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baronessvonglitter · 6 months ago

Text

Sweet Summer Peach

dbf!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word Count: 3.7K

Summary: when your dad's best friend Joel catches you with his younger brother Tommy, it sets off a spark of jealousy that can only be tamed by showing you how a real man treats a woman.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, big ol' girthy age gap (reader is between 18-21, Joel is in his 50s, Tommy is in his 40s), Tommy is a womanizer and Joel's just trying to save you from him while also getting a little of you for himself, innocence kink, first time/loss of virginity, fingering, dry humping, truck sex on a hot day in July, unprotected p in v sex (not stated whether reader is on birth control but we'll assume she is), creampie, come eating, praise and pet names (angel, darlin', baby from Joel; sugar, sweetheart from Tommy) definitely a daddy kink as you've known Joel your whole life and he's like a second father to you, once again your dad is clueless as to what's going on, reader is also Sarah's best friend but she is only mentioned not seen. Reader has hair that Joel can pull and wears a bikini and a sundress. No use of y/n.

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

"Why don't you ditch that silly little wine cooler and let me give you a taste of somethin' else, sugar?" Tommy Miller's voice is sinful in your ear. "Somethin' a little stronger."

It's over a hundred degrees outside, with no comfort in the shade. The Millers are hosting their annual Fourth of July barbecue, and plenty of people are over, eating, drinking, chatting, swimming in the brand new pool. You've known Tommy and his older brother Joel for years, the latter your dad's best and oldest friend. You and Sarah, Joel's daughter, have been best friends as long as you can remember, being the same age and living just across the street from each other. Joel himself has always been like a second father to you, having watched you grow up. He took you and Sarah to ball games, to the zoo, on fishing expeditions, helped with homework, practically helped raise you. Sarah was his Baby, and you were his Angel.

Tommy, on the other hand, hasn't seen you in years. But he definitely likes the woman you've grown to be.

He's been making eyes at you all afternoon, not-so-subtle glances your way, obviously enticed by your new, revealing bikini. You're garnering a lot of attention from people today, just as you'd expected when you bought it. Your dad would sure have some comments to make on how underdressed you are, but he's not here, working until the evening, and you're taking advantage of your freedom.

Tommy awaits your answer, and with your drink gathering condensation in your hand, you tell him, "Okay," with a soft smile.

He takes your hand, fingers weaving around yours. "Let's dip into the house for a few minutes," he murmurs, eyes gleaming with mischief. Taking a quick look around you notice Joel's eyes on you, his gaze unreadable but you can sense he's on the verge of moving to stop you. But the sight of his glare only serves to stoke the fire of your excitement. It's highly likely he does not like watching Tommy lead you away to privacy.

"Where are you takin' me?" you ask, a giggle bubbling in your throat as you leave your drink behind. He's guiding you to the side entrance of the house, down the hall and to a small den. The blast of the AC hits you with sweet relief and you nearly sigh with satisfaction.

"Away from all the heat," he says, gently pushing you to the wall.

"Tommy," you giggle, half anxious, half excited.

His hands go immediately to your hips, his grip warm and firm as he pulls you close. A low, primal growl rumbles through his chest and he leans in, his nose brushing against your neck. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I got ya." His breath his hot against your skin, his teeth graze your throat, sending a shiver of want down your spine.

"You like that, sugar?" he whispers, his hands exploring your soft thighs, caressing upwards until they brush against the fabric of your bikini.

"More.." your voice comes out in a whimper.

Tommy's eyes gleam with pleasure at your desperate plea. "Greedy girl." His fingers find their way beneath your bikini bottom, gliding across your folds, grinning when you begin to grow even more wet under his touch. He teases without pushing inside, wanting to see you grow absolutely uninhibited with need. "What's the matter, sweetheart?" he teases.

"Not.. used to bein' touched like this," you tell him, brow furrowed in concentration of desire.

"Mm. I can tell." His touch is gentle and insistent, seeking out the spots that make your knees buckle. "You only ever had your own fingers in ya? That it?" He drinks in your sounds of pleasure as you nod at his question. He traces over your clit, watching your hips jerk. "There ya go.." he coaxes, lips on your neck as he continues touching and teasing you. "You like that, huh? Like how I'm touchin' ya?" His fingers circle your clit until you feel yourself grow tighter and tighter, soon to unwind..

"Yes.. yes.. oh my god, oh my god," you moan, and when you open your eyes Joel is there, watching both of you. He looks pissed. You shriek as you meet his searing gaze.

"Get your fuckin' hands off her," he growls menacingly.

Your blood freezes and you're vaguely aware of Tommy's fingers slipping away as he moves from you. Then as you realize your state of dress you try to fix your disheveled bikini, a feeble attempt to cover yourself. "Joel.. I'm sorry," you whisper.

Joel's eyes stay locked on you, a possessive rage smoldering in his black depths. He steps towards you, his movements deliberate and calculated, like a predator stalking its prey. "Sorry?" he mocks. "What the fuck are you doin' in here with my little brother's hands all over ya?"

"I.. I wasn't thinking." It's the truth. For once you'd let your hormones think for you.

His expression hardens. "You weren't thinkin'? That's all you have to say?" His gaze flicks to Tommy, the simmering anger still present in his eyes. "You. Get out," he commands, his voice sharp and authoritative.

Tommy hesitates briefly, all former bravado gone in the presence of his older brother's ire, and leave you and Joel alone.

You feel ashamed, scared, still dizzy with desire if you're honest, the ache Tommy created in you still lingering. "Joel, I'm sorry.. you won't tell my dad, will you?"

Joel's gaze is intense. "You're damn right I won't. Your daddy would rip my brother limb from limb if he found out what just happened." He steps closer to you, his eyes roaming your body, taking in your scantily clad appearance. "But you and I, darlin', we need to clear some things up."

"Like what?" you ask in a small voice, expecting the worst.

"First: I don't want you alone with Tommy ever again. Am I understood?" His voice drops to a low growl. "Second: I'm not done with you, angel. You're comin' with me."

Despite knowing you're in trouble already, you're recalcitrant. "You can't tell me what to do! I'm not a child anymore!"

Joel's eyes flash with anger, and before you can react, his hand quickly clamps around your wrist, his grip firm but not painful. "You're actin' like a child, darlin'. Now you can either come with me quietly, or you can put up a fight and I'll carry you outta here. Your choice."

For some reason the thought of him carrying you out sends a jolt straight to your center. But you relent. "Fine," you growl back. Joel hands you your sundress and you put it on, not caring to ask why he had it in his possession while you were in here with Tommy.

"Good girl," he mutters, leading you to his truck outside. He opens the door for you, the gentlemanly gesture a stark difference from his earlier demeanor. As you get in, Joel climbs into the driver's seat, his large frame filling the small space.

"Where are we goin'?" you ask as he starts up the engine and drives away with you.

He doesn't turn to look at you as he drives, his grip on the steering wheel white-knuckled and tense. "Somewhere we can talk, darlin'," he says gruffly. "Somewhere my meddlin' brother can't get his hands on ya."

You blush with shame as you think of what Joel saw you doing with Tommy, even though it was mostly innocent. "You don't see me as your little angel no more. do you?"

Joel's gaze flicks to you for a moment, his expression showing disappointment. "You stopped bein' an angel the moment you let my brother touch ya."

He pulls his pickup into a dirt parking lot, the location surrounded by trees and secluded from prying eyes.

"Better him than someone I don't know," you say lamely, looking around the deserted area.

"That's a low bar, angel," Joel mutters, voice thick with restraint. "You're not the only one who's noticed ya, darlin'. Hell, the whole damn town's been watchin' ya grow up."

"Tommy's the one who approached me. It wasn't my fault."

"Of course. He'd be blind not to want ya," he mutters darkly. "But you're not the first girl he's had his eye on, baby, and you ain't gonna be the last either."

It stings, but you try not to let it show. "I'm not tryna marry him, we were just havin' fun."

Joel scoffs, his eyes betraying his jealousy. "Fun, huh? Is that what you call it? You have no idea what my brother is like. He's no good for you. You're too young, too innocent, too damn pure."

"Evidently I'm no longer pure by your standards," you shoot back, arms crossed. "A girl can't enjoy herself without bein' a slut, right?"

His jaw clenches. "That's not what I meant. You're not just some toy for my brother to play with and toss aside. You don't know what he could do to you."

You remember Tommy's gentle, sure touch, the way his fingers glided over your most secret parts. "I got a sense of what he could do to me," you can't resist goading Joel. "And it felt so good.."

Joel looks like he's trying to swallow glass. "I bet he made you feel things you've never felt before, didn't he?"

"Almost.. not quite.." Blush fills your face.

"You mean he didn't make you come."

To have it put so bluntly makes you blush all over again. "No.. he didn't."

Joel wets his lips. "I bet it drove you crazy, havin' him touch you like that and not bein' able to finish.. must've driven you wild, huh?"

This is crazy. This conversation is crazy. This whole thing is crazy! It's like you're a kid again and Joel's trying to explain the birds and the bees because your own father doesn't want to.

"Yeah," you answer softly. "It's like an ache that won't go away."

His gaze darkens, drinking in the image of you all desperate, unable to get what you want. "And you're still achin', aren't ya, darlin'?" His voice is low, husky, intimate.

You feel small under his gaze, like a piece of meat being dangled before a hungry lion, like Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf. "Yes," comes your whispered reply.

Joel leans close, his large hands reaching out to cup your face. "Tell me what you want, angel."

He's giving you a choice, unlike Tommy who did what he wanted to do. Joel is giving you a choice.. "Make this ache go away for me.. please.."

His desire burns fiercely as he hears the plea in your voice. "You sure that's what you want, baby? Because once you let me in, there ain't no goin' back." His hands slide down to caress your neck, his touch both possessive and gentle.

You whimper. Once you let me in.. You're a fool not to think he means anything else. "I'm sure," you whisper, keeping your gaze on his dark eyes.

It sounds like a dare, like a threat, as he says, "All right, darlin'. You asked for it," and grabs hold of your waist, pulling you onto his lap so you're straddling him. You let out an involuntary gasp. His hands slide down from your waist to grab handfuls of your round ass, squeezing and kneading your cheeks firmly. "I've had a mind to do this for a long damn while," he growls. "You've been fillin' out lately, and those tight little shorts you wear 'round my house ain't doin' nothin' but teasin' my cock."

All your breath leaves you, the way he's grabbing you sends waves of heat and longing throughout your body.

His eyes burn as he feels your reaction to his touch. "You like that, baby?" he continues to grab and squeeze. "I've had to look at those tight little shorts of yours every time you come over.. always showin' off that perfect peach. Even now, this lil' sundress ain't barely coverin' anything." He kneads your cheeks again, giving them a light slap each.

You gasp at the sweet little stings, and each insistent knead of his hands on your ass pushes you forward onto his hard-on that tents his jeans. "That's it, angel. Ride my lap, just like that," he grunts. Your palms are planted on his shoulders, fingers gripping tightly as you grind yourself against him. Your heart is liable to shoot out of your chest but he feels so damn good, and so dangerous. "Like this?" you ask.

"Yeah, just like that, baby." Joel looks up at you, the mask of his authority slipping just a little as he watches you. "You feel that? That's what this pretty lil' ass does to me." Another quick little slap on your butt.

"Mm hmm," you reply, too caught up in the feeling to give a proper reply. "Oh my, I'm makin' such a mess on you," you whisper, noticing the wet spot on his jeans where you've been grinding on him without a care.

"Don't worry about me, darlin'. That's what I want." His voice is thick with desire and need. "I want you all wet and messy for me."

Jesus, the man knows just what to say.. "Joel," you whine. "You said you'd make the ache go away but you only made it worse.."

He quirks a brow. "That so? Well then I better do somethin' about that." One hand snakes its way between your bodies, his fingers easily finding your pussy through the thin material of your bikini bottom. You bite your lip as a curse word leaves your mouth, your head tilted back as he finds you wet and wanting. His fingers glide easily through your folds. "You're soaked, angel." He presses a kiss against your neck, grazing his teeth upon your skin as his fingers finally enter you, pressing into your sweet, welcoming warmth.

Brows furrowed, you start moving against his touch, sighing darkly as you feel his gentle love bite. "It's all.. for you," you sigh.

"I know it is, darlin'. Always has been." As his fingers rock inside you his thumb rubs small circles against your clit.

You ride his fingers, your breath shaking, gasping at the sweet intrusion. "Joel.. don't stop.. don't stop, I'm gonna come!"

"Go on, angel," he gruffs out. "Come for me.."

He holds you tight as you come undone on his lap, your pussy walls contracting around his fingers. "That's it.. good girl.." he praises. He withdraws them gently, shiny and covered in your thick, stringy slick. In a haze of pleasure you watch as he brings them to his lips, licking them clean. "You taste even better than I dreamed."

"Let me taste," you whisper, grabbing him for a kiss and swirling your tongue against his, tasting the remnants of your fulfillment. Your heart leaps as he goes to unbuckle his belt, and your body pulsates with unbridled need that overshadows all other thoughts.

"I need to be inside ya, darlin'."

"Yes.. please," you beg shamelessly.

"Lift up, angel," he whispers, pulling his jeans and boxers down halfway as you give him room. His cock springs up from his nest of dark brown wiry curls: a perfect, slightly curving length, thick and veiny, reaching up past his belly button, his precum already dribbling from the tip. His balls are heavy and full, lifting slightly as he pulls on himself, getting him primed for you. "You ready for me, baby?" he asks, voice low and thick with desire.

"Yes," you nod eagerly.

With your bikini bottom pushed to the side, he puts you over him again and starts to press into you. A deep, guttural groan rumbles from his chest as he firmly holds your hips. You gasp at the surrealness of the moment, straddling him in the driver's seat of the truck he taught you how to drive in just a couple short years ago. You whimper his name as you take a little of him at a time.

He claims your lips in a deep kiss, tongue delving into your mouth as he slowly sinks deeper inside you. Just when you think it's impossible to fit all of him, his kiss eases the way and you sink further down. "God," you sigh.

"You're doin' so good, baby. You feel so damn good around me," he soothes, completely. He starts to lift you up, to go slow and steady as already you're dripping onto him, your juices flowing down his shaft and drenching his pubes. You spread your thighs wider, feeling every inch of him inside you, a pleasure and yet a small pain. "Let me feel you like this for a little bit," you tell him, sheathing him with care.

"Whatever you want, darlin'. It's all yours," he mutters, leaning his forehead against yours, trying to still his heart, trying to catch his god damn breath.

"All mine," you whisper back, your breath tickling his ear. "My first.." You kiss him again and let your tongue tease his.

"Damn right," he growls. "And I'm gonna make sure you remember it forever. You're gonna feel me for days.." With that he starts to move, slowly, generating the friction your unsatisfied body so craves. "Grind yourself on me, just like that," he whispers, pulling the front of your sundress down to reveal your bikini top, and peels that back to expose your breasts, your nipples like pert raspberries. He palms them roughly before tasting each one, swirling his tongue around one bud while pinching the other.

You squirm in his lap, moving up and down his shaft, coating him with your cream. "You're so fucking deep," you moan, cupping his head as he feasts on your tits.

"There ya go.. take all of me. Lemme fill ya up," he grunts. His body tenses under yours as you speed up, mesmerized as your tits bounce up and down right in front of him. "That's it.. ah, such a good girl for me. How much more ya want? How much can ya handle?"

"I want.. fuck!.. I want more," you moan. "Fuck me, Joel!"

At your command he thrusts up, deep and rough, pulling your hair back so he can watch your body, gleaming with sweat, pulsate with pleasure as he taps into your primal need. The truck windows are fogged up as the vehicle gently bounces with your movements. His long, thick fingers leave marks on your hips and your ass cheeks.

He pistons up into you relentlessly, the sound of skin slapping on skin echoing in the truck, along with his grunts and the heavenly crescendo of your sweet moans. He keeps up the rigorous pace and you're on the edge, about to topple over into bliss. "Come on, baby," he urges you. "Yeah, that's it.. come for me.."

Only a few more fierce, upward thrusts and you come, with him nestled in up to the hilt so that every inch of him can feel you quake with pleasure. Your pussy flutters and convulses around him as you rear your head back, basking in the sublime pleasure. Joel follows soon after, unable to resist as he comes deep inside you. You give a little gasp at the warm bursts of his release, unlocking something primal in you. "Give me every drop," you whisper.

"It's all yours, darlin'," he hisses, holding onto you as he pumps stream after stream of his thick white cum within you.

Your eyes meet as he finally stills, slumping back down in his seat, still holding you close so you can feel the thundering beat of one another's hearts. "God.. you filled me up," you say in amazement, feeling him drip out of you already though he hasn't made a move to disengage from you yet.

"Imma fill you up any damn time you want," he rumbles. "Even if I gotta sneak into your room at night. Your daddy ain't gonna know a thing."

You bite your lip, realizing he's not kidding, he's not giving promises he doesn't mean to keep. "He'd probably kill you if he knew what we just did."

