#kent x sole

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Day 7 -- Kent Connolly

The (nsfw) details for Kinktober, Day 7 are just below the cut!

Minors, please don’t interact.

First Time with Kent Connolly x M!Reader

This one is... very long lol. But Kent is just !!! He's so precious, and I felt like I really wanted to draw out the process, since Kent tends to be quite shy and I feel like, in almost every capacity in a romantic relationship, he'd want to take things slowly.

So this is me trying to do that idea justice. If you're craving some serious sweetness with Kent, look no further! 😊

HOWEVER, I do have a couple TWs for allusions to/talk of sexual assault, and also mentions of homophobia. So please be aware of that!

Here is the link to the Kinktober 2023 Event List so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.

Included: First Times, first time jitters, history of sexual assault, homophobic family, lack of acceptance, kissing, confessions of love, undressing, enthusiastic consent, praise, voice kink, light body worship, nipple play, hand jobs, anal fingering, gay sex, aftercare. Sweetness, love, adorableness, KENT AND READER BEING SO SWEET, cuteness, etc.

Words: so many lol 7.5k

--

“You did all this, Sole?” 

“Yeah, well… I figured, you know... this was something special." Your hand touched Kent's shoulder gently as he stared ahead in starry-eyed awe. "Plus, Claire owed me a favor, so… Honeymoon suite it is!”

You opened both arms wide in presentation of the romantic scene as you looked over to Kent with a large, dopey grin. 

Your partner was wide-eyed and frozen as he gazed into the mesmerizing room, his mouth still agape in awe at all you'd done for him.  

The candles, the flower pedals, the plush comforter on the bed, the way the curtains were drawn away from the windows, allowing cool, blue moonbeams to wade through the warm-toned candlelight within the room... It was a scene straight out of a romance novel.  

“It’s... Sole, goodness, it’s all too much for someone like me.”

You turned around to face him at that, a hurt expression creasing your brows as you spoke softly to your partner.

“Kent, sweetheart, you know that’s not true, could never be true. You deserve the world, you hear me?" Stepping forward, you wrapped both arms around the ghoul’s torso, hugging him tightly against you and placing a sweet kiss upon his temple. "And besides, you know how much of a romantic I am, right? I'll take any excuse to do something like this for my beloved hero.” 

You whispered that last bit into his ear, and as Kent turned to you, his eyes were glistening. 

God, he was sweet. Maybe the kindest, most darling man you’d ever met, and he was yours. 

Unable to help yourself, one hand left where it wrapped around Kent’s waist, and went to gently grasp at the point of his chin, holding him in place as you leaned in to kiss him full on the lips. You felt his little jolt, the small yelp of surprise he almost always released when you were this forward with your affections, and pulled back. 

Kent’s light, sparkling eyes were wide as he blinked up at you with parted lips. 

You let yourself take in the sight of him, then. His earnest expression, his genuine surprise, and his slow acceptance that you wanted this. To some, it might’ve become tiresome; the doubts Kent held in himself, the lack of forwardness, of confidence in your relationship, but after all the ghoul had been through, you could never blame him.

Plus… It was nice to take it slow. Necessary, even, after your own struggles, your losses, your difficulties being this vulnerable, this honest with someone about your true self. 

The army never glorified that kind of thing, and your family even less so. Your wife… she had understood, that though you were fond of her, though you loved Shaun with all your heart and held great affection for her, there was always something that was going to be off between the two of you, something that wasn’t the case– or wasn’t meant to be the case– with straight couples. 

But your family hadn’t been any the wiser about your strategically heterosexual marriage, and oh, how they’d adored Nora. And that was all that mattered, wasn’t it? 

At least, that's what they’d thought. 

Even on the hardest days of missing everyone you'd lost, you could never miss the way you couldn't be your true self with the people who were meant to accept you and love you unconditionally.

“Here, why don’t you get settled, I’ll close the door.” You forced yourself from your thoughts and gradually released Kent from your half-embrace as you turned to grab at the handle behind you, pulling the hotel room door closed with a click. 

Kent had seated himself on the end of the bed, not really appearing to be comfortable, but… he was trying. His hands still fidgeted in his lap, his eyes still darted around the room, but you saw him taking deep breaths, felt the nerves radiating off of him beginning, maybe, to dissipate just a little bit. 

“Want me to take your coat?” 

“O-oh, yes, thank you.” 

He pulled the thing off himself as though you were drilling him, like he was being timed, flailing around until he could hand you the stuffy, old suit jacket. 

“And your hat?” 

Kent handed that over swiftly as well, and you moved to hang it– and your own– on the coat rack by the door. 

“Nuka Cola?” You asked as you turned towards the little kitchenette in the lovely, roomy suite. 

As if I really have to ask. 

“Yes, t-that sounds nice.” 

He sounded so stiff, still, and a small part of you wished it was just another evening in his room; that instead of this lavish date night, you’d simply have shared the evening chatting about comics and a dozen other things in the quiet comfort of the Memory Den. Yet, you’d both talked about this so much recently, these next big steps in the relationship, moving forward after so long of holding things off, of taking the time you both needed to heal and get used to the idea of intimacy and vulnerability again, after your respective struggles. 

“Here, baby.” You handed him one cola bottle, and kept the other in hand as you sat down beside your partner on the lavish, burgundy comforter. 

“Wow,” You said with a chuckle, bouncing lightly on the cushy mattress. “This is... the nicest bed I’ve been on since waking up.” 

“Yeah,” he agreed with a rasp, “ahem, ah, comfy… yeah.” 

Kent swallowed like he had a radroach stuck in his throat, but took a swig of his drink nonetheless. 

You felt the energy in the air around you, the charged silence like volts of electricity flowing through your shared space, leaving you just as on-edge as your partner.

A deep breath left you, and you turned to him with a gentle determination.

“Kent, hon... we can just spend the night here, if you want.” You finally offered, breaking the silence. “The last thing I want is to pressure either of us, or to make you uncomfortable.” 

Kent's eyes met yours, and you saw apology shining there. 

“It’s okay." You insisted with a smile and a bump of your hand against his arm, "I promise, baby. If we’re not ready, we’re not. You know I’ve got no problem holding off. I’m… well, I’m definitely pretty nervous myself, to be honest.” 

“Y-you are?” Kent's bright blue eyes widened, his brow raising as though had no idea of your own struggles, your own inexperience. 

I swear, I told him… but maybe…

“Yeah.” You chuckled a little, your hands wringing around the glass neck of the bottle you held. “I actually had to ask Hancock for some tips.” 

“Oh.” Kent’s brow furrowed immediately, and he looked away from you. “Yeah… with ghouls I don’t know how different it tends to be–”

“No, Kent, that’s not what I meant, I… Did I really never tell you? In all the talks we’ve had about this?” 

“Tell me what?”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling the cruel claws of self-consciousness creep under your skin.

But he'd been honest with me. About everything.

You trusted Kent, with everything in you, you knew he'd never judge you, never breathe a word of something that you wanted to stay secret, but now... Well, Nora was the only one who'd ever really known the truth about you.

Maybe Hancock had an idea, given some of the questions you'd asked him in preparation for tonight, but you hadn't spilled your life story to him, he didn't know your background. You'd been vague with the details of why you needed some pointers, but this... This was as open as you could be.

A secret your closest family never even knew.

“That I’ve never… well, I've never been with another man before.” 

His gaze returned to yours with a whip of his head, brows still raised high, startling eyes wide with wonder. 

“N-no, Sole, I… I never knew.” Kent's head shook slowly back and forth. “And you want... your first time to be with–”

“Absolutely, Kent.” Your hand was on his before you even knew you’d moved, wrapping around it reassuringly as you scooted closer. “And you still want me to be your first?” You asked quietly, quite sure you knew the answer, but wanting to hear it anyway, wanting him to know you cared. 

Kent nodded to you with a small grin, before it quickly was dashed from him and his eyes grew strangely distant as they looked past you at some invisible memory.

“Well, you know… almost my first.” His voice was small, quiet as a breeze over snow-covered ground, and almost broke at the words. Your chest gave a painful ache that damn near knocked the breath from you at the sound of him, the sunken look upon your beloved partner's face. 

“Listen to me, love,” You scooted closer, until your thigh was brushing Kent’s, turning your body towards him and grasping at his hand all the harder, as reassuring a gesture as you could manage without overwhelming him. “What Sinjin’s goons did to you doesn’t count for shit, alright? That was… it was wrong and awful, it was cruel and it doesn’t count. You hear me?” 

He couldn’t quite speak, so Kent only nodded, and to your surprise, the ghoul actually leaned forward, falling into your chest as his arms wrapped around you. 

You felt a hollowness, a vile taste on your tongue as you recalled finding him in the aftermath that night, dressed as the Shroud and finishing off every last one of those criminal assholes before gently folding a shaking Kent into your comforting embrace.

If only you'd known before what they had done... You wouldn't have made their deaths so quick.

“We don’t have to do anything.” You leaned into your partner now, one hand moving behind him to rub soothing circles over the length of his back. 

“No.” 

You heard Kent croak out, and pulled yourself away slightly to look into his eyes. 

“You're sure?” 

He nodded; firmly, even, and you listened intently as Kent opened his mouth to speak. 

“I want to make new memories. With you, Sole. Ones that can replace the others… That can make me… happy, instead of… Well, you know.” 

You had to swallow as tears came unbidden to your eyes, feeling the way your throat tightened at the power of his words, of his resolve.

“That’s really brave, Kent.” 

“Yeah, well…” A small smile pulled at the ghoul’s lips, and you felt your heart soar at the sight. “You know me. Bravery. It’s what I’m all about.” 

A chuckle left you, and you leaned in to kiss his cheek. 

“Look, you may joke about it…” You whispered to him, “But really, I think it’s true, love. You’re brave as the Silver Shroud, there’s no doubt about it.” 

“Aw, stop it, Sole.” His hand weakly, jokingly, pushed at your chest as you both grinned. 

The air seemed a bit lighter now, some of the candles had burned down to nothing, and a cool breeze wafted through the slightly parted windows. A chill ran up your spine, but this time, instead of nerves, it was likely just the cold… or maybe the excitement you felt bubbling up. 

It’s decided. You reminded yourself. We’re actually doing this tonight. 

Instead of pulling away from him to start, you laid another kiss over Kent’s lips, and after a moment of stiffness, he leaned into it. You felt the brush of hot air as he exhaled through his ruined nose, but still, he only pushed further into you, tilting his head and kneading his phantom lips over yours. The friction had your mouth tingling, and the taste of your partner was sweet from the Fancy Lad’s cakes and Nuka Cola still on his tongue from after dinner. 

Finally, you pulled away, only for a brief moment, as you grabbed both the bottles of cola and leaned to set them down on the bedside table. 

“Hey,” You said as you scooted back on the bed, making it easier for you to lie down flat on the mattress. “Why don’t you take the lead? That way, if you start feeling uncomfortable, you can just take it back a notch. You can sort of set the pace, you know?” 

“You think that’ll work?” His voice was small, uncertain, even as his gaze set upon the way your body leaned back against the pillows at the head of the bed. As his gaze hinted at the yearning he felt within. 

“It’s up to you, love. Just thought it could be something to try?” 

Kent nodded then, and slowly, his body moved to join yours fully on the bed. Your breath almost caught in your throat as Kent crawled over top of you. He was still hesitant, yes, but his movements were more sure of themselves than you could’ve hoped. 

His arms caged you in from where he hovered above you, and his torso and hips pressed to yours as he gradually lowered his bodyweight onto you. 

“T-this okay?” 

“It's perfect, baby.” 

With that, a grin lit up Kent’s expression, and instilled the confidence he needed to press forward, to capture your lips in a kiss once again. 

His kisses were always as earnest as Kent himself was; careful, asking, sure, but more recently… brave. He kissed you with more confidence than you were used to, after being with him for so many months now, and this time, it took your breath away. Even then, as Kent felt you gasp into him, he didn’t pull away, only pushed forward.

A pleasant heat started radiating around you, invigorating your movements as you allowed your hands to raise off the mattress, to begin to roam over Kent’s body. Your fingers lightly grazed up his sides, and you felt him tense over you. In response, you slowed a bit, and only continued when you felt him release a breath and relax under your touch. 

It was a delightful dance you two weaved with one another, a push and pull, a giving and asking of consent that had you aching for more. If you could glean anything from his movements, it was that Kent too, was eager to feel you explore him. The way he ran his lips over yours in such charming movements-- there was an honest wanting behind them, but always of a respectful sort. In that moment, you realized, you truly couldn’t have asked for a better partner to share this with. 

“Kent.” You mumbled through your contact, and he pulled away only a hair’s breadth. 

“Hm?” 

“Do you mind…” Your fingers grazed over the bottom hem of his button up, “Can I take this off?” 

If his complexion had been different, you were sure you would’ve seen him blush at your request. Instead, he just looked away shyly, before nodding and sitting up to help. 

You joined him, bracing yourself against the pillows as you leaned forward and began to undo the buttons of his dress vest. When you had them undone, he shrugged the garment off, and looked down in wonder as your fingers set upon the smaller clasps on his shirt. Your smiling eyes met his, and Kent just looked… God, he had a way of– when he smiled at you– making you feel like you were the most important thing on this planet. 

You found yourself sincerely hoping your own look echoed that sentiment right back at him.

Once you had it undone, Kent helped you to pull the shirt from his shoulders as well; though, this time a bit more hesitantly, as he revealed his bare chest and torso to your gaze. You let your eyes rake leisurely down his body, from where you’d been looking in his eyes, now to his throat, the bobbing Adam’s apple as he gulped at the way you took him in, then down to his chest, how it rose and fell with his hurried breaths, his soft stomach, all rough and textured like you’d expected, but also, just…

He was breathtaking.

A man who’d lived so long, who’d been through as much as he had, and made it out still as sweet and loving as anyone you’d ever known-- hell, more so than anyone you'd known. He was everything good about humanity, wrapped up in this charming body, and offering himself to you, to be explored, to be loved, as he deserved; and dammit, you were going to live up to that, you were going to love him like everything good about the world was meant to be appreciated, respected, adored, and never taken for granted.

“Your turn?” Kent's voice interrupted your visual praise of him, and you nodded eagerly at the notion that he wanted to see you this way too. 

“Sorry, babe." You said with an easy smile, "Just got caught up in you. You’re just… You’re very handsome, Kent.” 

He tried to hold back the dopey, blushy grin threatening to take over his face, but you committed that look to memory before he could dash it away completely.

We'll have to work on that. How he could be sheepish about such a charming expression, I'll never know. I could see that look a hundred times a day and never grow tired of it.

Shakily, Kent set his fingers to your own set of buttons, the motion tickling slightly as he undid them as carefully as one might defuse a landmine. Your own hands worked at the cufflinks at the end of your sleeves, so when Kent was done, you could just pull the garment off straightaway. 

Once it was off, Kent must’ve gone through the same process you had only a few moments ago, his vibrant blue eyes taking you in without so much as a blink. The light scars upon your otherwise smooth skin from battles old and new, the crop of chest hairs below your collar bones, the way your stomach rose and fell from your own rapid breaths. 

Without a word, Kent’s hands found your chest, settling there reverently, his fingers stroking over your unmarred form, the coarse little hairs there, one hand even going down to brush gently over the point of your nipple, before his pressure eased you back, to lay down fully on the mattress. 

“I want…” Kent's roughened hands kept stroking over you, the light touches stimulating your nerves in an almost frustrating way. “I want to kiss you again.” 

“Please.” It left you on a desperate breath, and Kent pushed forwards eagerly. The warmth of your skin collided as he laid back over you, and his hands went up to wrap around your shoulders, even as your own touch set to drawing soothing patterns over the textured skin of his bare back. 

His lips, however, were only on yours for a moment, before Kent moved lower, setting them to the line of your jaw, then down to your neck, where you felt goosebumps spread from the tickling sensation of his feather-light kisses. 

“Ahh,” you sighed out, “That’s… that’s really nice, babe.” 

Kent hummed into you as he continued, and you blinked open your eyes to look down at him. His were still closed in a bliss of his own, as he worked over you with his worn lips, dragging them over your skin before pressing small crops of tingly kisses down your collarbone, and then onto your chest. 

As he moved lower, your hands slid up his body, now resting upon his shoulders, rubbing there with a bit of pressure until you felt his lips in a new place. He pulled away, surprising you, then, when his warm, wet lips set upon one erect little nipple, giving it a curious prod with his tongue. Immediately, your body tensed beneath him, your hands grasping firmly to his shoulders at the shock of his forward touch on that small, sensitive place. 

“Did that hurt?” Kent backed off quickly, his expression panicked as he looked down at you with furrowed brows. 

“N-no, it–” Your own chuckle interrupted you, “That actually feels really good, it just surprised me, is all.” 

“Oh, s-sorry.” 

“No!” You could tell you said the word too loudly, but honestly, if Kent got it into your head that you didn’t like that, well… it just wouldn’t be the truth, right? And heroes all strive towards the truth.

“No," You said more quietly this time, "Kent, please don’t apologize, I jerked up like that because it just felt so shockingly good. You're, god, I mean, you're a natural.” 

He made that face again, like he was trying to stifle a blush, and goodness, if that wasn’t one of the loveliest sights you’ve had the privilege to see. 

“You got a gift, baby, honestly.” 

“So... I should do it again?”

You licked your lips unwittingly as you nodded, silently wondering how sensitive he was in that same place upon his chest. You’d have to test it one day, but for now, you settled back to how you both were before.

Your stomach already buzzed in anticipation as Kent leaned forward, his eyes locked to your expression expectantly as he gave you a little teasing lick. Your own eyes closed in bliss, a chill running up your back from the too-light touch on your sensitive little bud, and a sigh left your lungs you as he did it again, drawing the action out a bit this time, much to your obvious delight. 

“Aw, yeah… that’s it.” You arched your back up against the mattress, pushing out your chest and urging your partner to continue. You let him witness the whole range of pleasure coursing through you, as your hands grasped his shoulders tightly, as you gasped with each lick, each sensual little suck, as your eyes rolled back in your head and you groaned out in response to your his touches. Just as you felt your nipple growing more sensitive, as it began to harden in response to the stimulation, Kent followed his instincts and switched to the other one. Thankfully though, he had the good sense to slide one hand up your body, to tease at the– now distinctly sensitive– bud he’d left temporarily unattended. 

