#i should come up with a tag for the specific au

[propertyofkylar]

a visit with the princess - f!sydney x f!kylar (royalty au)

word count: 2210

tags/warnings: TOXIC YURI, my royalty au, thigh riding, humping, kylar's kinda ooc i think but just imagine a world where she got yandere over sydney instead of pc and it's fine, a squint of homophobia from religious syd

The two young ladies sat awkwardly across from each other in the sitting room. 

Somehow, without either of their input, it had been decided that the two should get together as a sign of unity and allyship. So, here they were. Two childhood friends who hadn’t spoken in years. Sydney and Kylar, staring uncomfortably away from each other as their tea grew colder by the second. 

Sydney examined the girl who had once been her closest friend, the girl currently staring out the window and adamantly away from Sydney. She remembered quite well being young together. How one day, she was forbidden to see her best friend ever again. Things had changed, as evidenced by the two sitting in the same room together. But the tension lingered. 

Kylar looked well enough. Though years had passed, she was the same beautiful girl as ever. Her dark hair was braided, though the braids were fuzzy and coming apart. Her dress was clean, but was clearly old. It made Sydney wonder what she had been through these past few years. Not that Kylar would tell her. 

And it wasn’t for lack of trying. Every time Sydney tried to speak, Kylar fixed her with a glare so severe that it made the girl wilt. So the only sounds in the room were the occasional sips of tea and crunching of biscuits. Even the girls’ personal maids - themselves well-acquainted from Sydney and Kylar’s earlier days - were huddled in a corner together, whispering, clearly uneasy. 

Sydney picked up a jam-filled cookie and studied it closely. She let the sweet flavors spread across her tongue as she took a bite. And very hesitantly, she turned to face Kylar. “Is this–” Sydney’s voice cracked, and she cleared her throat quickly. “Is this what I think it is? Do you still have the same cook…?”

Kylar frowned at the cookie Sydney was waving in the air, but at least she was looking at her now. “Yes,” Kylar said after a beat. “She…she made those specifically for you when she heard you were coming.”

Sydney couldn’t control the wide grin forming on her face. “Really? She remembered?”

Kylar didn’t respond. But Sydney decided to keep going. 

“Do you remember when we were little? And we snuck into the kitchen and ate so many sweets? I don’t think I’ve ever been scolded that badly,” Sydney couldn’t help but giggle as she fondly recalled the cherished memory. 

Then, she saw it. She knew what she saw. A ghost of a smile flashed on Kylar’s face. It was brief, but Sydney was sure it was there. 

“…yeah,” Kylar grumbled. “I think I still have trouble sitting after what mother put me through.”

This time, Sydney full on laughed. And Kylar looked at her incredulously, her mouth slightly agape. She wanted to say something. But she wouldn’t let herself. 

“Oh, I knew it! I could recognize this flavor anywhere,” Sydney beamed, finishing the cookie and quickly grabbing another. Kylar watched her, silently sipping her tea. “Please give her my regards.”

Kylar didn’t say anything. The two returned to their silence again, but the awkward tension had dissipated ever so slightly. 

As Kylar finished her tea, she had balled up part of her skirt in her fist, and her other hand was shaking as she set her cup down. “U-um,” she began, and immediately had Sydney’s full attention. “Would you like to see the gardens? I remember you liked them…”

Though Kylar’s face was sullen, Sydney’s heart swelled with joy - she had personally remembered something about her!

“I would,” Sydney replied. “I really, truly would.”

And so, just as they had done many years before, the two girls dashed outside to stroll through the manor’s luxurious gardens. 

They weren’t quite as Sydney had remembered. The flowers were in need of pruning, and the shrubbery was overgrown. It clearly hadn’t been totally abandoned, but obviously wasn’t being taken care of nearly as well as it had been in the past. 

Still, it was beautiful to Sydney. She wandered in awe, fondly remembering the hours spent here as a child. 

“Sorry that it’s kinda messy,” Kylar mumbled, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve.

“Oh, no!” Sydney replied so quickly and forcefully that Kylar couldn’t hide how taken aback she was. “It’s as lovely as ever!”

Kylar turned away, but Sydney thought she saw the hint of a blush creeping across her cheeks. 

“I remember playing hide-and-seek with you in these gardens,” Sydney said with a fond smile. “But you were always so much better at hiding!”

Kylar shrugged, still picking at that loose thread. “Well, I-I mean, I live here, so…”

Sydney nodded as the two of them continued their stroll. With every step, the atmosphere became more comfortable and inviting. With every step, the two girls grew closer. 

She turned to look at her childhood best friend and was surprised to see Kylar looking straight at her. There was an intensity in her eyes and while a blush crept across her face, she seemed to be willing herself to keep looking at Sydney. She offered the girl a small smile and felt something brush against the back of her hand. 

Kylar’s fingers were entwining with hers. Just as they did, so many years ago. 

The touch triggered memories in Sydney, of hours spent walking hand-in-hand. So she said nothing and simply let their hands meet. 

Sydney could hardly believe it. Kylar’s small, slightly clammy hand was in her warmer one. Her heart started racing and she wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it just made her that happy. 

She stopped to examine the length of rose bushes, breathing in the sweet smell that brought her back to her younger years. A smile stretched across her face as she looked at the stunning pink and red blooms. With her free hand, she stroked a delicate petal. “I can’t tell you how much I missed these,” she said. “They’re so much bigger than the ones at the temple, and–”

But Sydney was cut off when she turned to Kylar and fully took in the look on her face. There was a heat in her eyes, and her lips were slightly parted. It was magnetic. 

“Kylar, are you…” Sydney trailed off as Kylar’s eyes darted around the garden. Sydney wasn’t sure what she was looking for. But then, Kylar nodded. 

And her lips were on hers. 

It wasn’t very romantic, and it wasn’t very good. Sydney assumed that Kylar had never kissed anyone before (much like herself) and her lips were hard and unmoving. Sydney’s were as well, but that was because she hadn’t been expecting her childhood best friend to kiss her suddenly. 

Sydney expected the girl’s face to be bright red when she pulled away, but it was ashen. Kylar looked like she was going to be sick. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know why I did that.”

Obviously, Sydney didn’t know why either. But honestly, she didn’t hate it. So she bent over and kissed her friend again. 

Kylar pressed her hands against Sydney’s stomach, while Sydney took Kylar’s face in her hands. Sydney parted her lips and the kiss deepened, and though it was so awkward and so clumsy, it felt right. 

But then, Sydney came to her senses. She pulled away so quickly that she stumbled slightly backwards. 

“Wait,” Sydney said, gasping for air like a fish out of water. “Wait, wait.”

An odd feeling she had never felt before was stirring in the pit of her stomach. Images flashed in her mind. The bishop. Jordan. Her own late mother. This was what they had warned her about her whole life. This was that dangerous, sinful lust. 

Kylar was peering up at her, her cheeks reddened and her bottom lip pouting. Her eyes were wide and dark. There was no other way Sydney could describe it - she simply looked appetizing. But she shook her head. 

“We can’t do this,” Sydney said, suddenly feeling like she was choking. “It’s…it’s wrong.” She tried to push her friend away, but couldn’t find the strength to do more than place her hands on Kylar’s shoulders. 

Kylar frowned, her eyes narrowing. “You really still believe in that stuff?”

A spark of anger coursed through Sydney’s body at that. Her thoughts were frenzied. “Yes - the church says it’s wrong - and we’re two GIRLS, even - we cannot fall into lust - just because you abandoned the church doesn’t mean you get to - ”

She stopped at the look of rage in Kylar’s eyes. “I didn’t abandon the church,” she said simply. “The church abandoned me.”

And with that, Kylar stood on her tiptoes and kissed Sydney again. 

This kiss was more passionate and almost violent. The girls’ teeth clashed against each other, Kylar’s tongue swirling in Sydney’s mouth. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before. It was…glorious. 

Kylar pressed her body against hers and she could feel the heat through their layers of dresses. Kylar’s breasts moved against her own. When Kylar bit down on her lower lip, she let out a half-yelp, half-moan. 

Was this real? Was this actually happening? Was Sydney kissing her childhood best friend, whom she hadn’t seen in years, in a private corner of her manor’s garden? 

And if it was supposed to be wrong, why did it feel so amazing? What else were they hiding from her?

Sydney pushed that thought aside for now and turned her focus back on the warm girl she had in front of her. 

Kylar pushed her down onto a bench and hiked Sydney’s skirt up to her waist before lifting her own up and straddling her. Something hot and wet was touching Sydney’s thigh, and she shuddered when she realized what it was. 

“We can’t be doing this,” Sydney mumbled against Kylar’s hot mouth, but neither girl made any effort to move. 

Kylar’s knee bumped against Sydney’s core and she realized that, more importantly, they couldn’t. Kylar pulled back slightly, her head tilted. 

“You wear one of those things?” Kylar asked. Sydney flushed. Never before had she considered that her chastity belt would cause problems. She felt embarrassed by it. 

“S-sister Jordan said I needed to protect my purity…” she replied shyly. 

Kylar sighed and pressed her knee against where the belt covered Sydney’s most sensitive spot. It made the girl gasp. Kylar smirked. Seems that the belt wasn’t entirely useful when it came to preventing lustful actions. 

As the two of them continued kissing passionately, Kylar began to move on Sydney’s thigh, panting into the other girl’s mouth as she did so. And every time she grinded down on Sydney’s leg, her knee pushed against the belt, sending a jolt of pleasure in the area Sydney had long been forbidden to touch. Her thoughts were incoherent, dizzy and jumbled thanks to this brand new feeling. But one thought managed to cut through the rest…what else were they hiding from her, if this felt so good?

Both girls were gasping in a stuttered way, moaning into the other’s mouth as Kylar’s movements grew more and more frenzied. “W-wait,” Sydney practically yelped, but this time she wasn’t trying to stop. “It feels…it feels so good…I feel like I’m gonna explode…”

That was when Sydney climaxed for the first time in her life. Her mind went entirely blank and she squeezed her eyes shut, bright lights dancing behind her eyelids. She felt her body seize up and her belt became uncomfortably wet.

Kylar did not stop or even slow down. Sydney opened her eyes to look at the girl and found her tantalizing in a way she could have never imagined. Her own eyes were shut, her face bright red and her lips swollen. Sweat dripped down her brow and her hair was fuzzy where it was coming out of her braids, but the way the sun backlit her in the garden made her look like she was glowing. Like an angel, come to life. 

“O-oh,” Kylar moaned, rocking back and forth. “Feels s’good!” 

The smaller girl let out a high-pitched whine as she evidently hit her own climax, her hips starting to slow down as Sydney felt a rush of sticky liquid coat her upper thigh. Then, both breathing heavily, the two girls looked at each other quite seriously - and then burst into a fit of giggles.

“That was…” Sydney was at a loss for words. “I didn’t know that was possible. I didn’t know that was something people could even do!”

Kylar smiled and suddenly, she looked much younger and more full of life than Sydney had seen all day. It made Sydney forget how uncomfortably wet and sticky she was, and how she was going to hide what she had done from her maid when they left. Kylar threw her arms around Sydney’s shoulders and buried her face in the crook of her neck. 

“Thank you for coming to visit,” she said in a small voice. Sydney pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 

“I’d like to come by again soon, if you’ll have me,” she said in response, and she could feel Kylar smile against her skin. 

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I’d like that.”

And the two of them sat in silence after that.

[transiconwilfred]

im having more thoughts about that tmnt sweet toot au. i think Splinter (still Hamato Yoshi) and his wife were on an ill-timed trip to New York when the sick broke out, and they ended up sort of stranded because in an effort to contain the sick, no one was allowed in or out of the country. Tang Shen unfortunately caught it, and after her death, Splinter kinda just gave up on life and went to live in a cabin in the woods while quietly hoping the sick would claim him too. hes been out there alone for a while when he finds the turtles and they restore his will to live :)

[startagainaprologue]

EQUINOX !! here to help !! with the loops!! wonder what their deal is...