Joel's eyes burn with a determination that scares you a little. "Well he ain't gonna ever know. I got ways of keepin' things quiet." He gazes at you and his eyes soften, as if he's looking upon the most beautiful and innocent thing in all the world. "I always knew I wanted ya, ever since you turned into such a sweet little treat."

His phone rings and he groans when he realizes it's your father. He puts a hand over your mouth even though you wouldn't dare let on that you're with him, and makes the conversation as quick as possible before hanging up. "We better go, darlin'. Your daddy's waitin', wonderin' where you are," he says casually, as if he hadn't just had a conversation with your dad while balls-deep inside you.

You lift yourself off him wincing a little at the soreness between your thighs. The remnants of Joel's sticky seed start to trickle down your leg. He runs his thumb along your inner thigh, gathering his cum and brings it to your lips. You suck the salty fluid off his thumb. "I'm not wasting any of it," you tell him, licking your lips as you swallow.

"God damn," he mutters hotly. "You're killin' me, angel," he says, helping you arrange your clothes so you're decent again.

"Not anymore.. you just turned this angel into a devil.."

"Hey pumpkin, where ya been?" your dad greets you as you get out of Joel's truck in his driveway. Walking is a little painful as you're still sore, but you try to act natural.

"Beer run," Joel answers for you, holding up a twelve-pack of Corona Extra.

"Joel took me on a ride," you can't help saying, "It was fun." His cum is still collecting in your swimsuit bottom. "Hey Daddy, Sarah asked me to spend the night with her, so I'll be here all night. Is that okay with you, Joel?" You suppress a smirk as you address both the men.

Joel's heart rate spikes and his imagination runs wild in the quick span of a moment before he says, "Of course it is. You're always welcome here."

And later, when the Fourth of July fireworks cast their multi-colored lights on the black horizon, no one notices as you and Joel sneak away together, the booms overhead concealing your noises of gratification.

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

#pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel smut #joel tlou #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #tommy miller #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #ao3 smut #ao3 fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro boys

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pedgito · 7 months ago

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↝ FOR THE WORK (10k+ words) — Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Using your neighbors address for deliveries doesn’t seem like the worst idea until you find yourself with a world of dilemmas and a burgeoning crush on the single dad who lives there. [Pre-Outbreak]

↝ PATROLS (17k+ words) — Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: A story of how things began, where they ended up, and where they might go. A collection of patrols over the course of several months is forcing you closer to Joel than you ever imagined, tense circumstances leading to hasty decisions and one bad choice after the next.[Set Post S1]

↝ SOFT & SWEET (5k+ words) — Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Based around Work Song by Hozier. A comfort fic with lots of angst and fluffy goodness. Content Warnings: mentions of violence/blood/fighting (nothing graphic), joel being in a state of shock, sex for comfort/coping, no heavy sex warning it’s just v intimate, psuedo love confessions bc joel is bad with words

↝ MEET ME IN THE WOODS (50k words) | (Finished Series) — Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Taking a much needed vacation for the holiday, you aren't aware your cabin has been double-booked until you're face to face with the other guest the night you arrive, left with a big decision to make and the possibility of a month with a man you know nothing about. But, through communication and isolation, you learn that you and him might not be that different after all. Consumed by your shared loneliness, you find company in the unlikeliest of place—a stranger named Joel, in the middle of the woods. [No Outbreak] (6 chapters)

↝ MET THE DEVIL LAST NIGHT (6k words) — (AU) Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: 18+ Demon!Joel, Virgin!Reader, this was little plot and mostly smut lol.

↝ THESE BOOTS WERE MADE FOR RIDING (3k words) — Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joel doesn't like gifts, you gift him new boots.

↝ HANDSOME, DIRTY, RICH (12k words) — BFD!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: The rich father of your bestfriend, Sarah — Joel Miller, was a mystery to you until one day he isn't and you quickly find that your interest in him isn't one-sided. ↝ RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW (2.7k words) Summary: joel is celebrating your one year anniversary with a few surprises.

↝ MILLER'S GIRL (24k+ words) | (Finished Series) — (AU) Professor!Joel Miller

Summary: A sudden infatuation with your professor yields strange, unnerving results and Joel Miller, in his first semester at a new job finds himself in an unlikely position with a student that hides their intentions behind innocence.

↝ MOONLIGHT (8k words) — No Outbreak!Joel Miller

Summary: a series of nights spent with a neighbor you find an unlikely connection with, sharing a similar interest to pass the time, it forms into something much more intense and suddenly, neither of you can deny it anymore.

↝ STICKY SWEET (3.2k words) — dbf!Joel Miller x reader

Summary: You're stranded, you need help—of course, Joel Miller is your savior.

↝ DIRTY LAUNDRY (5.6k words) — Joel Miller x reader

Summary: You've got an issue and joel's willing to solve it. After all, what are neighbors for?

↝ ANYWHERE BUT HERE (1.8k words) — Joel Miller x reader

Summary: A poor damsel in distress, saved by the most unlikely of man.

↝ ABSOLUTION (Ongoing Series, last updated 7/18) — Joel Miller x reader

Summary: Moving in with your soon-to-be stepfather under the roof of his brother, Joel, ends up being a turning point of change in your life.

REMORSE FOR REMEDY (Ongoing Series, last updated 8/21) — Joel Miller x reader

Summary: Alone, the Miller's brothers seem like your only hope. The outbreak is still fresh, weeks after the fall and all that matters is survival and the unlikely comfort that comes along with a man who wants nothing to do with you.

BONUS (+ other characters):

TWO IS BETTER THAN ONE (9k words) — Tommy x Reader x Joel

Summary: Both the Miller brothers have a thing for you and you have a thing for them. They give you an ultimatum and you don’t like that. So, instead of one, you choose both.

BITTER, TASTE. (14k words) — Joel x Reader x Tommy

Summary: A moment of desperation and a kind gesture leads you down an inescapable path alongside two brothers and a town with a nasty secret. (mini series masterlist found here)

MOUTHFUL (2k words)

Summary: Joel finds the perfect way to keep you quiet while he showers you with compliments.

UPDATED: 12/31/2024

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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girlygguk · 2 months ago

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STRAWBERRIES & CREAM | JJK

banner by the gorgeous @runariya <3

1/3 teaser for my pick the fic! poll 📊 starting off with the current lead, strawberries & cream...

[pairing] wealthy law student jk x aspiring actress & struggling waitress reader

[teaser content] sfw, 1.1k words, 21 jk | 21 yn, some internal monologue cursing, wrongful workplace treatment (yes, yet another one of my oc's has a shitty boss 😭), a group of rude fucks won’t leave the diner, oc just wants to buss her damn tables and skedaddle, jk is Whipped and oc is Worried.

📍 Seoulful Delight a rundown diner on a somewhat quiet corner of the city.

You were closing alone again.

The night cook had called in sick, leaving you to handle everything yourself. At first, you figured it wouldn’t be a big deal.

It was a slow Monday, after all, and most of the regulars were already gone — the elderly folks who came for their nightly decaf and pie, the high school kids who hung around after school. But then, a group of rowdy guys strolled in, loud and obnoxious, ordering a ridiculous amount of food while making sure to throw in comments about the wait time despite it being painfully obvious you were the only one working.

And now, with their empty plates stacked high on the table and the lights of the diner dimming, they refused to leave no matter how many times you told them the place was closed.

You weren’t that stupid. Their sleazy smirks, the way they eyed you up and down, it was all warning enough not to push any further. And you didn’t.

The last time you had called the police on a group of guys a little worse than this, one of them ended up being the son of the officer on duty, and knowing your luck, one of these jerks would probably end up being the brother.

Your manager, Ahn Chang-min, was livid about the callout fee charged for what was deemed a false report, and he’d been deducting the cost from your paycheck bit by bit. You knew it was wrong — probably unconstitutional too, if you were using that word correctly — but you didn’t have the energy, support, nor the funds to fight it.

So instead of making a scene, you sighed, pursing your lips as you slipped behind the counter and texted Chang-min for advice. Unsurprisingly, your messages were left on read, and the group of dickheads showed no signs of leaving.

Your tired eyes scanned the diner. You had cleaned almost everything, except for their table and one booth in the back.

Jungkook’s booth.

He had become somewhat of a regular over the past few months. Always showing up an hour or two before closing, still dressed in his perfectly tailored suits, his hair tousled like he’d been running his fingers through it all day.

You knew he was a law student — or maybe a graduate, possibly even a lawyer by now. You weren’t sure of his exact age, but you’d often seen him with his nose buried in thick law books late at night. 'Civil Procedure' was the title you recognized the most.

Despite how late he came in, Jungkook always ordered two servings of food, devouring it like he hadn't eaten all day. He seemed to have a thing for the all-day breakfast menu — extra crispy bacon, double helpings of fried eggs, sometimes toast, sometimes pancakes.

When he couldn’t decide between dishes, he’d ask you to pick for him. Last week, you’d chosen the grilled steak sandwich, your personal favorite, which you’d prepared yourself since the cook was on break.

You’d learned to make everything on the menu by now, given how often the night cooks either called in or left early. Some recipes you’d been taught; others, you just winged it. So far, no one had complained about the quality. Though, most of the customers who came to this shitty little diner were either too drunk to notice or too polite to say anything.

Nevertheless, Jungkook had ordered two of that same sandwich every visit since.

You wondered how he managed his schedule. How he stayed so fit with all the food he consumed. He never came in before 10pm, and you found yourself hoping that his days didn’t start too early. That wouldn’t be healthy.

But then again, working almost back-to-back doubles and still barely scraping by after rent and utilities wasn’t exactly healthy either. But somehow, you managed. You just hoped his days weren’t as long as yours.

The moment your soft voice carried across the diner, announcing it was closing time, Jungkook snapped out of his trance, glancing at his phone and realizing how late it was. He began packing up, but his hands stilled when he overheard a group of guys’ crude remarks from the center table of the diner. They weren’t just refusing to leave — they were making inappropriate comments, and the way they talked to you made his grip tighten around his book.

He set it back on the table, his jaw clenching as he watched you back away from them, obviously trying to avoid escalating the situation. You looked like you were about to head toward his booth, maybe tell him it was time to leave as well. But after a moment of hesitation, you turned and disappeared into the kitchen instead, your shoulders slumped in defeat.

Jungkook’s heart clenched.

He hoped you didn’t think he was anything like those assholes. He could never treat you that way. Never refuse you anything. After all, you made the best steak sandwich he’d ever had.

He doesn’t know if it was because he really liked steak, or if it was because he knew you were the one to prepare it for him that made it taste so good. Either way, it was perfect. Sweet. Just like you and just like everything you did.

The way you filled his coffee cup all the way to the top even though the lines on the mug told you to stop three-quarters up. The way you’d add a fried egg to his steak sandwich without charging extra. The care you put into everything for him, even when you were exhausted.

Jungkook always made sure to tip you directly. He never left the money on the table where your grimy little coworkers could pocket it while you were clearing another booth. He’d even downplay the amount when signing the bill because he knew your shitty boss was the type to skim what he could off the top.

Every time without fail, you’d frown at him, shake your head, tell him to stop doing that. But Jungkook never listened. Eventually you’d relent, let him slip the cash into your apron pocket, and the soft, sweet smile you gave him afterward always made it worth every penny.

He looked forward to that moment every night — to the smell of your berry-scented lotion mixed with your perfume when you leaned down to thank him and clear away his plates. He spent a lot of time wondering what kind of berry it was. Raspberry? Strawberry? Boysenberry? He wished he could ask. Maybe he’d buy some for himself just to have something that reminded him of you.

Not that he needed a physical memento.

You were already stuck in his head. All day, every day, for the past three months.

ermmm... yea i may have downplayed just how whipped jk actually is... forgive me 🙇‍♀️

he is a grump tho, TRUST ME...

but just to like everrrryoneeee but her 😭

lemme know what u think?! love you x

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jiminjamms · 2 months ago

Text

sex therapy :: 31. gangbangs

summary: a very self-indulgent chapter/pseudo-oneshot. **naoya’s ex-wife becomes toji’s girl. everybody wants a taste, and why not have the younger cousin watch the show?** alternatively, a gangbang with tattooed dilfs and dilf-adjacents.

chapter tags/warnings: five-some, gangbang, sex on tape, gun play (becoming a gun slut), cum play, breeding, creampies, exhibitionism, edging, degradation, praising, mentions of violence (murder, knives, guns), multiple orgasms.

word count: 5.5k

notes: happy kinktober and thank you for waiting! this started off as a concept (in my mind for a year-plus) and evolved into…a monster. too many men, too many hands, too many cocks. got lost in the sauce. despite being a smut chapter in a long fic, this update is borderline porn-without-plot. likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

“I love getting gangbanged."

Naoya woke up in a dark room and to a throbbing headache.

Where…?

He looked around the unfamiliar surroundings slowly, blinking past his grogginess to register what almost looked like a crime movie’s interrogation room and groaning when the wrong angle to his head caused a sharp pain in his shoulder.

All around was an ominous and gloomy shade of gray—the walls, the ceiling, the floor, and heck even the door. How long had he been out for? Without windows, he could not take a wild guess at the time. Not to mention that the room also had no lighting, no pictures, and no décor.

Only him and this...random dinky chair he found himself tied up to.

Wait.

Tied up to?

Right. From what Naoya could last recall, he had been stopped by two men who took him out with a single strike.

In a vain attempt to set himself free, Naoya tugged at his limbs which were fastened behind him with sturdy cords. He twisted and turned, then twisted harder and turned even harder, until an unexpected voice startled him.

“You’re awake.”

Naoya went still.

Having zero visual stimuli sharpened Naoya’s other senses a little. He could feel the labored huffs in his breathing, hear the heavy footsteps that began in the chamber, and even taste the smoke that lingered in the hazy air.

Leering towards the door, Naoya quickly recognized his captors as they approached.

"Don’t give us that foul look, sleepyhead," the taller one whom he remembered as Eso announced as he slowly stopped in front of the scowling blonde. He had on him a wide and nefarious grin. "You had passed out for the last few hours. During that time, you could've been beaten. Or better yet, dead." He glanced up. "Right, Kechizu?"

His accomplice, who stopped on the opposite side, replied with a firm nod. From seemingly nowhere, he had pulled out a pocket knife and grazed the icy blade against Naoya's neck. "Ya feel that? I've been wanting to slit your throat, but I haven't. Lucky, lucky duck. Not everyone is this fortunate. All because our big bro Choso is being super nice to you."

Aware that a wrong move would cost him a jugular vein, Naoya listened intently. Since he worked with the other sex therapists before, he indeed recalled how his former colleague led a tightly-knit assassin ring, in which the members deemed each other 'brothers.'

Kechizu prodded Naoya again with his blade. "Big bro's the only reason you're still alive. Although, I don't know why you'd want to still be breathing now that the whole world knows you've been bumping uglies with your older cousin's ex-wife."

Eso hummed in agreement. "Well, at least for now," he began and he gestured around in vague motions, “you're already in paradise!” Then, he paused. “Well, correction. Here is where we send people to paradise. Or, more likely, hell.”

Noticing how Naoya uncharacteristically froze, the two snickered. In fact, they likely would've continued snickering if not for a shrill tone that pierced the air. The laughter stopped.

Eso's charcoal eyes flicked downwards.

"Left pocket, Kechizu."

The other man obeyed, lowering his knife (and thus giving Naoya an actual chance to breathe) before grabbing the phone from Naoya's blazer. A notification lit up the screen—a message, from you.

“She sent a video.”

Eso and Kechizu intentionally held the screen away, and their face quickly lit up with a sinister smile when they previewed the file. “Oh, yeah. Let's watch.”

“Come join us, sweetheart.”

You thought you were discreet.

Lingering at the doorway, you had been peering into the Zenin Corporation’s CEO Suite like a lost duck. This past afternoon, news about the leadership changes within Japan’s largest conglomerate had spread like wildfire across business and politics networks across the globe, announcing that Naoya Zenin had been forced to resign with Toji Fushiguro reclaiming his position as head of the company.

For the latter, you had questions—many questions. However, an inundated Toji was difficult to approach as he spent his entire afternoon in the office with his also-reinstated directors Sukuna, Geto, and Choso. From your observations, the men had been milling around the table, speaking to each other in hushed but decisive voices in conversations that must remind them of their days managing the Zenin Corporation before Naoya’s takeover.

They all appeared ridiculously handsome with their expensive custom-tailored suits that emphasized their muscular physiques and complemented their towering heights. Surrounded by legal documents and business reports, they carried themselves differently, too. More mature, organized, and serious, especially after hectic meetings with the Chairman Naobito Zenin, your COO father, and internal and external stakeholders had left etches on their calculating faces.

Now, however, Toji Fushiguro had caught sight of your quivering form at the entrance, and soon enough, all eyes turned to you. When you didn’t respond to his first invitation, the executive approached you in confident strides.

“Why do you look so shy?”

At the unanticipated attention, you averted your gaze onto the floor and tried to slink away into the hall slowly. “You all seemed occupied, and I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You're not interrupting anything," he clarified. "We have some time now.”