Breaths continued to leave you in labored pants, and you could feel a tense bulge forming between your legs in response to his increasingly heated motions.

Kent appeared to be enjoying himself as well, it seemed, as you felt the evidence of his excitement against one of your thighs. As he laid sprawled over you, likely unwittingly, Kent began to grind his hips in slow, undulating movements against you. 

“Geeze, babe, that feels nice.” You continued to praise him, feeling your voice grow huskier with building arousal. “C-can I ask you something else?” You added at the last minute, your heart already beginning to pound against your chest at the thought of what you were about to request. 

“Hm?” Kent looked up at you, his eyes foggy as he blinked away the haze of his own increasing pleasure. “O-of course.” 

“I want us to do this, Kent.” You tried to regulate your voice, to keep it from wavering, to keep your eyes on him, even as you felt your cheeks flush with heat. 

“M-me too, Sole.” He whispered back with a little smile. 

Your heart fluttered in your chest as your own grin took over your expression. 

“Alright, so, I was thinking… Maybe we could, um, take off...”

“This next?” 

Kent leaned back even more, then, and one hand laid to rest lightly over the button of your dress pants. 

You nodded rapidly, feeling that bulge between your legs tingle with anticipation.

“Y-yeah, exactly. If you’re ready.” You quickly added. 

Though his brows were creased, though you could see a small shadow of nervousness clouding his vision for just a brief moment, next, his gaze was back on you, and with a nod, Kent's fingers brushed over the swell of your building erection.

“I was a little, ah, nervous when I felt it, but… Like you said. Gotta be brave. If the Shroud gave up every time he felt a little nervous, well, he wouldn’t be a hero now, right?” 

Your smile could only broaden at his sound reasoning. 

“I guess not," You agreed, "but, still… Kent, I don’t want to pressure you–” 

He cut you off, surprising you with his brash forwardness as his lips quickly captured yours.

You had no choice but to melt into it, rejoicing in the firmness of the contact, the way you could feel his rapid pulse through his skin, and still taste honeyed bliss on his tongue as it shyly darted out to meet yours.

Again, you found yourself in utter awe at his admirable courage.  

“You’re not," He said as he pulled away, "Don’t worry, my love.”

With that, Kent leaned back again, settling his knees on either side of your thighs as his fingers brushed over your button and zipper. “I really want this too, you know. Even if I'm nervous... doesn't mean I want it any less.” 

Your heart jumped, and as his eyes set upon your face again, you gave him one last nod of assurance, and felt pressure release as your button popped open. 

Your partner worked slowly, as had become custom with you two, much to both your liking, and pulled down the zip, before he began to shimmy both your briefs and pants down at once. You lifted your ass off the mattress to allow him to slide them down, and then it went easy, until at last, Kent was tugging the pant legs off from around your ankles. 

You were too busy staring at his precious expression as he took you in fully, for the first time, to notice what it was exactly he had his gaze set on. Without realizing it, you’d grown more than a bit stiff within the fabric walls of your briefs. Your cock stood up against your lower stomach, at full hardness, as Kent blinked down at you. 

“Wow…” He breathed, and you could feel your blush rising at his unabashed scrutiny. “I, no, you… I really made you like this?” 

Another nod, another blush, and another instance where Kent was in awe of you. And goodness, how that overwhelming feeling was wholly mutual. 

“Kent, baby…” 

At that, he snapped out of his haze, blinking as his gaze met yours.

“Right.” Kent cleared his throat, and scooted towards you with intent, and then… stopped, at a loss. “W-what should I do next?” 

“Well, what do you want to do?” 

His brows furrowed cutely, an expression akin to a pout resting on his face as he considered your question.

“T-touch you?” He suddenly asked.

Very well. Your expression plainly told him, and with a shy smile, you reached out, easing his hands into yours as you guided them to where your erection strained up against your belly. 

Slowly, his fingers wrapped around you with a tentative firmness, one that satisfied, but still left you aching for more. He drew his hands up, with your guidance, and smoothed down the generous bead of slick pre-cum from your slit over the rest of your shaft, easing the friction of his touch over you. A breathy groan escaped from your parted lips, and you felt Kent’s pace quicken, his confidence building at your reactions to his efforts. 

“Is this okay?” His raspy voice still questioned, even as he continued his dizzying movements. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought his words were meant to tease-- that your innocent, sweet little Kent Connolly was being smug.

But you knew better.

“More than okay." You assured him as the words left you almost in a groan. "Mm, feels really good, baby.” 

Kent's grip tightened a bit, and your hips bucked up into his textured touch in response, but instead of pulling away like he had with your chest, your partner's pace only grew more insistent against you. 

A shuddering breath left your lungs, some form of a ‘yeah,’ following shortly after as you felt your cock twitch within his grasp.

“H-hold on, please.” You held up one hand as you panted, as you felt sweat slickening over your back and forehead, as that tightening knot down below threatened to come undone all too soon. 

Kent's hands paused their movement, but stayed upon you as your gazes met. 

“Something wrong?”

“No, god no, the opposite.” You chuckled, but Kent only blinked at you.

“Getting too close, that’s all. Want this to last longer. I want… Want to touch you.” 

A moment of consideration, and then Kent’s hands left your protesting cock. 

“Okay.” He said with a new certainty, shifting back to give you room to sit up. 

With that, you rose, and set your hands upon his body gently, encouraging your partner to lie down in your place on the mattress, before you returned his earlier favor, and tentatively removed his trousers and the underwear beneath. 

Silver Shroud boxer-briefs… You noted with a fond smile, Who could’ve guessed?

You made no comment to him though, continuing with your efforts without pause. You allowed the clothes to pile up on the floor, and took in the full sight of your partner spread out beneath you. 

Much like Kent earlier in the evening, you just couldn’t help yourself.

Soon, your lips found him-- his lips-- briefly in a sweet, chaste kiss, then to his neck, drawing a shining line of spit over his collar bone with your wet lips, down to his chest, mouthing and leaving teasing, light lovebites in your wake as you steadily moved lower down his body. 

A fresh bout of breathy sighs and whines left your partner at your actions, and shudders of pleasure ran up and down through your nerves at the way he sounded from your attentions, the way he blissfully moaned out your name, how his voice caressed the hotel-room air as though he were whispering it for everyone in the world to hear. To hear and to know that you loved him, and that he loved this, despite all odds.

Because it was with you. 

You couldn’t help but warm fondly at the thought, and at the realization that you felt the same such way. 

As your lips set upon his lower stomach, grazing lightly over his pubic bone, you felt the heat of Kent's own rising erection building so near to your face. The next instant, and one hand was upon him lightly, gentle, asking touches that had him nodding wildly in approval above you, until you took his textured girth in-hand, and began to leisurely stroke. He was already mostly hard, already leaking like you were, and, also like you, Kent was pleading for you to ease up only moments after you’d began your ministrations. 

“So, ah…” You both had to stop and take a couple of breaths, allowing your mind to clear somewhat before you voiced your inquiry. “You want to try for the main event?” 

Inwardly, you cringed at your wording, making it sound like some show or sporting contest, when really… this was something softer, unostentatious, just… honest. Even with the romance that bled into it, the theatre of the candles and flower pedals and the honeymoon suite... the act itself was more subdued than any act upon a stage, or any great concert in an arena, it was just another soft chapter of your love story. It was words on a page: tangible, but only just so, only by the hands that caress it, by the eyes that so thoughtfully take it in.

“I-I do…” Kent said, his words hushed, but tinged with excitement.

You could see though, that he wanted to say something more, and with a swallow, he did.

“So, you want to, um… be on top?” 

You blinked in surprise at his forwardness, but still, you were grateful for it. Not only did it open up the conversation, as you had planned on doing yourself, but it showed that he was actively participating in this. He was choosing to be with you, and of course, of course that was necessary to continue in any capacity, but so far in your relationship, you’d lead the way. Kent was more tentative, less confident, less experienced, but when he made an effort to participate so enthusiastically, it just… it put your mind and heart at ease. He told you time and time again, ‘I want this.’ but words and actions are different, and after all he’d been through… you needed all he could give to determine how enthusiastic-- how ready-- he truly was. 

“That’s… well,” You started, “That’s all I’ve ever done, um, so far, you know, with Nora... Um, so I wouldn’t mind it, but… Where would you be most comfortable?” 

“Why don’t you take the lead this time?” Kent offered with a shaky voice, and stayed put where he was lying back on the bed, giving you your answer in more ways than one. 

With a nod, you slid off the mattress, and though Kent was surely surprised as you left him briefly, any inquiries of his were answered a moment later, when you settled yourself at the foot of the bed with a bottle of lube clasped in one hand. 

Hancock’s ‘most important tip,’ as he had put it. 

"Don't be shy with this stuff, trust me, heh."

He'd winked then too, but the genuine insistence was there in his words, and you weren't about to ignore them.

“It might be a little cold,” You warned as you squirted a generous amount into the palm of one hand, “but lemme just…”

You rubbed both hands together, trying to warm the gel up a bit, before lowering them between your partner’s legs. With a swallow of his nerves, Kent spread them wider for you, and with his invitation extended, you began to touch him. 

He gasped at first, but even so, you felt his body making efforts to relax as your hands grazed over his most intimate places. Slowly, you allowed your fingers to ease downward from his erection, down the seam of his ass until you reached his hole, tentatively spreading the slick of the lube there as you tried to pleasure him all at once. You felt Kent clench just a tad, before the pressure eased, and you heard a deep breath leave him. 

“This okay?” You questioned, keeping your gaze locked to his expression as your hands moved. 

“Y-yeah, Sole. Just… slow.”

“Slow.” You repeated, your own breath becoming shaky as you felt your arousal pooling low in your stomach. Unwittingly, you found one of your slickened hands pulling away and going to your own cock, stroking and spreading the lube over your length as your other hand continued familiarizing Kent with your intimate touch. 

One finger prodded gently at his asshole, and the faintest of moans left him at the near-intrusion. 

“You like that?” Your expression soon became a bit smug, proud of the way your touch obviously excited him. 

Kent didn’t answer, not with words, anyway, but as you did it again, his hardened member gave an excited little jerk of its own, and another– lovely– involuntary sound spilled from his parted lips. 

Your partner relaxed further back into the mattress as you continued toying with him, until, with relative ease, you found your prodding index finger sinking into him. The movement was accompanied by a throaty groan, but you honestly weren’t sure if the noise had come from you or him. 

Both, perhaps. Your thoughts suggested, and you felt your cheeks heat at that.

Kent tightened momentarily around the new sensation as you probed a bit further, and you allowed time for him to adjust while your other hand worked over your pulsing cock.

Once he’d relaxed enough for the pressure to let up, you began to withdraw, before pushing back in once more. It was slow, steady, just like the rest of the blissful night had been.

Eventually, one finger turned to two, and you thrust them unhurriedly, lovingly so; kneading and curling your fingers against his pliant walls, and pulling a menagerie of unusually wanton noises from your coy, intimately sheepish other half. 

“God, I love the sounds you’re making for me, love.” You leaned your body over his slightly, letting your skin brush his as you continued working your fingers in and out of him, your half-lidded gaze set religiously on the way his brows creased together, how the muscles in his throat strained, his chest rose and fell with the rhythm of your movements. 

“... Can I–?” 

You tried to begin your inquiry, but Kent’s half-moan, half-plead stopped you in your tracks. 

“Yes,” He whined out, “Yes, Sole, I-I'm ready for you.” 

The words had you quivering, had your eyes fogging over in bliss, your cock nudging up into your hand as if to encourage you to move forward.

Who were you to deny it? To deny him?

You scooted even closer to your partner, as you withdrew your fingers from him, and placed your free hand over one hip, holding Kent in place beneath you as the other guided the tip of your cock to rest at his entrance. 

“Please.” Kent looked like a dream as he eagerly shimmied his hips into you, his own cock drooling a strand of translucent pre-cum onto his soft stomach as you fought to hold yourself back. All of this, his pleading for you, the sight of him spread out beneath your body, the feel of his warmth, the smell of sex and spiced candles in the air, it had you straining and leaking all the same as your partner was.

But you had to be gentle, had to be slow. With that thought in mind, you nudged the head of your cock against him, and gradually, pressed your hips forward. You were pleased by the way he relented to you so easily, the feel of him damn-near making tears form in your eyes at the way his heat encased your sensitive tip, clenching and thrusting towards you, demanding more.  

“Good?” Your voice strained out the word.

Kent nodded frantically, one hand going to grasp at your wrist where you were holding onto his hips, and giving you an encouraging squeeze. 

With that, you allowed yourself to push steadily in further, feeling the delicious drag of his walls over you, the pleasant ease of the slick lubricant only making your movements more fluid, more blissful. 

Twin gasps left your lips as you finally bottomed out inside him, and you felt Kent’s grasp over your wrist tighten almost to the point of pain as his breath picked up in his chest. 

“Geeze, Sole…” He rasped as he blinked up at you, sky-blue eyes hazy like fog over the ocean as they clouded over with pleasure. 

“You feel so good.” You moaned out, and felt his body shudder at the sound of your praise. It was all you needed to begin pulling yourself out, only a couple inches, before easing your length back inside. Kent’s free hand tugged at the fabric of the comforter as your pace picked up, his teeth set together as his jaw clenched; you hoped, from the overwhelming pleasure, and not discomfort. 

“Feel so good around me… Doing so well, baby.” You encouraged as your breath picked up with the steadily increasing pace of your thrusts. “You doing okay?” 

“Mmhm. Ah-huh.” A whine escaped his throat, but the way it left him at the same moment his cock spilled another bead of pre-cum over his skin allowed you to make a pretty sound determination. 

“You like this, love?” 

Another thrust, this one a tad more aggressive than any before it, and you heard the skin of your hips meet his ass with a resounding clap. 

“Y-yeah, I do.” The sound of his raised voice went straight to your throbbing member, growing all the harder within him at the strain you detected there, but also the sheer honesty. His want for this, for you inside him, for you to be engaging in this scary, intimate act together that was more worth it than you ever could’ve imagined.

This is what intimacy means. Two people unselfishly and unabashedly loving one another, supporting one another, yearning for one another. You accepting him, and him, you. Love, free of judgement, completely honest, completely overwhelming in its sincerity.

You yearned to see Kent like this a thousand more times, to feel him surrounding you, his body and yours singing praises to each other while your minds and hearts embraced in the same such way. 

“Kent, ah…” A more drawn-out moan forced itself from your throat, and he clenched at the way you whined his name.

“Babe, I-I love you.” You managed, and your partner gasped, his eyes bursting open at the sound of your precious words. 

“You… you mean that?” His hand on you tightened its grip.

“Always, baby.” You said so quickly you nearly cut him off, “I love everything about you, and I… I love you for trusting me this way.” 

You leaned over him now, and felt Kent adjust himself to allow you to lay comfortably over top him. Your chests brushed together, shared breaths mingling in the small space that separated your faces. You were as close to him as one could be to another, and still, you craved more. 

“I love you too, Sole. More than I ever thought I c-could love someone.” 

His whispered words drew your lips to his, and held you there, reveling in the feel of his touch, his taste, the sweet massage of his textured lips against yours. 

Your thrusts into him had eased as you spoke, but now, they picked back up, the force of them jolting your bodies and the large mattress below until you heard the springs straining under your combined weight. 

A gasp left Kent each time your cock hilted inside him, and soon enough, you were forced to separate from the kiss, as you both quickly became winded. 

“I-I’m getting close.” You managed as you felt your blood rushing, your stomach tightening, fire flowing through your veins. 

“I am too.” Kent almost sounded surprised, like that fact had snuck up on him, and you grinned as you focused the grinding of your hips more strategically, flexing and unflexing your stomach muscles where his leaking erection was trapped between your bodies. 

His gasps turned to moans, Kent’s hips bucking upwards to meet you, to increase the friction over his aching cock, before his breath hitched in his chest, and he released.

A searing warmth blossomed between your bodies as he met his blissful end beneath you. Your eyes stayed locked to his expression as he rode out his pleasure, fixating on the way his jaw dropped, his eyes closed tightly, his little phantom nose wrinkled as he tensed and writhed and bucked up into you like his life depended on your closeness for its survival. 

His expression, the way he clenched around you, his warmth, his spend dripping onto your skin, it was too much, and you followed right after him.

Kent’s legs wrapped around you, holding your body firmly in place as you shouted out your own release, spilling deep inside him. He came down from his high just as you were riding yours out, groaning at the feel of you finishing so deep within, the continuing pressure of your cock against his sore walls, the oversensitivity of your stomach grinding against his tired cock proving almost too much, until finally, you stilled over top him. 

Both of you merely existed for a moment, panting out your exertion while you stayed pressed together snugly and basked in the pleasant afterglow of your first union together.

With a protesting sort of grunt though, you began to ease yourself up and out of your partner. You’d laid a towel over the headrest of the bed in preparation, and grabbed it now with one shaky hand, bringing it between your bodies to swipe away the mess of lube and spend. Kent was nearly asleep, his eyes half-closed as he watched you clean him with a tired little grin upon his lips. 

Unable to resist the call of that sweet, endearing expression, you bent down to press a kiss to his smiling mouth, before collapsing on the comforter beside him. 

“That was…” You started, shaking your head as you tried to finish the sentence, but there… there weren't the words to describe the bliss you’d just felt. 

“It was better than the Silver Shroud.” Kent whispered, almost chuckling to himself, even as your eyebrows flew high up on your forehead at his confession. 

There was certainly humor there, but also genuine surprise as you sat up to look at him-- to question both the soundness of that statement and his state of mind.

“It was?!”

A chuckle and a nod were your answer, his precious blue eyes crinkling with mirth at your animated response.

"Wow... that's saying a lot, baby. You sure you're okay?"

With that, Kent scooted his body closer to yours, warming your heart as his arms wrapped about you without a measly ounce of hesitation.

"Honestly?" His sleepy voice rasped, "I don't think there's a time I've ever been better."