[skitskatdacat63]

Fernando and Fisi pictures that I like and enjoy a normal amount (pt. 1: 2005)

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Thinking about Mandela Prophet au.

But brain isn’t coming up with new ideas- 

[m0e-ru]

(reading my own ao3) wow this bitch is so correct and on point i wish there was more . cmon guys look at this shit https://archiveofourown.org/series/2536405

[shrekyaoi]

Alternative horror story: Scientist Makarov in a SCP setting. Makarov in any position of power is bad enough but Makarov with the forces of the SCP organization behind him is extra bad. Idk who'd be an SCP in this scenario but Roach, Price or Yuri could all work

there are so many tales and even just scps that he would fit perfectly into with little to no change. he fits the archetype of “egotistical site director whose ambition kills us all” like it was chiselled out of rock just for him. i tend to default to the 141 being an mtf but that’s mostly because it makes the most logical sense for them. doesn’t mean you don’t have to be weird about it.

yuri could be makarov’s right hand easily in this scenario but i don’t see him dipping too hard into research. that isn’t to say he’s stupid because he most definitely is NOT, but his focuses lie elsewhere. he’d be the guy that actually gets things done

i see price as the head of the mtf, likely getting assigned to the site because the o5 council sees makarov getting a little Silly and goes. hey can you make sure this fuck doesn’t get us all killed. price and makarov developing a psychosexual codependant spiritually transcendant soulbond that involves, among other things, hatefucking is inevitable.

forgot where i was going with this.

several of them could be anomalous but who and how is still up in the air. reality bender makarov is always special 2 me but so is reality bender price so. we‘ll see

[teacupsofthoughts]

i feel like if i analyze cobalt vs blue stick from that rebalanced animation hard enough something will click

[pedrospatch]

someone to be thankful for

DBF! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: It’s Thanksgiving—when dinner with your nightmare of a family goes south, you find comfort in the person you least expect it from: your father’s best friend, Joel Miller.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (AU, NO OUTBREAK) non canon, DBF! Joel, AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s, i do not specify her age, but she’s a recent college grad so do with that what you will, not everyone graduates at the same specific age ya know? Joel is in his mid-ish 50’s). Reader’s a teacher, she is visiting her suburban childhood home from a big city. Reader’s parents are religious and practice traditional-ish gender norms (i.e father is head of the household kinda thing) reader’s family celebrates Thanksgiving (sorry) several mentions of food and alcohol, reader’s parents suck, she has two brothers who come with names, a lot of her relatives come with names, watch out for Aunt Ines she’s a bitch. (TW) body/weight shaming (twice) PLEASE BE MINDFUL if this could be triggering. mentions of and implications of childhood abuse (not graphic) reader’s dad gets in her face, implied infidelity (reader’s dad), implied toxic marriage (reader’s parents). soft, caring, protective Joel. Joel’s recently divorced, mention of Sarah, mentions of the ex-wife. SMUT. oral sex (female receiving) p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) reader states she’s on baby blockers (birth control), creampie, DADDY KINK (bc reader clearly has a few daddy issues), LOTS of pet names (darlin’, baby, pretty girl, sweetheart, honey), size kink (ish?), cockwarming. think i got it all?

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, that is fine but just keep on scrolling.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

word count: 11.5k

a/n: yeah…idk. this was very delayed because it turned into a whole thing. if anyone actually reads all 11k of this, i will bake you muffins.

You take a deep breath and look in the mirror.

Skirt pressed, not a wrinkle in sight.

Hair brushed, not a single strand out of place.

Makeup done, not a blemish to be seen.

And somehow, someone will still find something.

Something to point out.

Something to comment on.

Something to criticize.

If not your appearance, it’ll be something else.

Because someone always had something to say.

“Should you be eating all of that?”

“Another year gone and still no boyfriend?”

“Don’t you want to get married?”

“When I was in my twenties, I had two children.”

Boundaries didn’t exist on Thanksgiving.

Actually, for your family, boundaries didn’t exist at all—somehow, they are still scratching their heads and wondering why you’d decided to up and leave the minute your high school principal handed over that diploma, your ticket to freedom.

“Sweetie!” Your mother’s shrill voice calls from the kitchen downstairs. “I need a hand! Our guests are going to start arriving soon and there is still plenty left for us to do before they get here!”

You groan outwardly.

There’s still plenty left to do?

How’s that even fucking possible?

You’ve been cooking and baking since sunrise.

“Don’t you think it’s too early?” you’d grumbled at five o’ clock in the morning when your mother had pulled you out of bed, declaring it was time for the big dinner preparations to begin—even though it’d be several hours before your family came over and gathered around the table to break bread. She had pulled the turkey out of the freezer a few days ago, a massive, thirty-pound whole bird that looked big enough to feed a small village. In addition, she had picked up a ham and a brisket. “Mom, why’s there so much food?” Rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the sleeve of your robe, you’d started making your way over to the Nespresso only to realize that the coffee machine was hidden behind paper bags full of groceries. “Are we cooking for all of Texas or something?”

“Very funny,” she had glared at you. “Of course we aren’t.” She started unwrapping the turkey. “We’re simply making sure we have enough food and that we have different options for everyone to enjoy, so knock it off with the wisecracks and get to peeling those carrots for me for the stuffing. There is not a single minute to waste today, you hear me, missy? We’re hosting a dozen people, so everything must be absolutely perfect. I won’t accept anything less than perfection today, do you understand me?”

Thirteen hours later, she’s still driving you insane.

You’re only home visiting until the end of the week and then it’s back to the Midwest. You can survive her for three more days, right?

You hear her calling your name and exhale a small, frustrated sigh. “I’m coming, mom!” you call back. It’s difficult to mask the annoyance in your tone of voice, but somehow you manage it. “One minute!”

Smoothing down your pleated plaid skirt, you take one last look in the mirror to make sure everything is in order—there is a loose thread on the sleeve of your brown, knitted sweater and you carefully snip it off with a pair of scissors before sliding your feet into the comfiest pair of ankle boots you’d packed and head downstairs, nose leading the way as you follow the warm, delicious scent of the made from scratch biscuits and rolls baking in the oven.

You find your mother standing at the center island counter garnishing a charcuterie board with sweet gherkins and sprigs of fresh herbs. She’s donning a festive apron embroidered with fall leaves over her designer dress, and her hair’s still up in rollers. “Finally, there you are,” she huffs out loudly the second she hears you walk into the kitchen. Down the hallway, your father and two younger brothers are shouting at some football game on the flat screen television in the living room—men don’t lift a single finger on this day, at least not in this household. “I need you to start setting the table for me. I have place cards in that bag over there. Make sure your dad’s at the head of the table. Oh and don’t forget to bring out the children’s table for all your little cousins—” She glances up, letting out a small gasp when she sees you. “What in the world are you wearing?”

Frowning, you look down at yourself. “Clothes?”

Her ruby red lips purse together in a tight thin line.

“Honey, that skirt is too short. It’s inappropriate.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at her. “It’s like an inch above the knee, how is that inappropriate? It’s not like it’s a miniskirt, mom.” As she eyes your skirt with disapproval, you decide you’re not in the mood to argue and say, “Okay, fine. I’ll go upstairs and change into something else then—”

“No, no, forget it,” she shakes her head. “We don’t have the time for that.” Your mother whirls around, picking up the bag of place holders—she’d special ordered little turkeys carved out of wood. She also takes a marker and a notepad, shoving everything into your hands. “Here. I wrote down all the names of everyone who’s coming for dinner. The children get place holders too but make sure the little ones are sitting beside someone older to help them. Oh! Did I already mention putting your dad at the head of the—”

Tuning her out, your eyes scan down the guest list and if there’s one thing to be thankful for today it’s the fact that your mother’s given you the power to seat everybody wherever you want. Halfway down the list, you see the names of several relatives that you don’t want anywhere near you at the table. An Aunt Miriam who smells like the inside of a casino; a cousin Jennifer who refuses to acknowledge her forty-eight month old is actually four years old; an uncle Richard who always has one too many beers and winds up spewing antigovernment conspiracy theories, ranting until he’s passed out somewhere, such as on the floor of the guest bathroom.

You get to the bottom of the list and can’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. “Joel Miller?”

She nods, returning to her board.

“You remember Mr. Miller, don’t you, sweetie? He and your father went to college together—he’s one of his oldest and dearest friends. Don’t tell me you forgot about him? You’ve met him plenty of ti—”

“Yeah, I remember who Joel is, mom,” you mutter, cutting her off. “Didn’t he and the family move out to Arizona like, four years ago? To Phoenix, right?” You’d been away for college then. Taking a second glance at the list, you notice she had forgotten the names of Joel’s wife and daughter. Surely, it’d just been a mistake on her part, though. “I had no idea they were in town visiting. Dad didn’t mention it to me at all.”

“They’re not.” She lowers her voice, as if someone else is standing in the room listening. “Joel moved back to Austin, he’s been back for a few days now. He and Connie, they um—” Pausing for a moment, she reaches up and clasps the cross hanging from her neck before whispering, “They got divorced.”

Taken aback, your mouth parts slightly. “What?”

“I know. Joel and Connie were the last people that I ever thought would get divorced. Such a shame,” your mother remarks, shaking her head. “I ran into Mrs. Adler at the super market and she was telling me all about it. Thinks they could have saved their marriage if only those two—”

“Would get right with Jesus,” you finish, biting the tiny smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “She says that about everything, mom.”

“Well, she isn’t wrong! The sacrament of marriage is a lifelong bond that shouldn’t be broken. It’s not right.” Dropping her hand away from her necklace, she crosses her arms over chest. “Anyway, Connie stayed in Phoenix. Sarah’s spending Thanksgiving with her. Your father didn’t want Joel spending the holiday alone and invited him over for dinner. That means I need you to be on your very best behavior tonight. I don’t want you embarrassing your father in front of his closest friend. Is that understood?”

You can’t help but scoff a little. “I’m not a child.”

She narrows her eyes at you and scoffs right back, planting her hands on her hips.

“No, you’re a smart aleck. Need I remind you what happened last Thanksgiving with Aunt Ines?”

Of course she didn’t have to remind you about last year’s fiasco with her insufferable bitch of a sister.

“That’s an awfully big piece of pumpkin pie,” she’d remarked loudly, eliciting snickers from everybody sitting at the table. “Don’t forget, dear—a moment on the lips, forever on the hips. And you have quite a few forevers on your hips already, darling.”

You had smiled sweetly at her, your fingers itching to fling your mother’s fine china at her. “I wouldn’t really worry about my pie, Aunt Ines,” you had said as soon as you realized that nobody, not even your parents, would be coming to your defense. “Much less when your husband’s stepping out and eating someone else’s pie when he’s away on all those so called business trips. Worry about that instead.”

That comment hadn’t gone over all too well. Three months later, Aunt Ines and Uncle Louis started to see a marriage counselor. Whoops.

“Well?”

“She deserved that,” you say, shrugging lightly.

“She’s family.”

“She’s a jerk.”

“You crossed a line.”

“She crossed it first.”

Before your mother can respond, the sound of the doorbell ringing echoes throughout the house.

“Jesus, we don’t have time for this!” Your mother’s eyes widen when she tries running a hand through her hair and realizes she still has her rollers in. “Oh no, people are arriving and I’m still not ready!” She makes a beeline for the hallway. “Get the door and greet our guests, I’ll be down in five minutes!”

She disappears upstairs into her bedroom and you hear the doorbell ring again. Your father shouts for someone to go answer it, someone other than him or your brothers because it is the end of the fourth quarter and they just can’t possibly miss that.

You make your way through the foyer and open up the front door expecting it to be one of your family members, but it’s not.

Your throat instantly goes dry at the sight of him.

He’s broader than you remeber, so much broader.