He tugged your wrist softly, which was all that you needed to follow him like a fawn into the room and crumble onto his lap once he sat down. Despite his dress pants, the warmth from his thighs heated your skin, and Toji nuzzled his face into your neck. His gravelly huffs sounded like all the other times you had heard him rasp, moments followed by endless endearment.

"About Naoya," the older man brought up from seemingly nowhere. You tensed at the name while Toji's cordial lips assuaged you. "Choso’s brothers are making sure he’s not going to do anything funny. We can't have him around as we are transitioning the company. As for you...knowing my cousin, he's going to keep claiming you as his property unless you get through his dense head," and his viridescent pupils flicked upward, "and the only way to do that is to show him.”

Although you didn’t know exactly what he meant, Toji hoisted you in one fluid motion onto his desk and sprawled you across the surface. He pushed your thighs apart, prompting sharp breaths that echoed in the room as onlookers raked their eyes down your figure. Some (namely, Sukuna and Geto) peered down shamelessly, while others (just Choso, really) tried to come off as cool and observed quietly. Nonetheless, the message in their perverted gazes was clear: what they wouldn't give to kiss you, bite you, and mark you right then and there.

Just as you shrank a little from the overwhelming attention, Toji reached for your phone and pressed the device firmly into your palm.

“Let’s send him a message.” Toji’s eyes locked onto yours, unflinching and sharp.

You blinked, raising an incredulous brow. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Leaning forward, Toji offered a clear view of the ink scrolling down his neck, his exhales warm against the beading cold sweat on your forehead. “Open up the camera. Let's send Naoya Zenin a surprise.” He gently pinched you. "Like I said, that idiot wouldn't understand shit unless you slam the idea into his dumb skull.”

You hesitated, glancing down at the phone in your hand.

“A photo won't be enough, by the way. We need a video. He won't get the fucking idea unless he sees and hears the proof.” When you complied, Toji turned to the colleague closest to him. "Wanna do the honors, Suguru?"

The said man came forward eagerly, the obsidian in his eyes sparkling. "'No' is never my answer to you, sir." Given your compromising position, he had the easy option to tear your lacy panties and stuff himself into your core except he wanted to take his time.

"I heard a lot about you." His compliments were all purrs that sent hot shivers shooting through your veins. "Mind if I take a go at you, too?"

After being passed between his three other colleagues, you must admit that you had at least thought about what sex with Geto was like, too. "Please."

At the permission, the man smiled and bunched your underwear to one side. The cold air hitting your drenched cunt made you shiver, but the collective groan in the room rumbled even louder, a reminder of the many men around you. Men who were being patient for you. Men who could not stop thinking about you. Men who, because of your ex-husband, had been holding grudges against you.

Geto pulled down his boxers just until the waistband fitted snugly under his balls. His cock stood proud with precum dribbling down his length as he positioned himself in the comfy spot between your thighs. He pressed against the table until his knuckles turned white, aligning himself with your entrance.

Without extra stimulation, your saturated folds welcomed him easily and you gasped loudly at the intrusion.

"Shit, you’re soaking," Geto sighed softly as you clenched around him, swarming his veins with gratification. He tipped his head forward, his loose strands framing his face. “Tell me to stop if you’re uncomfortable, okay?” He was so sweet, so kind. You nodded and hazily recognized that this was what making love was supposed to feel like: tender, gentle, and loving. This was Suguru Geto's charm.

Before you could say more, an opportunistic Sukuna took his place above you. He moved quickly, undoing his belt and tugging hastily at his trousers, humming loudly with relief when he pulled his pants down and his massive cock sprang free. Despite being jostled by another man, you swabbed at the bubbling precum before pushing your thumb into your mouth, relishing his clean and salty tinge on your tongue.

Amused, Sukuna chuckled darkly. "What a fucking tease," he crowed, then patting your cheek. "C'mon. Open up, baby. Let me get to the back of your throat."

With little resistance, he popped your jaw open and sank his massive girth into your mouth. Gradually, you bobbed your head back and forth, letting your tongue lick every millimeter to him. He, likewise, pushed his hips forward, bringing your nose flushed against his well-trimmed patch of pink hair. He plucked the recording phone from your hands, and you sensed him tapping on the screen to focus on the erotic display where your bodies connected, your sinful lips accepting his fat cock with ease.

"You are such a good girl." Sukuna Ryomen confirmed, his movements mind-numbing as though he wanted to breed your esophagus. He wrapped a hand around your windpipe, constricting your airflow and causing you to gag. "Brat looks like a goddamn goddess sucking dick. Isn't that right, Choso?"

No response.

Curious, your pupils rolled to the side.

The assassin's the man you feared the most.

He was quiet, always guarded, his mysterious eyes pulling you in like two black holes. You could never know what he’s thinking about, although you lucidly remember his crooked obsession with 'disciplining' you.

"Hey, honey.” Geto's deft fingers suddenly gripped your chin, forcing your gaze to return to him. “Pay attention to us, m'kay?"

You hummed in response, Sukuna’s dick still bulging visibly in your throat.

"I don’t want you to lose focus," an overly aroused Suguru went on to explain. He breathed heavily. Shaking. Or maybe that was you? He clutched your love handles harshly before he pulled out and stepped to the side, making you stroke himself with your delicate hands instead. Briefly, you assumed that Geto preferred handjobs and wanted to ejaculate onto your breasts, only to get your answer when your puffy clit came into contact with the sharp coolness from…metal?

"Choso," Toji's harsh voice warned.

Brought back to your senses, you looked down to see Choso using the fluids to lubricate...his gun. You recognized the weapon, the same one you had seen in his car. The same one he would use to kill. All air in your lungs left swiftly. What the actual fuck. Sheer mortification was the only reason you didn't have the guts to do anything (because, if Choso became irritated enough, he could pull the trigger and then you would have no guts at all), and your silence only gave him a reason to continue defiling you into his personal gun slut.

He stared at his boss with an unperturbed frown. "You know I like her too much to hurt her."

A squeal tumbled past your lips when the pistol's freezing barrel pressed past your tight hole. Although you partially expected Toji to warn the weapon-wielding man again, Toji instead leaned forward in his chair, jaw resting on his fist. He could seem more concerned, but the mirthful glimmer in his emerald eyes said otherwise.

Meanwhile, Choso's piercing gaze alone made you sweaty, your forehead turned glossy with a sheen. He lazily massaged your inner walls, your warm arousal coating his cool metal before leaking onto the table, the only struggle now was how your body involuntarily twitched. To your fascination (and horror), pleasure began to build with each too-hard pass of his barrel. There were just too many sensations going on. Messy mouth deepthroating one cock, slicked hands stroking another, and sloppy cunt taking in a gun. You did your best to give everybody equal attention because you were a desperate crowd-pleaser, not wanting anyone to feel left out.

With your back arched from the table, you became increasingly frantic, demonstrating through feverish movements that all you were was their obedient little bitch. All these hands on your body, skin on your skin. You felt them all, the senses exhilarating and fascinating.

Toji sternly interrupted from seemingly nowhere. “I can tell from your movements that you want to cum, don’t you?” Maybe, but you were too overwhelmed to focus solely on your pleasure. Nothing that your therapists couldn't help with. Leaning over, Toji snaked an arm around your body to press tight circles at your engorged clit. "Be selfish for a little bit," he coaxed. "Cum for us."

His permission sent you immediately vaulting over the edge, your whole body spasming as an orgasm tore through you. Your lips parted, but you didn't scream. Your eyes shut slowly and rolled to the back of your head as every millimeter in your fragile body unraveled completely—fluttering, cramping, and shuddering.

Your ears became blessed with chorused laughter and praise.

Choso inspected your copious juices that suddenly coated his gun, a translucent thread trailing from the barrel to your now-exposed cunt. Reaching over, Sukuna wrapped his hand around Choso's forearm. He leaned into the pistol and parted his lips, swirling his tongue slowly around the barrel. His maroon eyes were half-lidded, giving him an almost lazy yet focused look as he dragged his tongue along the metal, lapping up your precious essences—the syrups rich and just a bit tangy. Drooling and sucking like a little kid with a lollipop, Sukuna didn't care that his spit trailed from the metal down to the other man's wrist and flipped the camera to selfie mode to capture the action.

Towards the end, his tongue swiped over his lips, leaving a luster from your elixir that coated his mouth. “So fuckin’ sweet.”

After another generous lick, he swished the concoction in his mouth before pinching your chin, and your mouth propped open. Pleased, he hummed when you stuck your tongue out, showcasing just how naughty you were. He drooled the spittle into your mouth, the saline taste blossoming on your taste buds, a thread of spit connecting your chin and his.

"Sharing," Sukuna chuckled darkly into your phone's microphone, "is absolutely fucking caring."

Nearby, Suguru groaned. He hurriedly clambered to the comfy space between your plush thighs, shoving a grumbling Choso aside. "I'm so fucking close."

He buried his dick into your tunnel, the veins on his cock pulsating. Call him selfish or masochistic, but as much as he wanted to reach his high, Geto denied his orgasm to stay longer inside and prevented himself from fucking bursting.

“Don't hold back, Suguru,” you urged.

Geto furrowed his brows, sweat gathering on his forehead as he tried his best to hold out. He admitted earnestly, "I don't want to give you up, baby.”

“I want you to cum,” you said, all whiny with puppy eyes. Free hand slithering down, you cupped his aching balls and gently squeezed his heavy testes. "Besides,” you glanced over at the camera, “show Naoya how you can breed me…daddy."

Sugaru’s eyes widened at the unexpected nickname that he loved so much. That’s it. He’s done for. His handsome features crumpled from an over-the-top pleasure as he gave his snapping hips one final push and pumped you full, coating your cervix white with his thick essence as he rested his head against your forehed, panting into your ear and moaning into your skin.

Pressing one last kiss on your cheekbone, he pulled himself out of your hot cunt, allowing others to have their way with you.

Sukuna got behind you eagerly. He repositioned your shaking body, his calloused hands tossing you over and leaving you panting on your hands and knees. His harsh squeeze at your sides made you squeal just as he pulled your legs apart for easier access, exposing your cute hole.

"Shit, she's making a mess, dripping onto the desk." The same desk that belonged to Naoya merely several hours ago. Adjusting your phone camera, Sukuna thumbed through your folds like they were pages in a book, scoffing at the viscous dallops that slid out. The tattoos on his wrists gleamed pitch black under the glossy mixed juices.

"Suguru's cock did you well, but this pretty lady isn't finished yet, eh? She can take more. I know she can." His hands weaved into your hair and tugged harshly. "Tell us, missy. You can handle more, correct?"

The threat in his menacing tone only suggested there was one answer. You whimpered pathetically, "Yes."

With a crooked smile, Sukuna pressed his muscular form against your back. That man was starving. After all, he had been waiting to have your pussy properly wrapped around his painful erection when he could've greedily taken you for himself first.

"Stop moving so I can angle myself correctly," Sukuna reprimanded when you wobbled on all fours.

Hardly any time was given to let you register the warning before the man plunged into your sensitive socket. He ignored your desperate wail, amazed at how he plugged you all the way. His pace started off sensual and languid. Each snug press against your battered cervix at first made you squeak, but you became too far caught up in the moment that the discomfort disappeared as promptly as the sensation came.

"Mhm," Sukuna hummed, a squelch ringing through the room each time he would bottom out. He didn't need to say anything for him to feel how wet you were, fluids trickling out from your puffy hole and creating what looked like the Nile River running down your thighs.

"Holy fuck," Choso swore to the side, his emotions a rare display.

Blissful waves rushed to your head, one after another. Arousal flooded into your tummy, your cunt twitching uncontrollably as a second climax started to sneak up on you.

Sukuna groaned—or at least attempted to groan—through the exertion of his forceful movements. How he had missed playing with you. A few trickles of sweat on his forehead glided over the ink on his forehead before dripping onto your back. He pumped himself faster, his balls smacking against your clit harder—savoring how you squirmed underneath his direct influence.

He could not resist peering down at the sacred space where your bodies connected and ensured that the camera, too, had an unobscured view. The problem was he had become so agonizingly turned on that his hold on your phone began shaking. He rasped, back straightening. “Goddamn, your cunny does me good.”

Not long after, he reached his release snarling and grunting like a dog as white ropes shot from his cock and into your uterus, with him nearly dropping your device onto your ass from his sheer ecstasy.

"No!" you protested loudly when Sukuna pulled out abruptly, hissing as your empty hole clenched around nothing. "I..." You balled your fists, thumping the desk in frustration. "I was so fucking close."

"Don't worry." The strawberry-haired man tenderly brushed away the tears by your jaw. Like he hoped to comfort you somehow. "Nothing Choso can't help with. He'll take great care of you." He looked over at the said colleague. “Isn’t that right?”

Gulping, you followed his gaze to the other man who had stopped behind you.

"You look nervous," Choso commented matter-of-factly. "Why?"

As if he didn’t already know the answer. You rolled your eyes and snorted like a true brat, indeed. "None of your business."

Besides, you had enough encounters with Choso Kamo, each incident more indecent than the last. This time, he naturally noticed your eyes drift to the gun tucked into his back pocket, the saps from earlier creating an ample moist patch on his pants.

“So, tell me, bimbo," Choso spoke again. He didn't care to announce himself as he unbuckled and pressed in, stretching you with his thickness, aided by your copious reserve containing both arousal and cum, hitting that sweet spot that he had no problem finding over and over. "Did you think I had been done with you already?"

Holding in whimpers from his repeated thrusts, you let out a soft groan.

"I can't hear you."

"Yes."

“But, do you want me?”

Silence.

“I am not going to repeat my—”

"I want you s’ badly..."

A demon must have possessed you. There was no other way to explain yourself. But those remarks were all Choso needed before he began to move impossibly fast within you. He didn’t care that he pounded into you like a beast, creating a commotion that perhaps the floor below could hear your wetness reverberate around the room.

"This is for being a fucking tease." Choso raised his hand high and then delivered an unforgiving blow against your ass. Unprepared, you yelped from the sheer force, which had been enough to leave a handprint on your unblemished cheeks.

"I didn't—!" Your attempt to defend proved futile as Choso spanked you again with little regard for your feelings.

"This is for giving me an attitude," he continued, gruff. And again. "For forgetting how to behave, shit." And again, and again, and again. For this, for that, his listed grievances going on and on and on, his punishments making you cry and squirm and wail.

Choso knew he was selfish. If his boss Toji wasn't involved, he would want nothing more than to keep you forever, making you his little gun slut and teaching you to cum all over him. He couldn’t help it. As if the roles were reversed. Like he was the inexperienced one, unaware of his partner's feelings and only caring for his pleasure. He remained relentless as he continued his abuse, the tendons along his hands and arms flexing with his efforts, like the crazed killer he was being out for blood.

The distressed expression written all over your face only made him want to go harder. He loved making it hurt, his sadistic personality entirely to blame. With every pump, his testes smacked onto your clit repeatedly, feeling him sink deeper and deeper inside.

“F-Fuck—S’ too much, Choso!” A sob wracked your trembling figure amidst his assault. In distress, you tugged at his wrists to get him to ease up on you. That didn't matter. He was too strong, especially when compared to you.

"I thought you wanted to cum."

"I do!" But you didn't think you would be able to cum like this. "This...This is too painful!"

As if he cared.

"Oh, please," Choso scoffed, even rolling his inky eyes in dismissal. "This isn't painful. You're just being dramatic. If you think this is painful...how do you think I felt, hm? Watching Geto and Sukuna take turns defiling you. Hearing you blubber their names without shame. Did you think that I—with my cock stiff in my pants—that I didn't feel pain? Listen to yourself. God, turns out you're just another selfish slut."

Scorching tears streamed down your face, and you searched around desperately.

"No one here's going to save you," Choso announced, reading right through you. He pressed his face against your earlobe, a hot puff of air fanning out across your delicate skin. "Because it's too obvious. You fucking like this, pup."

Did you?

Even if that wasn't the case, you guess you did now, the unwavering conviction in Choso's tone spurring a change of heart. It’s sick, you realized, he’s manipulating me.

Yet, sure enough, you soon started to feel lighter, giddier. Your pupils dilated from stimulation and your muscles tingled with excitement. Choso felt so good. You felt so good, and the coil from deep within your cervix compressed tighter and tighter as a pressure built from within.

"I'm close...again." This time, it's a little embarrassing to admit, especially when you were complaining like a puppy just minutes ago.

"What did I tell you, pet," Choso growled, the corners of his mouth quirked upwards in a rare grin. He made you feel glorious. Consequently, you writhed underneath his body, fully submissive under his control. You wanted nothing more than to be a pliant baby girl for him, let him use you in any way he wants. "Cum and squeeze my cock."

“Make me.”

“Oh?”

One final blow to your ass was what hurled your body over the edge.

“I—” you choked on your spit. "I'm coming!"

You shrieked the moment you felt your body disintegrate, your shoulder blades caving in as sweat fell like raindrops from your skin. Elbows giving up, your head hit the table, leaving your temples pulsing with dizziness, bliss, and pain; your eyes staring at the wood finishing; your chest rising up and down, exasperated from the intensity of your release.