[fandomfics]

Fanfic Masterlist

Fallout

Star Wars

Supernatural

Dc

Marvel

[elloras]

red earth and pouring rain - bear's den (x)

[omgeveryusernameistakenicanteven]

A Promise of Warmth

Fluff-y drabble with my favorite radio ghoul. He’s just so cute I could die!! Anyways, Sole uses she/her pronouns in this and is taller than Kent. Other than that nothing else identifying. Enjoy! Also I want to write a pt 2 to this

The Memory Den’s lights shine brighter in the rain. They promise warmth; shielding travelers from the downpour and letting them relive happy memories. For Sole the lights promise an entirely different kind of warmth.

Before she even shakes the rain from her trench coat or takes off the tricorn she’d taken to wearing she’s nearly bowled over by that promised warmth.

“Sole!” Even with his face buried in her general’s uniform Sole can hear the smile in his voice. Kent looks up at her, still beaming, “you’re back!”

She smiles and stoops slightly to kiss him, “I’m back.”

A blush rises on the ghoul’s cheeks and he steps back. Despite being in a relationship with Sole since she’d rescued him nearly two months back the ghoul is still remarkably shy. Sole has since put it down to his character instead of any anxiety caused by her. 

Of course, it doesn’t help his blush when she wraps an arm around the low of his back and pulls him flush with her once more. “The weather’s turning. You must’ve been cold here alone.” Her fingers knead slightly in their place on his hip. Sole is more than eager to pull her sunshine into bed; not that she’d ever admit to being anything but the perfect gentleman.

Kent smiles up at her. “Oh, it's alright! I know you’ve been busy.” That much is true; Sole has been busy. It doesn’t stop Kent from wishing they could spend every night curled up together in his small room while Sole tells him stories of the wastes or else listening to the Silver Shroud on the radio.

Sole leans down and gives him another kiss. This time her lips linger on his longer than what some may call appropriate for the public. She lets go of his waist and instead takes his hand to lead him back into his room.

Her sunshine is practically glowing with excitement as the door clicks shut. Kent turns in front of her and grabs her other hand before exclaiming, “I have a surprise for you!” He’s beaming ear to ear and Sole can’t help but smile back at him. She’d do everything to protect this. Her sunshine.

Still smiling, she asks, “What’s your surprise?”

Kent breaks eye contact, then takes a deep break, and another. He peaks up to see she’s still watching. “Iwasthinkingyoucouldundressmethistime.”

“What?”

“I was thinking you could undress me this time.”

Sole hums, pulls his back to her chest and leans down to speak in his ear, “I think that’s a great idea, sunshine.”

[fallout-fucker]

Random Sole x Hancock Headcanon - Emails.

Sole figures out how to get some sort of online connection up and running again purely so they can send emails to Hancock's terminal from their Pip-Boy whenever they're apart. Love sick idiots.

Cue Hancock blushing and kicking his feet whilst reading the emails. He invents the ;) emote. Sole, in turn, makes the ^-^ and :3 emotes.

They both invent selfies. Hancock's the first to send one when he realises he can send pictures. It's a fucking process but he barters for old parts here and there and gets help from Kent. Eventually he has a working camera for his terminal. The first selfie was him stood on his couch, high af and surrounded by an assortment of baked goods (Edibles) he made. The email said 'Look what I can do ;D'.

He regularly sends pictures of what he's baking or random selfies when he's high.

Sole then made a similar upgrade to their Pip-Boy the minute they could. They send him random pictures of cats and other creatures they see in their travels. Cool views or old, historic buildings and art they think he'd enjoy. A collection of Dogmeat being cute. They sent one of Danse falling over. They send him pictures of books they'll think he like. Usually literature, history, or STEM stuff. Sole also takes pictures with their shared friends and lets them email him too from their arm for a quick update.

They also show off their new builds and inventions. Gun mods, armour, ect.

They also share a 'Spotting Deacon In The Wild' collection. They have a running joke that every new disguise they spot is a 'Deacon Variant' or new Deacon 'Synth'. They add names for each 'character' and the email will say '[Insert Character Name] Deacon Unlocked!' Like, Butcher Deacon, or Diamond City Guard Deacon, etc.

On that note, they invent memes. Usually from pictures of other companions or each other.

Like when Nick was 'sleeping' one time (Wide eyed stare Synth style) and Sole sent a picture of him, captioned 'Me after the horrors'.

Or when Preston was stood looking out at the Sanctuary River after a long night. Coffee in his hand. His hat and one shoe missing. Expressionless as he stared at the sunrise.

Hancock replied 'Me fucking too, brother'.

Sole will update him on their whereabouts regularly so he stays sane.

Hancock will tell them about how Goodneighbour is doing. From Mayoral plans to general gossip. How Daisy is doing, how the local kids are, etc.

Sometimes Hancock sends the most cryptic chain spam looking things when he is stoned.

Sole can email him whenever they're nearby and plan on visiting.

Hancock sometimes requests items if he knows they’re on their way, but only if they happen to come across it or already have whatever it is.

Will email them questions that he doesn't actually mean for them to answer. Just questions to the void, really. He just uses them as an outlet for his thoughts a lot.

Or for help on a crossword puzzle.

Sole will email him when they can't sleep just in case he's also awake. Nights feel really lonely when everyone you knew died 200 years ago.

Sometimes they ask him for knowledge. Like 'Do you know if this plant is poisonous?' or things that most Commonwealthers know for survival, but Sole is still figuring out.

They ask him for leadership advise. Especially during big decisions.

They both tell each other things they've seen/heard through the grapevine that they think the other should know. 'I heard that guy you were looking for was seen in Bunker Hill' 'Some Gens 2s were spotted patrolling Medford Hospital' 'Hi :) Sorry for the late response, I was running for my life :( Tell your traders to stay away from the East Bridge- Gunners'

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Shut Up and Drive (Chapter 5)

Roy Kent x F1 Driver!Reader

3.6k words

Warnings: Language, phone sex, masturbation (M and F), lots of pining, Jamie & Keeley being little shits, smutty smut, picture of MC

@agentstarkid !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Series Masterlist

“You get into a fight?”

Roy rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

Jamie took a sip of his pint. “Cut yourself shaving?”

“Shut up.”

The striker’s grin grew. “Drop your curling iron?”

“Shut up.”

Despite the fact that all he really wanted to do was go home and have an extra-long shower after watching a few choice F1 interviews, Roy allowed himself to be dragged out after the match for dinner at Ola’s. If he’d known he was going to spend the whole time being harassed by Jamie fucking Tartt, he would have told everyone to fuck off when they invited him.

He wanted to scream when Keeley plopped down on his other side.

“Did you see our special guest at the match today?” she practically sang, waggling her eyebrows. “Couldn’t keep her eyes off the dugout.”

“Was kind of busy coaching a fucking football game,” Roy grumbled, slouching, wishing he was like Jamie, who carried around concealer in his stupid little fanny packs. Then he could’ve covered up the gorgeous little mark you’d left on his jaw.

Keeley leaned close. “Well, she looked much less put together than usual,” she continued, as if Roy wasn’t shooting daggers at her. “She had her cute little Ferrari hat, but you could tell her hair was a mess. And her skin was pretty red and blotchy. And she kept squirm-”

“What the fuck are you implying?” he growled, as if he wasn’t the reason for that messy hair and red skin and- fuck- squirming.

“So, where’d you do it?” Jamie leaned forward. “Showers? Weight room? Boot room? Supply closet? Fuck, it was the changing room after all left, wasn’t it?”

Roy stood, chugging the last of his beer. “Right. Fuck both of you, I’m heading home, where no one makes stupid fucking accusations to make their own stupid lives more interesting.” He gave a little salute. “Cheers, pricks.”

He ignored their protests and pleas to stay as he stalked out of the restaurant, nodding to his players as they called out their goodbyes. As he got in his car, he glanced at his phone, gulping when he saw he had a message waiting for him.

You ruined my panties, Kent. Thanks xx

~

For a couple of days, Roy found himself glued to his phone. It wasn’t like the two of you were texting nonstop like fucking teenagers or some shit. Just sporadic messages, murmurings of what you were each up to, some selfies you sent him for the sole purpose of teasing him, and one swear-infested rant about how Jamie almost hit him with the ball during training.

It was only a few messages exchanged, but Roy was determined not to miss a single one.

On Wednesday night, you sent Roy a picture of you in a stunning red dress, complaining about some event you had to go to. It took a lot of restraint on both sides to keep from admitting how badly you both wished he was your date.

Roy stared at his phone, keenly aware of the quickly growing tightness in his pants. Fuck, how was he supposed to respond?

His clouded brain settled for a simple you look beautiful have fun before setting his phone on the coffee table, deciding he needed a drink before he let his horniness take over.

He settled himself on the couch with his beer and a book, but he kept wondering how your night was going. It was probably full of cameras and reporters and people exclaiming about how gorgeous you were, and there were probably multiple guys vying for your attention, guys not as stupid and annoying as his idiot Greyhounds. It was his nightmare scenario, an evening at a public event with plenty of annoying people, and yet part of him wished he was there with you.

Old man that he was, Roy fell asleep, woken up late into the night by his own snores. Wiping the drool from his face and doing his best to avoid dwelling on the steamy dream he’d been having, he turned out the lights and dragged himself to his room, phone in hand.

After stripping down to his boxers, he crawled into bed and let his fingers tap away on his screen until he had pulled up your Instagram. He found a particular video he’d watched several times, one featuring a beach and you wearing a lovely little bikini. His free hand was just dipping under his boxers when the pinging of his mobile startled him, causing him to drop his phone onto his face.

“Fuck,” he hissed, readjusting himself. Fucking Jamie must be drunk texting him again-

Nope. Definitely not Jamie.

Roy gawked at the screen for a moment, taking in the view. Fuck. Now he really wished he’d been with you this evening. Without quite knowing what he was doing, he hit the call button by your name and held the phone to his face, trying to keep his breathing steady as it rang once, twice-

“What took you so long?” Your purring voice had an edge of teasing that sent his heart into overdrive.

“You have a nice time at your thing?” He sat up, trying to keep his voice even; a particular challenge considering the image you’d now planted in his mind.

He could hear your bored little hum. “Not bad. You know how these things are.”

“Yeah,” was all he could manage.

Smiling at the nervous tone in Roy Kent’s voice, you slid off the chair you were perched on and crossed over to your bed, leaving your now forgotten glass of wine on your nightstand before laying down on your belly. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

Roy stared at the tent that was forming in his bed. “’course not,” he assured you. “I was up.” Shit.

You stifled a giggle at what you hoped was a double entendre. “What were you up to, then?”

Definitely not having a wank to you. “Nothing much,” he managed. “Just laying down.”

“In bed?”

Roy felt relieved to know your minds were both heading in the same direction. “In bed,” he confirmed, feeling his mouth tug upwards. “Your chair comfy?”

You chuckled. “Moved over to the bed myself, actually.” You paused, gazing at the ceiling. “How’s your jaw?”

He let his free hand trace over the beautiful little mark, which he’d admired in the mirror earlier in the evening. “It looks like I lost a fight with a fucking vacuum cleaner, thank you very much,” he joked.

“Anyone notice?”

“Only Keeley. And Jamie. And the whole team.” He rolled his eyes at the memory of all those eyes on his face, all those raised eyebrows and suspicious grins. “Lots of fun questions after the match.”

You rolled over onto your back. “Sorry about that,” you murmured, your tone anything but sorry.

His smile turned soft. “Kind of worth it,” he admitted. He cleared his throat. “Heard you looked a right mess, though,” he teased. “And something about you spending half the match watching the dugout.”

“Yeah, A.F.C. Richmond has this very fit manager.” You absently twirled a strand of hair around your finger. “Gets me all excited.”

Roy licked his lips. “You excited right now?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Your free hand skimmed the exposed skin of your tummy; you wished it was Roy’s hand. “Maybe. What about you, Roy Kent? Does something have you excited?”

There was a half moment of hesitation at his end. “D’you want the honest fucking truth?”

“Sure.” His pause had you curious about he wanted to tell you.

“I…” He cleared his throat. “I was actually already… getting excited when you texted me.” He couldn’t believe he was admitting this. “Looking at, er, pictures of you.”

Well fuck. You were already feeling frisky- hence the text you’d sent him to start all of this- but fuck, you felt your panties dampen with your arousal. There was no doubt Roy could hear your breath hitch at his confession.

“Which pictures?” you asked breathily, squirming at the image you conjured of Roy, in bed, touching himself and looking at you.

An embarrassed grin crossed his face when he realized his admission had turned you on. “Some fucking Instagram post of you on the beach. You’re in a swimsuit… this fucking bikini and… yeah.” He ran his free hand over his face.

Roy Kent didn’t have phone sex. Sure, he’d received more than a few dirty pictures over the years. And he and Keeley had liked to text each other what they wanted to do once they got home. But lying in bed, all alone, spurred on by his own imagination and the sound of your voice?

He’d try anything once. For you, at least.

Your breathy giggle had him feeling slightly less embarrassed. “Yeah, I know that post,” you murmured. “You often go stalking through my Instagram?”

“Sometimes,” Roy admitted softly, biting his lip. “Like you said, good way to relax before a match.”

“It’s not before a match, Roy,” you pointed out, your face on fire at the thought of Roy getting off to photos and videos of you.

Roy’s low chuckle had your entire body pulsating. “You got me there,” he hummed. “Maybe I was… just thinking of you.”

The smile you wore felt far too giddy; you needed to get this conversation back on track. “And tell me,” you asked in your most sultry voice, “what did those bikini photos make you think of?”

He got the hint. “Made me think of when you visited us in Leeds,” he murmured, his free hand dipping below the sheets again. “You, on your knees. Just the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen in my fucking life.”

Your own hand traced a trail down to your already wet panties. “That was fun,” you sighed. “You were pretty fucking delicious.”

“Was I?” Roy palmed himself through his boxers; fuck he was hard.

“Uh huh,” was all you managed as you let a single finger trace your pussy lips through the damp material. “Just wish I could taste you now.” You held in a moan as you began to stroke yourself. “What do you wish I was doing right now?”

Roy’s chuckle was dark, sexy as all hell. “Well, I would love it if you could help me with this fucking boner you gave me.” He wrapped his hand around his clothed cock.

You grinned, mouth practically watering at the thought of Roy Kent’s hard dick. “What makes you think I’m not going to help you?” you purred. “Of course, you’re going to help me with my own little situation.”

His cock twitched in his hands. “And what situation would that be?”

Even though he couldn’t see it, you gave a little pout. “Well, I’m laying all alone in bed, and my panties are getting all wet. Any suggestions?”

“Fuck,” he huffed, stroking himself. “You should- shit- I dunno, touch yourself?”

Roy’s face was bright red. Not for the first time with you, he felt so fucking old. He didn’t know how to do this, or what he was supposed to say. His embarrassment was almost enough to kill his boner and make him hang up.

The soft groan that came through his phone brought him back. “Under or over my panties?” you whispered. You weren’t stupid; Roy Kent was not the kind of guy who had these kinds of late-night conversations. But the adorable earnestness and desire in his voice had you wanting to guide him through it. Mostly, though, your horniness had you refusing to hang up on that stunning man.

He had to admit he was grateful for the help. “Under,” he husked. “Go under.”

Eager to please, you did as you were told, dipping your hand under the soft material. You let out a sigh as your fingers grazed your wetness. “What about you? Are you touching yourself for me?”

Those last two words had him shuddering. “Over my boxers,” he admitted. “Should I, er, change that?”

“Yes, please.” You had to stop yourself from completely begging as you slid one finger through your slick. “Fuck, I wish it were me.”

“Me too,” Roy groaned as he slid his hand into his boxers and wrapped his hand around his hardness. “Fucking wish you were here, that gorgeous mouth of yours.”

You closed your eyes and brought your finger to your pulsing clit and began rubbing slow circles. “Fuck, Roy,” you breathed. “How hard are you right now?”

Roy sighed as he began stroking himself. “Really fucking hard. Just for you.” He licked his lips, thinking of you, laying in bed, touching yourself, writhing around, thinking of him. The image was better than any bikini photo. “Wish you were here to do something about it.”

“Oh, I’d do a lot about it if I was there.” You increased the pressure on your clit, hissing at the pleasure. “I’d be on my knees for you, Roy Kent. And I’d swallow everything you had to give me.”

“Actually,” Roy chuckled, his mind conjuring up some dirty pictures. “Would love to see those tits of yours all covered. Bet you’d look fucking great.”

Your soft moan told him you liked the sound of that. “Next time,” you breathed, moving away from your clit and to your needy cunt. “You can cover me all you want next time.”

His cock twitched at those two magical words: next time. “Where’re your fingers?” he asked, letting his thumb sweep over the precum that was leaking out of him. “Fuck, please tell me they’re inside that pretty pussy.”

Fuck. It was as if he knew. Of course Roy Kent knew. You answered him with a lewd moan as you slid a finger inside yourself. “Yeah,” you cooed. “It’s really fucking wet for you, Roy.”

“Fucking love when you say my name,” he rasped, increasing his pace. “Fuck, can you say it again?”

You were more than happy to oblige. “Roy,” you whined, adding a second finger to your wetness. “Fuck, Roy.” You let out a whimper as you pumped in and out. “I wish you were fucking me, Roy. Fucking me the way you did in the boot room that day, all fucking desperate and dirty.”

Roy’s eyebrows flew up. “You like it dirty then?” he teased, relishing the memory of you in the boot room, head thrown back as you tried to keep quiet, looking like a fucking goddess. “That’s really fucking good to know.”

“Why?” you shot back, grinning as you pictured his sexy smirk. “You going to give it to me dirty?”

“Oh, you have no idea.” Roy was starting to like this phone sex thing. He could get used to it. “Babe, I want you on this bed on all fours. Then I’ll show you desperate and dirty.”

You weren’t sure what had your pussy clenching around your fingers- the confidence in Roy’s voice, the image of you on your hands and knees for him, or the sweet pet name he growled out, not to mention the idea of being fucked in Roy Kent’s bed. Either way, you let out a little whimper as you began to squirm on your mattress.

That whimper had Roy moaning. “Fuck you sound beautiful,” he cooed. “You always sound so beautiful. Bet you’d sound beautiful in my shower.”