The fabric of his sage green dress shirt is nice and snug on his frame—stretched taut over the planes of his chest and his wide shoulders. He’s holding a box of store bought something or other but you’re much too preoccupied with the way the sleeves of his shirt are hugging his biceps to notice what it is although you assume it’s some kind of dessert. He looks far more delicious than whatever sweet treat could be in that white box he’s got in his hands.

After a minute, you realize you’ve been gawking at him and the heat rushes to your cheeks. “Hello Mr. Miller,” you greet him politely. “It’s very nice to see you again. Please, come on in.”

He smiles, his brown eyes warm and sweet behind his square, black-rimmed glasses. “You remember me,” he states and the syrupy richness of his voice sends a pleasant tingle up your spine. Stepping off to the side, you allow him inside—as he steps past you over the threshold, the tantalizing scent of his cologne almost brings you to your knees. Notes of a citrus accord like tart grapefruit, fresh bergamot mixed with the woodiness of vetiver and musk; it’s intoxicating, something you could easily get drunk off of if you’re not careful. “I’m surprised. S’been a real long time since you last saw me.”

“It hasn’t been all that long,” you reply, closing the door behind you. You speak to him in the steadiest voice you can muster, with nonchalance—as if you aren’t one missed heartbeat away from feeling like a silly little schoolgirl with her first crush. “Has it?”

He thinks about it. “‘Bout four and a half years.”

“That’s really not that long.”

“S’not,” Joel admits with a chuckle. “But with how much I’ve aged in that short amount of time, I just wasn’t sure if you’d recognize me, y’know? I look a lot different than I used to.” He pauses and laughs, shaking his head. “I must look like an old geezer to you now, don’t I?”

Grays lightly pepper his thick dark brown curls, his beard and his mustache. He’s got crows feet when he smiles, he has worry lines and creases between his eyebrows—he does look a lot older, but he’s so goddamn handsome, wrinkles, fine lines, and all.

You toss him a playful eye roll, prompting a grin. “I don’t think you look like an old geezer, Mr. Miller.”

“Well, you’re sure as hell makin’ me feel like an old geezer by callin’ me that, darlin’ girl.” He gives you a little wink and you’re not quite sure if it’s that, or if it was the way he’d used a pet name that knocks all the wind out of your lungs. “Please, just call me Joel.”

You nod and shyly agree to it. “Okay, then. Joel.”

“S’much better.” His grin widens and a prominent, deep dimple appears on the left side of his cheek.

There’s a silence that follows, but it’s not awkward or weird. It’s comfortable—being in his presence is comfortable. His sweet disposition makes you feel so calm, so at ease.

Joel’s always been a nice man of course, although your interactions with him had been limited—kind, quick hello’s in passing on Sundays whenever he’d come over to watch football with your dad, maybe a polite how are you here and there if you bumped into him at gatherings like a backyard barbecue or birthday party. But you’re older now, no longer the child who greeted her father’s best friend because it was bad manners if she didn’t. You don’t want to throw him that kind, quick hello or that polite how are you and then scurry off the way you used to as a little kid. You actually want to talk to Joel Miller.

But you suddenly remember he’s not here for you.

He’s here for your father.

Joel!” Your mother screeches, five-inch high heels clacking loudly as she descends the staircase. She had ditched the apron and hair rollers—and put on one too many layers of her heaviest perfume. With a delighted squeal, she rushes up to Joel and pulls him into a bone crushing hug, almost causing him to drop the box he’s still holding. “Oh, it is so good to see you! It’s been far too long!”

You force back a small, amused snort.

As if she hadn’t been judging the man for a failed marriage just minutes ago in the kitchen.

It’s performative, too over the top to be sincere.

“S’good to see you too.” He steps back and laughs as he adjusts his glasses with one of his hands. He holds out the box to her with the other. “Picked up a pecan pie on the way over here. I would’a tried to make it myself, but the kitchen’s still all packed up in boxes.” He pauses, laughing again. “Then again, I ain’t really much of a baker. Store bought was for the best I reckon,” he admits, sheepishly. When he shrugs his shoulders, his shirt strains a bit over his frame and even your mother can’t help but stare a little.

Lightly clearing her throat, she takes the box from him and reminds him, “Didn’t I tell you that all you had to bring tonight was a nice, healthy appetite?”

Joel lightly pats his stomach. “Brought that too. In fact, I didn’t eat a thing all day long. I’m absolutely starvin’ right now. Could eat a whole horse.”

“Good! Dinner’s going to be served soon. William’s in the living room with the boys, watching football game after football game. Come with me, I’m sure you’re eager to see him.” Your mother spins on her heel and hands you the dessert. “Sweetie, will you be a gem and go put this in the kitchen for me?” It isn’t a request, it’s an order masked as a request—it’s the kindest she’s been to you all day. She takes Joel’s arm and leads him down the hallway, calling out over her shoulder, “And please set the table!”

You do set the table, and when you do, you decide to sit yourself right next to Joel Miller.

Your mother lightly clinks her knife against the rim of her wine glass and clears her throat. “Everyone! It’s time to join hands and say grace before we dig into our meal,” she announces, her voice breaking through the loud, buzzing chatter at the table. She waits until there’s complete silence and then takes her seat, the chair adjacent to your father’s. You’re on his opposite side and Joel’s right beside you. “I think you should do the honor, William. You are the man of the house, after all.”

Nodding, your father begins the prayer.

“Heavenly Father, bless this food we are about—”

You’re not listening. You’re distracted by the jolt of electricity that zips through your entire body when you put your hand in Joel’s. His hand dwarfs yours and it’s rough and calloused, but somehow it’s the most gentle, soothing touch. Heat prickles at your face and neck when you feel him sweep his thumb across the back of your hand—you open your eyes and glance over at him, wondering if that had just been an accident. You’re convinced it was, until he does it again, running his finger over each knuckle one at a time. Slowly, like he’s savoring the touch.

Biting your lip, you give his hand a gentle squeeze.

His head is bowed and his eyes are still closed, but a faint smile tugs lightly at the corner of his mouth and he firmly squeezes your hand back. There’s an unmistakable desire that’s already burning deep in your lower belly, a flame you can’t extinguish even when the angel on your shoulder reminds you that not only is Joel Miller twice your fucking age, he is also your father’s best friend. His best friend.

“…through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” your relatives chime together in unison.

You force out the declaration. “Amen.”

“Amen,” Joel murmurs, opening his eyes. He turns to you and his gaze flits to your hand in his and for a moment, it almost seems like he doesn’t want to let it go. It feels like Joel doesn’t want to let it go—and he doesn’t. He doesn’t let it go until the sound of your father’s loud, booming voice announcing it is time for him to carve the bird startles the two of you apart. Clearing his throat lightly, Joel turns his attention forward and reaches for his cabernet. He gulps down half his glass in one easy swallow.

Dinner’s fairly uneventful.

You eat in complete silence, as does Joel.

Part of you wonders if it’s because you’re sitting in between him and your father, the only person that he’s most comfortable conversing with. Assuming this is the case, you’re just about to ask him if he’d like to trade places when he turns to you and says, “Your dad told me you went to school in Chicago.”

He’s just being friendly, you remind yourself when your heart starts to flutter wildly at the notion that he wants to talk to you. He’s friendly. That’s all. It doesn’t mean anything.

“Yeah. I did.” You pick up your glass of wine, taking a sip hoping it’ll ease the nerves. “I graduated over the summer and took a teaching job out there.”

“You became a teacher?”

“Yeah. I teach kindergarten.” You smile proudly.

“Can you believe that, Joel?” Your father lets out a scoff and shakes his head. “I spent thousands and thousands of dollars to send her to school. All that money and for what? For her to learn how to teach little ankle biters how to color inside the lines?” He rolls his eyes and gestures to your two brothers on the opposite side of the table. “Now my boys, they are smart. Chose good careers to pursue. Brandon starts applying to medical school in the spring. Oh and Matthew? He got early acceptance to Yale. He plans on studying law.” He shifts his attention over to you once more and shrugs. “Not too sure where I went wrong with this one.”

You stare at him in complete and utter disbelief.

“Dad.”

Chortling, he waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, come on, honey. I’m just kidding around. You know that I don’t mean it.” He then reaches out, pinching your cheek roughly. “Don’t be so sensitive,” he tells you before turning his attention back to his plate.

But he does mean it.

His comments hurt, and you hate that they hurt.

Joel nudges your arm with his. “Y’know somethin’, it takes someone real special to become a teacher, ‘specially to kids that age,” he states in a matter of fact tone. “Someone who’s real sweet and patient, someone real smart too. Someone just like you.”

Warmth radiates through your entire body. It’s not just his words, but it’s the sincerity behind them.

You shoot him a small, grateful smile.

The two of you wind up talking to one another.

Joel’s moving his contracting business, bringing it back to Austin from Phoenix to run it with Tommy, his younger brother who you vaguely remembered meeting a time or two in the past. He mentions his daughter here and there, but doesn’t bring Connie up once—perhaps it’s too painful for him? It’s hard to tell. He seems to be in good spirits and truth be told, it doesn’t appear he’s mourning his marriage; but it’s difficult to believe he’s not missing her, the woman he’d spent three decades of his life with. It shouldn’t even matter to you whether he’s missing his ex-wife or not, if there are residual feelings still lingering around. But it does matter and you don’t know why. Or maybe you do know why, but you’re too ashamed to admit it.

“Do you like Chicago?” Joel questions, curiously.

Shrugging, you respond, “Yeah. It’s a cool city.”

“You plan on stayin’ out there permanently?”

“I’m not too sure,” you admit. “It’s too expensive. I don’t want to live with a roommate forever. Unless teachers start getting paid more, I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to afford to live alone in Chicago.”

Joel seems hesitant about his next query. “Do you ever think ‘bout comin’ back to Austin at all?”

Suddenly, you’re not too sure about that either.

You’ve been itching to go back and get as far from Austin, Texas as possible, but now, it means being far from Joel Miller. There’s a deep, sinking feeling inside of your chest at the thought.

Realizing he’s still waiting for a response, you have no choice but to tell him the truth. “I don’t think I’ll ever come back here, to be honest. Not to stay.”

“Oh. I see.” He sounds disappointed. “Are you—do you plan on visitin’ home again for Christmas?”

“I do. I’ll be here for Christmas and New Year’s.”

He’s being friendly. He’s being friendly. He’s—

“It’d be real nice to see you again then.” Flushing a deep shade of red, subtle regret flashes across his features, as if he’d said it without thinking. Picking up his glass, he drains the rest of his wine and you can swear he’s nervous. About what he’d just said, and about whether or not your parents, who are in such close proximity, had overheard him. Because what business did he have in telling their daughter it would be nice to see her again?

They’re both much too preoccupied. Your father is attempting to be slick checking his text messages underneath the table and you can tell by the smirk on his face that it’s one of his secretaries. He’s got a penchant for perky blondes in tight pencil skirts. Your mother is well aware of this. She is also aware he’s on his phone, but she turns a blind eye just as she always does and distracts herself by being the perfect hostess.

Feeling foolishly courageous, you turn back to him and nod, heart pounding against your sternum. “It would. It’d be very nice, actually.”

Relieved, he nods and murmurs quietly, “We’ll talk ‘bout it later, then. That okay, darlin’?”

Not wanting to seem too eager, you nod again and turn away from him, teeth sinking into your lip in a futile attempt to hide the giddiness in your smile—but the soft chuckle Joel elicits under his breath is a clear indication that it’s useless.

He knows how he’s making you feel. He likes it.

Your mother returns from the kitchen carrying two baskets of fresh crescent rolls, one for each end of the table. She sets one of them down right in front of you and you reach out to take one when a voice, one that sounds as awful as nails scraping down a chalkboard, remarks loudly, “Should you be eating so much bread, dear?” Ines, who’s sitting a couple chairs down, next to your grandmother, looks over at you and raises an eyebrow. There’s a smug little smile on her face, almost as if she were daring you to run your mouth like you’d done last year.