And oh, your pussy squeezed Choso good. Before he could hold himself back, Choso dug his nails into your ass. "Fuck, you are incredible," was the last thing he muttered before he came as well in one long grunt, splattering your womb with his creamy semen. He made you tremble when he pulled out, releasing the mess inside and leaving you feeling oddly empty and cold. Glob after glob of cum oozed out, semen from multiple perpetrators painting over your labia, which made the surrounding men grin at the sight, knowing that you held all their seed inside.

Nothing except their breeding hole, that was what you had become. There was something they adored about labeling you as their personal whore.

Not long afterward, a warm hand took yours into his own. Toji caressed the skin of your palm before pulling you right onto his lap again. In the end, he was whom you belonged to. If anybody wanted to do anything to you, they had to talk to him first.

Toji helped you straddle him, tucking one leg onto his either side, except you were so fucked out that you didn’t know who you were or where you were from.

"C'mon, honey. Don't lose yourself just yet," he murmured gently, brushing a few free strands from your forehead. Otherwise, you would've gone limp and lost all senses completely.

Toji had been waiting for you. He considered this a sign of his maturity, allowing the younger and more impatient men to make a mess with you first. Now, though, was his turn, fair and square.

His exposed length pressed up against his abdomen with fantastic girth and length such that—despite your current state—your pupils went heart-eyed and your mouth drooled from sight alone. He loved when you made that expression, one he had seen countless times in his dreams; a guilty pleasure in reality. He chortled at your sharp gasps, finding you adorable even after being stuffed by several men.

However, just when you didn't think you could handle more, his red-flushed head brushed over your clit and jolted your veins with the familiar wave of arousal. You shifted, the sticky mess between your legs uncomfortable. In a brief moment of lucidity, you had an epiphany. With one hand resting on Toji's shoulder, you reached down with the other to spread your folds, biting your lip as you clamped down on your sensitive walls hard.

Sure enough, a generous amount of cum trickled out of your used cunt, oozing onto Toji’s cockhead and sliding down gradually to his balls.

"Holy shit."

Eyes grew wide with surprise, jaws dropped in reaction to your nasty actions. Since when did you learn to become so dirty? Flushed cheeks betrayed their interest as they continued their lustful staring. Generous was what you were, letting them ogle like schoolchildren for a few moments longer before you scooped up the slick and began to suck on your fingers. Softly, you hummed at the succulent flavors concocted by you, Suguru, Sukuna, and Choso combined.

"Next up is you."

“So fuckin’ filthy," Toji praised with utter adoration.

As you continued, you made sure not to break eye contact as you subtly rutted your sopping cunt against his tip. You coyly batted your long lashes in his direction, making sure he could feel the liquids running down his cock and the throbbing pussy that awaited him.

You smiled. "All yours, Dr. Fushiguro."

He suddenly grew smitten at how polite you could be, and using his hands as a guide, he helped you sink into him slowly. “Goddamn.” The sound that emerged from him was wholly obscene, a carnal desperation only matched by your movements, your thighs constricting his hips and your eyes rolling backward. How cozy, you discovered yourself to be, snug at his hilt. Toji had filled you all the way but a few centimeters of his cock remain, his tip already kissing against your spent uterus.

Something about knowing that his little cousin would watch this made Toji want to do everything to push deeper into you. He started by rocking your waist against a rhythm, and a near-pornographic mewl escaped your lips when his shaft ran over an especially sensitive spot, the ridges rubbing against your cavern and sending pleasure through your every limb. He hummed at the way you squealed and loved how expressive you were with your body and feelings.

His tongue laved across your shoulder before stopping over your collarbone. "You'll still go back to Naoya after this?"

"Absolutely not," you mumbled with sincerity. "I would hate myself if I did."

“Excellent,” he slurred, his spit drooling down your back from where his mouth had latched onto your neck. “That’s…exactly what I wanted to hear, baby.”

Baby. Your eyes squeezed shut, responding with a whine. Although the overstimulation was originally uncomfortable, you began to feel satisfaction cut through the soreness once again as your body prepared for one more climax. You rocked your hips in need, like an animal in heat, a sight that would certainly drive your ex-husband crazy. “F-Feels,” you paused to pant, “Feels good.”

“Fuck.” Toji gritted out, breaking through his cacophony of crude moaning and effectively searing your skin. He continued steering your body in the rhythm he learned you liked, his nails nearly piercing your skin despite their bluntness. He cupped your jaw harshly. “What are you to us, sweetheart?”

“Oh.” You laughed a little, clearly delirious, and then replied. “'M your cumdump.”

“Say that again.”

“I—”

“Louder.” The emeralds in his heavy-lidded eyes skated briefly to the phone. “I want everyone to hear.”

So, you mustered all your energy to give your final answer—and the correct answer. "I am your cum dumpster!"

Toji started saying something, chuckling maybe, but his words weren’t clear even as he tossed his head back. His breathing was deep, wet, and sexy, and he was no doubt blistering hot in his business blazer, his slicked-back hair soaked with sweat and hanging limply in front of his flushed face. His expression, on the other hand, was what got you the most; his eyes drawn shut, his brows slightly pinched, his mouth just barely parted.

He panted, raising his head to lock lips with yours, moaning into your mouth lewdly before pulling back, and admiring your fucked out expression, face heated and sweating.

“Shit, you’re too good to me,” was the last thing Toji sighed before he added to your womb with his hot cum, his grip on your body tightening as his balls twitched and lodged his precious seed into the sacred cavern. Pussy clamping down, you milked him, not willing to let a single drop go to waste, gasping when the explosive warmth made you shatter with him, leaving you hiccuping and spasming until you were just jolting and crying out from the stretched muscles in your body.

Overheated, you slumped forward. Sweat rolled uncomfortably down your back, spit smeared across your neck and shoulders and chin.

But you looked up and giggled at your latest discovery.

“I love getting gangbanged."

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: I spent way more time preparing this chapter than I expected, writing, rewriting, and editing. Adding, shortening, then adding again. (At some point, this was nearly 7K words.) This is far from perfect, but I must relinquish myself. Thank you again for reading!

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clockwayswrites · 3 months ago

Text

City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 21

CW: discussions of mental health and past temporary character death Masterpost

“Hey Dandelion, do you have everything?” Dick asked as he peered into Danny’s room— or the room that Danny had been using since they moved to this safe house.

Now that they were moving to the Manor, Danny would be getting his actual room with the rest of them in the family wing. For those that had moved out, the Manor wasn’t their only home, but it was still home and their room was still their room. Or at least for Dick and Cass. Jason… Dick knew that it was still harder for Jason.

Thinking about it now, Dick didn’t know if he’d actually ever seen Jason actually sleep in his childhood room again. Jason was always up first, helping Alfred in the kitchen on the rare nights that he stayed over. Once Dick had fond Jason still asleep in the library, book still in hand. Maybe it was something to change. Maybe it could change, now that Danny was there to bring up the conversation.

“Danny?”

“Sorry,” Danny said with a slightly water smile. His little brother was clutching his blue bear, as he almost always was these last few days. “I, um, yeah, I think I have everything.”

Dick sat down on the edge of the bed next to Danny. “But?”

“But?” Danny repeated. His brows crunched up adorably.

Dick leaned over to bump their shoulders together. “But you don’t seem happy. If this is all too soon, we can delay.”

Danny gave a little, unhappy snort. “You all keep delaying for me. I didn’t want to meet Bruce so you kept him away. I didn’t want to tell you things and you all still haven’t made me.”

“We want you to be comfortable and feel safe.”

“I do,” Danny insisted. “I have and I… and I still ran, didn’t I? I was safe and cared for and I ran. And now I don’t want to leave here. That’s so stupid of me!”

“It’s not—”

“It is!” The words seemed to choke Danny. “It is. I trust you! I trust you and Hood and B.B. and I… I still can’t! I want to tell you, but I still can’t…”

Dick wrapped Danny up in his arms, pulling his brother tight against his chest and cradling Danny there as he sobbed. There had been a lot of tears in the last few days, and Dick knew that there would be many more. He didn’t try to shush Danny, just kept him held close until the tears ran out.

“Sorry,” Danny mumbled against Dick’s damp shirt.

Dick took a moment to think of his words. “This family is bad about trauma, which isn’t great because we have a lot of it. But we all know it. And… and you can feel completely safe and still have part of you that’s terrified because of the trauma. That if you speak it or face it or acknowledge it the trauma will suddenly have so much power over you and… and all the worst things that you fear in the dark quiet of the night will be true. It makes you fear that the same people you’re safe with and love you will look at you differently or blame you. And… um…”

He needed a moment to breathe, face buried against Danny’s dark locks, as his own monsters reared up. “And there are people who might. But not… not us. We have been through so much as a family and no mater what we’re still family. And you’re part of that too now, Danny. So it’s okay to be scared or sad or not tell us things, but none of that changes that you’re family. If we argue or get annoyed or cry we’re still family. So don’t be sorry. Please, don’t be sorry for any of it because I don’t want you to be sorry for being family, okay?”

“Okay,” Danny said, breath choked but words still sure. “Okay.”

Dick carded gentle fingers through Danny’s hair. “Look at it this way, you’ve already tamed Damian. That’s a big step in this family.”

Danny’s snort of laughter was slightly lost with the way his was still buried against Dick’s chest. “I don’t think Damian can ever be tamed. He’s like one of those… whatchamacalls it. Those tiny desert cats with the highest kill ratios for predators. Small and kitten shaped but still very wild.”

“Yeah, okay, maybe you’re right. Adorable and stabby is pretty accurate,” Dick agreed. “But it’s going better than it did with Tim! You should ask him about it— actually, you know what, don’t. Don’t ask about it. Water under the bridge. Bloody, bloody water.”

“…what?”

“Yep, never mind! Okay. Let’s double check you have everything,” Dick said, hauling them both bodily to their feet.

When in doubt, distract.

Alfred was struck silent when he opened the door. That was not something that happened often and in fact his sharp tongue was something that Alfred prided himself on. But in that moment, he was without words.

Young Daniel looked so distinctly like Bruce at that age, down to the haunted look of desperate hope waging battle against a highly rational mind, that Alfred was thrown back into times past. Back then, even half a decade after past Thomas and Martha’s death, Alfred still had no idea how to handle a child. At least now he had more of an idea.

“Welcome home, Master Danny,” Alfred said and stepped aside to let the newest Wayne enter the Manor.

Master Dick and Master Jason flanked the boy like towering honor guards.

“I am Alfred Pennyworth, and you may call me Alfred, or Alfie if you must. Master Jason certainly seems to prefer it,” Alfred said with a fond look Jason’s way. “If there is anything you need, at any time of day or night, to feel more comfortable here you simply need to ask me. It is my duty and honor to serve this family, which very much includes you.”

“I— ah, thank you, Alfred,” Danny said softly. He was quiet in a different way than young Bruce had been and the Bristol accent was almost shockingly absent, even though Alfred had known it wouldn’t be present.

“Of course. Now, lunch is in about an hour. I thought perhaps you might like to settle into your room a little before the meal,” Alfred said and turned slightly towards the stairs.

Danny obediently fell into step. That behavior was much more like Tim’s had been when he first arrived. Alfred tucked that thought away with the rest.

“You are in the family wing, of course. Master Bruce, Master Duke, and Master Damian are the other permanent residents of the manor. While the others still have their rooms, they come and go,” Alfred explained as they made their way to and up the stairs. “We have put together a room that we hope will be suitable for you, but anything that isn’t to your liking, we can easily change it.”

“We’ll go shopping in a few days too,” Dick said. “We can grab some things then that you might like for the walls and desk.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Danny said quickly.

“Fine’s not the goal, kid,” Jason said. “The goal is to make this home.”

Danny was silent in response to that. Alfred made another mental note to check in with Danny about the room a few times and possibly even to suggest items.

“Master Bruce’s room is at the end of the hall,” Alfred explained when they reached the top of the stairs. “Master Dick’s on the left and Master Jason’s on the right of it. This way we have Master Tim’s and Miss Stephanie’s. While she is not family, there have been enough nights she has stayed over to warrant the space. Miss Cass’, Master Damian’s, Master Duke’s next and this is yours, Master Danny.”

Alfred opened the door to the room with a little bow. As with every room in the manor, it was fitted with a bed, two side tables, a dresser, and a credenza all in the same dark wood. There had thankfully been enough time to paint the walls a two tone blue and bring a desk from one of the other rooms. The star project sat on the desk next to the basic supplies and an air diffuser. Already the room smelled softly of sandalwood. The bed was dressed in blues and creams with an extra, luxuriously soft blue blanket draped across the foot of the bed.

Danny stepped into the room almost cautiously.

Alfred moved back to give Danny room and took an even breath. Danny would settle with time.

“Lunch in an hour,” Alfred reminded the trio of Wayne boys as he took his exit. He’d best made sure that Danny’s first meal here was a fine one. After all, this would be home.

Dick entered the library quietly. He might be there to actively disturb Jason, but he didn’t have to be rude about it. Besides, it was nice to see Jason settled in an armchair, curled up slightly around a book. It was easy to see the little kid that Jason used to be like this.

(Dick made himself shake that vision away.)

“So,” Dick started as he settled in, arms crossed, against the back of the armchair across from Jason, “Danny’s first day in the manor seemed to go alright.”

Jason looked up from the book with a soft frown. “Yeah. We’ll see how tonight goes. Worried about nightmares for him. Just since it’s a new place and all.”

“I could see that happening,” Dick agreed. “Luckily we’ll all be close up upstairs if he does have one. You and me will just have to work not to run into each other as we bust out of our rooms.”

Jason’s fingers scrapped lightly against the pages of the book as he fanned them, gaze away from Dick and uneasy.

“Jason—”

“What did you mean about hallucinating?”

Dick’s intended question crashed to a halt against the roof of his mouth as he snapped it closed. What? When had he said…

“Um,” Dick cleared his throat to get rid of the lingering pile up. “What now?”

“When Danny ran, after your panic attack you said you were good, you weren’t at ‘the hallucinating stage yet’.” Jason looked up, pining Dick with that forever green tinted gaze. “What did that mean, Dick?”

It was Dick’s turn to look away as he scrambled to make a new plan of how to approach this. He’d never… how he was after Jason’s death, how it had broken him… that wasn’t something Dick ever wanted to burden Jason with. Bruce’s own lapse of sanity, Tim ending up in the Robin suit, Dick knew how those things weighed on Jason. As if it had been Jason’s fault he died. Dick breathed out a slow, measured breath. Guess there was no avoiding it now.

But Dick wasn’t going to let that information go without using some of it to his own favor. “Fine, I’ll explain but you have to stay and talk through the question I have for you too, deal?”

Jason took a silent moment. “…yeah, fine, deal.”

“Okay. Right. Um…” Dick rubbed his hands together, then circled the armchair and sat lightly down on the edge of the too soft cushion. Had the rich green fabric always been so itchy? “So, it’s nothing major, really, just that I have, before— at just one period actually— when I really stressed and too emotional about things, maybe had some hallucinations. But! But, I knew h—they were hallucinations and not real. It wasn’t like I was listening to the voice telling me to do anything or following after someone who didn’t exist or anything! It was— I dealt with it. It was fine. It hasn’t happened in a long time now.”

“You were hallucinating.”

“Yes.”

“A person.”

“Yes.”

“You could see them and hear them? Jesus, Dick,” Jason said, abandoning his book to rub at his face. “How bad was it? Did they talk back? Did you talk back? Did—”

“Yes! Okay, yes!” Dick exploded out of his chair. “Yes I could hear them. Yes I could see them! Yes he could talk back! Yes I talked back to him! Of course I talked back to him. You… you were gone, little wing. You were gone and I didn’t think— who could have thought you’d come back? You were gone and I know… I know he wasn’t real. I know he wasn’t you, but how I was I going to turn away any chance to talk to you when you were gone? Even when it was just… just my mind being cruel.”

“Me? You were— Dick, you were seeing me?”

The armchair cushioned Dick’s heavy fall back into it.

He shrugged.

What could he say to that? What could he say other than another torn ‘yes’?

“Jesus fucking… Dick.” Jason sounded torn.

Dick didn’t want to look up to see his brother’s expression.

Apparently Jason wasn’t having that because a moment later he was crouched in front of Dick, forcing himself into Dicks view.

“It’s not your fault,” Dick said quickly. Even as Jason’s large, calloused hand came to rest on his cheek Dick kept talking. The words needed to come out. “I just handled coming back from space and the mission to the… to the news badly. And Bruce was in a state. He’d ripped down every photo of you like just seeing your presence would break him and I think it would have! I know you— I know there are issues with you two and I’m not invalidating that, but he was so close to breaking and I was just angry about it all. And then Alfred put up that damn suit in that case like that and all I could— all I could see was the little brother that I’d never gotten to show how happy I was to have… and then I did see you. In a way. It just…”

Dick didn’t realize he was crying until Jason’s thumb wiped a tear away.

“Okay.” Jason took a deep breath. “Okay, so I’m going to need you to repeat part of that.”