“You want me in your shower?” You couldn’t help smiling at the image- you, pressed up against a steamy glass door, Roy having to hold you up because you can’t feel your legs anymore, that perfect cock stretching and filling you.

The idea was almost enough to make you ignore the fact that Roy Kent had now mentioned having you over twice over the course of this phone call.

“I want you every-fucking-where.”

Your hips rocked against your hand as you listened to Roy’s ragged breathing, his soft moans. Your skin grew warm as you wondered if he could hear the wet sounds filling your quiet bedroom, sounds he usually helped you make in hotel rooms and, apparently, locked boot rooms. You wondered how it would sound if he was making those noises with you here, now, in your bedroom.

Fuck that sounded good.

“’m getting close,” Roy growled, his voice strained. “Wanna hear you come, gorgeous.”

Your pussy clenched at that word. Gorgeous. Hearing Roy call you that sent a shiver through your whole body; it seemed to be his favorite word to call you.

“Fucking want you,” you managed to whine as you pumped in and out of your soaked cunt, wishing that your fingers were Roy’s cock. “Fucking need you inside me, Roy.” Your release grew closer and closer as your back arched. “That fucking cock stretching me out.”

“Bet those fingers of yours aren’t as good as my cock,” Roy groaned, his grip tightening as he felt his own orgasm approach. “Love burying it inside you, fucking you the way you deserve. Like a fucking queen. My fucking Empress.”

Electricity flowed through your veins as you let out a silent moan.

Somehow, he knew.

“Let me hear you, gorgeous,” he begged, eyes screwed shut. “Let me hear those pretty fucking sounds.”

“Fuck, Roy,” you moaned, louder now as pleasure overwhelmed you. “Fucking coming for you. Coming for your cock,” you babbled, thrusting your fingers as deep as you could. “Wish you were here. Wish you were inside me.”

Listening to you come for him had Roy following you over the edge. “Fuck,” he hissed, feeling his cock jerk. “Love your pussy,” he stammered. “Fucking want to fill it up. Fill you til it’s leaking out of you, dirty fucking girl.”

Your moans turned high-pitched as you climaxed, your cunt so tight you wondered how the fuck you managed to fit Roy Kent’s thick cock inside. You nearly dropped your phone, but instead tightened your grip on it, not wanting Roy to miss a single moment of you coming just for him.

He moaned your name as he spilled over, not caring about how he’d have to change his sheets. Pump after pump, his release dripped onto his hand, a hand he desperately wished was your hand. Or mouth. Or cunt.

You collapsed on your bed with a groan, coming down from your high, listening as Roy’s breaths became just as soft and ragged as your own. With a sigh, you pulled your fingers out of your soaked pussy; you rubbed them together, wondering when you last got this wet on your own.

Then again, were you really on your own tonight?

“You… you come for me?” Roy’s voice was so soft, so gentle.

“Yeah,” you assured him, your eyes fluttering shut. “Just for you, Kent.”

His chuckle had your heart fluttering even more than your pussy just had. “Good, good, I’m glad.” He paused, unable to help the smile that grew on his face. “That was…”

You giggled and stretched your free hand over your head. “Yeah, it was.”

Roy was quiet for a moment, choosing to ignore the mess beneath his sheets. “I liked it,” he admitted. “A lot.”

“Good.” You gave a little wiggle, reveling in your post-orgasm bliss. “Could do it again sometime. If you want to, that is.”

“Oi, careful,” he warned playfully. “You might get me addicted to this shit. Almost as addicted as I am to you.”

Fuck. Did he really just say that?

You let out a nervous little giggle, pretending you weren’t obsessed with the words that slipped out before he could think about them. “Maybe I want you addicted.” You paused for a moment, wishing you were in his arms, and scolding yourself for it. “Hey, I should, er, probably clean myself up.”

“Yeah, yeah, me too.” Roy cleared his throat. “Can I call you back after?”

“I’d like that.”

Once you’d cleaned yourself up and thrown on a clean pair of panties and your Greyhounds sweatshirt- a choice you tried not to think too hard about- you turned off the lights and settled into bed properly. Just as you were wondering if Roy would actually call you back, your phone vibrated; you grinned when you saw Roy Kent appear on your screen.

“Hey.”

“Hi there,” he hummed, resting a hand behind his head as he stared up into the darkness. “How… how’re you feeling?”

His nervous tone had you snuggling lower into your bed. “Pretty darn good,” you assured him. “You?”

“Yeah, fucking good.” He smiled in spite of the shyness he suddenly felt. “You’re really somethin’, you know that?”

You turned onto your side, stretching your free hand over to the side of your bed that suddenly felt far too empty. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His smile grew. “You’re just… kind of amazing.” He felt himself start to gush; fuck, he couldn’t help it. “I don’t fucking know. Don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you.”

Your body buzzed with delight, more from his affectionate rambling than your post-orgasm bliss. “Anyone like me?” you teased, urging him on.

“Oh, fuck off,” he laughed, shaking his head at your coyness. “You’re incredible. Fucking gorgeous. Badass as all hell. So fucking confident. Damn funny. And, well, you’re not bad in bed.” He sighed, closing his eyes. “Fucking dream come true.”

Oh hell. Roy’s words punched your heart with each syllable, making you forget about all your resolutions about not falling for the gruff, sexy manager. “You’re pretty wonderful yourself,” you heard yourself admit. “And I’m not just talking about the fact that you made me orgasm over the phone.”

You weren’t sure how much longer you stayed on the phone with Roy Kent, murmuring sweet nothings back and forth before moving on to general chitchat, the conversation flowing as naturally as it did when you were in his arms after sex. The last thing you remembered before you slipped into sleep was the sound of Roy Kent sleepily mumbling, “I really fucking miss you.”

Taglist:@hotdoglamp@daydreamgoddess14@klaine-92@gibby31@anonurs@taytaylala12@unholyhuntress@thatonedogwithablog@seacactusplant@e-mmygrey@jane-dough @zara-aliza08 @sky-full-0f-fl0wers

[blackreaderfics]

My Little Mermaid | Clark Kent x Black!Reader

↳ Pairing : MoS!Clark Kent x Black!AFAB!Reader

↳ Rating :  M (18+)

↳ Summary : a lone fisherman rescues a girl from the water

↳ W.C : ~1.6K

↳ Tags + Warnings: little mermaid motifs, comfortfic, reader is mute, slight dumbification, caretaker!clark, clark bathes her, slight implied age gap (reader is younger but over 18!!), size difference, non-sexual sexual touches, dubious consent, eye contact, ambiguous relationship, no smut

Clark wiped the mist of ocean water from his face as he surveyed the horizon. The sky was dull and gray; the same as it had been for the past three days. He had already gotten his catch for the week; choppy waters before a storm always stirred the life below right into his net. He decided to turn in for the day after his last reel-in.

Boats above a certain size usually required a crew to operate efficiently, but Clark preferred to work by himself. If any of his previous crewmates could see him hefting burdens meant for ten men with ease, they’d probably be afraid of him. He'd never forget the look on his classmate’s face when he’d been seen using his powers. His bully, ironically enough, had been the only one to witness his pushing their sinking bus from out of the river. The mocking and derision he’d gotten so used to seeing was replaced with terror, and Clark realized he’d been the sole cause of that fear.

The incident brought unwanted attention to the Kents and reporters at their front door. Since then, his parents had quietly taken him out of school where he would earn his diploma from home. He was used to being alone now. 

Clark secured the net to the metal rig and lowered it into the water. Tiny droplets of rain dripped from his hood one by one until a steady drizzle began to fall. He tugged at his hood, though it didn't help him much now that he'd already been dampened from the humidity in the air and the sweat on his back. He circled back around the boat, checking for any stray buoys or untied ropes while he waited for the signal to bring his haul back up. 

A heavy clang at the side of the boat called his attention. He hadn’t brought the rig down very deep and he was far from the coast. Did he misalign something when he was setting up? He mentally went over his loading checklist from that morning, but couldn’t come up with anything out of the norm—Clark was a man of routine, and he rarely strayed from it. He frowned up at the clouds, now rolling in, and back down at the roiling waters. It was too early to bring the net back up but even he knew not to tempt fate. 

Clark went back to the helm of the boat and raised a lever to signal the rig’s movement upward. As the steel arm rose, however, it made a creaking noise he’d heard only once before back when he bought the old fisher boat. The guy who had sold it to him ensured he would take care of it, but maybe Clark had been naïve to trust his words.

He set the lever back to its place and stalked out of the cockpit. So much for not using any strength, he thought wryly. He wrapped the rope connected to a pulley once around his hand. A strong pull shot the net through the surface of the water; It hung a few feet above where he stood, filled with silvery bass and something else he couldn’t quite make out in the rain.

“What the—“ That something else looked very… human. Alarmed, he secured the rope he was holding onto the deck and manually worked on the metal arm that held the netted bundle. The faulty rig was already broken, and he had no problem bending the steel back to fold it closer to the main deck. The net ripped apart with a yank of his fingers and he swiftly pulled the human body from the catch.

It was…a girl. It was you. Alive, somehow, but completely bare. He shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it carefully around your body. Though your eyes were still closed, you had instinctively curled into his arms. He held you, carefully, as though you would break at any moment, and made his way to the shelter of the captain’s pit. The nearest hospital wasn’t too far from the shore. As long as you were still breathing, they’d be able to help you.

Clark laid you down on a cushioned ledge next to the control panels of the cockpit. He started the journey back to shore, but from the corner of his eye, he could see that you had awakened. When he turned to face you, however, your eyes had already squinted shut. 

“You’re awake.” He left the helm to come closer, kneeling by your side to take a closer look at you. He hadn’t taken a proper look at your face yet. He wasn’t a doctor but he knew a bit of first aid; he could check for any head injuries and vital signs that way. When he noticed your body tense up, he thought better of touching you and brought his hand back down. 

“Miss?” He tried again and you peeked out from underneath his jacket. Large doe-like brown eyes stared at him unblinkingly. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He promised, but Clark was beginning to wonder if you could even understand him at all. 

“I want to move your hair.” He spoke slowly, miming the actions with his hands at his own wetted curls. You looked at him as if understanding and slowly sat up. Clark froze as the jacket he’d draped over you shifted to reveal the brown peaks of your nipples. He quickly averted his eyes, only returning them back to yours when you moved suddenly in his periphery. 

You were.. touching him? Or more accurately, touching his hair, copying his movements from earlier. 

“N-no, not my hair.” Clark didn’t know why he was suddenly flustered but he moved now, with purpose, to cover you back up. You sat up, following his eyes as he brushed your long locs back and away from your face. You decided you liked his eyes very much.

Clark sat back on his heels and studied you. Your face looked unmarred, ethereal even, brown skin shimmering faintly as if you generated your own sunlight. You touched him again, this time at an area under his bearded jaw. When your fingers lightly grazed the knob at his neck, he swallowed involuntarily. 

At that moment he saw it. It was imperceptible at first; hard to catch if you weren’t looking hard enough. On the sides of your neck, three thin slashes pulsated like heartbeats, like…gills? He had to get you back into the water. 

Clark sat on the closed lid of the toilet, deep in thought at the strange situation before him. He had pulled you out from the middle of the ocean and you were now sitting in his bathtub, resting your chin on the lip of the tub as he brooded. 

After seeing your gills (at least that was what they looked like) there was no way he could take you to the hospital. And throwing you back into the water just to get caught by another fisherman didn’t seem like the best idea either. 

Finally, as if making up his mind, he rolled up his sleeves and kneeled beside you with a washcloth. Pulling your arm gently towards him, he began to rub small circles of lather into your skin. 

He was always so serious when he looked at you but now he refused to meet your eyes, as if avoiding the glare of the sun. Had you done something wrong? He told you he wouldn’t hurt you. You didn’t understand the exact words, but you understood it from his eyes and you believed him. 

He took your other arm and your eyes followed his movements, but he hesitated for a moment at your chest. After a beat, Clark placed the washcloth in your hands and covered it with his own, guiding your clothed hand across your breasts.

You looked down in awe. His hands looked a lot different than yours; a lot bigger. And behind his hand, yours had completely disappeared. A soft nudge at your shoulder prompted you to turn around, breaking you out of your thoughts of the man in front of you.

Your back was to him now, and you could feel the warmth of his body heat, but you couldn’t see his eyes anymore. It made you uneasy when you couldn’t see them. You turned to face him again and he sat back, startled at your sudden movement. This time, Clark had given up on avoiding looking directly at you, searching your eyes for a hint of what you wanted. 

Before he could retract his hand from you, you clasped another hand over his willing it to stay. He obliged and continued, across your stomach, around your thighs, and down to your feet. After some time cleaning you, Clark wrung out the cloth and stood, pulling you to stand with him. You wondered why he seemed to ignore the area between your legs. You reached for the cloth but he took a step back. 

“N-no! That’s not—,” He looked away again, the tips of his ears tinged in pink. Clark looked around his bathroom for any kind of method of escape but found none. You weren't completely clean yet, but he knew he wouldn't get anywhere trying to explain to you why. He resigned himself to his fate and moved to find a basin.

You gazed up from under him. He was much bigger than you were. Just like with his hands, you noted his body could wholly cover yours; perhaps he could make you disappear under him just the same.

Not too long after, he presented you with a basin of fresh water and cupped his hand under yours. You let the water pool and leak through the gaps in your fingers. After a few tries you were able to hold a good amount of water in the crater of your palm. 

He demonstrated with you first, bringing your joined hands in between your thighs. Up from underneath your hand he helped you gently press apart your folds. He guided your fingers each time you’d collected your water, bringing it to your mound again and languidly rubbing until you felt his hand drift away. 

Clark watched you copy the movements he’d had taught you earlier. He could tell you were searching his eyes for confirmation, so he made sure to nod in assurance each time you looked at him.

When you stepped out of the bath he draped a warm towel around your shoulders, making sure to avoid the slits at your neck. He was staring intently at you now. The look in his eyes told you that he would keep you safe, and you believed him.

©️ blackreaderfics // credit to cafekitsune for the dividers

[justalovelyblackgf]

Movie Nights + Tickle Fights

fandom: smallville (2001-2011)

pairing: clark kent x black!chloe sullivan

casting: tom welling and kelly rowland

contains: lots of words, fluff, romance, mutual pining, a bit of shyness, established relationship, chloe is a bit stubborn, playful banter, a bit of a makeout session, brief descriptions of gore and blood.

taglist: @rosiestalez @afrowrites @afrogirl3005

@yugiohio

summary: ever since they were in middle school, clark and chloe would have a movie night every other weekend at her place. this is the first one they’ve had since they became an official couple and chloe suggests they watch a horror movie tonight. clark is apprehensive because each time they’ve tried to watch one in the past, chloe would be too scared to finish it and won’t go to sleep. chloe ain’t no punk, so she makes a wager with her boyfriend.

the amber glow of the lamps that sat on the tables on either side of the long, cushioned sofa lit up the sullivan’s living room to set the exact ambience that chloe was going for. the soles of her bare feet made a soft, yet fervent patting sound on the hardwood floors as she paced back and forth to make sure everything was in its right place and that she was prepared with the necessities that her and her anticipated company would have everything they need for the night. she began to conjour up a mental checklist of the final details: collections of dvds? check. several cartons tubs of ice cream purchased on dad’s credit card? check. warm and cozy blankets with pillows that are the right amount of fluff for cuddling? check.

chloe stopped her pacing to observe her figure in the living room mirror. the grey tank top she adorned exposed a bit of her waist and was met with a pair of white sweat pants. it wasn’t like he hadn’t had a glimpse of her bronze colored skin before considering it was part of her signature look in the daily rotation of outfits she owned. as she was adjusting the paisley patterned bandana that was secured on top of her black cherry highlighted bob that was perfectly curled at the ends, her stomach tingled with a rush of anxiety, but elation. this company she was expecting wasn’t just any company. this was clark kent. her best friend since the 7th grade and currently her first, serious relationship.

oh, no. this wasn’t just some casual, testing–the– waters type of connection. chloe and clark were locked in for real this time. no games, no ultimatum with smallville’s local sweetheart, it was just a real bond that got stronger no matter how much the circumstances tried to sever it. clark and chloe made the choice to be with each other and there was no regrets by either of them. the best part about this friendship turned budding romance was that this was someone she truly knew and truly loved. clark kent was her first, real, love since their youth. first loves can either be blissful or painful. trust and believe that chloe sullivan has experienced both at such an intensity. the source of bliss was just clark being…clark! the type of boy you bring home to mama well—dad in her case. his benevolence, humility, intelligence, charisma, empathy, and loyalty was a full package of its own. not to mention that clark was fine as hell! there are some cuties here and there at their school, but chloe believed that clark was too handsome to even be from this planet. he usually kept to himself, but whether he knew it or not, the girls were checking for the 6’3 raven haired, aqua eyed male always strolling in his signature flannel, jeans, and boots combo—and chloe was no different. these things alone gave her something more than butterflies and she learned to put more trust in him despite his…quirks.

now, even though they were tight for a good minute they definitely had some disagreements over the years about issues like the torch, clark’s weird secrecy, her natural nosiness as a journalist, clark not getting his priorities together when it came down between chloe and lana lang, his stubbornness and the type of guys she’s seeing that clark warns her about like she was his girl (he was right sometimes). sometimes these arguments would get so heated, one of them would cross a line to the point where they wouldn’t cross paths at school, that was the worst part. they eventually apologize, hug it out, and keep keepin’ on. even in the middle of a fight, when it really came to it, they were still down for each other!

they’ve always had movie nights over the years, but it was just a friendly kickback where they crack jokes, binge on junk food, and watch an R-rated movie from the secret stash when they knew they were just 13. that was very much platonic–until now. in a way, it was sort of like a first date, most couples would probably prefer a fancy restaurant, a picnic or night out in metropolis, but as along as chloe had clark by her side, she didn’t care where they were. she’s not tripping because they just started making things exclusive between them, so they’ll get there soon. she couldn’t help, but let a wide smile spread as her face heated up at thought of him.

speaking of her boyfriend. as if on cue, chloe’s train of thought came to halt when she heard the high pitched ring of the doorbell. her eyes shifted to the ticking clock on the wall that clearly read 8:00 PM on the dot. she shook her head to bring herself back to planet earth before taking a deep breath and power walking to the door. she elevated her bare heels off the floor to peer through the peephole because you’ll never know who’s really there until you check. she lovingly sighed with relief as her boyfriend’s tall frame came into the view of the circular looking glass he looked like his hands were tucked behind his back. chloe assumed it was just the rest of the snacks that clark agreed to pick up for the evening. the smile on her face doesn’t leave her glossed lips as she took the opportunity to unlock and turn the doorknob to the right before she finally removed the barrier that stands between them.