For as much as it pains you, you make your choice and decide not to take the bait. You pull your hand out of the basket of rolls and pick up your glass of wine instead, chugging it down like it’s water.

Frowning, Joel picks up the basket and takes a roll that you assume is for himself, but it’s not. Putting it on your plate, he shoots her a frigid glare. “Don’t you listen to her.” He says it loud enough for her to hear him. “You just enjoy yourself, alright?”

Your aunt bats her eyes, innocently. “Well, I’m just saying. If my skirt was that tight on me, I would be thinking twice about what goes into my mouth.”

Hushed laughter sweeps across the entire table.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” You slam your empty glass down so hard onto the table that the entire dining room goes completely silent. The little ones at the children’s table stare with big and wide eyes, mouths full of food hung open because a grown up had just used a naughty word.

Your mother says your name warningly. “Don’t you start,” she hisses, shaking her head. “Be quiet.”

Angrily, you round on her. “Seriously? You’re going to let her say that to me? You don’t care that she’s making comments about my weight?” You almost laugh. Of course doesn’t care, she has never cared and she never will. “I’m your daughter! Would it kill you to defend me for once in your fucking life?”

“Shut your mouth!” Your father stands up, shoving a threatening finger into your face, so close the tip of it almost touches the tip of your nose. He hasn’t put his hands on you since you were nine, but he’s as drunk as he is angry, and you find yourself back in the shoes of the little girl who would curl up into a ball in the corner of her room as she begged and pleaded for him not to hurt her. “You hear me?”

Joel stands and walks around your chair. Placing a hand on your father’s chest, he mutters, “Hey now let’s take a step back from her, alright?” He guides him back down into his chair. “Ain’t gotta be in her face like that, Will.”

“I’m sick and tired of her ruining everything—can’t get through one dinner without her screwing it up! Always has to run that fucking mouth of hers! She still acts like a goddamn fucking child—”

You can’t bear to sit there and hear another insult.

Fighting back the hot tears that are threatening to spill over, you quickly stand up and rush out of the dining room. You make a beeline for the front door and step outside onto the porch. It’s about sixty or so degrees in Austin and the cold nips at your bare legs, but that’s the least of your worries. Without a place to go, you descend the porch steps and find yourself walking towards the swing that’s hanging from the old bur oak tree in the front yard. You had asked your father for a swing when you were three years old—it wasn’t until your brothers asked for a swing a couple years later that he’d hung one up.

You sit down, hands curling around the rope that’s so old and weathered it’s beginning to fray slightly but not so much so that you’re concerned about it snapping. You’re so busy trying to keep it together that you don’t notice the sound of crisp, autumnal leaves crunching under a pair of boots behind you. A hand gingerly touches your shoulder. You let out a startled gasp and glance over to see it’s Joel.

“Hey there, darlin’,” he says, gently.

You stare at him in surprise.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Needed to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” you grit the lie through your teeth.

Joel’s expression softens. “You ain’t gotta pretend with me, sweetheart.”

His concern is genuine. It’s real.

You don’t quite know how to handle it. Accept it.

“It got real ugly in there, ‘specially with your dad.”

Tears prickle at your eyes all over again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Joel. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” Baffled, Joel walks around the swing and a minor labored grunt escapes him as he squats in front of you. “There’s a few people who need to be apologizin’ for what happened, but darlin’ you sure as fuckin’ hell ain’t one of them.”

It’s odd. Feels foreign, even.

You’re not used to someone being on your side—it prompts more tears to spring forward and despite your best efforts to fight them off, it’s useless. You manage to whisper his name. It’s a feeble warning, one that’s telling him to go back inside before he’s caught in the torrential downpour of emotions you are mere seconds away from unleashing on him.

But he doesn’t budge. He waits. Joel knows you’re about to break and he’s ready to catch the pieces.

Finally, a tear slips and rolls down your cheek, only to be followed by another and then another. You’re holding onto the swing for dear life now, emotions that you’ve been holding in for your whole life now coming to the surface. The rope digs painfully into the palms of your hands. He reaches out and curls his fingers lightly around your wrists.

“S’okay to let go,” Joel encourages you and you’re certain he’s not just referring to the swing. “Listen to me, darlin’ girl. I ain’t gonna let you fall, alright? I’m right here to catch you. You can let go. I’ve got you, okay?”

You allow Joel to take your hands off the rope and he guides them around his shoulders as you begin to crumble. Leaning forward slightly off the swing, you wrap you arms around him and bury your face into his neck. “Joel,” you choke out his name as he wraps his own arms around your waist, pulling you closer into him.

He feels like stability.

He feels like security.

He feels like safety.

Your entire body shudders as you cry, cry, cry.

“S’alright, sweet girl. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

He repeats his reassurance over and over again.

He wants you to believe it.

And you do believe it.

Joel’s as patient as can be. It’s growing colder and his knees are begging for a change of positon, but couldn’t care less about the discomfort. He rubs a soothing circle into your back and waits until there is nothing left except little hiccups and sniffles.

“Shit,” you mumble when you pull back and notice you’d left behind a wet spot on his shirt along with light traces of mascara. You wipe at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater. “I ruined your shirt.”

“S’okay. Nothin’ the dry cleaners can’t take care of for me.” Joel chuckles and lets go of you. “You feel a little better now, darlin’?”

“I do.” You glance over your shoulder at the house, then exhale a sigh and turn back to him, admitting quietly, “I don’t want to go back in there, though.”

He rises to his feet and pulls out a set of keys from the pocket of his black jeans. “Well, y’dont have to go back in there,” he states. “Is there somewhere I can take you? Friend’s house, maybe?”

“My best friend Megan went to Puerto Vallarta for Thanksgiving. Most of my other friends left Austin like I did,” you explain, sighing again. “Anyone who didn’t leave is spending their time with their family tonight and I don’t want to bother them.”

Joel hums, mulling it over in his mind. “Well, don’t know how comfortable you’ll be with the idea, but my place ain’t all too far from here. Ten minutes or so. Less if there’s no one out on the roads.”

“Joel, that’s so nice of you to offer, but I’ve already ruined your dinner tonight. The last thing I want to do is put you out even more,” you say, sheepishly.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t ruin a fuckin’ thing for me tonight. And you wouldn’t be puttin’ me out at all,” he promises. “S’gettin’ late and truth be told, I just wanna get you somewhere warm.” Holding out his free hand, he adds, “And comfortable.”

“But Joel—”

“I can be real stubborn too, y’know,” he teases you with a playful grin. “We’ll be out here all night long freezin’ our fuckin’ asses off.”

He isn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Okay,” you relent, accepting the offer.

You place your hand in his and he helps you off the swing. He doesn’t let it go as he leads the way to a sleek, black Dodge Ram that’s parked behind your grandfather’s silver Mercedes. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before dropping it. “Sorry, sweet girl. It’s a bit of a trip up into the seat,” he remarks, chuckling as he opens the passenger side door for you. He gives you a boost into the truck; the scent of new leather is mixed with that of his cologne. It is all man and couldn’t be sexier. “Good up there?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Joel closes the door and hurriedly walks around to the driver’s side of the pickup, climbing up into his seat with ease. “Seatbelt,” he tells you as he sticks the key into the ignition. The first thing he does as soon as the engine roars to life is turn on your seat warmer. He switches on the heater as well, waiting a minute before asking, “You warm enough?”

“I am. Thank you, Joel.”

“‘Course.” He nods and pulls away from the curb.

As Joel’s driving you further and further from your parents’ house, all you feel is sweet relief.

“M’sorry the place is such a mess.”

Joel leads you into his living room and touches his hand to the back of his neck, embarrassed.

Amused, you raise an eyebrow at him and say, “I’d hardly call cardboard boxes stacked neatly over on one side of the room a mess, Joel.” You take a look around his townhouse—most of his furniture’s still wrapped up in plastic, except for the black leather couch and the rustic, acacia wood coffee table. He has a flat screen mounted over the brick fireplace; he’s been sleeping on the couch, or at least, that’s what the pillow and Texas Longhorns fleece throw tells you. You turn to him. “If you want to see a real mess, you should see my apartment in Chicago.”

You watch him as he takes off his glasses and puts them down on the coffee table.

“S’it pretty bad?”

“My roommate’s a kindergarten teacher too. You’d be surprised at how many popsicle sticks two girls in their twenties can end up bringing home. Not to mention all the glitter.”

“If you’re tryin’ to make me feel better, it’s workin’ like a charm.” Joel picks up his blanket and drapes it over the armchair adjacent to the couch. “Go on and make yourself comfortable, darlin’. You thirsty at all? I’ve got water or I can make coffee. Also got a pack of beer in the fridge,” he adds, jokingly.

“What kind of beer?” you ask curiously as you sink down onto the couch.

He seems pleasantly surprised by your interest.

“Lone Star.”

“I’ll have one. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“‘Course it’s not too much trouble. Not at all.”

It’s hard not to stare as he walks away towards the kitchen. Your thighs clench together—his back, his shoulders, those unkempt salt and pepper curls of his that tuft at the nape of his neck right above his collar—this man is the epitome of utter perfection. Your mind wanders and you can’t help imagine the way your legs would look thrown over those broad shoulders. How his large hands would feel on your plush skin as they wrap around your thighs to hold them in place against his chest while he fucks y—

“Here you go, darlin’.”

Joel’s deep voice shatters your train of thought.

He’s standing beside you, holding out the bottle of beer, which he’d uncapped along with his own.

Blood rushes to your cheeks. “Thank you,” you say as you accept the beer from him, trying not to lose the sliver of composure that you’re holding onto—it wavers when your fingers accidentally brush his.

“S’it too cold in here for you?” he asks. “I normally keep the thermostat pretty low.”

“It’s a little cold,” you admit. “But it’s not a prob—”

It’s too late. Joel walks over to the fireplace and he manages to strike a match and light it with just his free hand. After tossing in a couple logs, he makes his way back over to the couch and he takes a seat beside you. “That a bit better, sweetheart?”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugs. “You said it was cold.”

He takes a long, generous swig of the golden lager before setting the bottle down on one of the green ceramic coasters on the coffee table. He sits back; an arm stretches out over the back of the couch in a casual manner and his legs spread open causing your thighs to clench together once more.

“You feelin’ alright?”

“Huh?” You then realize he is referring to what had happened at dinner. “Oh. Um. Yeah, I’m alright.”

Joel peers at you, his concern evident, clear in the depths of his dark brown eyes. “You sure?”

“No. Not really,” you confess, tracing the mouth of your bottle with your index finger. “But I’ll get over it. I don’t have a choice but to get over it.” Another lump starts forming in the back of your throat and you swallow it, quickly chasing it down with a gulp of beer.

“M’guessin’ your family’s got somethin’ to do with why you decided to leave Austin?”

“Bingo,” you deadpan. “I was so sick and tired of it all. How I was talked to, how I was treated. Like I’m such a fucking disappointment.”

He frowns. “You’re not a disappointment, though.”

“My parents think I’m a disappointment. My dad’s never told me he’s proud of me, Joel. Nothing I do, nothing I have ever done is good enough for either of them, but especially not for him.” There is a dull ache that settles in your heart and all you can do is silently will yourself not to breakdown again, not in front of him, at least. You sigh. “Do you know what it’s like, not feeling good enough for someone that is supposed to love you no matter what? Someone who’s supposed to love you unconditionally?”

Joel knows it’s a rhetorical question, he knows it’s not something you’re expecting him to answer.

But he does answer, because he does know.

“I do, actually. I know all too well what it feels like.”

He looks down at his left hand, which is resting on his thigh and you do too. Your eyes flicker over the fading tanline on his finger—where he once wore a wedding band. You don’t even think twice about it and reach over, sweeping your own finger over the patch of pale skin. Without missing a beat, you tell him, “You’re good enough, Joel.”

He can’t help but laugh a little. “She’d disagree.”

“She’s wrong.”

“You don’t know what happened.”

“I don’t have to know what happened.”

“That ain’t how it works, sweetheart.”