“Bruce? Or that I’m sorry? Or—”

“Alfred. Alfred put the suit on display?”

Dick blinked, scattering more tears he ignored. “Yes? Did you— you didn’t know that? Did you think it was— No. Bruce couldn’t even handle seeing a photo of you! I thought Alfred putting that case in the Cave was going to kill Bruce. Drive him to finally let himself be killed like Tim said he was trying to do.”

“Right, fuck that. I’m going down and—” Jason started to stand and then took a knee again quickly and clasped Dick’s face on both sides. “No. No, first, if you ever and I mean fucking ever get to the point of hallucinating like that again you come to me or call me or anything. Do you hear me, big bird? If it gets bad or you think it will you come to me. I’m your little brother. You come to me.”

For a moment, Dick let himself close his eyes. He let himself close his eyes and breathe and take comfort in his little brother being there. “Promise.”

“Okay. Now, I’m going to go smash a case.”

Dick reached out and caught Jason’s hand. “Wait, you owe me an answer.”

“Dick.”

“You said you would! And I promise after we’ll go smash that fucking case together, okay? I’ve always hated it. But a deal is a deal.”

Jason basically deflated as he sat down on the floor at Dick’s feet. He rubbed a hand across his face. Dick felt bad, but he had bared his own soul and payment was due.

“Jay, have you ever slept in your room? Since you’ve been back, I mean. Since you’ve been back, have you ever actually slept a night in your room here?”

There was a long moment of silence where deal or no, Dick didn’t know if Jason was going to answer. Then—

“I can’t, Dick. It’s just— have you seen it? Nothing’s changed! It belongs to a dead kid and I just can’t. I can’t be him anymore.”

“Okay. Tomorrow I’ll clean it out for you.”

Jason’s head snapped to look up at Dick.

Dick shrugged. “This is your home too. Tomorrow I’ll clean it out. I can put it in a bunch of boxes and label it all or—”

“Toss it,” Jason spat and then quickly amended in a softer voice, “Not the books, leave those. And I guess… pack up and notebooks you find and stash them somewhere. You can… if there’s clothing Danny or Damian might like, give it to them. But the rest… toss the rest.”

“Okay, I can do that. And when I take Danny out in a few days you can come too and we’ll out some new things for your room too.”

“Dick,” Jason started, a clear protest. And then he sighed like all the air was let out of him. “Okay. But just like sheets and stuff.”

“Sure,” Dick agreed easily and with a too innocent smile. Before Jason could question it, Dick escaped sideways from the chair. “Now come on, we have a case to smash.”

Jason scrambled up from the floor. “We’re burning the suit after.”

“Of course we are. We’ll torch it on your grave.”

--- AN: Well this was a very dramatic section! Who knew that adding Danny to the family would help the rest of them deal with things! And yep, it's canon that the case with Jason's suit and that damn plaque are Alfred's doing, not Bruce's.

Stay delightful, darlings!

#dp x dc #batpham #city pigeons

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rafeandonlyrafe · 11 months ago

Text

aphrodisiac

words: 3.5k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, stepbro!rafe, stepcest, drugging, noncon/dubcon, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, female receiving oral, fingering, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v sex, pregnancy, somnophilia, male masturbation, bit of voyeurism?, mention of plan b, reader is 19 (rafe is like 20/21 but its not explicitly said)

“hey, sis.” rafe calls from the bottom of the stairs. you peak your head out of your room, curls swaying as you look at him. “i made you dinner.” “oh, you did!” you squeal, bounding down the stairs to fall into rafe arms, giving him a big hug as he spins you. “you’re the best step brother ever!”

rafe loves your reaction. something as simple as him preparing some food for you has you hugging and thanking him incessantly, a big smile on your face, so appreciated of the little act.

“no problem, sis. you’ll eat with me right?” rafe asks, having already placed the meal in the dining room, his plate at the head of the table, yours right next to him. he didn’t want to mix up whose was whose, for reasons you didn’t know yet.

“of course.” you nod, letting rafe interlace your fingers together as he leads you towards the dining room. you look at your place already set, another grin coming to your face. rafe made you soup and already got a big glass of water for you.

“thank you so much.” you hug rafe before sitting down, not realizing how much having your body pressed against his is affecting him.

“of course, bunny.” rafe says, leaning over the side of the table to push a strand of your hair behind your ear, not missing the way a blush comes to your cheeks.

you stir the soup before bringing the spoon to your mouth, blowing on it before taking a sip. “oh my gosh, rafey!” you smile at your brother. “this is so good!”

“im glad, honey.” rafe says, patting your thigh under the table before he works on his meal as well, letting out a breath of relief when you couldn’t taste what he had slipped in. “so, tell me about your day.”

“ugh, well i got into a fight with tiffy…” you begin to recount the details as you eat, not noticing that one of rafes hands stays underneath the table, just out of view as he grinds his hand down against his crotch, not able to control his cock when he’s around you, even your sweet little voice just explaining the drama of your day has him rock hard.

you don’t notice as rafes hand starts to jack up and down, his shoulder barely moving, his cock now free from his pants, praying he cums before you finish your soup, glad that you’re guzzling it all down. he wasn’t sure how much to put in, the secret ingredient he added just to yours. he wanted to make sure it took effect, but at the same time didn’t want to make you pass out.

“and then i took a shower.” you shrug. “boring, i didn’t do anything special. just shaved my legs and stuff. i did do a hair mask actually.” you touch over your curls, hoping they look a little shinier than normal.

“looks good.” rafe says, his voice hoarse, like he’s straining, and you make a weird face for a split second, trying to decipher if something is wrong before you shrug it off, immediately returning to recounting your day. “but i did use this new moisturizer all over, and it smells sooo good. like strawberries mixed with vanilla. just delicious.” you let out a small moan when describing the scent, not even realizing that rafe jolts in his seat, cumming into his hand as he bites his lip hard, barely holding back his noises.

“not as good as this soup though, rafey. thank you sooo much.” you reach over, rubbing your hand over his bicep. rafe quickly tucks himself back into his shorts, letting out an awkward cough.

“its no problem, really.” he shrugs. he feels a little guilty. you're so appreciative, and everything he’s doing has ulterior motives, but then you smile at him, and rafes cock pulses in his pants, and the bit of guilt goes out the window.

you sway towards the bed, wondering if you are coming down with something, your body warm, skin sweaty. you have already put on a pair of short pajamas, opting to skip the long set you usually like due to how hot you are.

you flop down on top of the covers, fanning yourself. you close your eyes, trying to sleep, but there's so much heat coming from you, especially between your legs.

“ugh!” you let out a groan, tugging your pajama shirt off to leave you in a sports bra, your shorts the next to go. you toss them off the bed and lay back, feeling like you can see your heartbeat through your skin.

you try turning to the side, hoping switching positions would make you fall asleep, but as your eyes close, so do your thighs, clenching them together as you grind back and forth, a delicious amount of pressure on your privates.

you quickly realize what you are doing and flip onto your back, panting heavily. you reach slowly between your legs. you've never masturbated before, but you've heard from your friends and movies what it is, so you cautiously rub a singular finger over top of your underwear when you suddenly press over a part of you that makes your entire body jolt, a moan forcing its way out of your mouth.

you try rubbing harder, focusing on the spot. you aren't even aware of the noises falling from your lips as your hand quickens, gasping out when you realize that your underwear is wet.

you've never felt the weird slickness between your legs before, but it helps your underwear rub easier over your skin, so you ignore it and continue.

before you realize what is happening, a damn breaks and a high spreads throughout your body. you scream out, limbs shaking as you rub yourself, realizing halfway through that this must be an orgasm.

you physically jolt off the bed when you realize that you just screamed out loud. it was only you and rafe in the house, everyone else gone for a weekend trip, but he must have heard you, his room right across the hall from yours, but you have more pressing issues as the orgasm did nothing to calm you down, immediately beginning to rub between your legs again.

you slide your shaky legs off the bed, knowing this isn't normal, the way your body is working. you must be sick, ill. you stumble out of your room and slam your body into rafes door, not caring that you fell into the wood, not when it's so cool and decreasing your temperature.

“sis?” rafe opens the door, and you quite literally fall into his arms.

“some… somethings wrong, rafe.” you pant, hands gripping at his shoulders as he holds you up.

“come in, come in.” rafe says, pulling you further into the room, kicking his door behind you. rafe maneuvers you to the bed, and the second you're sat down on the edge, your thighs are clenched together.

“i-i feel really weird. somethings wrong with my body i don't know, help me please.” you sob, chest rising and falling quickly.

“okay, okay.” rafe says, somehow not seeming surprised about the state you're in.

rafe places a hand on your shoulder, and you cry out from the touch, feeling like your body is on fire.

“i must have ate something bad or-” you pause mid sentence, realization sinking in. you look to rafe with wide eyes. “what did you do?”

“come on sissy, let me help you out.” rafes thumb sweeps over your skin, forcing a shiver through your body.

“rafe.” you say cautiously, but it turns into a whine when he tugs on the strap of your sports bra.

“it's okay.” rafe says so softly. “im just taking care of you.” rafe brings his other hand to your torso, grabbing the bottom of your bra and pulling it over your head, your arms too weak to do anything but rise up and let him take it off.

you know you should cover your chest, but it feels so good to have your nipples exposed to the cold air as you let out a low moan. rafe pushes your shoulders back, and you fall against the bed without even trying to hold yourself up.

“such gorgeous tits, sis.” rafe leans over your body, hands coming to grip your chest, palms rubbing against your nipples.

“p-please.” you beg. “you're my brother.”

“just your step brother.” rafe bites back. “and i know you'd want me if your mom hadn't married my dad. i just needed to slip a little something into your soup to help you along.”

rafe isn't wrong, of course you find him attractive, but you did everything in your power to set that aside and truly see him as a brother, even if you didn't meet until well into your teens.

“you drugged me?” you squeal, pushing your chest into his hands as he massages his fingers into your plump chest, putting enough pressure to keep you down, not that you’re truly resisting.

“just a little aphrodisiac.” rafe glances down between your legs, your underwear completely soaked. “clearly it worked.” “just… just make me stop feeling like this.” you say quietly, ashamed of what you are asking for.

“yeah?” rafe smirks, immediately starting to move, pulling his shirt off and tossing it away. “gonna fuck you so good, sis.”

“you can’t tell anyone.” you remind rafe, even as your eyes gloss over at seeing his muscles. you sit up suddenly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you kiss him. you moan against his mouth, pulling him onto the bed before flipping so you’re on top. you make out with rafe, truly not sure if you’re even doing a good job, you’ve never taken anything this far with a guy before.

you grind your hips down over rafes crotch, feeling how hard he is beneath his sweatpants. whatever rafe put in your soup makes it for too easy for you to cum as you already feel your high building again, especially when rafe raises his hands to play with your nipples, pinching and flicking at them while you buck your hips into his.

you pull away from rafes kiss with a squeal as you cum, your knees pressing together around rafes hips.

“holy shit, that was hot.” rafe smiles up at you, a toothy grin that has butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“just help me, please.” you beg. rafe nods, flipping you over onto the bed. you shuck your underwear off as he takes off his sweats, frowning when he's still covered by his underwear.

“ive wanted to taste you for so long-” rafe says, shoving your legs open as he lays in between them, his eyes on your soaked cunt.

“rafe, what are you gonna do-ooooh!” you shout as rafe lurches forward, burying his head between your legs. his tongue licks long stripes through your folds, lapping up all of your juices.

“never got head before?” rafe smirks, bringing a finger to your hole, teasing it by simply circling around.

“no, never done anything with a guy before.” you admit shyly.

“aww, baby.” rafe pouts up at you. “i didn’t know you were a virgin. that almost makes me feel bad about this.” rafes feeling doesn’t last long as his tongue is quickly back on your cunt, this time flicking directly over your clit.

you bring your hands to his hair, holding his face into your pussy as you grind your hips. rafe sucks your bud into his mouth the same time his finger plunges into you, forcing out yet another orgasm that has you screaming so loud you’re concerned the neighbors would hear.

“so, so good.” you whine, your clit feeling oversensitive but still filled with need as rafe continues licking and sucking, his finger now thrusting in and out of you.

“can make you feel like this all the time, sis. gonna let me fuck you after tonight right?” rafe asks, barely pulling away from you to speak, feeling the vibrations from his mouth on your pussy.

you don’t answer right away. you feel like you can’t truly give an answer, not when you are so turned on that you feel like you could explode, not as his finger keeps pumping inside of you.

“baby sis?” rafe looks up at you, waiting for an answer. you pull your lip between your teeth, trying to formulate thoughts. “or i can stop right now. if you don’t want to keep fucking me then you don’t need me tonight.”

“no, no, no!” you cry out as rafes finger stops moving. “i’ll keep sleeping with you just-just fucking move! make me cum again!”

rafe sucks your clit into his mouth as he forces another finger in, your walls tight around him but so slick he can move easily. rafe has to press his hips into the mattress as you cum again, giving some relief to his cock.

“fuck, how long until it wears off?” you cry out as your clit pulses.

rafe sits back, wiping his mouth against your thigh to clean his chin. “probably will feel better once i fuck you.” rafe says, in truth he’s not sure.

“fuck me then.” you beg, body squirming against the mattress, sweat leaking from your skin.

rafe nods, pulling his fingers out and kneeling between your legs. he pauses briefly before pulling his underwear off and tossing them away. “i can put a condom on but it probably won’t feel as good.” “just… just buy me a plan b tomorrow, okay? need you to cum in me, i think it’ll help.” you swallow nervously, knowing it’s a mistake, not just letting a guy fuck you raw, but your step brother.

rafe nods, draping his body over yours, knowing you are far too weak for any other position, your limbs jelly from the drugs and the orgasms. rafe reaches down, lining his cock up with your entrance. he pushes in slowly, watching your face contort in pleasure.

once he’s all the way seated inside of you, rafe feels your cunt squeeze around him rapidly, another orgasm being drawn out. you pant heavily, worried this will never end as rafe swings his hips out and then back in.

“is it-is it always this easy to cum?” you ask. they’ve all felt so good so far, but you are beyond overwhelmed.

“you’ve never cum before?” rafe asks, grunting as you raise your hips slightly, letting him sink in even deeper.

“not before tonight.” you admit, glancing down your body to see rafes cock entering you repeatedly, making another orgasm rise to the surface as you reach between your legs, fingers pressing to your clit as you cum hard.

“not always, baby. but i promise i’ll make you feel real good, even when you don’t have any aphrodisiacs.” rafe presses his lips against yours, but it’s not really a kiss, not when you can’t stop panting, your jaw slack and unable to close.

“did you take anything?” you question, realizing how hard rafes cock is, how easily he’s pounding into you.

“no, you are just that sexy, sis. i’ve wanted to get inside you for so long.” rafe grunts, making sure he thrusts as deep as possible every time.

“i-i think i’m gonna cum again!” you warn rafe, rubbing yourself to another orgasm, letting out a squeal as rafe struggles not to cum with you tightening around him, needing to get at least one more out of you before he bursts himself.

“fuck, you’re so tight.” rafe groans.

“cum in me rafe, please. i need your cum.” you whine, back sliding up and down the mattress as he fucks into you.

“yeah?” rafe smirks. “need your brothers cum, huh?” you know his dirty words are meant to tease you, but you can’t help agreeing. “yes, brother, please, please.”

rafe shifts his weight to one elbow, reaching down with his free hand to swat your fingers away from your clit, rubbing himself harshly, trying to get you to cum at the same time, hoping that will satisfy you.

“close.” rafe warns.

you let out a scream, back arching off the mattress as you cum, triggering rafes orgasm as he shoots his load inside of you, filling you up completely, rubbing you gently throughout your high before pulling away. rafes cock softens as he pulls out, flopping on his back onto the bed next to you.

you don’t even give him a second to breath, straddling rafes hips and trying to get his cock back inside of you, but rafe winces as his cum drips out of your cunt. “sis, stop. too sensitive.” he warns.

“i-i still need you though!” you argue. “you drugged me rafe, you have to help!” “here, come sit on my face.” rafe tugs at your hips until you are hovering over his mouth. rafe makes sure to only work his tongue against your clit, not wanting to taste his own cum, even as he feels it falling onto his chin and sliding down his neck.

rafe eats you out through five more orgasms until you can’t kneel above him any longer, flopping to the side.

“fuck me again, please.” you beg as rafe takes the blanket at wipes away his chin and chest.

“i can’t, i’m so fucking tired.” rafe wishes he could get it up, but its late, his body is exhausted, and he can barely keep his eyes open.

“you can’t fall asleep and leave me like this!” you scream at rafe, tears falling down your cheeks.

“shh, here.” rafe reaches his hand out, sticking two fingers inside of your pussy, squelching in your wetness. he fingers you until he can’t move any longer, passing out. you continue to hump yourself on his fingers and rub your clit until the need lessens, the drugs begin to wear off, and you manage to pass out next to rafe just before sunset.

you wake up with a groan, muscles sore as you blink your eyes open, bed still covered in wetness.