“hey, hey!” she greeted him, flashing a smile. her voice in her head register due to her excitement yet her nerves wrestling in her stomach. she swallowed it down and took a step back, so that he could enter through the door. “come on in! you’re right on time and i see that you’ve come bearing gifts?” she quipped, crossing her arms and leaning a bit to the left to peek at what was concealed behind his back. clark chuckled and flashed his own award winning smile. his cheeks tinted a light pink before he replied, “hey! i’m glad because i thought i was too early. oh, yeah! i stopped by the store and got some of our favorite toxic waste.” one of his arms came from behind to reveal two plastic bags filled with snacks and sodas for both of them to enjoy. “i used all my savings to make we had enough to last us through the night and i got you these…”

chloe’s brown eyes gazed down at the bouquet of pink peony tulips that were beautifully arranged and by judging of the vibrant, blush hue of the petals, they were obviously home grown and well taken care of before being delicately packaged. her pupils dilated at the bouquet as he set the bags down on a nearby table to take a step closer to her, the tulips the only thing in between them. she felt the temperature of her face rise again. her gleaming smile meeting clark’s before shifting her eyes to the flowers in his large hand. “clark i—thank you so much! you know you didn’t have to—“ he cut her sentence short. “no, chlo, i wanted to. i’ve realized that this is the first time we’ve spent time alone since we’ve made things official and even though it’s not on a big, fancy date, i wanted to show you that this night is special to me just as it is to you, so that’s why i wanted to show up with more than just the usual teeth-rotting junk.” they briefly laugh before he resumes speaking, “so with a lot of help from my mom, we grew these fresh on the farm and she said they represent ‘a perfect love and a new beginning’ chloe, i want this new beginning for us to start on the right foot. we’ve definitely had our share of differences in the past, but you’re someone i can always count on especially considering my—flaws and that’s why i want—no, need to stay by your side.” his proclamation was then cut short when chloe fills in the gap between them by embracing her arms around his torso, her head nuzzling securely on his chest. clark doesn’t hesitate as his own arms find their place around her upper body, bringing her in closer. his chin rested atop of her head, he can still inhale the familiar scent of the blue magic hair dress moisturizer she uses daily through the bandana.

“and i thought i could talk, but it seems i’ve truly met my match.” she murmured, listening to the sweet music of his heartbeat. “clark, i don’t care where we are or what we’re doing, i just want it to be with you and that’s more than enough for me.” she lifted her head to catch her gaze with his. her right hand slithering out from behind his back to delicately touch his beautifully sculpted jaw, the pad of her thumb slowly moving back and forth across his skin as she took a second to admire the contrast of their respective skin tones complimenting each other. “this love here will be imperfect. any love is, but there’s no one else i’d rather do it with.” she finally spoke before her toes aid in lifting her face up closer to his, placing a soft, yet lingering kiss on his cheek and looked back to see that the boy’s face had matched the rosy hue of the flowers he’d given her. not only that, a bit of her glittering lip gloss left an imprint.

she lets out a laugh and wipes the residue off with her thumb. “my bad, clark! but, seriously this means so much to me. thank you again.” she momentarily breaks the embrace and takes a step back to retrieve the flowers, butterflies emerging in her abdomen as their hands meet again to make the exchange. chloe takes a few seconds to truly admire the gift of the farm boy, bringing the flowers to her nose to take in their scent. “you and miss martha really put in that work, huh? they look amazing!” he admires her as she fawns over the flowers.

“you look amazing.” he chimed in. a smirk rising on his lips as he watched her take a pause. damn, that farm boy charm will always work in his favor. that compliment almost caused her brain to completely malfunction. chloe playfully rolls her eyes, a cheesy grin playing on her face as she walks to find an empty vase to fill with water before putting the flowers in. if this boy is saying this while i’m just in a tank and sweats, imagine if—girl, you better stop. she shuts down her inner voice before she responds, “aw, i appreciate it, boo! but flattery doesn’t get you off the hook from popcorn duty. you know where to find everything. i’m in charge of picking out the movie, so get to it!” playfully, she tapped him on the arm and picked up the bags of the other snacks, bringing them to the coffee table set before the sofa. clark snickered, shaking his head. yep, that’s my chloe.

he nodded, accepting the task and made his way to the kitchen. he rummaged around in the sullivan’s pantry to retrieve one of the many packages of jiffy pop. he took a quick glance behind him to find chloe herself searching meticulously for a film to watch. he noticed how she furrowed her brows with focus as she read the titles and descriptions from front to back. her face scrunching up in disapproval before putting the vhs back in its rightful place. she was definitely preoccupied enough for clark to turn his head back to the raw, packaged corn kernels that were sitting atop the stove. his pupils focused on the object for a few seconds as the heat started to radiate. the foil began to expand wider the longer he stared. after about a minute and a half, clark, feeling accomplished at how much of a handle he’s got on his newfound ability, decided that the popcorn was prepared to perfection. he poured the snack into a large bowl for the couple to share. he sauntered in the living room as his enhanced hearing picked up on sounds of the mumblings of his girlfriend.

“no…no… ha, yes! got it.” chloe beamed triumphantly, holding the tape with her back to clark.

“it sounds like you’ve struck gold, so i’m guessing you’ve finally chosen what we’re watching tonight?” he questioned placing the popcorn down on the coffee table before making his way in her direction to stand behind her. his towering height made it possible to see the title cover of the film she carried. his eyebrows furrow before one of them raises.

“you want to watch ‘scream’ ? chlo’, i’m not sure that’s a good idea.” clark advises with a reluctant expression, placing his palm on her shoulder.

“what? why not, clark? i didn’t want to put on something cheesy. it’s been a minute since we’ve seen a good scary movie, you know. you’re not scared are you?” she seemed puzzled that this boy who has faced individuals that fit the criteria of her “wall of weird” at the “torch” would be frightened of a slasher film until he replied, “it’s not me that i’m worried about. it’s you. i remember when we were 12, you wanted us to watch ‘a nightmare on elm street’ and when it was over, you begged me to stay up all night with you watching ‘blues clues’, so you wouldn’t get nightmares and we haven’t watched a horror movie ever since. i didn’t really mind back then, but that really worried me.”

chole dismissed his plea before turning her body to his, still looking down at the tape.

“mmcht! c’mon, clark. that was like what—almost 4 years ago? for one, i’m grown…ish! for two, i ain’t no punk because the way things are set up in smallville, i’ve faced worse than fine ass psychotics playing dress up and stabbing horny teens. you really don’t think i can handle it?” she challenged. a gaze of intrigue played in her eyes and she crossed one arm across her exposed stomach as her hand fidgeted with the tape.

“it’s not that i don’t think you can handle it, chloe. maybe you chose it because—“ he took a beat of pause, licking his lips before taking one inch closer to his girlfriend and adjusting his knee to meet her height and utter softly in her ear. “it’s just an excuse to get closer to me. the more i think about it, the more i think how adorable it is!”he stood back up to his previous position, cheekily grinning at chloe’s “pissed” reaction. a hearty, but dry faux chuckle leaves her lips.

“oh, ho ho. so you think i’m trying to get right? don’t get too hot, now. watch me sit through this movie without flinching. matter of fact, i’ll bet you twenty dollars and a week of free lattes from the talon that i can watch this movie and sleep like a baby. all. night. long.” she sized him up (the best she knew how) and pointed her finger on his very toned chest. lord, help me. this was the wrong time to start getting flustered right now.

“come on, chloe i don’t think—“

“what, clark? you scared? you know there’s something in it for you if you so happen to win. tell me what you want.”

he froze upon seeing her face this close. a teasing glint playing in those deep pools of brown. her perfectly arched brow raising above the other as a smirk formed on her naturally lined lips. the shine of her lip gloss still hasn’t diminished from that kiss she laid on his crimson face earlier. clark wondered just how much—how much more would it take to get all that glittering substance removed from her lips? this was a challenge that he was willing to take on. only if she’s down for it of course, clark wouldn’t do anything that she wasn’t comfortable with and vice versa. he reciprocated the smirk to match her energy before responding,

“that’s for me to know and for you to find out. as a journalist, it shouldn’t be too hard for you.”

she snickered, shaking her head. typical clark. always playing “the man of mystery” all too well.

“it’s a bet. you better get that allowance ready to blow on your girl’s caffeine addiction.” she says before taking a step back and holding out her hand to shake.

“all i can say is may the best one win.” clark humbly utters giving her hand a firm, kent handshake to finalize the deal. he won’t say it, but he’s got this in the bag. he takes it upon himself to let chloe find her position on the sofa while he inserts the tape into the vcr. after pressing the “play” button, he returns to comfortably take a seat next to where chloe’s sitting with the bowl of popcorn on her lap for both of them indulge in. he places one arm along the back of the couch behind her shoulders and the other, reaching for the buttery snack.

the film opens as drew barrymore’s “casey” is conversing on the phone with the deep voice of an unknown man who calls her by mistake, but he wants to keep talking. there is some mild flirting between the two and he’s asking her questions such as what her favorite scary movie is and if she has a boyfriend. things then take a turn when he reveals that he’s been watching her the whole time that they’ve been on the phone. the scene heightens with suspense as the girl is locking doors, constantly looking over her shoulders, and aggressively threatens to call the police on this creep. chloe absentmindedly scoots an inch closer to clark as she watches, not knowing that he’s glancing at her through his peripheral vision. his heightened sense of hearing picking up the sound of the silent gulp run down her throat and heart rate increase in tempo by the time they watch the cloaked figure run through the house looking for his next victim after he guts the battered and bloodied football player from the inside out with a hunting knife. with each minute of the scene proceeding, she just got a little bit closer to the point her forearm was touching the side of his torso. with her this close, it sounds like her heart was going to leap from her chest! clark was now starting to get concerned, so he taps her should and leans in to whisper in her ear.

“hey, are you okay? we can just drop the bet and watch something else, chloe. i want to make sure that both of us have a good time tonight,okay?” he peers his baby blues to her brown with the gentleman-like sincerity that martha and jonathan definitely raised him with. the hand that was behind her shoulders came slowly in contact with her skin to bring her in closer and reassuringly caress her forearm. chloe knew that clark’s eye contact had better communication than his mouth sometimes, so she knew he was really looking out for her. a smile was growing on her face as her affection, gratitude, and respect grew for him. ugh—what a man. it’s just those little things that he does that’s always a reminder to her of “why him?” why not him? god, if it wasn’t so soon she would just blurt out those three little words, but there was another three she had to confess to end this wager—forfeiting. she took a deep breath and opened her mouth to speak before she was interrupted by a shrill sound,

“clark, i—“

“RRRRRIIIIIIINGGGG!”

her head turns quickly to the spiral, corded landline hanging on the wall in between the kitchen and living room, waiting for her to accept the call. she then turns to clark, “let me get that real quick. pause the movie till i get back?” clark gives her nod, removing his arm from around her, and pressing the “pause” button on the remote. she rises from the sofa and trudges towards the phone, inwardly groaning at whoever the hell may be calling to interrupt this moment with her boyfriend. her hand reaches to pick up the receiver and puts it to her ear and gives the customary “hello?” to the caller. clark sits patiently as his ears pick up on the conversation to make sure everything’s alright.

“oh, hey dad!”

that’s right! her father, gabe, was spending the weekend in metropolis for a deal he needed to close on for the plant. he continued to listen.

“nothing, just having a movie night with clark. you know, like when we were kids?…. yeah, yeah we’ll make sure to clean up! is everything alright in metropolis? … that’s what’s up! i’m glad to hear that…no. no, dad—we are not doing that! lalalala! i can’t hear you! … seriously we just started dating, so no….yes, sir. i’ll tell him you said ‘hi.’ okay, we will…i love you, too. bye, daddy!”

she hurriedly hangs up the phone feeling mortified at her father’s forwardness. as she walks back she proceeds dish the details of the conversation. the highlight of it was that gabe suggested they’d “use protection” just in case because he was a “teenager once and he refuses to see her end up like so and so’s daughter”, earning a flustered laugh from each other.

the laughing died down. chloe cleared her throat to resume her previous sentence in a low voice as the heat of embarrassment hit her face.

“you, win clark…”

now matter how quiet the volume of her voice, clark heard it loud and clear. now, it was time to put his plan in action. with a mischievous grin he leaned in for her to repeat the sentence.

“i’m sorry? i don’t think i heard you that first time you’re gonna have to speak up, chlo’. “

she grumbles, “i said you win, clark.”

“i still can’t hear you, sweetheart. i guess you leave me no choice…” he teases, the pitch of his voice lowers as he draws his body closer to her on the sofa much like a crouching predator about to pounce on its prey. clark’s large hands were aiming to hover each side of her waist. chloe chuckles as the nerves of excitement yet anticipation shoot through her veins while she scoots herself backwards to create distance. a hint of playful fear curves on her full lips. she moves so far back that her spine falls against the cushion. clark’s smirking face now hovering over his giggling girlfriend still trying to play that stubborn act he knows too well.

“chloe sullivan, i’ll give you one last chance to admit your defeat out loud or else, you’ll have to suffer the consequences!” he states not daring to keep his eyes of her own, a sound of determination in his tone.

“clark kent, if you don’t back up! now, i know you heard me. just what the hell are you do—no, no! d-don’t! ah haha haha! stop!” chloe squeals after clark swiftly dives forward rapidly moving his digits along her waist. her body squirming trying to escape from his grip. it was futile! as the laughter takes over her system, her body gets weaker under his touch. chloe’s contagious symphony of laughter didn’t take long for clark’s own chortles to harmonize. his pearly canines are exposed as his ears and heart are captivated by the pure tone of their happiness. his fingers take a pause.

“come on, chloe! repeat what you said!” he teasingly declares.

“n-no, you’ve heard me! i s-swear, clark! hahaha! she stubbornly squeaked out when she felt his fingers resume their attack on the tender area of her ribs. her sounds increasing in volume when he proceeded to apply a bit of pressure to her skin. the more stubborn she is, the more relentless he gets. during their friendship, he was kind of used to chloe bossing him around like an unpaid intern while she held down “the torch”. proofreading and editing articles, doing research, getting her coffee, you name it. clark knew it was about time to get his lick back! his fingers don’t stop at her ribs before they start they ascend to the sides of her neck. that’s exactly what got her. “stop— i can’t! p-please, clark! i’ll say it, haha! you win, clark, you win! i got scared!”

clark ceases his movements before his hands fall on either side of chloe’s neck as her voice diminishes. the couple has a stare down as the room is now filled with labored breathing as their chests rapidly heave, rising and falling until they reach the steady rhythm. clark breaks the silence.

“say it again.” he urges softly. his arched raven toned brows raise slightly, his oceanic gaze softens against her dark amber. the corners of his lips curving into a victorious smile of a bonafide winner.

“you win.” she confesses in a volume clear enough to accept her defeat, but the steady beat of her heart raced the longer she peered into his eyes. her own pupils wielding affection at the satisfied grin plastered across his face. a sense of playfulness washed over her as she knew he was eating up his opportunity at having the upper hand this time. whether one be victorious or defeated, clark and chloe would still find that common bliss between each other and for each other. it was now chloe’s turn to break the silence.

“now what was that prize you wanted so badly that it was worth hiding, hm?” she inquires, quirking her brow.

ready?

his pupils briefly focus on the lingering coat of shine on her lips. he gulps, licking his own nervously before taking a breath and a leap of courage.

aim.

“i’d like the pleasure of taking off your lip gloss —only if that’s okay with you, of course. it’s no pressure.” his face moves in closer as his right thumb inches to the side of her jawline to caress her sun-adored skin. his eyes shift from hers to her awaiting mouth again. the touch alone sends a surge of electric warmth through the young couple.

at first, his phrase left her puzzled. what does he mean by that? is there something wrong with my lip—oh. ooooh! you got that one, clark. the heat seeped into face as realization settled in after she mentally put the together the pieces within seconds. girl, what the hell are you waiting for!? give that boy what you’ve been wanting to give him for years!

her conscience finally breaking out of her train of thought before she finally gives him the answer to cease the suspense once for all.

“yeah, clark. go for it!” she whispers softly, titling her face up a bit forward to meet him halfway.

fire.

like a moth to a flame, clark’s lips immediately drew to chloe’s completely closing the gap between them. they begin with one gentle and lingering kiss to get an initial feel for each other’s touch on a new level. it’s exhilarating! before they knew, they only crave for more. with each kiss, their tempo increases as their own unique rhythm sets the stage for their dance. clark’s hands find their place at the sides of chloe’s jaw to bring her face up closer against his as her fingers entrap themselves in the dark jungle of his curls. with the gentlest of motions, his palms descend from her jaw to her shoulders finally reaching their desired destination to the center of her spine. clark carefully applies pressure to signal her to sit upright. chloe reads the signal clearly and follows his lead, their chests centimeters from each other when clark sits himself up against the couch, his hands sliding to the small of her back. chloe adjusts her knees against the side of each his legs, her arms encircling his broad, muscular shoulders.

a hum vibrates from chloe’s chest as she decides to take initiative by softly tugging clark’s now swollen, plush bottom lip between her teeth before releasing it to its original position. clark intends to match that same energy. he tilts her face in the opposite direction to slither his tongue to intimately mingle with hers, chloe whimpers in both surprise and approval of his forwardness. they continue to get lost within each other for another minute before they release to take a pause of realization of what’s going on between them. the lovers slowly bring their foreheads to connect, silently communicating their affection without ceasing their eye contact, and content smiles curving on their swollen lips. once their breathing is steady, they realize that tonight’s activities took a toll on their bodies. they take a second to stretch themselves from their previous position before clark lays on his side bringing chloe to lay in the (literal) shield of his chest, wrapping his arms around her figure once she’s comfortably nuzzling her face close enough to indulge in the sound of his heartbeat, allowing her eyes to doze away for the night. clark lays a final kiss upon the top of her silk wrapped scalp as his kryptonian senses tune in to her heartbeat before his own slumber follows suit.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Happy Birthday, Cupcake

Title: Happy Birthday, Cupcake

Rating: G

Pairing: Clark Kent x PlusSize!Reader (Cupcake)

Word Count: 900

Summary: Clark surprises you for your birthday.