Stubbornly, you lift your chin. “I don’t care.”

Joel laughs. “Y’think you know me, darlin’? Y’think you know what kinda man I am? Hm?”

“I do know.” You place your hand on top of his and his jaw clenches. “You’re a good man, Joel Miller. I know that you’re a good man.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong ‘bout that.” There’s a brief pause and he hesitates before confessing, “A good man wouldn’t be sittin’ here just fuckin’ dyin’ to kiss his best friend’s daughter.”

You freeze and grip your bottle so tight, you would not be the slightest bit surprised if it shatters right in your hand. “You—you want to kiss me?”

“Since the moment you opened up that front door and said hello to me.” Joel shakes his head. “S’not right.” He’s riddled with guilt, with shame. He pulls his hand out from under yours. “I ain’t a good man at all. You’re half my fuckin’ age and I shouldn’t—”

You cut him off, softly uttering his name. “Joel?”

“Yeah?” His voice sounds hoarse. Strained.

“Can you—will you kiss me? Please?”

You need more than just his kiss, so much more.

You need him to unravel you in every way possible, but beggars can’t be choosers and if one kiss was all you’ll get tonight, then you’ll fucking take it.

Joel swallows dryly. “That really what you want?”

His eyes flicker down to your lips and then back to meet your sweet, innocent gaze.

“Yes,” you breathe in reply. “Please. Kiss me.”

He leans in, and there’s brief hesitation on his part and he stops mere centimeters from your face, his nose lightly brushing against yours. “We shouldn’t be doin’ this.” His warm breath fans over your lips; they’re parted, eager to meet his own. “I shouldn’t let this happen. I—I should take you back home to your family before I do somethin’ real stupid.”

Your heart sinks. “That really what you want?” you parrot his own question back to him and hold your breath, knowing there’s a chance his answer could be the answer that you don’t want to hear, the one that could end up crushing you.

Joel lifts his hand, cupping the side of your face in his palm. “‘Course it’s not what I want.” His thumb strokes your cheek, his dark eyes taking in each of your features. He’s studying, memorizing them, as if he’ll never get another chance to be this close to you again. With the line he’s about to cross, you’re both about to cross, that just might be the case.

The tension seeps through your skin and into your bones.

You exhale shakily. “Then just kiss me already.”

He moves his hand and gently curls it around your chin, holding you steady as he leans further in and closes the gap of space in between you. He moves slowly and he’s gentle—too gentle. You want to tell him you’re not made of porcelain, but you’re much too preoccupied with how Joel’s mouth feels, how perfectly it molds against yours. He delicately nips your bottom lip with his teeth. It’s a silent request.

He wants more, more, more. Your lips part for him, granting him the access he’s seeking. Joel doesn’t waste a single moment and he explores every inch of your mouth with his tongue, eliciting a whimper from you. Without breaking contact, he takes your beer and somehow he manages to lean over to set it down on the coffee table without dropping it. He then pushes you back into the couch and the next thing you know, you’re lying on your back and he’s settled in between your legs, using one of his arms to keep himself propped up, while the other wraps itself in your hair. Your own hands clutch at fistfuls of his shirt, fingers gripping the fabric so tight, the skin over your knuckles stretches painfully thin.

You whimper out again, the noise prompting a low growl to rumble through his chest—suddenly, he’s not being so gentle. He isn’t being rough. But he is hungry, he’s possessive, and he’s letting it show in the way he’s swelling your lips with his kisses, how his fingers are gripping the hair at the base of your neck as he firmly tilts your head backwards to give himself better access to your mouth.

Your mind is racing, and yet, you can’t think at all.

It’s not until his hips buck into you and you feel his bulge through his jeans against you that you break away from him. “Joel,” you gasp his out name. You grip his shirt even harder, chest heaving as you try to catch a much needed breath of air. You can feel the arousal pooling between your legs. The flames burning in the fireplace are nothing in comparison to the ones that are burning deep in your belly.

“Fuck,” he curses, pulling back. “M’sorry—”

The last thing you want is for him to be sorry.

“No! Please don’t be sorry,” you rasp, gazing up at him. Your eyes are glazed over with a lust you have never felt for another man before. “I want this, you know I want this—don’t you?”

Joel sighs, brushing a soft kiss to your temple. You wish he could take a peek into your mind, see how badly you want to be wrapped up in his arms—you want to get lost in his embrace, feel him all around you, inside you. You want him to write his name on your bare skin with his tongue, whisper his secrets into the spot where you’re aching for him most.

He sighs again and lightly shakes his head.

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

“I want this,” you repeat yourself. “I want you.”

Relaxing the death grip you have on his shirt, your hands release the fabric and move to the buttons. Your fingers tremble slightly as you undo each one of them; after an embarrassing fumble or two, you manage to get them all and push Joel’s shirt off of his shoulders. He sucks in a quick, sharp breath as your greedy hands begin roaming, exploring every inch of smooth, tan skin on his upper body.

Your touch erases all the uncertainty he’s feeling.

“Wanna feel you too, baby.” Joel takes the hem of your sweater and gestures for you to sit up slightly so he can pull it over your head. Carelessly tossing it somewhere behind him, he glances down, blood rushing to his cock as he takes in the sight of your supple curves clad in sweet, delicate white lace. “Christ, you look so fuckin’ soft.”

He doesn’t even realize he’s saying it out loud, not until he catches the flirtatious little grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. You sit up slightly once again and reach behind you to unhook the lingerie and take it off, adding it to the ever growing pile of clothes on the hardwood floor. Licking his lips, he meets your gaze for just a moment before dipping his head down, wrapping them around one of your hardened nipples. “Joel,” you mewl his name as he flicks the pebbled flesh with his tongue.

Joel releases it with a lewd, wet pop and he tosses you a smirk before he moves to the other to give it the same attention. He’s a biter, you find out as he takes it between his teeth, nipping over and over.

Your throbbing center clenches around nothing.

“Joel, please. I need you—I fucking need you.”

He tears away from your nipple. “Where, baby?”

You open your mouth to answer him, but your own gasp cuts you off as he starts trailing his lips down the length of your body until he comes to a stop at the waistband of your skirt. One of his hands finds the zipper on the side and he looks up at you, as if asking for permission. Desperate, you nod. Pulling the zipper down, he slides the skirt, along with the pair of lace white panties you’re wearing off of you and discards them, leaving you completely naked.

Your insecurities begin to trickle in, but Joel’s able to halt them right in their tracks.

“You’re too fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart,” he says, his reassurance calming your nerves instantly. “So beautiful. So beautiful and so fuckin’ perfect.”

You watch as he makes himself comfortable—well as comfortable as he can—in between your legs. He shoots you a sheepish look.

“Knew I should’a put the damn bed together. But I been puttin’ it off and puttin’ it off all week long.”

You giggle breathlessly. “Who needs a bed?”

Chuckling, Joel feathers a kiss on your inner thigh.

Your smile is all but slapped right off of your face.

“Joel.”

Any traces of humor vanish. You’re both reminded of the next wall that’s about to be broken, the next line that’s about to be crossed.

He looks down and groans. “Such a pretty, perfect little pussy,” he remarks, his voice low, husky. “Bet she’s nice and wet for me, ain’t she baby?” He lifts his hand and drags the tip of his finger up your slit slowly, your slick coating his digit. He smirks up at you. “Oh, she’s fuckin’ soakin’, sweet girl. S’this all for me?”

Foreplay wasn’t in the vocabulary of guys your age and while part of you wishes Joel would hurry, you also find yourself enjoying the fact that he’s taking his time, teasing you—making you really want it to the point where you’re willing to fucking plead him for it. Joel Miller’s the only man you’d ever beg for.

He skims your other thigh with his nose and kisses it just like he’d done with the other. “Tell me darlin’ s’this where you need me? Right here?”

Frantically, you nod your head.

“Words, honey. Gotta use your words for me.”

“Yes!” you choke out. “That’s where I need you. So bad. Need you so fucking bad. Please Daddy—”

You freeze and momentarily, he does too. Truth be told, you wouldn’t really blame him if he just stood up, gathered your clothes and tossed them at you, demanding you put them back on and leave.

Joel raises an eyebrow. “Daddy, huh?”

Your face is on fire. “I—it slipped,” you stammer. “I didn’t mean to call you—I’m so sorry, Joel. I’m not even sure where that came from. I’ve never—”

You’re on the verge of panicking, then notice there is a certain glimmer in his eyes and realize he liked it when you’d called him that. You’re taken aback.

He fucking likes being called Daddy.

“Sweetheart, there ain’t nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout. I promise. You can call me that. But on a condition.”

You stare at him, no idea what the condition could possibly be.

“Ain’t allowed to call anyone else that. Ever.” There is a possessiveness in his tone and it nearly makes you come on the spot. “That understood?”

You nod obediently. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” he prompts.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good. That’s a real good girl, honey.”

For a split second, you can’t breathe.

This man will surely be the death of you.

Joel plants one final kiss, this one on your mound.

“Please,” you whimper, the heat in your lower belly growing and fizzling out to the rest of your body at the feeling of his breath over your aching core.

“Please what?” he murmurs into the sensitive skin as his arms curl around your legs. “Tell Daddy—tell Daddy what you need baby, so he can take care of you.”

“Your mouth,” you beg him, desperation mounting with each passing second. Your hips buck upward; his biceps flex as he tightens his arms around your thighs, pinning you down in place. “Your mouth—I need your mouth. Please.”

Joel moves his head to the junction of your thighs, his mouth hovering right over where you needed it the most. He looks up at you with hunger, like he’s a ravenous, starved man who hasn’t had a thing to eat in days. “What a good girl,” he praises, dipping his head even lower. His mouth waters at the sight of your glistening folds. “Bet you taste as delicious as you fuckin’ look, don’t you, pretty girl?”

He flattens his tongue and glides it up your slit, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he gets his first taste. You gasp out when it grazes your swollen, aroused clit and your head falls back onto the couch. “Oh fuck,” you whine, reaching for his hair. You weave your hands through his graying locks and pull his face closer. Another swipe of his tongue causes your back to arch up off the leather and the edges of your vision to blur.

He pulls an arm from around your legs and drags a finger down your drenched entrance, lips securing themselves around your clit. His gaze stays locked on you as he pushes his long, thick digit into you—you feel him smirk as he curls it upwards, pressing the pad of his finger firmly against the soft spongy spot inside you, making you see stars. Joel slips in a second finger and curls it along with the other to double the pleasure. He begins thrusting his digits in and out of your warm cunt, eliciting what had to be the sweetest sounds that he’d ever heard in his entire life from you. He combines it with with slow, firm, and precise stokes of his tongue on your clit.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” you encourage him, your loud, breathy moans bouncing off the bare, freshly painted walls of his house. “Yes Daddy, fuck—feels so fucking good, please don’t fucking stop—”

It’s not like you have to tell him what to do.

Joel knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows it too. He listens to every single one of your moans and feels every single buck of your hips. He is sure to pay extra attention to when your hands pull and tug at his curls; he remembers what combinations of licking, sucking, and fucking make you squeeze your plush thighs tighter around his head; reminds himself of which technique brings your body off of the couch, what makes your toes curl. Joel’s quick to learn your body’s cues, each and every last one. He already knows when to give you more, when to give you less—when he needs speed up, when it is time to slow it all down.

You sing his name over and over again, pressure of an orgasm already building between your hips. His tongue swirls around your sensitive little bundle of nerves as his fingers pump in and out of your cunt and you glance down. You almost choke when you catch a tiny glimpse of the muscles in his forearm, the way they flex underneath his skin with each of his movements as he’s fucking you. Your gaze flits to his face. His own eyes are fixed intently on you.

You’re milliseconds away from release.

“Joel, I’m so fucking close. I’m gonna come—”

His arm squeezes your thigh in encouragement.