“hey sis.” rafe says, sitting on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, now dressed in his underwear.

“rafe.” you growl out. “you drugged me, you piece of shit!”

“hey, you certainly enjoyed yourself.” rafe argues back, locking his phone screen and tossing it away.

“fuck you!” you shout, launching yourself at your brother. rafe expects you to slap him, or scratch him, but not your lips as you press them against his.

“fuck me.” you ask. “i-i want to feel you when not drugged. you owe it to me. please, rafe.”

“oh baby.” rafe coos, not realizing what he just woke up inside of you. “you don’t have to beg me.”

“who did this to you?” your mother screams, ward looking just as concerned. “you’re still a teenager!” “i’m an adult!” you argue back.

“you’re nineteen! you still live at home, you have no job, no money! and now you’re pregnant?”

“when i find who did this to you.” ward pipes up, an angry expression on your face, completing the rest of the sentence without even having to use words.

“just… go to your room while your stepdad and i talk. i don’t want to see your face right now.” your mother shoos you away.

any other time you would cry at her harsh words, and at disappointing your mom and step dad, but you know what is waiting for you in your room.

“they're pissed.” you pout, falling into rafes arms once your door is closed and locked behind you.

“a little bit longer, sissy. and then i’m getting us out of here. i know it sucks, but i need a couple more weeks to get the money, and then we are gone. anywhere in the world you want.” “tell me again.” you sigh, leaning your head against rafes chest, placing a hand on your stomach, your bump haven gotten to big to hide it anymore.

“just you. me. our baby. no one who knows we are step siblings. i steal the money to get us away, and then we make it legit. find jobs. get married. have more babies.”

you smile up at rafe, pressing a kiss to his neck.

“i…” you whisper, knowing how dangerous of a time this is for you two getting caught. “i want you again.” rafe smiles. “that baby inside of you has you acting like you’re on that aphrodisiac again.”

“shut up.” you groan, rolling your eyes as you fall back into the bed, lifting your dress up to reveal you aren’t wearing any underwear. “we wouldn’t be going through this if you would have just bought me a plan b that next day like you were supposed to.”

“baby-” rafe shucks off his pants and underwear. “you spent all day riding my cock or begging for my mouth, even when the drugs wore off. i didn’t have any time!” “yeah, yeah, yeah.” you roll your eyes. “just get inside of me.”

rafe smiles at you as he lines up with your entrance, sinking in with a quiet groan before leaning forward, feeling your baby bump press against his abs. “i love you, sis.”

“i love you too, brother.”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @emma77645 @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk

2K notes · View notes

sainzsiren · 6 months ago

Text

"i happen to love happiness"

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

pairing... op81 x norris!reader

now playing... daylight by taylor swift

summary... lando is not happy about the developments between his teammate and his sister

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

liked by oscarpiastri, alexandeasaintmluex, lilymhe, and others

yourusername girls love monaco, proud of you lan

view comments:

mclaren our favorite sibling duo!

yourusername also your only sibling duo??

landonorris you're going to make me lose my job

user y/n being an icon as always

lilymhe gf 😍😍

yourusername gf 😍😍

user oh to have norris genes

user ikr every day i wake up mad that i dont look like a norris sibling

landonorris thanks for coming, y/n/n

yourusername 🫶

user them still using their childhood nicknames for each other is my favorite thing ever

alexandrasaintmluex mother

yourusername 💍?

charles_leclerc seriously y/n

alex_albon you get used to it 😊

yourusername you guys are just mad i stole your bitchessss

user the day y/n gets pr trained is the day i die

user i'm new to f1, is it a big deal that oscar is in her likes?

user no, lando and oscar are very close so it makes sense that y/n and oscar follow each other and like each other's posts. especially bc y/n is somewhat of an influencer

liked by carlossainz55, maxverstappen1, landonorris, and others

mclaren a very requested norris siblings dump!

view comments:

landonorris whos that ugly rat next to me in all these photos

yourusername die.

danielricciardo awe look they used to get along

landonorris false, we chased each other with knives

yourusername false, i chased you and you cried

user y/n being the younger sibling and the chaser is my favorite thing ever

oscarpiastri my favorite norris and her annoying older brother

user WOAHHHH OSCAR

user oscar i was not aware of your game

landonorris excuse you?

charles_leclerc scureriaferrari where's mine and arthur's dump 🤨🤨

scureriaferrari our bad, on it

mclaren copycats

user oh how i love admin beef

yourusername's story

view reply from landonorris

landonorris y/n/n

landonorris what the fuck

landonorris where are you

landonorris who is he

yourusername jesus lando no "i hope it goes well"

landonorris i hope it goes terribly you're too young to dare

yourusername IM 21?!?!

view reply from georgerussell63

georgerussell63 i was asked to check in on you

yourusername everything's going great, thank you george

view reply from alex_albon

alex_albon i was also asked to check in on you

yourusername i promise it's all fine tell lando to calm down

view reply from carlossainz55

carlossainz55 he's sitting in your apartment waiting for you to come home btw

yourusername great.

view reply from lilymhe

lilymhe GIRLS DATE TOMORROW I NEED DETAILS

yourusername 🫡

TWITTER:

landonorris this is my formal request for everyone to go on a manhunt for my sister and this boy (i just gagged while typing that) she is on a date with. she is at a nice italian restaurant in monaco. internet do your thing.

user overprotective brother lando has made his public debut

user lando i have some unfortunate news for you.

landonorris WHAT

user oscar was just spotted at a nice italian restaurant in monaco

landonorris no.

f1wagupdates oscar piastri was just seen with who appears to be lando norris's sister, y/n norris. y/n posted a picture of their meal on her instagram story with the caption "first date, kinda nervous" and tagged monaco as a broad location. what do we think?

view attached image

user oh my god they're adorable

landonorris i just vomited

danielricciardo oh this is fun

user i cannot wait to see how this unfolds

landonorris oscarpiastri if what i am is hearing is true, count your fucking days.

user a non-pr trained norris strikes again

INSTAGRAM

liked by oscarpiastri, lilymhe, francisca.cgomez, and others

yourusername i can explain

view comments

landonorris y/n im nauseous

landonorris how could you do this to me

landonorris no point in soft launching i already know you betrayed me

yourusername i will explain if you come to my apartment and KNOCK instead of breaking in

landonorris will HE be there

yourusername no.

yourusername food will be provided

landonorris deal

georgerussell63 ok this is cute

landonorris GEORGE YOU TRAITOR

maxverstappen1 y/n you're going to kill your brother with a heart attack

yourusername good 😊

user THEYRE SO CUTE

user ahhhh y/n in her gf era

user more like wag era!!

fransisca.cgomez im so happy for you 🥹

yourusername ily kiks

lilymhe ❤️

liked by yourusername

charles_leclerc you torturing lando is incredible

yourusername thanks i've had lots of time to train and perfect my abilities

danielricciardo ok but on a real note you deserve this, so glad you're happy

yourusername this is why you're my second favorite driver 🫶

landonorris IVE BEEN DEMOTED TO 3RD?!?

yourusername pls you're 18th

user bye i want to know who y/n has beef with on the grid

oscarpiastri 🫂

liked by yourusername

user THIS IS GETTING REALLL

liked by yourusername, mclaren, logansargeant, and others

oscarpiastri 🧡

tagged yourusername

view comments

user OH MY GOD ITS HAPPENING ITS OFFICIAL

yourusername ❣️

liked by oscarpiastri

lilymhe this is the cutest thing ive ever seen

alex_albon i tell you im in love with you in your comments??

lilymhe shush alex

landonorris hello.

oscarpiastri hello.

yourusername LADIES, LADIES! THERES ENOUGH OF ME TO GO AROUND

user oh how i love yn

logansargeant OSCAR??? WITH A GIRLFRIEND?? THIS IS UNHEARD OF

oscarpiastri 😐

mclaren so... need another paddock pass for canada?

oscarpiastri yes 😅

landonorris no

user my ynoscar heart cant take this

user THE SUNSET DATE??

user THE AQUARIUM DATE??

landonorris bleh.

TWITTER

landonorris oscar jack piastri i am in your walls

yourusername he was actually just in mine this morning 😊

user Y/N 😭

landonorris OH MY GOD Y/N

landonorris YOU'RE LITERALLY A CHILD YOU SHOULD NOT BE DOING THAT

landonorris ARE YOU AT LEAST BEING SAFE???

f1tea make the replies lando's search history

user how to get my little sister's boyfriend to leave her but not hurt her feelings

user are condoms 100% effective

user oscar piastri social security number

user how long until the average couple breaks up

user should i be happy that my sister is in a relationship

user what to do if you don't get along with your teammate anymore

user oscar piastri mclaren contract end date

user oscar piastri dating history

user oscar piastri location

INSTAGRAM

liked by carlossainz55, maxverstappen1, yourusername, and others

landonorris look at what i have to deal with. i hate happiness.

tagged yourusername, oscarpiastri

view comments

yourusername awe lando this is probably the sweetest thing you've ever done in response to my relationship

landonorris stfu i'll delete this

user norris sibling bond has not been broken

user WAR IS OVER (??)

maxverstappen1 i see some of the convincing worked

landonorris don't flatter yourself

maxverstappen1 i actually take full credit for this

georgerussell63 hey it was a group effort

alex_albon ^

charles_leclerc ^

carlossainz55 ^

danielricciardo ^

logansargeant ^

lewishamilton ^

oscarpiastri am i allowed back at your house or no

landonorris you may come if you feel so inclined

zbrownceo see lando supporting your family is good for you

landonorris meh 2/10 experience

liked by oscarpiastri, kellypiquet, alexandrasaintmluex, and others

yourusername i happen to love happiness ❣️

tagged oscarpiastri

view comments

lilymhe AWEEEEEEEE

liked by yourusername

iamrebeccad this is precious

liked by yourusername

logansargeans he's giggling and kicking his feet rn

oscarpiastri am not

georgerussell63 are too

alex_albon are too

alexandeasaintmluex my favorite ❤️

yourusername i love u

user YNOSCAR HAS MY ENTIRE HEART

user how can they be so cute

francesca.cgomez y/n/n and her boy 🥹

liked by yourusername

oscarpiastri you're my favorite person

yourusername and you're mine

landonorris gag

yourusername FUCK OFF LANDO

landonorris i am still nauseous but this is growing on me

yourusername jesus finally

#formula 1 #f1 #smau #lando norris #mclaren #oscar piastri leclerc #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smau #op81 #op81 x you #op81 fluff #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #lizlovestofangirlformula1 #smaus ᡣ𐭩

1K notes · View notes

canthelpit0 · 9 months ago

Text

Come through

Pairing: Cocky!Player!Chris x Reader

Word count: 4.5k+

Summary: chris hand always been a player. Would that change once he becomes famous? -no.

Warnings: smut, player!Chris, influencer!Reader, party, mentions of drinking/tobacco/weed, pet names (ma, pretty boy, pretty lady, sweetheart, etc.), bathroom sex, semi public, oral m!receiving, fingering, p in v (protected), praise kink, swearing, no use of y/n, no oc, written in 2nd pov

(A/N: English is not my first language, and I always appreciate feedback enjoy! love y'all. this is heavily inspired by come through, the song.)

Chris had always been sort of a fuckboy.

And with his growing fame it wasn’t getting any better.

Chris has a huge ego. Sure people would always say him and his brothers are nice and humble, but that doesn’t mean Chris can’t be cocky at times.

He didn’t drink. He was underage, though in LA nobody really cared about that anyway. He just didn’t like drinking.

Chris and his brothers would always be invited to some random LA parties.

At first Chris never wanted to go. He didn’t like partying. He didn’t like the smell of alcohol, tobacco and weed.

However he soon came to realize that his looks and fame would get girls swooning over him.

He was being a player and he knew it. However none of the girls he’s ever been with complained.

He made sure they know that it would be a one night stand, and that he doesn’t date. And it worked for him.

★ ★ ★

You were an upcoming YouTuber and influencer. You were starting to gain more and more followers. People were starting to notice you more

You were known for your humor and your witty comebacks.

And as much as you would like to deny it, People didn’t just loved you for your personality, but they also loved your body.

You were gorgeous, To put it lightly.

So obviously when Chris saw you on his for you page a week ago, picking out an outfit to put on for some place you were going to that day, he thought you were hot.

Not that he’d do anything about it.

He wasn’t the type of guy to slide into someone’s dm’s. Because quite frankly he didn’t care that much.

★ ★ ★

But when he saw you at the party he was attending tho…

You’d been carelessly dancing. You weren’t drinking, even tho you were 21. You didn’t want to drink today. You wanted to have sober fun and hang out with your friends.

Your friends always did and said the craziest things when drunk. And watching it as the sober designated driver was hilarious.

You feel big hands being placed on your waist delicately.

You turn around to see who it was and to your surprise it was one of the sturniolo triplets.

Chris.

He’s bold for just touching you like that. But for some reason it was hot. Maybe it was just the air laced in weed that was getting to you, but you were enjoying this.

So you simply dance with him.

After a while you both leave the middle of the crowd going to the kitchen to talk. The kitchen being way less crowded than the living room of this house party.

“You’re bold.” You chuckle pointing out watching as his expression morphed into one of amusement and lust as he checks you out.

“Couldn’t help myself ma”

“Sure you couldn’t, pretty boy” you chuckle rolling your eyes at the statement.

Chris, to the public was known to be a sweetheart. But in LA, around other influencers he was known to have quite frequent hook ups. And he was known to never leave any of the girls not satisfied.

You, having moved to LA recently for your career, have heard all about it. People were ‘warning’ you, but no one was outright telling you it was a stupid idea. Because was it tho?

“What’s a pretty lady like you doing here anyway?” His goofy grin is wide as he stares back into your eyes.

His eyes are a light shade of blue, but in the lights of the party and his blown out pupils they look dark. His brown hair long, and a mess.

After people had told you about him and his brothers (And particularly Chris’ reputation), you had searched them up and watched a few of their videos. They were quite funny.

And Chris in particular seemed to not be able to take anything seriously.

“Nothing, just having fun.”

You shrug taking a sip from your red solo cup. It was filled with plain water. Chris raised an eyebrow at that.

“You’re not drinking?” He can’t help the small laugh he lets out at that. Tho he is secretly glad you’re not. This was his chance to get you in bed, but he wasn’t going to do anything with a drunk girl.

“No,” you chuckle back. “Designated driver” you raise your free hand in surrender as if it was a crime.

He chuckles at your antics his eyes trailing over your face over to your body once more.

“Eyes up here sweetheart.”

His eyes snap back to yours his goofy grin staying right where it was.

“Sorry ma, you’re just really distracting.” He smiles looking down at you.

You weren’t that much shorter than him. But granted you were wearing high heels. He wasn’t even that tall himself though.

You were wearing a tiny mini dress. One that ends right below your ass. Your cleavage being low giving him a great view of your boobs.

“Oh, I’m distracting?”

You tease. You take a step closer to him, stepping into his personal space as you tilt your head up to look at him better.

His hand goes to the side of your jaw rubbing his thumb over your cheek gently as if asking for consent. You wrap your arm Around his neck pulling him down connecting your lips.

The sweet kiss turns more heated when his hand moved from your jaw to the back of your neck. His other hand holding you by the small of your back keeping your body flush against himself.

His tongue graces your lips asking for entrance with you eagerly give, parting your mouth slightly so he can slip his tongue into your mouth.

You make out, your tongues tangling in each other as you simply kiss for a moment.

His tongue hungrily exploring your mouth. He leans into you more tilting your head back more, kissing you with all the lust in his body. Kissing you Like he wants to devour you.

You eventually pull apart to breath. His lips immediately meeting your jawline. He kisses down your jawline moving down to your neck to your collarbone.

“Damn you smell amazing.” He breaths out. His voice strained from the previous kiss.

“Thank you” you chuckle your hand finding its way into his messy waves. You scratch his scalp with your freshly manicured nails causing him to let out a low groan.

He pulls back slightly. He leaves a quick peck on your lips before looking at you again.

“How about we go somewhere.” His voice low and raspy. Laced with the attraction and lust he feels for you.

You just hum. He starts to drag you back through the living room, through the crowd of people. Getting to some random bathroom. He opens the door and lets you walk in first.

You immediately stand in front of the mirror, leaning over slightly to fix your hair.

He closes and locks the door behind himself. He stands behind you watching you through the mirror. You make eye contact. In this new lighting his eyes seem clearer.

He stares into your soul as you push back from the sink.

You swiftly turn around and sink to your knees in front of him.

Chris would’ve never asked. But wich guy doesn’t like head.

“So eager” he chuckles. His hand goes to the top of your head petting it gently. Before he picks up your chin, making you look up at him again.

Your head is tilted back as you look up at him through your lashes. you know he’s probably had countless woman in this same position. But it never got old for him.

And he liked seeing you like the is anyway

“You look so pretty like this you know.” He mumbles before leaning down and leaving a heated kiss on your lips.

He stands back up straight, and you can’t help the way your eyes trail to his crotch. It was right in front of your face and you were getting impatient.

