tugged the waistband down letting his cock spring free so fast it almost startled you. It was throbbing, the red tip leaking precum.

“Does it hurt?” you asked ogling his shiny member.

“What? Having a big dick?” he joked making you smile and took a hold of his cock.

He put it on your lower belly and mound, his heavy balls pressed to your puffy pussy. His tip reached your navel. A drop of precum beaded at the slit and dropped into your belly button. You licked your lips.

“Not now, sweetheart, your pussy needs fillin’.”

At that he glided his cock down leaving a wet path and positioned the head at your slicked up entrance. He was steel hard and had to press the tip with his thumb to push it inside you.

Your folds parted for him as he slowly began feeding your pussy his cock, inch by inch.

“Fuck,” you mewled feeling the stretch but he was sliding in easily as your cum was lubing up his leangth on his way inside you.

Finally he bottomed out making you sway up in your hammock and began fucking you, thrusts slow but hard.

“Not gonna last, baby,” he muttered, breathing heavily. Joel grabbed the fabric at your sides and started rocking the hammock making your body crush into his. That way his cock pierced you as deep as it was possible and the head was kissing your cervix making you moan at every thrust while every stroke of his pubic bone against your clit sent you closer to the second climax.

At one point he let go of the canvas completely and was standing watching his cock dive in and out of your greedy pussy as the swaying of the bed was doing all the job.

“Fuckin’ juicy cunt…always takes whatever I give her…warm and tight,” he mumbled between sharp breaths.

Then he grabbed your hips, moaned and began pulsing inside you painting your walls with his warm cum. Your hand darted to your clit and you started rubbing it chasing your second climax. The sensation of him pumping you full to the brim made you clench his cock and you cried out tilting your head up and squeezing your eyes shut as your pussy was clenching around his cock. You put a hand over your mouth as your cries got too loud.

When you both descended from the high, your eyes locked and you smiled at each other. Joel carefully pulled out so as not to waste a drop of his seed.

“Ya feeling full?” he asked, pushing a trickle of his cum back inside your hole with two fingers. You clenched one more time around his digits and nodded.

Then Joel tucked his cock back in the sweatpants and took you in his arms to lay you down in your initial position. You could finally stretch your legs and get comfortable.

Joel picked up your boyshorts and helped you to put them on.

“Don’t get up yet, let it stick,” Joel murmured cupping your cheek still catching his breath.

“Yeah, but I can’t stay too long. Dad’s gonna be back from the shift soon.”

Joel shifted his jaw and returned to his spot under the tree.

After a few moments you glanced at him, lips pouted and tears glistening in your eyes.

“What is it, baby?” he cooed at you with worry in his eyes, “did I hurt ya?”

“No, no,” you replied, shaking your head, and then looked at the light blue sky peeking through the trees. “I wish we didn’t have to hide.”

You heard Joel’s heavy sigh and after a few seconds he spoke.

“I know, sweetheart, but you have to wait. The people…your father… he’d be livid. But when we get you pregnant I’m sure he’ll be ok with it… with me. He’ll be happy to have a grandchild.”

You put your hands on your stomach and closed your eyes wishing his words into existence.

You imagined the two of you walking around Jackson together, hugging and kissing, not hiding your love and a smile bloomed on your face. The sun was bathing you in its warm light and soon you fell asleep again.

*****

Thank you for reading!☀️

Comments and reblogs will make me happy!💖

Tag list❤️ @milla-frenchy @missannwinchester @iamasaddie @harriedandharassed @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee

[themafiadebt]

That Time When I Tried To Bring A Foot Long Knife In My Cabin Bag On An International Flight

You know flights. For at least a few generations already we have had a privilege of travelling through air, which is statistically one of the safest means of transportation, but when shit goes wrong, it goes wrong in a particularly spectacular manner and being the dumb fucks we humans are, spectacular failures (such as acts of terror) register as more plausible ones in our stupid monkey brains. This is a digression, but, as the title of the post suggests, not an untangential one.