One last, broad stroke of Joel’s tongue on your clit sends an overwhelming wave of pleasure crashing over you. Strangled cries tear themselves from the back of your throat as your velvet walls flutter and convulse, squeezing his fingers. Joel, who’s face is still half buried in your pussy, takes it upon himself to help you ride through the high. He peppers soft, delicate kisses onto your swollen clit as his fingers continue to slide in and out of you slowly. He waits patiently until your loud cries dissolve into nothing but breathless little whimpers before he crawls up, positioning himself on top of you, a hand on either side of your head. His beard and mustache glisten with a mixture of saliva and slick—and somehow it it ignites another fire and you’re ready for more, so much more.

“Sweet girl,” Joel murmurs. Leaning down, his lips meet yours and you taste yourself on his tongue

You place a hand on his chest, right over his heart, which beats strong and steady against your palm.

You start dragging your hand down his chest, your fingernails raking over his skin. It travels lower and lower, gliding over the softness of his stomach. He tenses when you brush the waistband of his jeans.

Tearing away from you, he grits out, “Baby. No.”

You immediately snatch your hand away from him.

“You changed your mind?” you question, stomach sinking at the thought of it being over already.

You’re just so fucking greedy for this man.

He offers reassurance—and an explanation.

“No, that ain’t it at all. S’just—” Joel pauses briefly and flushes a shade of red. “S’just that, well, I ain’t got condoms on me, darlin’.”

Relieved, you assure him, “It’s okay. I’m clean.”

“Me too. But that ain’t what I’m worried about,” he admits, his face going from red to maroon.

You smile, finding his embarrassment endearing.

“I’m on birth control.”

Joel clenches his hands into fists. His cock strains against his zipper at the thought of it—taking your cunt bare. “Y’sure you want this?” He rasps out. “I need you to be a hundred percent sure ‘bout it.”

“I’m a thousand percent sure, Joel. I fucking need it. More than anything I’ve ever needed in my life.”

That’s all he needed to hear.

Joel stands up, his gaze never leaving your own as he kicks off his black leather boots. You sit up, and it takes every ounce of strength you have in you to remain composed as he unbuckles his belt, unzips his jeans and pushes them down his legs. You bite down on your bottom lip and try not to stare at his bulge like it’s your first time ever seeing a dick, but if he’s as big as he looks in his boxer briefs, maybe this would end up being a lot more than what your body could handle.

He hooks his thumbs underneath the elastic of his boxer briefs and slides them off, allowing his thick, hard cock to spring free from its confinement.

You swallow harshly. He’s fucking massive.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” Joel chuckles at the expression on your face as he kicks aside all of his clothes. His length rests on his lower abdomen and precome smears the skin there. Wrapping one of his hands around it, he gives it a couple strokes, just a hint of relief until you come into play. “Hm?”

Licking your lips, you nod and stand up. You take a couple of wobbling step towards him—Joel’s cock hasn’t been anywhere near you and you’re already fucking walking side to side. “Come here,” you say to him, taking both his hands in your own. You pull him back to the couch and gently guide him down into a sitting position. Swinging your leg over both of his, you straddle his lap. You gingerly place your hands on his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh softly when you feel him brush against your pussy; the contact makes you both moan in unsion. “This okay?” you ask him, breathily. You can’t be sure as to why you’re suddenly feeling a bit shy, like you’re not planning to ride his fucking soul out of him.

“More than okay.” Joel brushes your hair over your shoulder and then drags his hand down the length of your body, committing to his memory every one of your curves. “Gonna be a real good girl and ride my cock, baby?”

You gift him with a cheeky grin. “Yes, Daddy.”

The shyness begins to dissipate and you dive your hand between your bodies, wrapping it around his cock, causing his breath to catch in his throat. You lift yourself slightly off his lap, teasingly gliding the head of his cock down your drenched slit, then up, letting it graze over your clit, which is still senstive to the touch thanks to his lips and tongue.

Joel’s hands find their way around you, running up the curve of your spine. “Wasn’t aware that my girl was such a little fuckin’ tease,” he remarks in a low tone. He slides his hands back down and his large, warm palms cup your ass, fingers kneading flesh.

“Your girl?” you repeat, your heart skipping a beat, stomach fluttering at the idea of being his. “Is that what I am to you, Joel? Your girl?”

“S’that what you want, honey?” Joel whispers, his eyes finding your own, two hopeful gazes meeting in the deepest, most intimate moment that you’ve shared all evening. “Y’wanna be my girl?”

Leaning forward, your reply is preceded by kiss, so soft and so sweet his heart swells inside his chest.

“I do,” you mumble against his lips. “I really do.”

Still gripping your ass, Joel eases you up and lines himself up at your entrance. He bucks his hips and slides the head of his cock past your folds and into your heat. “Breathe, baby,” he whispers, his hands moving to your hips, thumbs grazing your skin. He slowly guides you further down his shaft, grunting as you sink down, taking him inch by inch. “Christ, you’re so goddamn fuckin’ tight—”

The initial stretch is almost too much for you. Your nails sink deeper into his shoulders as he pulls you down further down onto him. “Joel,” you whimper, biting back a loud cry. You’re fully seated, his cock completely sheathed inside you, his head pressing against your cervix. You’re so full of him.

One of his hands abandons your hip and slips over your lower belly.

“This where you’re feelin’ me, pretty girl?” he coos gently. “This where you feel Daddy’s cock? In your belly?”

“Yes,” you sigh out contentedly. “Feels so good.”

You lift yourself off of him, then slide back down in a slow, languid motion.

Joel’s head falls back onto the couch. “Christ.” He mutters the word, his chest heaving. Staring up at the ceiling, he takes a moment to catch his breath and silently wills himself not to explode. Once he’s managed to somewhat compose himself, he looks at you again, pupils blown so wide you can’t find a single trace of brown. “Go on, then,” he rasps. “Go on, sweetheart.”

The living room fills with the sounds of low moans and panting breaths as you move, alternating your maneuvers between rocking and bouncing on him in a frenzied, fast paced rhythm. The friction of his pelvis each time you grind into it winds up the coil between your hips and suddenly you’re desperate, so pathetically desperate for another release.

“Yeah, that’s it baby,” Joel encourages, feeling the beginning of his own climax building quick—much too quick for his liking. “Jus’ like that, honey. What a good girl you are for me, so fuckin’ good for me. Just like I fuckin’ knew you would be.”

“Fuck,” you whine. “You feel so good, Daddy. Feel so fucking good inside me—”

Leaning back, you firmly plant both your hands on his thighs and arch your body, head falling back as you pick up the pace. The burning fire casts a soft, orange glow around you and his jaw falls slack. His eyes drink in every single fucking thing about you, watch you with an adoration that, for the first time in your whole life, makes you feel wanted. Actually wanted.

“Joel,” you whisper his name over and over. You’re both beginning to lose track of where you end and he begins. You can hardly hear the praises that are spilling from his plush lips over the squelching wet sounds of your cunt sliding up and down his cock. There’s no chance to warn him—your mouth parts in a silent scream as you come undone on him.

“M’so fuckin’ close,” Joel grunts. He feels his cock twitch as your pussy grips him like a vice. “Where? Where do you want it, pretty girl?”

“Inside me. Please, I need you to come inside me,” you plead him, the innocent tone of your voice the last thing to push him over the edge he’s teetering on. “Fill me up, Daddy—please, want every drop of you inside me—”

Joel reaches for your arms and yanks you forward, into him. Throwing them around his neck, his own arms wrap around you and roughly slam you down onto him, holding you firmly in place. He bucks his hips upwards, balls tightening, his cock pulsing as he comes. Strings of hissed curse words and deep gutteral groans muffle when he drops his face into your collarbone. Still holding you in place, he spills his load into you, his seed filling you to the brim.

He sags back against the couch and pulls you with him. Wrapping his arms tighter around you, he lets himself stay buried inside of you, the primal in him relishing the heavenly feeling of his come dripping messily out of your pussy and all over his thighs.

“You alright, sweetheart?” he asks after a minute.

“M’perfect,” you mumble against his chest. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re coming down from a high or if it’s because he’s tracing patterns on your shoulder blade with his finger, but you shiver in his arms.

“Let me get the blanket—”

Joel starts to move to get up, but you stop him.

“No, please don’t,” you say, pushing him back. You put all of your weight onto him, as if he can’t move you off to the side if he really wanted to. “I—I want you inside me for a little while longer. Please.”

“But baby, you’re cold—”

You don’t bother explaining to him that you’re not.

“Just hold me. Please.”

And that’s exactly what he does.

Snuggling into him, you close your eyes and Joel’s hand strokes at your hair. Between that, the thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek and the sound of the fireplace crackling behind you, you’re nearly soothed into sleep.

“Joel?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“I hate Thanksgiving,” you admit, smiling tiredly to yourself when you feel a laugh rumble in his chest.

“Do you, now?”

You nod. “I do. But I’m really thankful for you.”

Giving you a gentle squeeze, Joel kisses the top of your head and murmurs, “Well, m’thankful for you too, sweet girl.” He pauses momentarily. “I ain’t all too sure how I’m s’pposed to just let you go home. I know I have to but—”

Lifting your head off of his chest, you take the side of his face and cradle it in your palm. You meet his gaze, heart sinking when you see the sadness that has replaced the lust from earlier.

He doesn’t mean home to your parents’ house. He means Chicago.

You graze his beard with your thumb. “I’m coming back in a few weeks,” you remind him, gently. “I’ve only planned to spend a week out here just for the holidays, but I can visit sooner. As soon as the kids go on winter break, I can come back to Austin.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course I would, Joel. I’m not sure how it would work what with my parents and all, though. I don’t want them catching onto us.”

“C’mere.” Joel brushes your lips with his before he makes his promise. “I’ll figure it out, baby. Leave it all to me and I’ll figure it out.”

divider credit to @saradika-graphics 🤎

[pyrriax]

what if i just waited to post stuff until i've got my current three Ideas written

just post em all back to back and then sleep for a week

[ !! venting in the tags !! ]

[duckysprouts]

hi duckytree! do any of your aus have a specific tag i can follow?

so here are the originals that i have so far:

dear jason:

my first and main universe. dick and jason do NOT have a good relationship, but it’s gotten a smidge better than when jason was actively trying to murder dick. this is probably the universe closest to the canon one.

2 fics up on ao3 under the duckytree handle .

warning, i didn’t tag all my tumblr posts under this, so to get all the content you’ll have to go into the batman tag to find them. sorry.

basement playdate:

the kids are actual kids who play pretend superheroes while bruce and ollie are pta moms who gossip upstairs

big brother:

kind of a split off from my ‘dear jason’ universe. bruce found jason earlier and it set off a chain reaction that leaves them here.

currently, dick and jason live alone in the manor and dick is living a single dadbrother life. no friends, no capes (for reasons i will discuss later)

still more wholesome than dear jason and mainly focuses on domestic life, even tho bad things have happened.

jason’s prison adventures:

jason gets arrested by dick and every adult who comes to bail him out are also arrested. actual shenanigans

hunger games:

exactly what it sounds like

again, highly recommend going into the “batman” or “comic” tags cause there’s a lot of content that i didn’t tag as au even tho i should have

[pupyuj]

→ “everybody talks.” || an ahn yujin smau!

— a sudden hook-up with your leader, a baseless rumor going out of hand, and an unexpected fallout with your members tosses your career into flames, forcing you to tackle what might be the worst pr disaster you will have to deal with your entire idol life. but with the help of your now-estranged members and the most unserious group of friends that you have, things will turn out fine in the end, right? right?

status: work-in-progress. (start date: tbd!)

pairing: ahn yujin (ive) x reader.

includes: ive, aespa, le sserafim, txt, newjeans, former iz*one members, and more!

genre/tags: social media au, idol!reader, smutfic, smut smau, crack, fluff, angst, pining, slow burn, friends to lovers.

content warnings: smut... a lot of smut bcs (y/n)’s a whore, g!p yujin, warnings will be more specific in the chapters that need them!

important: it should be noted that maknaes are included in the au so that there isn’t anyone missing from the groups but they will obviously not be involved in anything nsfw and are simply there for the plot and nothing else ^^

updates: whenever i am able to!