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff

A/N: For @lilacprincessofrecovery, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! I hope today is absolutely fantastic for you, you deserve it. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist 

He had set the alarm for 11:59 pm to give you exactly a minute to get your bearings together while he placed kisses all over your face. His chuckle at your confusion is what woke you up fully.

“Happy Birthday, Cupcake,” Clark whispers in the dark to you before turning on the bedside lamp, “I couldn’t wait to get my arms around you again.”

“Clark, we just went to sleep less than two hours ago,” You chuckle at his impatience as his hands roam over your voluptuous figure, “You know I don’t want a bunch of hoopla over today, right?”

“Yeah, I heard you the first fifty times you said it,” Clark smiles down at you and kisses your forehead, “But that doesn’t mean I have to listen.”

“Clark–”

The rush of air as Clark speeds out of the room is enough to cut you off. Your hair whipping in your face muffles any words you tried to say. One of these days, you were going to get used to that. It’s not like he does it a lot, just mostly in the middle of your sentences.

In the blink of an eye, he is back in the room holding a gift box. He walks over to sit in bed with you and pulls a card out from behind his back. He lifts the card and waves it.

“Card first, then you can have what’s in this box, Cupcake.” He hands you the card and you read your name in Clark’s handwriting on the envelope.

You open it up to find a card with black and white artwork of a young boy kissing a blushing young girl on the cheek. You giggle at the sweet image and open the card to find Clark’s words.

‘Happy Birthday to the light of my life.

You are the reason why I smile, laugh, and hope.

I want you to enjoy your special day because you’ve earned it.

No matter what you think you deserve, take every smile and every wish, and every gift.

But, take mine first because it’s the best and I really want you to like it.

I love you, my sweet girl.

-C’

You finish reading and your heart swells with how freaking adorable this man is. He’s great at writing notes in cards and making you feel like a Queen. He loves you, after all. Every nook and cranny of you. 

“Clark, that was beautiful. Thank you so much, baby,” You kiss him and rest your forehead against his, “So can I have my gift now?” 

Clark beams, handing you the thin rectangular box. You return his smile and release the ribbon from around it. You remove the lid and find a gorgeous chain with a heart pendant encasing your birthstone as well as Clark’s birthstone. 

You gasp and cover your mouth. “Clark!”

“Do you wanna try it on?” He laughs and takes the box from you after you nod excitedly. Walking around the bed, he stands at your side and you turn your back to him so he can put on your gift.

After fastening the clasp, Clark kisses the nape of your neck. “Your other gift is in the living room, Cupcake.” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Other gift? Clark, I told you–”

“Yeah, I know. Just, indulge me?” His arms wrap around you and you squeak as he lifts you off the bed with ease. Yet another thing you will just have to get used to. Clark’s strength was on full display whenever he picked you up like you were a bag of feathers. 

And let’s face it, sometimes feeling teeny tiny is just what the doctor ordered. Letting yourself feel precious is all a part of your self-care after all. 

He takes your hand, leading you through the hallway and into the living room which is lit solely by candlelight. Everywhere you look is covered in tea lights. It’s magical. Clark leads you to the center of the room and then steps behind you.

“Clark, what’s going on?” You ask, turning around and seeing Clark on one knee holding out an open ring box.

“I know you’re not really big on celebrating your birthday, but I want to change that. I am so grateful for this date. I’m so thankful that you were born so that I could spend the rest of my life loving you,” He lifts out the ring and holds it up to you, “Would you do me the tremendous honor of being my wife?”

With tears in your eyes, you nod and choke out a “Yes.” Clark places the ring on your shaking hand and stands to wipe away your tears. Leaning down to kiss you, Clark wraps his arms around you and holds you close for a few moments.

“So, this is minimal hoopla, right?” Clark tests the waters and raises an eyebrow as he leans back to lock eyes with you.

“I’d say it’s the definitive amount of hoopla,” You reply, raising your hand to look at your ring as it sparkles in the candlelight before cupping Clark’s cheek, “Absolutely perfect.”

“I can’t believe it’s your birthday and I’m the one who feels like they’ve been given the best gift in the world,” Clark grins from ear to ear, “Happy Birthday, Cupcake. I love you.”

“I love you too, Clark.”

A/N: I’m a sucker for Clark Kent and so is @lilacprincessofrecovery. I am so excited to have written this for you for your birthday, my dear. Enjoy your day and take time to be grateful for the small things.

**Tag List**

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67

@astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁

[wallflowerimagines]

Egg's Masterlist

🌺🪷For all my favorite Wallflowers🌸🌼

Last Updated: 4/21/2023

Resident Evil 8: Village

All Four Lords

The Lords React to You Using Slang

The Lords With An Emotionally Distant Partner

The Lords with a Bloodborne Hunter Partner

Virgin Reader wants the Lords as their First

The Lords With a Firebending Partner

The Lords With a Shy but (Hardcore) Protective Partner

Their Partner is Eva Reincarnated

The Lords with a Playfully Affectionate Partner

Their Partner Gets a New Tattoo

Their Partner Dies(Angst)

The Lords + Dimitrescu Daughters React to You going to College

With a Bony, but Cuddly Partner

The Lords With a HANDSY Partner

Their Partner Can See Ghosts

Their Partner Has Chronic Pain

The Lords x Buff! Reader

Their Partner Enjoys Emo and Pop-Punk Music

Their Partner Plays Lots of Instruments

The Lords Milder Kink Headcannons (Suggestive, N*S*F*Wy)

Reader has Horrible Period Cramps

The Lords adopt a Child Reader with Mercury Wings

Reader steals and Wears Their Clothes

Reader Has Gutter Brain and Lives In Horny Jail (Suggestive)

Their Partner Dresses up Fancy

Reader Rejects The Lords (Angst)

Alcina Dimitrescu

Lady Dimitrescu Crush Headcannons

Alcina x Passive! Reader

Lady Dimitrescu's N*S*F*W Preferences(Smut, GN)

Alcina x Dense! Reader

Her Partner Has a Warehouse Job

Alcina x Autistic! Reader

...Their Partner is Eva Reincarnated, Goofy Edition (Suggestive)

Donna Beneviento

Donna Beneviento Crush Headcannons

First Kiss Headcannons

Her Partner Has a Warehouse Job

Touchstarved! Donna x Affectionate! Reader

Donna x VERY SHY! Reader

Donna x Mute! Reader

Relationship Brainrot, Donna Edition

Salvatore Moreau

Salvatore Moreau Crush Headcannons

Moreau x Cuddly! Reader

Moreau x Dense! Reader

Reader Rejects the Other Lords in Favor of Salvatore

Affection Brainrot, Moreau Edition

TouchStarved! Moreau x Affectionate! Reader

Karl Heisenberg

Karl Heisenberg Crush Headcannons

...Their Partner is Eva Reincarnated, Goofy Edition (Suggestive)

The Sales Pitch (Smut, Fem! Reader)

Friends to Lovers Is Cannon Brainrot, Sorry not Sorry

His Partner Attempts Suicide (TW: Suicide)

The Duke

With a HANDSY Partner

Ethan Winters

The Crackship (Ethan x Miranda)

With a Bony, Cuddly Partner

Dimitrescu Daughters

Bela Dimitrescu Crush Headcannons

Cassandra Dimitrescu Crush Headcannons

Daniela Dimitrescu Crush Headcannons

Bela x Magic! Reader

The Daughters and Lady Dimitrescu Are introduced to Sparkling Blood

Fallout 4

Travis Miles Crush Headcannons

Travis Miles Relationship Headcannons

Travis Miles x DJ! Sole Survivor

Vault-Tech Rep Crush Headcannons

Kent Connolly Confession Headcannons

Misc. Imagines

To Be Updated!

[alaspice]

𝐒𝐨𝐥 𝟎𝟑

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : Xavier Thorpe x Fem Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Water is not your friend.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: almost drowning, blood, language 

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.8K

a/n this starts pre-canon in the school year before Wednesday shows up, This is big time Slow Burn, strap in.

Prev

For some who was so connected to the sun, you didn’t enjoy the heat. Heat is sticky and uncomfortable. It’s stuffy and suffocating, snatching any semblance of comfort. Worse of all, heat is harmful. The amount of times you had accidentally burned someone because you couldn’t keep yourself in check was too high for your liking.

It was the insane heat that brought everyone here in the first place. Being the third week of school, the summer air had not yet left New England. With that came the agonizing humidity and scorching sun. Sitting around miserable, it was Divina who had the idea to go out to the lake. No one needed convincing to head down the considerably cooler water. 

While everyone was splashing in the murky waters, you stayed in the shallows. If you were heat, then the chill of water was your natural enemy. While it didn’t hurt you to be in it, water was just uncomfortable to you; you were insanely out of your element. 

You mindlessly meandered in the shallows as you balanced on the slimy rocks and plants. You had rolled up the legs of your flowing pants to above your knees, though the water didn’t even pass mid shin. The mud felt cooling on your soles as you kicked up clouds of muck, the occasional crawdad scurrying away. The pond smell has already faded into the background. 

You leaned down and ran your gloveless hands through the water, a small amount of the steam rising from your skin. A few water bugs danced across the surface, at your disturbance. Your fingers delicately flitted across the smooth stones, finally settling for a flat piece of siltstone. Plucking it up, you flipped it over in your palm before flicking it across the water. It skipped for a few seconds before disappearing into the dark depths. 

A sudden yelp brought your eyes up from the fading ripples and further into the lake. It had been Yoko. From her flailing form and the devious look from Kent, she has most likely been thrown. Smiling to yourself, you leaned back over and chose another stone to skip.

Out of your periphery, you saw a mass lazily floating over to you. Xavier was on his back, loose hair floating around his head like a halo. His eyes were closed to his surroundings but he seemed to know exactly where he was going. You grabbed another stone, and skipped it close to his head, a few droplets landing on his skin. One eye opened.

“You could’ve hit me.” Xavier’s words held no intent behind them. You and him both knew that his head was never your target. 

“Remember when we used to do this?” while it wasn’t a whisper, but your voice was quiet.  

“Hmm?” Xavier kicked his legs so he would drift closer to you. You looked at his hands. His fingers were splattered with the remnants of a deep purple paint.

“We used to see who could skip the furthest…member?” You skipped another rock “We would have Rowan judge.” 

Xavier rolled slightly in the water and got on his knees. He began fishing around in the murk, stirring up clouds in the once clear water. 

“If I remember correctly...” Xavier pulled his empty hand out, now covered in mud “I was the frequent champion.” He plunged back in

You scoffed “If I remember correctly,” you mocked his words  “you were a sore loser.” 

He feigned offense, his non busy hand smashing over his heart “Words hurt, (Y/N).” Xavier pulled out a smooth stone. “words hurt.” 

Xavier finally stood, and wound up to throw his rock. Letting go, it made one wimpy skip before disappearing under the water with a loud plunk.  

“oh.”

Your laughter was barking. It came from deep within you, and pierced the quiet air of the lake. You had to lean over to try and get any oxygen in through the mirth. Xavier stood shocked, his mouth slightly ajar and eyes wide. He had definitely not expected this outcome. You were beginning to calm from your laughter, a slight wheeze in your throat. 

“You spoke too soon, Xav.” You took a step deeper into the water. 

“I call a mulligan.” 

“Nope.” You popped the p “it’s 1: nothin’.” you leaned down to get another stone. Something more slimy than the stones bushed past your fingers. You pulled back fast. 

“What?” the humor was instantly gone from Xavier’s voice “What is it.”

“Oh nothing.” You walked to the side a bit “Probably just a plant or somethin’.” 

Xavier was still looking around your old spot.

“You’ll have better luck deeper in.” you gestured around you “I got everything good over ther-ahhh-” 

Something had wrapped around your ankle and tugged. You could briefly hear Xavier’s “Oh fuck!” before going under. 

One second you were screaming above the water, and the next, you were being dragged along the rocks. The luminescence of your skin was getting more evident the further in you went; the murky water glowing a sickly green. You shut your eyes against the long plants of the lake that kept smacking you across the face. You didn’t know how much time had passed, but you had run out of air long ago. 

Were you going to die? You could feel the desperation for oxygen go from your lungs down to your toes. Water invaded your mouth and nose and you no longer had the strength to force it out. 

You felt it in your stomach first. The hum was warming and it energized you to your core. Was this it? Were you finally passing on? Was this the release of death? The questions were short lived as the feeling reached your fingers. They began to move on their own accord, reaching out to the depths to your left. This wasn’t death you were feeling, it was raw power. 

You didn’t have time to think about it as the rush you were feeling was dying off, quickly being replaced by a primal urgency for air. You flailed against the current coming from whatever was pulling you, your hands desperately trying to find something to grip onto. Your limbs began to feel heavy as you began to lose focus on fighting. You could hardly register the new grip upon your shoulders as your head lulled back, unable to stay awake any longer. 

Breath. 

It was the first thing that came across your mind as you began involuntarily coughing, lake water gushing out of your mouth.  You were vaguely aware of a force on your back as you gulped mouthfuls of air. You didn’t care that it burned your throat. 

Looking up from the solid ground, you were met with the hazel eyes of Xavier. He was hovering, hands outstretched as if he wanted to touch you. Taking more gulps of air, you looked behind you to see Bianca, her hand running up and down your back. Through the shallow she was still in, you could see the silver scales of her tail. 

“Breath (Y/N).” she commanded, her hand still on your back “You need to breath” 

You leaned forwards, your forehead landing on the damp ground. You could feel the lakeside mud sticking to your skin, but you just didn’t care.

“What happened?” 

“You were pulled under.” Xavier spoke, his voice solemn “B dove in and was able to pull you out.”

“It was some sort of tentacled bottom feeder, I think.” While it wasn’t directed at you, you could still feel the anger radiating off of Bianca. 

“Thank you, Bianca” 

Getting your breathing more under control, you rolled over so you were resting on your back. 

Marcella gasped “(Y/N), your leg!”

You looked to see a dark puddle forming under your right calf. Sitting up to examine it, you found a pretty sizable gash from where the creature had grabbed you. It was the size of your palm and leaking deep red with streaks of gold mixed in. They caught the rays of the afternoon sun and seemed to glow even brighter. Your dampness was not helping stop the flow of blood. Bianca handed you a dry shirt. She examined the blood on her hand as you wrapped the dry cloth around your calf. 

“(Y/N), what’s this gold stuff?” Ajax quickly grabbed Bianca’s hand and examined the blood. She scoffed and quickly pulled it back

“Did that thing bite you or somethin?” the swim cap he was wearing was wiggling, the snakes trying to get out “Cause like” he gulped “discolored blood is like a huge sign of venom.”

“No.” you finished tying the cloth “It’s just ichor.” 

“What?” 

You had said is so casually that the group felt dumb they didn’t know that was. Eyes wide, Bianca swiftly put her hand in the lake. The blood clouded around her hand till it disappeared into the water. 

“Ichor.” you hesitantly stood, testing the pressure on your injured leg. “The blood of the gods.” 

Everyone nodded their heads, the pieces being put together. Everyone except Bianca

“Why would that be in your blood?” 

“Because my dad’s a primordial.” 

You took a step forward, stumbling slightly. You fell onto Ajax; he steadied you.  As you were beginning to gain your strength back, small tufts of steam began rising from your skin. You took another step forward. While it was with a limp, you were able to stay upright. 

“I’m going to head up to the infirmary, see if this needs stitches.” you gestured to your leg 

“I’ll come with you.” Marcella stepped forwards, but you held out your hands to stop her

 “Nah, it's okay, Marce. You enjoy the lake.” you took another step forwards, wincing slightly “I’ll see you all at dinner.” 

You turned, walking up the hill. As you went, you could shake what had happened. Not only could you not fully grasp that you had almost died, but you had definitely felt celestial power.

Only once before had you felt like that, and it had been the only time you had seen your father’s chariot. It was during an eclipse that he had come down to see you and your mother. In all of its golden glory, you could feel its power course through your veins as your child hands brushed over the detailing. The chariot was only slightly younger than time, and a relic of the old world. 

Whatever was down there was ancient.  

The group watched your retreating form, wincing at the limp you couldn’t quite hide. 

By now Bianca had dried off, and walked to be next to Xavier. He slung his hand over her shoulder as she leaned into him.  

“So her dad is like a god?” she was genuinely curious 

“Titan technically.” Xavier answered “Her dad is Helios.” 

“Wait…” it was Kent “Does that mean her mom like… fucked the sun?” 

Divina smacked his shoulder “Dude, come on.” 

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[eleanor-bradstreet]

Love to Spare - Part 1 (Anthony Bridgerton x Reader)

Anthony Bridgerton x fem!Reader Friendship, fluff and angst Word count: 1.5k

Part 2 Masterpost

Author's Note: I have no idea what this is, it just poured out of my brain today. A love letter to the way I view Anthony. More to come and Ben is on the way, have no doubt.

Summary: You first see the boy and years later, have an unexpected visitor.

You first saw the boy when you were sixteen. He had walked stiffly past the drawing room and into your father’s office, his eyes terrified but his jaw locked with determination. He seemed too young to be taking a meeting with your father, and you asked about it later.

“That is the Viscount Bridgerton.” Your father explained, and told you how the boy’s father had died tragically, too soon.

The Viscount’s meetings were frequent in the first year, and in the glimpses you caught of him, walking through the front hall or approaching the steps, you noticed that his frightened boyish look quickly hardened into something else. He became a man, brow hardened and eyes burning, purposeful with his business, resolute. You felt pity for him. You couldn’t imagine the pressures he was under, in charge of an estate and family and only a few years older than yourself. And you also felt admiration, that he was rising to the challenge, so clearly dutiful, when no one would have blamed him for disappearing into laziness or drink, or traveling away altogether.