In any case, there used to be a time in my life when international flying was just a regular thing for me, getting on a plane and immediatelly getting some monday-morning shut-eye even before the take-off to teleport a few thousand kilometers away was just a fact of life. Two of my russian-speaking (but also fluent in my mother tongue) team mates doing some contract backend web development for a foreign fintech startup with me as a "team lead" (in quotes, because we have always been egalitarian) were as accustomed to flying as I was. Security checkpoint, it seemed at that time, was something we knew intimately, not necessarily to the point when we referred to the agents by their first names, but rather we knew which shoes are going to have to come off and the exact amount of change to trigger the metal detector. It was, as we all understood it, a dog-and-pony show in a post 9/11 security theater where water in your belly was qualitatively different from the water in an unopened bottle, which is technically true, but it never even made anyone feel safer as a passenger or less safe as a potential criminal (like my white ass getting "randomly checked" five times in a row for "traces of explosives"); it usually went as a well-choreographed routine of retrieving a laptop from an easily-accessible part of your backpack, unbuckling your belt, taking off your coat, putting clothes, backpack and electronics into separate trays and proceeding to waltz through the SCARY GATE in a steady pace all the while smiling in a friendly manner to the agents, maintaining Just Enough eye contact to establish connection but not come off as challenging and refraining yourself from making any meta commentary throughout the whole ordeal.

Easy.

Imagine yourself in my shoes when my backpack comes out of the x-ray about 1.25 seconds later than usual. There's a warning light going off silently at the back of my head as I wait for my belt to come back to me so my pant's don't slip off my fat white ass as much, getting brigher and turning into a bangbang double exclamation mark emoji and starting to emit avionic warning sound as the security agent pulls the tray with my backpack aside.

"Sir is this your bag?"

"Yes, it is"

"It seems you have a knife in there"

At this point I am more amused than perplexed.

"Yes, that is true," - I say smiling incredulously - "but it never caused any trouble anywhere."

I'm thinking about my trusty pocket victorinox (with scissors that are incredibly good for trimming my nails on the go) attached to my RSA OTP generator.

"Oh." - the female agent replies dryly, putting the vynil gloves on - "may I please open your bag, sir?"

"Sure!" - "May I retrieve The Object, sir?" - "Please go ahead".

And I watch, with increasing horror, my eyes widening, as I see the very remotely familiar handle that stirs something in the depths of my memory, the blade emerging in slow motion and going oh-so-slowly to what seems like forever until the whole footlong thing is out, pinched between two fingers of the agent who looks at me as memories of a town several hundred kilometers away rush back to me: the hunger, the yearning, the NEED for a simple kielbasa-and-bun sandwitch, both kielbasa and a freshly baked bun in my hands in a middle of a shop with no way to cut neither kielbasa nor the bun and the footlong steel monstrocity being the only possible option of instruments capable of cutting. Did I unpack my bag or I simply throw it aside when I got home is a question with an answer so obvious it immediately unasks itself.

"Sir?" - a female voice brings me back to here-now. - "I said, shall I discard of it, sir?"

I struggle for a moment to regain control of my motor function and nod. I think my mouth is slightly agape and I have no control of my vocal cords. A single elongated vowel escapes my throat.

"Thank you" - she says, handing my backpack over to me. My colleagues also stand frozen, their eyes wide in disbelief. - "You may proceed, sir"

"T-thank you" - I stutter as I shuffle away with my backpack in one hand and my belt which I retrieved just prior to the whole incident in another, pretty sure I've gotten damn lucky once again.

I never bought another trio of bun, kielbasa and a big fuckoff knife abroad again.

[dmitriene]

THOUGHTS ABOUT VENTING WITH KYLE ON THE BEACH.

cw: tooth rotting fluff, comfort, established relationship, intimacy, lot of kisses, massaging, teasing, flirting, pet names, just a lot of romantic couple things, reader described as wearing a swimsuit. pairing: bf kyle gaz garrick x gf fem reader

author's note: that's my first ever try of writing for kyle, so he maybe might seem to ya'll ooc, or something else, but i just wanted to try and post something with him, so i hope that those who'll read it enjoy.