Before you know it your hands go to the top of his jeans, tugging on them gently. You were asking for permission without asking.

He chuckles at your eagerness, undoing his belt, then unbuttoning the jeans and letting you slide them down.

You can already see his huge erection through his boxers. Your mouth was already watering at the sight.

You pull down his boxers fast. His length springing free, hitting his abdomen.

You flinch back slightly. You look at his length with an eyebrow raised not doing anything for a moment just admiring.

You’ve never seen a dick be this pretty. It had a thick vain running up the side. It was long, at least a good 8 inches. It was thick, not too thick, but enough that you knew the stretch would burn.

“You good?” He asks. He was clearly holding in a laugh. His hand goes to your hair, still just patting the top of your head.

“You’re sure you’re white?” You tease one hand cupping his member as you start to gently and slowly jerk him off.

“Definitely, sweetheart” he chuckles rolling his eyes at the comment. People always asked about it. Wich is fine since most people weren’t used to his size. the constant questioning was so annoying sometimes.

But the way you teased him with that sentence was just too good.

His red tip is already leaking pre cum. He eagerly waits for you to start. You press a small peck on it, while looking up at him your eyes staying locked on his.

You start to kitten lick the tip. You watch as he lets out a slightly shaky sigh at the contact.

“C’mon ma, don’t tease.”

You pull away slightly chuckling at the statement. You teasingly blow air on it, watching as he shivers. But before he can start complaining about your teasing you take his entire tip in your mouth swirling your tongue around it.

“Yeah, like that.” He sighs softly. He rubs your cheek with the back of his hand as you hollow out your cheeks to give him more pleasure.

His hand moves to my hair taking it and putting it in a makeshift ponytail. You start to take him as deep as you could, starting to slowly bob your head. Sucking and swirling your tongue. You take him as deep as you can jerking off what you can’t fit with your manicured hand.

The sounded coming from it are sinful, and so are his low moans and grunts.

When you hear his soft grunts turn into moans you can tell he’s getting close. You pull off with a pop. You stroke him gently, and then teasingly lick a stripe up his shaft.

“You like that?” You tease licking at it. He groans in annoyance. He thrusts his hips back to get more friction from your hand.

“Please keep going.”

You lick your lips briefly watching him. His eyes meet yours. You chuckle starting to suck him off again. This time you do it more vigorously and faster than before. His dick repeatedly hitting the back of your throat as you slightly gag around it.

Chris’ grip in your hair tightens as he starts to tug in it. He holds you in place stopping your movements as he starts to harshly thrust in and out of your mouth.

The sounds of your moans send sensations of pleasure through him. Every sinful sound echos through the small bathroom, making the music outside sound non existent to you two.

His cock is repeatedly hitting the back of your throat. Your eyes water at the harsh feeling. You try to gag as little as possible.

“Fucking- swallow ‘aight” he breaths out harshly. You hum as best as you could. The sensation tingles through his spine. And with a last thrust you feel his cum pore down your throat. You try your best to swallow as much as you could.

He gently pulls out. His thumb rubbing the corner of your lips where some of it had leaked.

He puts his thumb on your plump and swollen lips. And without a secound thought you suck on his thumb. You blink away the tears that’d been forming.

The sight is enough to have him going all over again.

His grip on your hair had loosened, but he still pulls you up by it gently.

He turns you around, so that you’re facing the mirror your hands on the sink. Your ass presented to him.

His eyes meet yours through the mirror once more. Seemingly asking for consent, to wich you nod.

His hand starts to trail over the side of your thigh slightly under your short dress.

“Words baby”

“Yes Chris- please” you waste no time asking him. You want him to touch you where you crave him the most.

“Gonna be a good little slut now?” He teases. His eyes stay locked on yours through the mirror.

“Mhm” you mumble watching him. You feel him start to pull up your dress. He bunches it up right over your ass.

His fingers go to trail over your slick wet folds. Chris pushes the lacy thong to the side. He rubs his fingers briefly over your clit, before going to tease your cunt.

“Words, sweetheart.” He repeats, his eyes staying locked on yours. He had no problem teasing you until you comply.

“Yes-“ you get cut off by a Moan. When he slams two of his long fingers into you.

Your body jolts forward, your thighs hitting the cold sink. You grimace at the feeling.

“Wow, so sensitive?” He teases leaning over again to leave a quick peck behind your ear.

He starts to plunge his fingers in and out of your cunt. He roughly fingers you, his long fingers curl just right to hit your sweet spot.

You let out a breathless moan letting your head fall forward. You were leaning on your arms for support.

You feel his big hand wrap around your throat as he pulls you back up. “Now, now, baby watch yourself.” He teases.

“Keep those pretty eyes on me” he taunts. You flutter your eyes open. You feel his fingering get rougher as you can feel your climax rapidly approaching. You’re tempted to close your eyes again, but you’re sure Chris would edge you or something.

So you try your best to keep them open and staring at his face.

“Good girl. Yeah. Just like that.” He praises. His low words sending tingles to your core. You can practically feel yourself get wetter at how words and the sound of his voice alone.

Your wetness is loud. The lewd sounds bounce off of the bathroom walls. That along with your sweet low moans, while you try to keep yourself together.

“You like my praise honey?” He asks in a sweet tone. His words sound so innocent. Unlike the very things he’s doing to you right now.

“Yes- god” you whine, this time not hesitating to answer.

He chuckles at your eagerness speeding up his pace to give you your release. His fingers curl at just the right spots, reaching places you couldn’t reach by yourself.

“I’m close-“

“I know.” Chris grins keeping his eyes on yours through the mirror. His hand moves higher from your neck to your jaw, cupping your face roughly.

He turns your head to face him. He roughly crashes his lips onto yours. You try hard to focus on the kiss, but the way he finger fucks you has you weak in the knees. The kiss is sloppy and messy. His tongue explores your mouth as you try hard to focus.

You whine loudly. His lips catching the moan as he only picks up pace even more. He gets the hint that you’re close. And before you know it, you’re coming around his fingers.

He lets go of your face. You lean further on your arms. Your Hands harshly gripping onto the sink. You let your head fall forward as you pant harshly.

He gently pulls out his fingers. His eyes focused on the way you’re throbbing around nothing.

He sucks his fingers clean humming at the taste of your cunt on them. “Did so well for me ma” he hums reassuringly, pressing a sweet kiss on your neck.

“You think you can take another, sweet girl?” He says softly.

“Please.” Your breath out your voice shaky. You pick up your head looking at him through the mirror again.

He leans down briefly to his jeans that were still pooling down at his feet.

Chris puts his hand on your hip His eyes locking with yours through the mirror. He holds out a condom with one hand. He leans over you to leave a quick peck on your shoulder.

“I’m clean” you raise an eyebrow at him through the mirror. He doesn’t respond. “And I’m on birth control..” you trail off watching him.

He grins letting out a low laugh that seems to vibrate through his entire chest.

He presses his chest up against your back as his arm wraps around your torso. He leaves another kiss on your shoulder, trailing it up to your neck and right under your ear.

“I’m not taking any chances ma”

His voice is low and seductive. The tone sending vibrations right to your core.

“Fine for me” you shrug as you watch him lean back. His eyes lock on your ass. He licks his lips.

Chris roughly rips open the condom package with his teeth. Rolling the condom over himself fast. He was eager to get into you as fast as possible.

He hums in response, caressing your ass gently, his other hand guiding his dick through your soaked folds.

He gently starts to push into you. Letting you take the tip first. Once he feels you relax he rams in the rest of his cock.

You let out another breathless moan at the impact. Chris doesn’t move right away tho, he wants to make it last as long as possible.

“Good” he praises lowly rubbing your hips soothingly. Your body was tense, and he was waiting for you to adjust just a little bit.

You let out a shaky sigh pushing yourself back on him. He takes the hint that he can move now.

So before you realize it, he’s relentlessly pounding into you. You let out a squealed moan at the sudden intense feeling of his movements.

“Oh- fuck-“

He chuckles, and suddenly you feel a harsh slap on your butt. You wince at the harshness. Chris’ hand goes to knead your ass, easing out the pain.

His other hand trails from your waist to the small of your back to arch it more, consequently pushing you closer to the sink.

You lean over the sink. You try hard to keep your head up and look at him. But with the way he is hitting every spot inside of you, it’s hard for you to focus right now.

Chris notices the struggle. One of his hands trail from your hip, up your back teasingly. Before he grabs your hair roughly, putting it in a makeshift ponytail.

“Does the pretty girl like getting her hair pulled like a slut?”

The way he tugs on your hair, the way his sharp eyes trail over your body , and then lock on your eyes through the mirror. It’s all so hot to you.

You let out a shaky breath between Moans. “Yes-“ before you can say anything more you feel him tug harder on your hair And his thrusts becoming harsher.

His eyes train back onto your ass And the way it looks when he thrusts into you. The way his cock disappears in your wet cunt. It’s so captivating to watch for him. He could stare at that sight for hours.

“Gorgeous girl wants to get fucked like this?” He questions teasingly. Another harsh slap echos through the bathroom, But it feels so euphoric.

Your eyes close momentarily at the feeling. Before you feel him rub your ass again. Chris tugs on your hair again, to wich you open your eyes.

“Keep your eyes open and watch me fuck you”

Chris’ words are harsh. He is being dead serious. His breaths sharp and his tone laced with lust.

You only let out a mumble to wich he pulls on your hair harsher. And another smack echos through the room. You jolt forward again at the sudden impact, but this time he doesn’t ease the pain away. Instead his pace gets even rougher.

The sound of skin clapping, and the lewd sounds of your soaked cunt are loud, Creating a sinful melody.

“Touch yourself ma.” He huffs out harshly keeping up the pace. Chris keeps his fingers tangled in your hair pulling on it. While his other hand stays firmly on your hip. The harshness at wich he is holding onto you would be enough to leave bruises.

Without thinking you reach one hand down starting to rub your clit furiously, chasing your own high.

“Close” you moan as you keep repeatedly rubbing your clit. And the way Chris’ cock is hitting your cervix only intensifies the feeling.

“Come around me baby” you’ve been pulsing around him all this time. You were already squeezing him so tight. What he wouldn’t give right now to just feel your cunt squeeze him while you come.

So he keeps going. Until you let out a loud whine. You close your legs as best as you could and You clench around Chris harshly.

Chris keeps up pace. His eyes locking to your ass. Watching the way his cock disappears into you over and over. Watching the way the condom he’s wearing is covered in your slik wetness.

What he wouldn’t give to just raw dog it and feel your cum on his bare dick right now. He was tempted to actually just take off the condom to see and feel this without one.

Chris’ thrusts become more messy. But his pace doesn’t let up. Until his hips stutter and he lets out a breathless moan burying himself into you one last time.

His jaw is dropped. He moves his hand from your hip, instead wrapping that arm around your waist, holding you close. He leans over your back keeping himself inside for a moment. Chris burries his face in the crook of your neck. You both breathe heavily at your previous orgasms.

His hand in your hairs loosens. Until he fully lets go. His hand rubbing your scalp since he’d been pulling on it relentlessly.

“Did so good for me ma” he mumbles. His face stays buried in your neck for a moment.

You place your hand back on the sink again, trying to catch your breath and steady yourself.

You’d just fucked a random influencer. Some random player. But, god, was that worth it. No wonder none of his one night stands ever complained. That was fucking amazing.

You just mumble out a quick agreement.

He stands up straight. Gently pulling out as to not hurt you or anything. He takes off the condom.

But while he gets rid of it you don’t even pay attention to him. You look at yourself in the mirror. As much as you want to regret it, you can’t.

You pull your thong back into place and pull your mini dress back down.

You examine your face. Your hair was messy from the pulling, and your make up was only slightly smudged. You’d almost cried while deepthroating him, but you luckily hadn’t. Tho your mascara was still slightly smudged.

You could feel your cunt still ache.

You can see Chris pull up his pants from the corner of the mirror. And then fasten his belt back.

“You okay?” Chris asks his arms wrapping a round you. He looks at you through the mirror . His expression is soft and more caring than you’d expect. Most guys would’ve left by now.

“Mhm.” You mumble watching his expression through the mirror. He narrows his eyes at you.

“Do you regret it?” He asks softly. His tone sweet, like he is talking about something normal.

You purse your lips trying to hold back a smile. The fact that he cared to ask if you regret it or not. Everyone told you he’s a fuck boy, and that is motto is literally ‘hit and quit’. But why was he being nice then?

“No” you speak. And you can’t help the small chuckle that leaves your lips.

He turns you around so you face him. He presses a quick peck on your lips. Before he leans over and grabs a random towel off a rack. He wets it slightly in the sink behind you.

And then he sinks onto his knees in front of you. He looks up at you pulling up your dress again slightly.

“What’re you doing?” You question. a chuckle leaves your lips at the sight of Chris on his knees in front of you.

He leans in leaving a soft kiss on your thigh.

“I’m not letting you walk out with your cum running down your thighs ma.” Chris laughs, he then runs the damp towel over your inner thighs.

He cleans you up enough for you to not feel so sticky anymore. He places your panties back. Then he gets up again. Chris pulls down your dress for you before placing another kiss on your lips.

He throws the towel into some laundry bag carelessly. At your curious gaze he explains. “A friend of mine is throwing this party.” He shrugs.

There is a silence for a second where you two just look at each other. Neither of you say anything. Until you speak up again.

“Do you always wear condoms when you hook up with girls?”

You ask before the words even register in your mind. And once they do a blush creeps over your cheeks.

“Yeah. I won’t wear one next time if you don’t want me too.” He chuckles. “There will be a next time?” You question.

Chris was the type to only hook up with a girl once. He probably didn’t even remember half of their names.

Instead of answering though, he leans in and kisses you. The kiss is slower, not heated like the previous one shad been.

One of your hands moves from his neck to grab his phone out of his back pocket.

You Lean back slightly. You type your number into his phone. Then you hand it back to him.

He grins at the new contact on his screen.

“I’ll see you around pretty boy.”

You smile giving him another kiss on the lips. And this one lingers. You slide out of his grasp opening the bathroom door. he watches with a goofy grin, as you leave.

You leave going straight back into the crowd of drunk influencers. Trying to search for your drunk friends that would be around here somewhere.

You know he’s a player. So you don’t know if he’ll call you. You don’t know if you’re special, and if he treated you different than others. But if it came down to it you’d at least tried.

But,

He’s not into dating.

Materlist

(A/N: I literally wrote this within the span of one day. I feel like this is probably the best thing I've written so far. Hope you enjoyed <33)

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @ecliphttlunar

#SoundCloud #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x y/n #chris sturniolo x you #chris x reader #christopher sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #christopher sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #oneshot

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johnwickb1tsch · 7 months ago

Note

Everyone is sending GIF requests, so, here is mine. Hint: Jealous John? (Though I doubt this man can ever be jealous but...whatever comes to your genius brain)

Thanks!

@sweetwolfcupcake SWEEETS!!!!! I loved this prompt SO MUCH!!! You're such a genius. *kisses your head* I hope you like this! 💗💗💗

Bodyguard!John Wick x Shy!Curvy!Fem!Student!Reader

⚠warnings: threat of noncon (not John), mention of parental death

For the record, you didn’t mean to fall in love with John Wick. But he was nothing like the other goons your father had tasked with guarding you before. Wick was tall, and handsome, and had the soulful eyes of a poet. You know he’s dangerous; he can kill a man 30 ways with a pencil (the men of your father’s Bratva will not shut up about it) but he seems so…gentle. And the thing that really proved your undoing?

That good looking bastard was bookish, and it did something inconceivable to your lit major brain. Ever your dark shadow, you spent countless late nights in the library together, and so many Saturday afternoons browsing the used bookshops, combing for treasures. He would rescue the books that looked better fit for the waste bin, taking them to repair. Maybe he was there to protect you, for your father had many unsavory enemies, but it was easy to forget when John discussed with you the finer points of the Bloomsbury Set or the themes of Anna Karenina.

Maybe your father assigned John to you because he was one of the few gangsters around in his brigata one could trust to guard a relatively innocent young lady–that didn’t mean John was safe from you. You just couldn’t help yourself; you’d like to plead insanity, your honor, the night you finally broke and tried to kiss him, while he was helping you with your homework for Russian Lit 301.

How stupid you felt, how utterly pathetic, when he’d very kindly dislodged you from his so soft mouth, looking at you with pity in his sad dark eyes. “You know…we can’t do this,” he told you.

Mortified, you’d fled to your room and cried, knowing you are the most ridiculous human being on the face of the earth.

What were you thinking?

You are nothing like the tall, ethereal creatures that populate the clubs where Wick frequents with your father. You are shy, and curvy, and frankly…a nerd. An old soul, your father would say fondly, but you know he is just being kind.

You’re not sure how you got it into your head, that you were going to make Wick sorry. You’ve never been one for going out, but you decide to give it a whirl, wanting to be anyone but yourself. You decide to go to the Red Circle, to hang out with the other Bratva brats who care way more about clubbing and clothes and who’s fucking who, than classes at NYU.