INTRODUCING ;

league of losers || more to come!

CHAPTERS ;

1. my reliable unnie. (written.)

2. something in the air. (written.)

3. illogical.

4. not the ive training arc.

5. u coming?

6. the good times. (written.)

7. tag warrior.

8. here they go.

9. (y/n)'s first fall-melette.

10. lean on me. (written.)

...more coming soon!

TAGLIST ; OPEN!

@wonysugar @vlance @wintersera @yukii-wonyoungs-gf143 @curryshesus @wintersgff @vex91 @klvarchives @yuyuy90 @icldbyrs @gayforalll @jisooftme @bunnywonyo @1luvkarina @wonyoluvr @yeetaberry127 @vvyuqi @jennasluma @inybits @yujinnieswifeu @kittnii @ellielilie @blue4hour @saysirhc

[angelltheninth]

Can I request for blue eye samurai bodyguard Mizu with fem reader nsfw headcanon please?

Ah bodyguard Mizu! I love that au so much!

Pairing: Mizu x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, bodyguard au, secret relationship, fingering, hickies, biting, possessiveness, teasing, protectiveness

A/N: Oh she can guard my body alright. Any time of day or night.

Bodyguard!Mizu always covers your mouth when you have sex because as much as she loves hearing your moans she does not want to get caught. It also comes from a place of possessiveness and the selfish desire for your moans to be only for her. When she gets really rough with you, and she will, she gets a lot of amusement from seeing you biting your lip to keep quiet.

Bodyguard!Mizu is perfectly stoic when doing her job and takes everything seriously. You’re the only one who sees her more mischievous and wild side. Takes her work seriously, she won’t ever allow you to get hurt on her watch. Most of the time she’s the one who accompanies you when you leave your home.

Bodyguard!Mizu takes risks in public, not when it comes to your safety but when it comes to sexual stuff it’s a different story entirely. When your relationship begins she keeps it to secret kisses and holding hands under the table but as you progress things start to escalate to her slowly moving her fingers in and out of your pussy, so slowly that it’s agonizing and can’t get you to come. But since you’re in public she doesn’t want there to be much noise so going slow and gentle is necessary.

Bodyguard!Mizu let’s you undress her when she’s inured, as well as it being one of the few times you get to take the lead. Given how many times she’s made you come you feel confidant in doing the same to her. It took her a while to be able to be completely naked in front of you, it took even more trust for her to be able to let go fully and allow you to touch her body and make her feel good.

Bodyguard!Mizu shows off in front of your would-be suitors. She can’t be a good bodyguard if she doesn’t make sure no one with shady intentions gets their hands on you. This can sometimes makes her recklessly challenge men to a duel and while she always wins she can’t do it without a few injuries.

Bodyguard!Mizu convinced your parents to let her stay in the room right across from you to supposedly make her job easier. You can never be too safe or know when someone will get the idea to sneak into a pretty woman’s room at night. She should know because she’s done it a lot since meeting you. This also makes it easy to go back to her room or even if she is found in your room she can give the excuse of making sure you woke up early and got dressed without some sneaking around your room.

Bodyguard!Mizu knows that she should hold back when she’s biting you or leaving finger marks on your hips or thighs or neck but she can’t help herself. Because of your station you don’t often reveal much skin when you go out so it’s not like anyone’s gonna see those marks anyway. It gets even more complicated when you keep encouraging her to leave more marks, she needs to pick between her horniness and her job, or her life.

Bodyguard!Mizu invites you to her training session on the gardens. Not that she needs an audience for them, however it’s easier to keep an eye on you if you’re with her. That and… she might get more motivated if she has you cheering her on. Although the eye fucking isn’t exactly helping her focus.

Bodyguard!Mizu begins to get more bold with her teasing late at night when you’re moaning underneath her. Or more specifically when her mouth is sucking on your clit and you’re torn between not wanting her to stop and wanting to embrace her against you. Won’t stop until she has your juices dripping down her face, then you can hold her all you want.

Bodyguard!Mizu easily gets wrapped up in her duties of protecting you and glares at the men wanting to marry you. Can get pissed off really easily because of this, both at herself and at them so when you offer to help her get rid of that anger by making her come so hard she forgets about anything outside of the bedroom she can’t help but feel lucky that she took the job she did.

[the-kr8tor]

You stay the night at Hobie's for the first time

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Synopsis: You sleepover at Hobie's houseboat.

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, established relationship, FLUFF, smut implied.

My Masterlist

Inspired by this post

*I don't consent to having my work translated/published on other platforms*

Obsessing over the pimple on your forehead, you try to pop it in between your forefinger and thumb. 

"Ughh" you grimace while staring at your reflection on Hobie's grimey mirror. 

You glimpse at your form, you're wearing one of Hobie's numerous band shirts, after you accidentally spilled mouthwash on your pajama shirt, you asked to borrow one. You're giddy that you smell like him.

He joked that you spilled mouthwash on it on purpose just to wear his shirt. 

"Stop it, you're gonna make it worse" Hobie says as he watches the disaster in front of him. He's lounging on his bed, arms tucked under his head. His dark jumper rides up a bit showing his toned stomach. His legs are properly tucked under the patchwork comforter.

"But it's bothering meee" you kick your legs like your throwing a tantrum.

"It doesn't even look that bad," Hobie pats the open space beside him "come to bed, lovey" 

"Says the man who has clear skin even though you wash your face with the same soap you use on your body" You turn to face him, ignoring his exposed skin. 

You've never seen him this relaxed before. He's a pretty laid back guy already, but this? His half-lidded eyes looking at you, paired with him in his comfortable non-spiky clothes– maybe you should come to bed.

"It's genetics, all natural, baby" 

"It's actually au naturel" you cross your arms on your chest, hiding your uneven breathing.

"No, it's not" 

"Yes, it is" you step forward.

"Nuh uh" 

"Yea uh" 

You stare at each other for a second.

"...C'mere" Hobie concedes defeat or else you would be at it all night. He takes his left arm from under him to reach towards you. 

"Fine" you head towards the bed, your sea legs swaying when a small wave hits the houseboat. You crawl under the covers. 

"Why are you so far, get over 'ere" he grabs the cover under you to drag you towards him, closing the already small distance. He's been waiting for this the entire day. He feels elated, he couldn't wait to finally cuddle with you, 

You hoped he didn't notice the small distance you made, but alas he's a perceptive one who doesn't like admitting he likes cuddles. Truth be told, you're actually nervous spending the night with him for the first time, you're not expecting for something to happen tonight, but if something did happen you're prepared for it, kind of, sorta, maybe?

Not to mention, the houseboat is a little intimidating, like what if you get sea sick and puke all over his carpet, well you're floating on a river, but nonetheless the rocking motion could still give you motion sickness. Or what if you kick him off the bed while asleep, or you sleep walk and you fall overboard. Or what if–

Hobie pinches your nose, keeping his fingers around it. "Oi, where did you go?" 

"Nuhn of yhor bhismes" you swat at his hand. 

"Your eyes went glossy for a second, thought I lost you" 

"I was actually thinking about your houseboat" 

"And here I thought you were thinking 'bout me" he holds his arm out behind you, unsure if you're okay with the action. 

Noticing his uncertainty, you swallow your shyness, you lean against his arm placing your head softly on his shoulder. Any doubt from Hobie is quickly washed away by your reaction. He pushes you closer to his warmth with the hand around your shoulder.

"What about the houseboat?" He stares at you while you play with a loose thread on his jumper.

"Like.. how'd you get it?" You absentmindedly twirl the thread around your fingers.

"Bought it off a bloke"

"That's it? No crazy or wacky story behind it?" You stare up at him suspiciously.

"Yes, there's no wacky story behind it" he mocks your word choice by copying your voice. "I needed a place, my friend's cousin's friend sold it at a cheap price. That's it, nothing madcap 'bout it" 

"Hmm, Do you even know how to drive, wait no sail? Is it called sailing when it doesn't have sails? Nevermind you get what I'm talking about, do you know how to do that?" You ramble, he finds it adorable.

"Yes, how do you think I brought it here from Amsterdam?" He's now curious whether it's sail or drive.

You gasp, sitting up "See! There IS a wacky story behind it" you poke his chest playfully.

Hobie grabs your finger to stop you "There IS nothing wacky about it. Well-" he remembers something, you perk up "we had to dodge the coast guard, but that's about it" 

"THE COAST GUARD?!" A huge grin blooming on your face.

"All right calm your beans" Hobie pushes your head back down lightly.

"How long did it take you to get back?" You snuggle closer to him.

"It would've just taken us 6-7 hours, but we had to hide from the coast guard so it took us about 10 hours" 

"Who were you with?" You fight a yawn.

"Why? You jealous?" Hobie shakes you lightly, he wants to talk to you more.

"Why would I be jealous of your friend's cousin's friend?" You rub one of his unruly eyebrows, shaping the strands back into place.

Hobie chuckles. He wants to stay like this with you, sleep be damned.

"What do you want for breakfast?" A yawn escaping you. You situate yourself on his chest.

"You gonna cook for me?" Hobie holds on to you tighter.

"Hmm, if you're nice to me in the morning, yeah" 

"What do you mean? I'm always nice to you" 

"You say that as you're staring at my pimple" you start to close your eyes. 

"Well, gorgeous, I'm not staring directly at it, I'm looking at you, you wear my shirt really well" 

"Well, handsome," you tease him back "anything looks better when I wear it" you feel sleep taking you.

"You're right," Hobie whispers against your hair "I like my eggs sunny side up by the way" 

"Hmm" a soft smile on your face.

Since you're wearing socks, with a sly smirk on Hobie's face, he slowly lifts up the leg hem of your pajama pants with his cold foot, once there's enough space, he quickly lays his ice cold foot on your leg. 

"Ack! What- Hobie!" You shoot up from your position. 

Hobie laughs loudly, you feel the houseboat shake lightly.

You playfully slap his chest.

"You!" Slap "Menace!" Slap

In one swift movement, he grabs your slapping hand, then he flips himself over you, his legs on your sides, caging you in.

You gasp at the weight above you, a wide smile blooming on your face.

"Hobie! You're too heavy!" Drowsiness is now completely gone.

He half kneels on your sides so he doesn't completely crush you.

"You're not allowed to sleep" Hobie leans slightly towards you, you can see his playful smirk illuminated by the moonlight.

"What do you mean I'm not allowed?! You invited me to a SLEEPOVER, you dork!" You gasp out as he's a few inches away from your face.

"Lemme guess you're the kind of person who falls asleep first in a sleepover? you're the dork here, sweets" he leans closer his lips ghosting over yours. 

You close your eyes in anticipation. Instead of a kiss, you feel Hobie blow raspberries on your jaw.

"Ack! HAHAHAHAHAHA" your legs kicking up trying to stop him from tickling you.

Hobie pulls back breathlessly.

"Oh you're ticklish? Got it" he smirks devilishly. "Wonder where else you're ticklish?" Hobie tilts his head.

"No! Don't you dare, Hobart!" Your eyes widen when he winds up his arms to tickle your stomach, despite the threat you can't help but grin.

"Oh using my government name now, huh" Hobie tickles your sides relentlessly, your laughs echoing throughout the space. 

"Okay! Okay! I'll stay up!" You say in between laughs.

He finally stops his attack, letting you breathe. 

"Yeah?" He takes his tickling stance again.

"Yes" you giggle "please stop or I might piss my pants" 

"Ooh kinky" he squeezes your cheeks together as you glare at him. 

"Can you please kiss me already so we can properly cuddle like you wanted" you say with your squished lips.

Hobie chuckles "saw right through me, huh" he leans down finally giving your most awaited kiss.

He eases up from squishing your cheeks so you could kiss him back properly, you hold on to the back of his neck, grounding you. 