But he did have moments when it became too much to bear, and it was in one of these moments that you met properly. It was the dead of night on a cold late summer evening. Your father was away on business and the rest of the household was fast asleep. You, as usual, had stayed up reading in your father’s study. There was a knock at the front door, and muffled shouting. You probably should not have gone to investigate yourself, but your sole footman was old and you didn’t want to wake him. And the sounds didn’t seem threatening, they seemed desperate.

Warily, you opened the door and peered out to find the Viscount, disheveled and wobbling on the doorstep, asking to speak to your father. When you explained that he was away, you could see tears start to build in the man’s eyes. He was clearly drunk, very much so, and stumbled over his own feet when he turned to leave. Something ached in your chest watching him, looking so wretched, and you insisted he come inside and rest for a moment. In his altered state, he didn’t need much convincing, and you kept a steadying hand on his shoulder as you guided him to the study where he collapsed into a chair. You brought him a glass of water which he would only drink after you told him it was gin, and even after he gulped it down, he didn’t seem to find any discrepancy.

“Thank you Miss y/l/n,” he slurred, then looked at you curiously, his eyes glassy. “What is your name?”

You told him. “And you are Anthony Bridgerton. What are you doing here so late, my lord?”

Confusion knotted his features. “I had business… Business I needed to see to before I return to Kent… I…”

The glistening tears returned to his eyes and he seemed to fade away for a moment, lost in his internal world. You saw the boy again, the scared boy he used to be. Then with a heaving breath, he snapped back to himself and looked around the room as if just realizing where he was, his gaze landing on you, frightened and humiliated.

“My god, Miss y/l/n, I am so sorry. So terribly sorry. This is unforgivably inappropriate of me, I should never have disturbed you…” He was still drunk, but had reached a tier of lucidity and rose from the chair to fumble for the door.

“My lord,” you called, making him pause and turn to you. “I am the only one who knows you are here, and it will remain that way.” His dark eyes widened with surprise. “You are in no fit state to go walking through the streets, so please sit and rest until you regain yourself. You are not disturbing me.”

He stood frozen, unsure of how to proceed. “It would be scandalous for us to stay here alone together.”

You arched a brow at him. “More or less scandalous than barging into your solicitor’s home after midnight, drunk as a sailor?”

First he was shocked at your retort, and then deflated with shame. You continued, “My lord, no one is awake. No one will know of this, you have my word. But I cannot in good conscience let you wander out into the street until you’re steady on your feet again. And besides, I am not a debutante and as such, my parents don’t hold with the same level of propriety you may be used to.”

At this, he nodded numbly and sank back into the chair. His eyes immediately wandered to the decanter on your father’s desk, within arm’s reach to him, that had just two fingers of brandy left in it.

“You’re not to drink anymore.” You stated firmly. “Shall I remove temptation?” Then you stood, poured the liquor into a glass and sat in the chair opposite him, sipping it pointedly.

Anthony stared at you, drunk and confused. “Why are you so keen to help a foolish stranger like me?”

“You’re not really a stranger,” you shrugged, taking another sip of brandy, which was making you bold. “I have seen you coming to appointments with my father for years.”

He nodded vaguely, “Ah. Well, I have seen you too and I am sorry I did not introduce myself properly before now.”

“Would this be considered a proper introduction?” You giggled, making him blush with shame. “No, my lord, I’m sorry. It is alright. Why would we have been introduced before? There was no need.”

“Why have you not debuted?” he asked.

The question you always dreaded. You were old enough that you could have debuted the prior spring, but the truth was you did not plan to delay your entrance to society by just one year, but forego it entirely, if you had anything to say about it. Flouncing around through an endless series of uncomfortable social events with the aim of finding a husband sounded like a brand of torture tailored specifically for you. Besides, you would not be considered a desirable match under any circumstances, with your father the third-born son of a minor family who had to establish a profession in order to be financially secure. Could you be considered a part of the ton? Yes, but firmly on its furthest, most meager tier. Fortunately, neither you nor your parents were interested in engaging in the social circus of the upper echelons, and so there was no pressure for you to debut. 

You simplified it to Anthony. “I am looking to be financially independent.” He balked somewhat, but you relished the opportunity to show others a new perspective. “My father is educating me in his practice. I will assist him as much as is proper, and will likely move on to be a governess one day. Or perhaps write about the law. Under a man’s pseudonym of course.”

Anthony blinked and continued drinking his water. Whether he was impressed or found you hopelessly idealistic or completely mad, you couldn’t tell, but his lack of a scoff or a lecture set him apart from most men you had spoken to, which counted in his favor. 

“Speaking of, what was it you needed to see my father about?” you asked. “Perhaps I could help you?”

He hung his head, ashamed again. “It’s nothing. It’s just something I forgot. I’m going to Kent tomorrow. To Aubrey Hall for the harvest, now that the season is over and I needed copies of some tenant contracts. I can send for them later, you don’t need to…”

But you were already leafing through drawers of papers, intimately familiar with where your father kept each of his documents, and you found the contracts in question. Folding them into an envelope for safekeeping, you handed them to the Viscount.

Speechless, he took the envelope with a grateful nod and tucked it into his breast pocket. “You are uncommonly kind, Miss y/l/n,” he said softly. 

His warm brown eyes were wide, full of so many competing emotions, you felt your breath hitch. You could see in them, up close for the first time, the endless dance of the grieving boy, fighting to stay hidden under the cloak of the Viscount’s responsibility. He was at war, with himself and with the bitterness of his circumstances. Perhaps others could not see it. To the rest of the world he probably appeared to be cooly in control, stiff upper lip, pleasing smile and nothing more. But you had seen the pain, when the mantle of his title first came crashing down on him, and now again tonight. You wondered if his family knew, if he talked to them about it, and how they would react. You felt the surge of pity and admiration stronger than ever before.

“I believe you are too, my lord.”

That was the beginning of your relationship, and in the years that followed, he proved you right.

[foundtherightwords]

The Road Forgotten - Chapter 1

Pairing: Arthur Havisham (Dickensian) x OFC

A/N: I made Arthur bisexual and paired him with a female character in this. I know some writers have gotten flack for pairing Arthur with a female character (or reader), so if it's not your cup of tea, please walk away.

This is mostly based on the events of "Dickensian", but I've also incorporated some elements and characters from "Great Expectations". Most notably, Satis House is in Kent (as in the book) instead of in London. I kept the setting "vaguely Victorian", the same as the show though (if I go with the book, it would have to be the early 1800s, since this takes place about 10 years before the start of "Great Expectations", which is in 1812. I've just finished one Regency series and didn't feel like staying there.)

Summary: A few years after his plan to swindle his sister ended in tragedy, Arthur Havisham is a shadow of a man, living in guilt and fear. When Elsie Bradford, a young woman also wronged by Compeyson, enlists Arthur's help to hunt down his former partner-in-crime, Arthur must face his demons and other strange, new feelings, to redeem himself.

Warnings: slow burn, angst (this is standard for me now), revenge, guilt, psychological trauma, mention of prostitution, mention of suicide, some violence, a bit of smut

Chapter word count: 3.2k

Prologue

Saffron Hill was a wretched place to be even in the best of times, but on that miserable night in March, it was a place none but the most desperate would brave. It had been a late, cold spring, and that night was as cold as the middle of winter. Rain fell steadily on the muddy, narrow street, the kind of rain that soaked through waterproofs and chilled a person to the bones, while a merciless wind howled through the alleys filled with refuse. Even the children, who could often be seen crawling in and out of the dark shops at all hours, were rendered invisible. Only the occasional whimpers from behind the termite-infested doors were proof that they hadn't been spirited away by some evil fairy. The sole business that showed some light and life was the Three Cripples. The noises coming from its gas-lit interior were more boisterous than usual, as the inhabitants of Saffron Hill flocked there for some warmth, either in fire, drinks, or company.

However, not everybody was seeking shelter. Opposite the Three Cripples, a figure stood with arms crossed and head bent, heedless of the rain and the wind. From afar, the figure looked to be that of a young man or a boy, broad-shouldered and flat-chested, clad in the usual clothes of a common laborer - trousers and jacket of rough brown corduroy, a black handkerchief wrapped around the collar of an off-white linen shirt in place of a cravat, and a slouch-brimmed hat, which covered the head and most of the face. Only the small, slender hands, sheathed in leather gloves, constantly twitching and plucking at some unseen thread on the jacket sleeves, struck a discordant note.

This person stood leaning against the wall in a pool of shadow between the blinking streetlamps, almost blending in with the murky brickworks, unmoving save for the hands, but the whole body seemed on alert. From under the brim of the hat, a pair of light green eyes looked out, fixed on the bright square of the public house's entrance. Those eyes noticed that a man was also loitering near the door of the Three Cripples, as if waiting for someone. He was a stout, hulking shape, and unlike the figure at the wall, made no effort to conceal his presence. A shaggy, dirty white dog whined at his feet, obviously wanting to go inside where it was warm and agreeable. The whine was answered by a kick from its master, and the dog tugged its tail between its legs, shaking.

Another figure appeared at the mouth of the street, a taller man wearing a frock coat and a top hat. He was dragging his feet and his walking stick on the cobbles, a desolate hunch about his shoulders.

At the sight of this figure, the man outside the Three Cripples sprang into action. He crossed the street with just a stride of his bulky legs, seized the other man's arm, and dragged him into a covered way between two houses. "I hope you're coming to settle your debt, Mr. Havisham," the stout man said.

"Sikes!" the victim yelped. "You frightened me."

The stout man, Sikes, held his hand out, palm up. "Your debt. Sir." This last word was uttered almost as an afterthought.

The other man reluctantly drew a pouch out of his coat and dropped some meager coins in it. Sikes narrowed his eyes. "Is that it?"

"That's... that's all I have."

"Mr. Fagin would not be pleased."

"I will have the rest soon, but..."

"Soon's not good enough. Perhaps I should give you a bit of shaking, just to be sure you're not hiding anything in that fancy coat, eh?" Sikes said, pulling a cudgel out of his velveteen jacket. Havisham cowered on the ground. He could have run, but he seemed frozen in fear. Before Sikes could bring the cudgel down, however, his eyes suddenly went wide, and the hand holding the cudgel was frozen in place.

"Let him go," a quiet voice said out of the darkness.

Havisham blinked up in surprise. Sikes moved stiffly forward, just enough for the flickering light of the lamps to flash on a blade, held in a leather-gloved hand, pressed to his throat. "Who're ye?" he asked.

"Someone that can move faster than you," the voice answered.

"You're bluffing," Sikes said, but he sounded uncertain.

"Try it, and you'll bleed out before you can catch me."

Sikes' lips curled in anger. His small eyes scowled at the victim on the ground. The blade pressed down a little harder, and a drop of blood squeezed out. Sikes spat and dropped the cudgel. At that moment, the blade also left his throat.

"You'll see me again," Sikes growled to both of them, then picked up the cudgel and vanished into the night, the dog following closely on his heels.

Havisham sat still in the puddle of black slush he had collapsed into, seemingly too stunned to move. His savior bent down and extended a hand. "Arthur Havisham?"

Havisham could only nod.

"You're a hard man to find, Mr. Havisham," the other person said. The melodious voice seemed to lift Havisham out of his daze.

"Who are you?" he asked, taking the helping hand and struggling to his feet.

The other person stepped forward and took off the hat, revealing two wings of black hair framing a face that even the uncertain light of the streetlamps showed to be striking, and definitely female. "Elsie Bradford," the young woman said. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Chapter 1

Elsie led Havisham into the Three Cripples, though he kept looking behind his back as if afraid that Sikes would return. She picked a table in a corner, away from the fire and the piano, where most of the patrons converged. None of them gave the pair a glance, even though one of them was a woman dressed in man's clothing. The Three Cripples had seen odder characters than that. Only a furtive-looking man, sitting by the window, turned to stare at them briefly, before burying his head in his pint again.

Elsie called for the barmaid and ordered two ales. "Or do you prefer brandy?" she asked Havisham. "I'm buying."

"Brandy, please," he said in a small voice, and Elsie nodded to the barmaid.

While waiting for their drinks, she took a closer look at the man she'd just rescued, the man she'd watched the Three Cripples for a whole week to meet. He was younger than she thought, probably just a little more than five-and-twenty, around her own age, though his face was sadly ravaged, whether by excessive vices or personal misery or both, she did not know. He must have been handsome once, and there were still traces of his former good looks in his high, white forehead, his finely shaped nose, full lips, and long lashes that veiled over his large brown eyes. But the forehead was now plastered with limp, sweaty dark blond curls, the nose was red from cold or drinks, the lips were slack and surrounded by stubble, and the eyes were puffy, red-rimmed, and kept darting around the room like those of a cornered animal. She also took in his frayed velvet coat, splattered with dirty water from his fall, and faded silk hat. All spoke of a man not so much down on his luck as scraping the bottom of the barrel of his luck and still coming up empty.

The drinks arrived. Havisham gulped his down like a man dying of thirst. Elsie indicated for the barmaid to leave the bottle and took a sip of her ale. The brandy seemed to revive Havisham a little. He sat up straighter and eyed Elsie curiously.

"You said I was a hard man to find," he began. "May I ask why you were trying to find me?"

"I need your help," Elsie said.

Havisham slumped down again. "I'm of help to no one," he said. "Not even myself."

Elsie raised an eyebrow at that. "Most people would ask 'help with what' first."

"I know my limits," Havisham muttered into his drink.

"How much do you owe Fagin?" Elsie asked, changing tactics.

"What business is it of yours?"

"Perhaps we could help each other."

"I doubt that," Havisham said bleakly.

Elsie sighed, frustrated. They were going to be here all night at this rate.

"All right, Mr. Havisham," she said, putting her pint down. "I'm here because I know you used to be friends with a man called Meriwether Compeyson. And I need your help to find him."

The changes that came over Havisham were shocking. If he had looked like a cornered animal before, now he was like an animal looking down the barrel of the hunter's gun. His face was deathly white, his hand around the glass of brandy trembled so much that Elsie was afraid he would drop it, and he wasn't looking at her, but at a spot over her shoulder, at something that wasn't there. She waited. The piano jingled a tune, and some woman led the whole room in song. With a herculean effort, Havisham took another drink and pulled himself together.

"He's no friend of mine," he said, his voice shaking. "I haven't seen him in five years, and I do not wish to ever see him again."

"I know that," Elsie said. "But you must know something about where he can be found, where he used to frequent."

"Why do you want to find him?"

"To kill him."

Havisham stared at her. She returned his look evenly. Then he started laughing, a horrible, mirthless laugh that sent chills up her spine. "Oh, Miss Bradford, you are quite the comedienne," finally he said.

"He took something from me," Elsie said, stone-faced. "I consider it a fair compensation."

Havisham shook his head. "Nobody gets anything back once Compeyson decides to take it."

Elsie studied him. She had only heard that Compeyson had swindled Havisham out of his inheritance, but what had the villain done that rendered this young man a shadow like this? But look at yourself, she thought bitterly. You may not be a drunken mess like this poor sod, but who from your old life would've recognized you now? And poor Marianne... Compeyson had a talent for damaging people even without touching them.

"I don't intend to take it back," she said. "It cannot be. But perhaps I could stop him from claiming more victims."

"It's a noble pursuit, I'm sure," Havisham said. "But for your own well-being, Miss Bradford, I suggest you forget the whole thing. Compeyson is not a man to be reckoned with. I am living proof of that." A bitter smile, filled with self-hatred, briefly crossed his face. He downed the rest of his drink, stood up, and put on his hat. "Thank you for your hospitality," he said and walked away. At the door, however, he seemed to have second thoughts, turned back, and pocketed the bottle of brandy. "And thank you for saving me from Sikes," he added and left, for good this time.

Elsie bit back a curse. Money wasted, and she was no closer to her mark. Then his parting words struck her, and an idea formed. If Havisham couldn't be bought by brandy, she would have another way to ensure he was in her debt.

***

It wasn't difficult to send a message to Havisham's creditor - every child in Saffron Hill seemed to be in his employment. The old Jew showed up at the Three Cripples promptly enough, though with understandable skepticism. It was only when Elsie pushed the money across the table that his shriveled face relaxed, like a crumpled handkerchief being smoothed out. "Well, my dear, far be it from me to tell a young lady what to do with her own money," he said in his oily voice, as the bills disappeared into the depths of his overcoat. "It appears young Havisham was fortunate in his acquaintances." Elsie asked if Fagin himself had had any dealings with Compeyson at all, but in this he had nothing for her - he, like most people, only knew of Compeyson's general involvement with Havisham. Of course. Compeyson was a gentleman. He wouldn't deal with common criminals like Fagin.

Fagin did give Elsie the address of Havisham's lodgings in St. Giles. Early the next morning, wearing her plainest, most practical wool dress and with her face hidden behind a poke bonnet, she set out for it, the promissory note in her reticule and the blade concealed in her sleeve as usual. She took the long way, avoiding the familiar streets of Covent Garden, though at this time of the day, her old friends were most likely still abed and there would be none to recognize her. Still, she tightened her hand around the blade as she neared the Rookery. Its sharpness felt reassuring in her palm.

Havisham's lodgings were on the second storey of one of the many tall, narrow houses that crowded a side street. This wasn't the heart of the Rookery, so it was slightly quieter, but the level of squalor was no less appalling. Silent, ill-humored men slumped in doorways, filthy children sat amongst the rubbish and mangy dogs, too listless to even play. A woman with a swollen, stony face emptied a chamber pot out of a window, and it was by pure luck that Elsie didn't get splashed by it. She thought of the faded finery of Havisham's clothes and wondered how far down the social ladder he had fallen. Reaching the house, she climbed the slimy staircase and knocked on the door. There was some muttering from inside, but nobody came. She knocked again. "Mr. Havisham?" she called. "It's Elsie Bradford." More mutterings, louder now, but the door remained closed. Impatient, Elsie tried the knob. It turned in her hand. She pushed the door open and walked in.

Havisham was sprawled on a chair in the corner of the sparsely furnished room, but he wasn't alone. Another man was kneeling on the floor in front of him, his head buried in Havisham's lap. At her entrance, both men looked up, and Havisham's face went purple with shock. "Get out!" he screamed, grabbing a glass by his side and throwing it at her. Elsie withdrew just as the glass shattered on the wall next to her head.