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3. ˑ༄

the sun and slight coolness create a pleasant atmosphere on the morning beach, there are not many people yet, the pale sand has not had time to be filled with a huge number of plastic chairs and sun loungers, while the slightly warm rays play with reflections on the water and color the sand yellowish.

your trip to the beach with kyle was completely spontaneous, an idea that emerged during the dialogue that it would be nice to get out somewhere together to relax and unwind, especially considering that kyle has been sitting more at home lately, too tired from missions and definitely missing your presence to go somewhere from the comfort of home, therefore, the best option was the sea, light warmth, cool water, the images that popped up in kyle’s head, and not even yours, looked too tempting not to voice them

— “hmm, wha' abou' a beach, then, sunshine?„

that's why you were now sitting on his tailbone while kyle lay on his stomach on top of the beach mat, letting your hands touch his dark, sun glistening skin, starting from the bottom of his back and working up the white streaks of sunscreen, the cool, sticky texture making him shiver softly, practically arching, if not for the weight of your body pressing him down while you cover every visible part of his back with sun cream.

your hands slide to his shoulder blades, tracing the defined bones and muscles that tense and limp under your touch as your thumbs press in circular motions, moving to his shoulders, and kyle turns his head to the side, catching your slightly concentrated face, which causing him to have a wide, snow white smile, revealing his pointed fangs, while he practically purrs

— “can't really ge' enough of your touch on me, sweethear'„

his shameless flirting causes a small smile to tug at the corners of your lips as your body leans forward and you move your face closer to his, placing a quick kiss on his lips as he reaches back, propping himself up on his elbows and tilting his head to capture your lips with his, rubbing with his stubble against your skin and frowning his dark thick eyebrows with displeasure when you pull away from him, sliding off him and standing on the sand, flashing him a teasing smile and murmuring, playfully

— “well, i can't smear you with sunscreen until the evening?„

kyle laughs in response, propping himself up on his elbows and stretching to warm up after lying down for a long time, letting the sun's rays fall on his skin, illuminating him as his back and abs muscles work at the same time, rippling with every movement until he is fully on his feet, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you into the air without a single problem, narrowing his dark eyes in a smile, catching the sun with them and letting them light up as he lifts you slightly, placing his hands under your ass that is slightly opened by your swimsuit, allowing him to hide your pretty parts, while your hands rest on his shoulders

— “is tha' a question, sunshine? because my answer is definitely yes„

his slightly deep voice sparkles with perkiness, causing you to playfully roll your eyes back before you reach up to kiss him softly on the cheek, placing a warm kiss where he has a scar of two scratches, which brings a burning tenderness in his gaze, encouraging him to kiss you back just as reverently, fidgeting with his slightly plump lips against yours, his slightly shaved mustache tickling your skin as he presses closer to lick your lower lip and open a passage inside your mouth, freeing one hand from under your butt, and holding you on one, he touches the back of your head, pressing you deeper into the kiss, stroking your hair, until one of you pulls away.

and kyle does it first, allowing you to greedily draw in lungfuls of air through swollen and wet lips, not even paying attention to possible looks from the passing people, before you are brought back to reality by unexpected, literally childish behavior on his part, when he leans down and touches your nose with his, before biting the tip of your nose, and you gasp, your eyes immediately widening in surprise, before you furrow your brows and pinch his own nose, and he just breaks out into loud laughter, his body shaking and you with him while you mutter threateningly

— “you do this one more time and i would bury you in the sand, garrick!„

the laughter immediately becomes quieter, softening as he rubs his eyes from the slight accumulation of moisture there from approaching tears, before starting to walk towards the open sea along the sand, still holding you in his arms, even despite the slight frown in your eyebrows and feigned offense at his action, although it still touches him, which is why he bounces you slightly in his arms, jumping up, pressing his cheek against yours with an airy smooch and purring smugly

— “aww, come on, i'm sorry, sunshine, let's enjoy the woter, shall we?„

you look at kyle with suspicion, sincere, narrowing your eyes when he turns his head to look at you, smiling sickly sweetly, knowing that his charm always works without unnecessary problems, but you still give him a small warning, making him snort, but one way or another, listen to the end

— “don't try to pull out something silly again, i dare you„

he nods, as if obediently, but you see that sparkle in his brown eyes and it leaves nothing good to be desired, especially when kyle still gives you his answer, far from an agreement, but you can’t help but smile at his playfulness, sighing and resigned as you lay your head on top of his, kissing the top of his dark, curly hair, almost imperceptibly, but kyle is aware of your every warm touch

— “don' promise you anything, sweetie, but i migh' try„