Hobie pulls away, he stares at your wide eyes lovingly. You lift yourself up using his neck as leverage, quickly peppering his face with kisses, until he laughs with every peck.

You pull back, taking in his lovesick stricken face, his smile lopsided, eyes basically shaped like hearts. You're sure you mirror his expression. 

"I should invite you more often" he lays back down next to you, arm wrapped around your torso, half of his body staying on top of you, his legs splayed over yours. Hobie relaxes immediately.

You crane your neck "yeah you should. I really love your home, babe" you rub his arm soothingly.

"Really? You're not sea sick?" 

"I gotta be honest with you, I took a kwells tablet beforehand," you laugh.

"That's pretty smart" Hobie fights a yawn "you're really smart, love" he rubs the side of your neck.

"You're only saying that so I'll make you breakfast" you whisper, once you notice his eyes slowly close. 

"No, you're really smart, and lovely, and a bloody good cook" he parks his head on the crook of your neck with a sigh.

You chuckle softly, pulling the covers up to his chin, you lay your head just above his. 

You both fall asleep listening to each other's steady breathing with the houseboat rocking you both rhythmically.

A/n: I'm sorry that my last fic made y'all cry lmao, here's some fluff. As always thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated ❤️

*picture above is from pinterest*

[ilygetou]

๑ 2023 KINKTOBER | MINORS DNI. ๑

⋆｡°✩ details. will be posting a total of (almost) 13 fanfics throughout the weeks of october with one bonus/special piece. I’ll only be writing the main c/w here, once you get to the actual post you’ll get the whole c/w list so make sure to read that as well. Some works would be highly suggestive & won’t be suitable for some. read at your own discretion.

⋆｡°✩ notice. please be aware that i might not be able to finish every single piece by time but let’s hope that doesn’t happen. </3 main note is under the cut.

⋆｡°✩ taglist. fill this up if you’re tyna’ get tagged whenever i’m about to post a piece from this masterlist. scroll to the end if you only wanna be tagged in specific ones/pieces. must be 18+ to get tagged!

๑ THE FOLLOWING CONTENT YOU’RE ABOUT TO VIEW INCLUDES EXTREME DARK CONTENT THAT MIGHT BE TRIGGERING FOR SOME PEOPLE.๑

๑ PLEASE PROCEED WITH EXTREME CAUTION. ๑

NOTE: AAA HI GUYS!!! this year’s kinktober is going to be a bit different than last year’s kinktober, last time i did a “one kink + character” this year is going to be fully dark content fics with more than one kink, i’ll try & finish & post all of them right on time since i kinda gave up on last year’s kinktober–i’m hoping i’ll manage to post every single fic for this one–anyways!! i hope you guys like it!! (๑•́ ᎔ ก̀๑)

DARK CONTENT WARNING. PLEASE, READ THE TAGS UNDER EVERY LINK.

MET HER ON THE INTERNET. – Eren Jaeger.

c/w: noncon –> dubcon, online stalking, solo m! masturbation, lovesick! eren, possessive! eren, cheating, vaginal fingering, face/throat fucking, facial, brief after-care at the end.

HEROiN CHEERLEADER – Gojo satoru.

synopsis: You were like an addictive drug to satoru, he couldn’t get enough of you. Always coming back for more, that was until you told him that you had enough – that you two should stop messing around. You wanted to focus more on your cheerleading career while gojo satoru was furious with your sudden decision, he knew the whole “focusing on cheerleading” thing is a lie when he saw how swayed you were with the new captain of your cheerleading team. He won’t leave you alone until you willingly come back to him, you got him addicted to your taste so that’s all your fault.

c/w: college au, dubcon, voyeurism, male masturbation, jealous! satoru, degrading (like lots of it), satoru blames you for everything, unprotected sex, alcohol consumption, creampie.

PACKRUNNER BiTCH. – Ran Haitian.

synopsis: You were in it for the money. Why would you waste all your young years dating a thirty year old man? Let’s be serious here, you still have so much to do with your life rather than wasting it on an old guy but you need the money. But dating an old man just for money wasn’t that worth it either, that’s why the man you chose to use was a gang member – he’s old but is a part of an incredibly famous gang in your city. You knew he had more than money and that was; drugs. You were in it for the drugs & money! This whole acting in-love thing was fun until you were found out. Do you think Ran Haitian will forgive you for using him? He’s much more arrogant than that.

c/w: age gap (reader is 22 ran is 36), spanking (he uses his hands and a belt), choking, throat fucking, cum swallowing, unprotected sex, multiple (when i say multiple I mean many, numerous) creampies.

UGLY MAN? FUN PLAN! – Toji Fushiguro

synopsis: you found toji fushiguro ugly, he’s not your type and you’d rather die than date a guy like him. On the other hand toji found you gorgeous, it was love at first sight, he fell so hard for you he’s willing to do anything for your love. Toji confessed to you many times and they all ended up with heart breaking rejections. Toji is willing to try one more time and if you reject him again then that’s also alright, he has a nice plan in mind to (forcefully) make you his.

c/w: noncon, babytrapping, forced breeder! toji :<, slapping, sloppy makeout’s, lots of degrading, choking, low-key manipulative! Toji.

WEBGHOST – Rintarō Suna

synopsis: You stumbled across an abandoned hospital and decided to go explore it, alone. You were a huge fan of horror movies & loved the “exploring haunted places” concept, it’s nerve-racking because you never knew what to expect. Once you stepped foot into the old hospital, you felt a chill run past your spin. You hoped that you may run into blood-curdling stuff so you could have something to talk about for the next week or so — but you didn’t expect to run into an actual ghost. And it didn’t seem to want to leave you alone either.

c/w: ghost! suna (don’t ask how cause idk either), mentions of blood, spectrophilia, you feel it but you can’t see suna, hair pulling, creampie.

EViL NiGHT, LOVELY NiGHT! – Jean Kirstein.

synopsis: An infamous burglar lives in your city, he somehow managed to break into 120 homes in total and still didn’t get caught, he was known for stealing valuable objects–if he broke into your house and found nothing worth stealing then he’s going to flee and find another home to rob. He never restores to violence unless the house-victim tries anything against him, he’d immediately pull out his gun and shoot. Everyone was advised to keep their doors locked until they eventually catch the burglar. And tonight was no different, double checking that you had both your doors and windows locked before heading to sleep.

c/w: non con, coercion, somno, slight degrading, gun-fucking, facial, slapping, bondage, creampie per usual.

GRAVE ROBBERY. – Getō Suguru & Gojo satoru.

synopsis: You couldn’t escape them. From middle school to highschool and all the way to college. They were there. Following you everywhere, wherever you went–those two were always there, they made sure they were always there. You haven’t escaped their bullying and harassment for the past 9 years, gaining both enjoyment & entertainment by your reactions to their heinous acts towards you. Both Gojo satoru and Getō suguru loved you despite their horrible treatment towards you, they loved you.

c/w: bully! suguru bully! satoru, noncon, blackmailing, non con recording, hair pulling, threesomes, ass + pussy slapping, clit stimulation, dacryphilia, blowjob, handjob, facial, creampie.

TU4N Y<3R PH0N3 0F5 – Sanzu Haruchiyo.

synopsis: the feeling of someone watching your every move never left you, feeling as if there were eyes on you all the time. To the point you were uncomfortable to do almost everything. Eating? Sleeping? Changing? You couldn’t do anything without feeling two eyes inspecting your every move.

c/w: stalking, noncon, hints of misogyny, semi-public sex, forced/noncon breeding, slapping, virginity loss, mentions of blood and impregnation.

RUSSIAN ROULETTE. – ft. Yuushi Totsumoto.

from lady k and the sick man.

synopsis: Yuushi took you in cause’ you had nowhere else to go. you’ve been living with him for almost two years now and he barely knows anything about you. Not only that but he almost never heard you speak, he was okay with it at the beginning. Thinking you were just a little shy. But it’s been two years and he never heard your voice properly–there were a few occasions when yuushi could hear you speak but those would be barely audible mutters.

c/w: voice kink (auralism?), pervert! yuushi, peeping, breeding kink, cunnilingus, ear licking, size kink, man handling, squirting, overstimulation, creampie per usual.

WiTCHBLADES. – CHILDE/TARTAGLIA.

synopsis: (this takes place after the fontaine archon quest), childe who ended up thrown into jail because that god awful machine decided that he was guilty. And you, you ended up being his jail mate. You wanted nothing to do with childe but he’s a literal chatter box, he never shuts up. Finally, you snap back at him, scolding him and telling you guys are literally in a jail cell right now. Childe didn’t like that attitude of yours so he decided to fuck some manners into you.

c/w: noncon, forced breeder! childe, lots of misogyny, ass + pussy slapping, no prep, size kink, dacryphilia.

F0UR L3AF CL0V3R. — Aoi Todo.

synopsis: your boyfriend was either in his room playing games 24/7, at the gym, or sleeping. Never giving you proper attention until you grew desperate so what’s better than teasing him? until he gives you the attention you’re looking for. <3

c/w: read has big tits😓, dubcon just in case, kinda modern au?, gamer! todo, lots of teasing, boobjob, face fucking/blowjob, possessiveness, size kink, manhandling, pervert! todo, panty sniffing, sumata (“A Japanese sexual term in which the female rubs her labia majora against the male's penis, without actual penetration.”), facial, cum swallowing.

⋆｡°✩ 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋/𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒:

DEVIL ON MY BACK./ REPENT. – Getō Suguru.

synopsis: After watching a movie about the so-called game; Ouija board, with your friend Anna, You couldn’t help but grow more curious about it. After purchasing the game, you ran to your basement to try out; the first thing you tried to communicate with was the infamous devil; Getō suguru.

c/w: religious themes, ouija board, non con → dubcon, slapping, hair pulling, spitting, pussy + ass slapping, anal play, dacryphilia, overstimulation, v light somnophilia, manipulation, multiple creampies, non con creampie, lowkey monster fucking??, suguru has two dicks, face fucking, cum swallowing, guilt tripping kinda, very aggressive suguru, he is mentioned to have red eyes.

© ILYGETOU 2021-’23. All rights reserved. DO NOT steal, translate, or modify any of my works <3

[simplhee]

synopsis: when streamer heeplays needs to find a plus one to go with him to the Streamer Awards, what does he do? he makes a google form of course! and what happens when up-and-coming streamer y/n jokingly fills out the form, catching heeseung's attention? stream starting soon: be my +1 !!!

pairing: streamer!heeseung x fem!reader

content/genre: strangers to lovers, college au, streamer au, fluff, crack, (potential) angst, smau

warning(s): swearing, will be more specific each chapter, league of legends. valorant. video games in general 😭 gamer terms

status: in progress (updates are whenever i can)

featuring: the rest of enhypen, txt, lesserafim, stray kids, zb1 and more (ngl i still haven’t decided 🧍🏻‍♀️)

note: this is my first smau so please bear with me !!! i wanted to get a gamer!enha fic in the timeline bc half the time there is either a lack of fics or like it’s not actually a proper gamer thing (tho i have been seeing more as of recently ^-^) so as i release this i plan to include a little footnotes/dictionary section for gamer terms which some people may be unfamiliar with :] also ! thanks you to @soobnny for all your help <3 (y’all should check out her work :D)

tags: bm+1, bm+1 updates, bm+1 thoughts, bm+1 asks

taglist: send an ask to be added :D

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

profiles. choose your player !!!

> y/n and the roomies

> otvhee and friends

> otv (1) (2)

> and friends

> valo squad

> enhas

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

lvl 1. - new roomie !

lvl 2. - god's gift to valorant

lvl 3. - we need a name

lvl 4. - i love get up by newjeans

lvl 5. - maidenless

lvl 6. - women in stem ✨

lvl 7. - do it for the plot

lvl 8. - inch resting

lvl 9.

lvl 10.

more to be added :)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

extras.

> dictionary/references

> streamer awards voting form (STILL LIVE)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

©️ simplhee 2023