She waited on the landing while the voices inside rose in contention. Then the door burst open and the other man ran out, fixing his clothes as he went. She never got a good look at his face, only a glimpse of a rich velvet coat and a silk cravat flapping around his neck. Just another young scion of some rich family who fancied himself a libertine, searching for debauchery amongst the great unwashed before slinking home to his doting parents and fawning servants. She had seen too many of them.

Havisham stumbled out the door but appeared to have no intention of following the other man—he was still in his shirtsleeves and barefoot. He stopped upon seeing Elsie. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hissed, his face twisted in anger.

"I came here to tell you that I've settled your debt with Mr. Fagin," Elsie said.

Havisham seemed to have trouble understanding her.

"I paid it off," Elsie repeated. "But that means you owe me twenty pounds now. So perhaps you should be nicer to me, starting by inviting me into your room."

Havisham, still looking nonplussed, stepped inside, and Elsie followed him.

The room was as miserable a place as she'd ever seen. It was steeped in a gray murkiness. Situated at the back of the house, the only light it received came through a window overlooking a courtyard surrounded by yet more houses, which did very little in ways of illumination. That might be a blessing, though, for more light would only accentuate the dreariness of the room. Other than a chair, a table, a bed, and a cupboard, there was no other furniture in the room, no rug to cover the scratched wooden floor, no picture to liven up the peeling plastered walls, no curtain to brighten up the grimy windowpanes. Elsie suddenly felt quite sorry for Havisham.

"Mr. Havisham," she said, her voice softening. "My apologies for barging in like that."

"I suppose you have another debt to hold over my head now, even more valuable than the twenty pounds," he said sullenly.

It took a moment for her to catch his meaning. "No!" she said. "I would never—please, Mr. Havisham. You and your friend can rest assured. Your secret is quite safe."

"He's not my friend," Havisham replied, looking pained. The look lasted only for a few seconds, but Elsie saw it, and somehow it went straight to her heart.

"I—I'm not... It doesn't matter to me," she said, trying to explain. She hadn't been flustered before when she walked in on them, but she found it offensive that Havisham thought she would use this to blackmail him. It was something the likes of Compeyson would do. "I used to... I used to work at a bawdyhouse. There is very little that I haven't seen."

Slowly, Havisham's scowl disappeared, to be replaced by his usual default expression of despondency. "My debt?" he prompted her.

Remembering her business, Elsie showed him the promissory note. "I shall cancel it if you help me find Compeyson."

Havisham glanced at the note. "If you could pay off my debt that easily, you can't be wanting for money," he said. "Why do you want to kill Compeyson?"

"I told you, I'm not looking to get my money back. I just want him to pay for his crimes."

"But he didn't hurt you that badly, by the look of it."

"You have no idea how he's hurt me, Mr. Havisham."

Havisham looked at her more closely. "Did he... jilt you? Break your heart?"

Elsie smiled grimly. "Ha! He never had the chance."

"Then what?" he insisted. "Look around you. Did you want to end up like this, like me? Because that is what would happen if you chose to go against Compeyson. I'm trying to warn you here, Miss Bradford. You were lucky. Forget him and live your life."

Lucky? If he'd only known... Elsie looked down at her gloves, feeling the blade hidden there. To Hell with it, she thought. She had gone this far; she might as well tell him the truth.

"Yes, I suppose I was lucky," she said, still fingering the shape of the blade under her glove. "Do you want to meet someone who wasn't so lucky?"

Havisham frowned, not understanding.

"Get dressed, and I'll take you to her."

"Do not order me about," Havisham snapped at her with a trace of haughtiness that must have been insufferable when he was in his prime.

"I'm sorry," Elsie said, unable to suppress the mocking in her voice. "Get dressed, please."

Chapter 2

[peterpparkrr]

(Not) the same as it was - ch. 3 | A Bridgerton Series

Series: (Not) the same as it was

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x OFC

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: Lady Josephine Wescott has a semi-honest conversation with her godmother. A young Josephine Saville and Anthony Bridgerton fall in love.

A/N: This is a short chapter but there is a LOT more meaty goodness to come! As always thank you for your patience with me as I struggle to write multiple fics at the same time.

previous part // next part

series masterlist

Bridgerton House, London, 1814

“Will you marry again?” Violet asks her as the pair sit across from each other. 

For the first time she can remember, it’s just the two of them in the room, no other Bridgertons are running around, distracting their mother. Which means that Jo is the sole subject of Violet’s attention. 

If she didn’t love Violet, she’d be terrified.

“I don’t know,” Jo admits. She knows that she should. She has nothing from her first marriage, and of course, she could live with her father, but it would look odd from the outside. A Dowager Countess moving into her father’s Edinburgh townhome? 

The gossip would never cease.

Everyone will expect her to remarry.

“Why did you never remarry, Violet?” Jo asks her godmother.

“How could I?” Violet replies as she shrugs her shoulders slightly. Jo can already see the wetness that’s pooling in Violet’s eyes. Her sheer love for Edmund is still written across her face all these years after he’d passed.

“That’s the same way my father talks about my mother,” Jo replies with a small smile, thinking about her parents' devotion. 

In her childhood, Jo had never realized just how lucky she was to have two shining examples of sheer matrimonial devotion. How rare that kind of marriage was. 

Jo had been so naive then.

“And how is your father coping with his daughter being so far away from him?” Violet asks. “I know that he and your mother were already planning the move to be closer to you before she passed. He must be lonely up in Edinburgh by himself.”

“My father was the one who wanted me to come to London. He twisted Aunt Elizabeth’s arm until she agreed to chaperone,” Jo admits to her. “I think he hoped I’d make a love match this second time around.”

“These men may surprise you,” Violet tells her. Hoping her goddaughter would stay open to the possibility of marriage. “I know the conditions were very different the last time you were here, but I hope you will allow yourself to open up to the possibilities.” 

“Everything has changed. I’m not the same person I was when I left,” Jo tells Violet softly.

“You never did tell me what happened between you and Anthony, Josephine,” Violet tells her softly. “I’ve never asked Anthony, and I don’t want to pry…”

“There’s not much to tell, we grew apart,” Jo replies. She does her best to keep her voice even, but she knows that she can’t help but give away that there’s rather much to tell on that subject. Not that she has any interest in sharing it.

“What about Eloise, is there any hope she’ll be interested in finding a match this season?” Jo asks, swiftly changing the subject. 

Violet allows for the not-so-subtle redirection. Though she can’t help but want to table the discussion for another time. When she can press Josephine with hopes of discovering what it was that caused it all to go so wrong between the pair. 

Aubrey Hall, Kent, 1802 

Christmas Eve with the Bridgertons and Savilles had always been a grand affair. With the current count of children now at eight with the recent addition of baby Gregory, Aubrey Hall was fit to burst from all the excitement. 

It was near impossible to not be swept up in the chaos the younger Bridgertons had created thanks to their many new presents.

“Have you seen Anthony?” Jo asked Benedict as the pair stood near the fireplace, watching Josephine’s father show Colin and Daphne how to swing the mallets of the family’s brand-new Pall Mall set.

Why her father had thought it was a good idea to gift the Bridgerton children, the most blood-thirty, cutthroat brood of children Jo had ever met, a competitive game that required mallets would be a mystery to Jo. 

“No, he disappeared a while ago, I think he wanted to be able to hear himself think,” Benedict tells her.

“Ahh,” Jo hummed as she surveyed the room. 

“I’ll be right back,” Jo told Benedict. 

“Anthony?” Jo called out as she stepped through the doorway of the library, having followed the faint glow of candlelight to the room.

“Oh, Jo,” Anthony greeted her as he stood from the chair he’d been sitting in.

“I was looking for you,” She replied as she made her way over to where was standing by the window, her hands hidden behind her back.

“You found me,” He replied with a small smile.

“You missed most of the gift-giving, the drawing room looks like a battlefield,” She tells him.

Anthony grins.

“Thank you for the present, it’s beautiful,” Jo adds as her right-hand reaches up to play with the necklace she’d immediately clasped around her neck once the bow was removed from the box.

The chain was delicate, and the small pearl drop-down was understated but perfect in her mind. She had no idea how Anthony had known she would like it. She can hardly imagine him asking her mother or his own for their input on the gift.

And the potential meaning that it might have from the pair. 

“I’m glad you like it,” Anthony replies.

A necklace was not a gift given to a friend, not from a man. And Jo was well aware of that. And so, despite the potential ramifications it might have, Jo had made a rash decision, deciding that this was her moment, it was now or never.

“Don’t you want your present?” Jo asked him.

“I didn’t want to assume you got me anything, I didn’t see anything from you in the pile,” Anthony admits.

“I didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone,” Jo explains.

“What did you get me, Miss Saville? Certainly not something salacious?” Anthony teased as he gazed into her eyes intently, his mouth curled into a smile. 

“Close your eyes,” She tells him as she steps toward him. 

Anthony obliged, his eyes fluttering closed as Jo studied him. 

“Should I hold out my hands?” Anthony asked, his voice dipping just below a whisper. 

“Yes,” Jo replied quietly.

Anthony brought his hands out in front of him, holding them open, palm up. 

Jo considered him for a quiet moment of anticipation. Anthony Bridgerton was the most handsome man she had ever known. If she was an artist she would paint, or sketch, or sculpt him for the rest of her life and never tire of using him as a subject. He was perfect. 

And so Jo placed her hands in his, wrapping her fingers around them as she stepped to him and pressed her lips to his, her own eyes falling closed. 

Jo hesitated for a painful moment when she felt Anthony freeze, and when his hands pulled out her own her eyes flew open and she was certain she had made a terrible mistake. 

But she opened her eyes to see Anthony already looking back at her, not in- as she had feared- horror, but with an unexpected expression that she could not fully recognize. 

Anthony’s eyes were dark as she stared back at him, but before she could open her mouth to apologize Anthony’s hands reached up to her cheeks, and pulled her face back to his own, returning her kiss with one of his own, one that felt impossibly deeper, and that lit something within her as her own now empty hands reached for the lapels of Anthony’s jacket, pulling him as close as she could manage.

When they finally broke apart the grin on Jo’s face was so wide it almost hurt.

“I-I… you have no idea how long I’ve been wishing I could do that,” Anthony admitted in a hoarse tone as he looked at Jo, brushing a loose strand of her hair back behind her ear.

“Happy Christmas, Anthony,” She told him in a soft whisper.

“I asked your father if I could court you,” Anthony admits.

“You-you did?” Jo asked, the shock evident in her voice. Her father hadn’t said a single thing to her.

“Is that alright?” Anthony asked nervously. 

“I’m the one who kissed you,” Jo reminds him with a shove at his shoulder.

“It’s more than alright,” She adds as she links her hand in his, brushing her thumb over his own. “Just promise me one thing. Promise me we’ll always be friends first?” 

“Always. I could never lose you, Jo,” Anthony replies, punctuating his promise with the press of his lips to her own.

[imagine-silk]

Masterlist (Old)

🍮 My Favorites

AtSV

Peter B staring down Jess while hugging Autistic!Younger!Spider

Peter B taking Autistic!Younger!Spider to a meeting

DRAGON AGE

Dragon Age Inquisition characters finding comfort with you

Yan!Sera headcannon

Josephine Montilyet headcannon

Cassandra Pentaghast headcannon

Varric with a Noir Detective 🍮

Dorian, Cassandra, and Cullen finding out a Scout has a crush on Varric🍮

What if Sten was Pining

Vegas AU ideas

Okay hear me out... Trian and Alistair

Origins Fake dating ideas(Commenter has a great one for Shale)

DAI Modern summer events (Sera, Josephine, Iron bull)

You're a dark elf (Solas, Dorian, Josephine)

How they show affection (Varric, Cullen, Morrigan)

Their child is sick (Cassandra, Josephine, Vivienne)

Pining over a scout (Varric, Cole, Josephine)🍮

Days Recovering; One, Four

FALLOUT

Fallout Yan!Dudes with a courser s/o who left the Institute

Yan!Cait w/ Institute scientist Darling

Sole turns into a supermutant

Preston reacting to Sole w/ Auditory processing disorder (APD)

Yan!Girls Meeting your Assaultron Girlfriend

Yan!Girls w/ a tourist Darling

Reactions to terrifying super-ghoul

Super-mutant wing-man

Sole's accidental trick-shot

Sole painting companions in a surreal art style

Missing Sole turns up as a glowing ghoul

Girl companions meeting your ghoul parents

Sole sobbing uncontrollably when they come back from the Intitute

Modern!Companions comforting reader after a pet death (Not dogmeat's)

Cartoon door beat-up thing

Sole high on painkillers confesses (Deacon, Preston, MacCready)

Yan!Danse and Haylen react to Sole being former Enclave

Yan!Girls react to you saying you want to have a baby w/ them

Yan!Girls react to Sole leaving to hunt down an item and returning months later

Insults between dumb and dumber

Sole having four arms

Peaceful!Sole finally snapping at an ungrateful settler

Telling Yan!Girls you were once in the Enclave

Shooting Yan!Girls w/ a bubble gun🍮

Pouring your heart out to Yan!Girls

Companions gaining fire abilities

Companions (+Proctor Igram) react to a ripper doc

Life w/ Codsworth after the bombs dropped

Reader giving love-nips (Hancock, Nick, MacCready)

Scribe Haylen headcannons

Piper Wright headcannons

React to a magical girl w/ guns

Hancock, Deacon, Nick, and MacCready react to M!SS who shaves too much and ends up with a babyface

Companions react to Pacifist!Lycanthrope!SS who is stuck in werewolf form🍮

MacCready, Deacon, and Danse after a gore-y fight with blood everywhere🍮

X6-88's guide to cure love sickness🍮

React to the song Until I Found You by Stephen Sanchez

Chipper!SS breaking down after going to the institute

React to the song Glimpse of Us by Joji

Child giving them a friendship braclet (X6-88, Cait, Vadim and Yafim)🍮

Taking care of a Asian!Teen!SS(Travis Miles, Nick Valentine, Deacon)🍮

Deacon traveling with a Vampire SS(not romanced)

M!SS is protective over non-human companions (+Kent, Sturges)🍮

House husbands (Preston, Hancock, Deacon)

Favorite place to go for a date (X6-88, Preston, Hancock)

Yandere (Cait, Curie, Piper)

Having a trouble-making twin (Hancock, Nick, Piper, Deacon)

Yandere Preston, Gage, Danse

Relationship milestones (Deacon, Preston, Gage)🍮

Modern Companions

Modern Companions Love Interest/Ocs

You have a stutter (X6-88, Hancock, Piper)

When someone reacts negatively to them being a synth (With no interference)

What their kisses are like (Deacon, Hancock, Curie)

What are mornings like (MaCready, Cait, Preston)

Danse and Nate smut I wrote drunk

MARVEL🍮

Marvel characters being inebriated

Finding a portrait of them you painted

Secretary!Trilogy!Peter finding out he's in love with you

Natasha and sleepy kisses

Secretary!Spidermen; You doze off

Secretary!Spidermen; Winter dates i guess

Secretary!Spidermen (MCU, TASM, Trilogy, Peter B., Miles Morales)

Secretary!Spidermen; Getting you ready before a meeting

You're a Slime (Peter, Tony, Bruce)

Glass in my hands (Scott Lang/Fem!Reader)

DBH

Yandere husband!Hank + son!Connor x willing!Darling

Supernatural lore ideas

Gavin having a surgeon husband

"You're so cute." (Hank, Gavin, Chloe)

Hugging them out of the blue (Hank, Gavin, Chloe)🍮

You don't like androids (Simon, Luther, Markus and Carl)🍮

Meeting your parents (Hank, Markus, Gavin, Elijah)

Darling is very tactile (Yan Connor, Hank, Gavin)

Misc.

Please I need this Bagginshield ending

Yandere Elliott

Yandere Sam, Sebastian, Emily

Star Trek: Next Generation; Having a crush on Data (+Socially awkward)🍮

Overprotective!Yan!Parvati/Nyoka + trying to escape

Parvati romance headcanons (still ace)

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

X's and Oh's (A Hero's Sexcapades)

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/SB0ROwU by Jaytimwhore Tim is maybe a little bit of a slut… maybe. He doesn't even mean that in a negative way, but staring at his list of heroes he's made out with he realizes that just maybe—it was a bit much. He's made the chart solely out of curiosity, and because Kon had teased him for his slutty ways the last time he was in the tower. Which; the clone was one to speak! He did have a point though, possibly. RR's little black book*:  Batman  Wonder Woman  Superman  Nightwing Green Lantern  Batgirl (1 & 2 & 3)  Green Arr-  or: Tim becomes a hero and fucks his way through the community along the way Words: 2957, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Underage Categories: F/M, M/M, Multi Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Hal Jordan (Green Lantern), Bruce Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Kon-El | Conner Kent, Dick Grayson, Diana (Wonder Woman), Ra's al Ghul, Damian Wayne, Cassie Sandsmark, Stephanie Brown, (many more) Relationships: Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Tim Drake/Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Bart Allen/Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent/Cassie Sandsmark, Tim Drake/Ra's al Ghul, Tim Drake/Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake/Clark Kent/Diana (Wonder Woman), Tim Drake/Hal Jordan (Green Lantern), Tim Drake/Oliver Queen, Tim Drake/Roy Harper, Tim Drake/Roy Harper/Jason Todd, Tim Drake/Roy Harper/Koriand'r, Tim Drake/Damian Wayne, Barry Allen/Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain/Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake Additional Tags: Twink Tim Drake, Slut Tim Drake, Short Tim Drake, Cunnilingus, Pegging, Strap-Ons, Anal Sex, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, consensual!, Sex Pollen, Threesome - F/M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Bottom Tim Drake, Top literally anyone else, Light Bondage, Inappropriate Use of the Lasso of Truth (DCU), Orgasm Edging, Blow Jobs, Walking In On Someone, Exhibitionism, Come Swallowing, Choking, Mommy Kink, Daddy Kink, Intercrural Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Creampie, Age Difference, Size Kink, Size Difference, Size Queen Tim Drake, Nipple Play, Nipple Piercings, Barry Allen Is A Human Vibrator, Overstimulation read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/SB0ROwU