At first you really hate it–but after a few shots of vodka, it’s not so bad. John has to hang back, keeping an eye on you but not interacting with your friends. He’s scary good at lurking in the shadows, but you know he’s keeping an eye on every move you make. Maybe that’s why you let Alexsei kiss you, the son of a semi-friendly loan shark who works in proximity with your father. You don’t really like him, if you’re being honest. But he’s not totally hideous–and he’s there–and John will have to watch it all.

You and Alex start to have a thing. It’s no big deal. Something to do, on the summer break from your studies. You invite him over to watch a movie, knowing you’ll have the house to yourself. Your father is always at his office doing business, your idiotic brother is always out getting into trouble with his khuligan friends, and your mother…is dead, God rest her poor soul.

You can tell Alex is a little drunk, when he shows up at your door. He’s very handsy, when you settle in on the couch to watch the latest mindless action flick, his pick. It’s ok, until he tries to unbutton your pants.

You have a secret.

You’re 21, nearly graduated from university–and you’re still a virgin.

This is not a thing you intend to give to Alexsei Plushenko. You don’t even really like the way he touches you.

“Stop, Alex.”

“Don’t be scared,” he tries to coax you. “This will be fun.”

“No,” you say. “Let’s just…”

He covers your mouth with his, shutting you up, his heavy body pinning you on the couch. “Don’t be such a stuck up bitch.” His groping fingers squeeze your breast clumsily, painfully, before fumbling with your jeans again. You try to push him off, but he’s heavy, and strong.

Suddenly, he is yanked from you like he weighs nothing at all. You hardly recognize what is happening at first, until you hear the sound of flesh striking flesh. John is on him, his iron fist meeting the younger man’s face.

“John! Stop!”

Wick looks up at you, meeting your eyes in a primal lock of stares–your heart drops and soars again, as you feel as though you’ve stumbled on a wolf over his kill, and the wildest thing?

You get the inkling that wolf is jealous.

“Don’t hurt him anymore,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. A beating will make some complications for your father. A death? Could mean war.

Wick punches the handsy young man one more time, his eyes never leaving yours, before hauling Alex up by the collar and frog marching him out the front door, tossing him down the concrete steps of your home.

John finds you waiting for him in the marble foyer, his eyes wild, his knuckles torn. You don’t even know what to say.

“What did you even see in him?” he finally demands, clearly annoyed.

“He wasn’t you,” you answer without thinking.

Wick steps up to you, toe to toe, so that you have to crane your neck to meet his eyes. His hair has broken free from its slicked back style, tendrils in his eyes.

He’s never looked more beautiful, your savage savior.

“You’re trying to get me killed.”

You shake your head, the very thought anathema to you. You are transfixed, unable to look away, unable to think. “You’re too precious to me,” you admit, and screw your eyes shut the moment you admit it, a spear of mortification piercing you from your heart to your stupid, aching, cunt.

“Milaya…”

It’s the sweetest thing he’s ever said to you.

Your eyes drop to his knuckles, torn open in his defense of you. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Not to me.” You don’t know where you get the courage, to take his hand, and lead him up to your room. You can hardly believe it, that he actually follows you. In your ensuite bathroom you dab at his knuckles with a washcloth, slather him with ointment and plaster him with bandaids. You run out of sober flesh colored ones, so the last cut gets a Disney bandage, Ariel and sea-flowers decorating this severe man’s knuckles.

He lets you do all this, watching you intensely with those dark eyes you’re certain can see into your soul. You stand too close–and he lets you, this haunted man who watches over you day and night. Your whole life you have never wanted for anything, your father’s money buying you all your heart could possibly desire.

Until now.

You find it hard to meet his eyes, zeroing in on a spot of blood on his stark white dress shirt.

“Y/n.” With a gentle knuckle under your chin he turns your gaze up to his again. “You are too smart, and too beautiful, to be wasting your time with a fuckboy like Alexsei Plushenko.”

The first part you already knew. The second, from this man’s lips? Your knees nearly collapse out from under you, a flood of excitement and dread coursing through your system. You almost can’t stand it–it’s like being burned alive, and your native shyness rears with a vengeance.

You try to flee, back to the safety of your room, and your books, your imaginary lives that can’t really hurt you–but he catches your hand. His grip is not hard, but it is enough to stop you dead in your tracks.

“Y/n…” He’s pleading with you, but you don’t understand what he’s asking you.

“You said you don’t want me, John…” you say, still unable to meet his eyes. “So let me go.”

He answers by pulling you against him, the solid line of his torso a brick wall beneath the hand you raise to catch yourself. But bricks are not warm, like the flesh beneath his designer clothes. You can feel the wires in your brain sizzling, the synapses simply melting down. Your heart is Chernoble waiting to happen.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You said–”

“I said, ‘We can’t.’ Not, that ‘I don’t want you.’”

You almost cannot breathe, your heart attempting to beat out of your chest, a ringing in your ears that drowns out all else. There is nothing, nothing, in this world you’ve wanted more, than to hear those words from this man. But now that he’s standing before you, against you, holding you–you cannot move. You do not know what to do.

He solves this problem by cupping your cheek in his big hand–God, how you’ve noticed those hands–and then he is pressing his mouth to yours, gentle at first, but then…hungry. As though John Wick has been starving, for you, and it’s all you can do just to stand there and take it without melting into a puddle on the floor. His arms wrap around your back, holding you, lifting you to your tiptoes as he devours you. When at last he pulls back you are left seeing stars, struck utterly speechless with your hands on his broad shoulders.

“Tell me to stop,” he raggedly demands, his eyes boring down into yours.

Finally, you find your courage, meeting his stare. “I don’t want you to stop,” you whisper.

“Good. Because I don’t think I can.” He kisses you again, just as hungrily as the first time, his arm an iron band around your waist and his fingers sneaking up into your hair. That’s your kryptonite: your hair, and blithely you know he can do anything and everything he wants to you now.

Your father is a bad man, but you have not had a bad life. You have never known hunger, or true physical pain. He has protected you from the violence of his world. He has played things smart enough that not even the FBI can touch you, even though they absolutely know what he is and where your family gets its money. Despite all this, you have been dying inside, a slow, withering demise, until John Wick’s lips touched yours. He is the life-giving rain over the desert; your heart is a field of wildflowers erupting in a superbloom.

This time, he leads you, in between kissing you, to the loveseat at the foot of your bed. He sits, and only when he tries to pull you into his lap do you resist. “John…I’m too…much,” you insist, conscious of your generous flesh and what it would be like to set that on top of him, afraid he’ll be horrified.

However, he just scoffs at you, grabbing you up anyway and guiding you down. For a moment you are weightless–he knows how to upset a person’s balance, how to use their weight against them to put them on the floor. This time he uses it to put you on him. You’re not exactly proud of it, but the ease with which he utterly manhandles you makes your long-neglected lady parts sing with desire.

“You are perfect, dietka,” he insists, pulling you closer with hands on your round behind, “And I am very strong.” For the first time in you can’t remember how long–he smiles at you. That beautiful half smile with a sparkle in his dark eyes that takes your breath away–you love him so much it hurts.

This time you don’t feel so shy, about kissing him. You feel like your bones are filled with butterflies, and you both moan and giggle as you do your best to devour each other from the mouth down. Aside from an appreciative squeeze of your thighs bracketing his hips, he doesn’t try to seduce you, even though you know you absolutely would have given him anything he asked you for. He is content, just to kiss you, for this night at least, and oh. He’s good at it too.

You decide you would burn down the world, for one more kiss from John Wick.

Later you find yourself snuggled in your bed with John, fully clothed, your head on his shoulder as he toys with the fine hairs at the back of your neck. His touch is heaven, and with your legs twined with his it’s hard not to squirm and writhe against his muscled thigh like a horny little gremlin.

Later, you tell yourself. It can wait for later.

Like maybe, tomorrow.

“We’ll have to be careful,” he warns you. “If your father…”

If your father found out, the best thing that could happen to John is getting fired.

“I won’t let you get hurt,” you promise, kissing his bearded cheek, praying you’re telling the truth.

He chuckles at this; a deep sound you feel more than hear. “I thought that was my job?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know.” He looks down at you with a tenderness that curls your toes. “It would be worth it, for you.”

Your heart has suddenly decided it would like to take up residence in your throat–permanently.

“Oh, John…”

He kisses you again, a soft brush of lips that renders you weightless. This is how you die: it’s almost too much to stand, this impossibly full feeling in your chest. Then he narrows his eyes at you playfully. “You have been driving me mad, you little minx. I wanted to kill everyone who so much as looked at you in the Circle.”

You snort at the thought–you do not understand, really, that he could absolutely do it too.

“Not to worry. I think the library is more my speed.” He rests his head against yours with a small, contented sigh. “Mine too,” he admits. The smell of old books around you is a soothing balm to you both.

You know small bits of his past. Morsels he has sprinkled, here and there in the conversations you have had. You know he did not have an easy childhood. You know that this life was not really his choice. Even less so than most, who move and work in the Underworld.

“If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?” you ask.

He lifts an eyebrow at you. “I’m liking New York, at the moment,” he tells you with an affectionate squeeze.

“Oh come on.”

“Fine. I like Paris a lot.”

“Hmm,” you answer, but what you think, is: Done. You will have the opportunity to arrange to study abroad soon, and you think a trip away from the Tarasov territory might do you both some good.

Surely Papachka wouldn’t deprive you of your most trusted bodyguard?

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader

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dragon-kazansky · 8 months ago

Text

Heart of the Dreaming

Morpheus x Female Reader

Soulmate AU

You are the daughter of Rodrick Burgess. You find out about the "demon" in the basement and decide you want to see it. Things take an unexpected turn when your soulmate connection is made with the man you find down there. You are the one he has been waiting for, and you're being taken away from. Not for long. Dream will protect his soulmate.

{Masterlist}

{Next Chapter}

Chapter One - See you in my dreams

☆☆☆

1916 - 11 years old

Tonight was the night.

Tonight was the night your father was going to summon Death and try and bring your older brother back.

You were sitting in your room, on the edge of the bed, hands restlessly placed in your lap as you can hear the clock ticking away. You were nervous. Of course you were. This plan was crazy, but your father was crazy enough to go through with this.

Of course you missed your brother. He was better than you and Alex in every way, but he loved you both. Rodrick certainly loved him better than his other children. When he died, your father seemed to only hate you even more.

You could hear everyone bustling about the house. The book your father had been waiting for had arrived. Tonight he would attempt the impossible. At least, impossible by your standards.

No one could capture Death.

Death was inevitable and came for everyone. Even your brother. That was just the truth of it. There was not a spell in the world that could being him back.

You were not allowed to leave your room, despite the fact Alex, who was younger than you, was permitted to watch. It didn't seem fair. Even if you believed the matter to be impossible, why couldn't you witness the attempt?

At some point, the house grows quiet. You sit there with nothing but the sound of your soft breathing to keep you company. Your eyes focused on the door.

The silence was becoming deafening.

Had they done it?

You climb off your bed and open your door. At first, you don't see or hear anyone. The house seemed empty, but after a few more moments, you can hear voices and footsteps. You stand in the doorway of your bedroom and watch as many of your father's men go past talking too quickly for you to understand what they're saying.

You look down the hall and see your father walking to his study, a peculiar item in his hand. Alex comes into view and looks at you for a moment. You want to go over and ask what happened, but his name gets called and he hurries off.

A sense of something bad sets in your bones.

☆☆☆

You're in bed when you hear knocking on your door. It's quiet and hesitant, as if the other person wasn't supposed to be here. You climb out of bed and head to the door, opening it slightly. You see Alex standing there.

Alex comes into your room and closes the door behind him quickly. He looks at you with big eyes, worry embedded in them.

"What happened?" You ask him.

Alex walks over to your bed and takes a seat. He looks down at his slippers. "I think he did it."

"He did?" You look at Alex with wide eyes.

"Well... there's something down there..." Alex tells you, voice quiet. You swallow nervously.

Something.

"Death?"

Alex shakes his head. "No... I don't think so. I heard father talking to someone in his office, but I couldn't hear everything."

"What did you hear?" You ask, eager to know what had happened.

"Something about dreams."

"Dreams?" You had no idea what that meant.

Alex simply shrugged and looked up at you. "I'm afraid."

"Will it hurt us?"

"I don't know... I hope not. I didn't get to look at it for very long."

Silence fell between you both. You weren't sure what else to ask. All you knew was that your father had successfully caught something down in the basement, and you were too scared to even dig deeper.

Alex left your room, leaving you more questions than answers. However, for now, it felt better to leave it like that.

☆☆☆

1926 - 21 years old

Rodrick never mentioned the demon in his basement. You never asked about it, no matter how curious you got. You had heard the whispers. Everyone called it a demon, which frightened you even more.

You had done your utmost to forget about the thing in the basement. The stories were enough to put you off going down there. Even the people in town talked about Rodrick's demon.

He became something of a celebrity.

However, the world was suffering.

Dreams. Alex had told you Rodrick and his stranger in the office had spoken about dreams. As it turned out, some people could no longer sleep, some couldn't ever wake up. Dreams became a thing of tale, none existent.

Except for the ones you had been having.

You hadn't told anyone. Not even Alex. Your dreams were yours. Your secret. Your strange mysterious secret.

You dream of a man.

It's dark, but you can see him. He's sitting there, naked. He is expressionless. He never speaks. He just sits there with his legs up, arms around his knees, and staring forward.

You don't know his name.

Every night, you see him in your dreams. He seems to be trapped. Unable to go anywhere. You wonder if he's hungry and cold. He must be.

"Who are you?"

You always wake up right after that.

Every night, he's there in your dreams. It's strangely comforting. He's your secret. You just wish you knew who he was.

As you leave your room today, you see Alex leaving the office with a shotgun in hand. You frown as you look at him, catching a glimpse of your father in the office.

"What are you doing?" You ask him.

"I'm going to shoot a bird." Alex responds, though not so happily.

You stare at him hard. "A bird?"

"A raven," Alex says.

"Huh?"

"I'm off to kill his raven."

"Who's raven?"

Alex looked at you with an empty stare. He clutches the shotgun in his fist tight. Alex knew you had never seen the man in the basement. Rodrick had kept it that way. He had always said you were more trouble than you were worth.

"The thing in the basement."

Alex didn't say anything more as he left the house. You were confused by everything. Nothing made any sense to you.

You wanted to know what your father was keeping down there. Yet, fear consumed you. Was it dangerous?

Why did it have a raven? That confused the most.

It was half an hour later when you heard a gunshot. You had been in your room, staying out of the way as usual. The sound echoed through the house and scared you. You rushed to the door and looked down the hall. Alex and your father emerged from the basement. Alex looked lost.

You wanted to go over and ask what had happened, but Rodrick spots you watching and you retreat into your room.

☆☆☆

A few days go by where you don't see much of Rodrick or Alex. You do your best to avoid them as much as possible. Which was probably for the best as far as Rodrick was concerned.

Ethel, your father's mistress, was pregnant. He didn't want it. Of course he didn't.

Having so much time to yourself gave you time to think. Your dreams were consistent. Every night, you saw the naked man in his glass prison. Just sitting there, waiting.

Waiting for what? You did not know.

However, you wanted to help him. You wanted to understand him. You just didn't know who he was, or where he was.

That night, Ethel ran away. While you were tucked up in your bed sleeping, visiting your dream man, Ethel had run away with the tools, and some money from Rodrick's safe.

She was gone.

Rodrick was furious.

From what you heard, he tried to bargain with the being in the basement. When he got no response, Rodrick turned his anger to Alex. Had heard the yelling. You had wanted to go down there and see what was happening, but the guard at the door was stopping you.

That's when it happened.

Alex pushed Rodrick, and your father hit his head quite badly. He did not get up again.

The funeral was a week later.

☆☆☆

1931 - 25 years old

The house was too quiet these days. Alex spent most of his time avoiding you. You tried to occupy yourself with your hobbies, but there was a voice in the back of your head nagging at you.

The basement.

It was still guarded. Alex kept it that way. However, you knew times when the door wasn't guarded. There wasn't anyone there 24/7. Some of the guards like to slack off.

You had decided. You were going to go down there. After all this time, you wanted to know what your father had captured that day. You wanted to know the reason your father had been so successful and popular with people in town.

You wanted to know why things were the way they were.

You waited. The guard left as usual. He always disappeared for 15 minutes on his shifts. 30 if he thought he could get away with being away that long. This was your chance to get down there.

You were quiet as you moved down the hall. You weren't sure exactly where Alex was at this time of night. You needed to be careful. You double-checked to make sure no one was around and unlocked the door to the basement. You had been planning this for weeks. You knew the codes and the schedules for the guards. You knew someone else would normally be down there, but never at this time of night. That's why the guard thought he could get away with disappearing for so long.

You looked down the dark stairs and took a moment before going through with your plan. Finally, you would see what was down there.

You descend the stairs.

It was dark. Lighting was kept to a minimum, it seemed. You were careful as you took each step and soon enough found yourself at the bottom.

What you saw was not what you expected.

You slowly reach out and open the gate, taking in the sight before you. A large glass globe surrounded by the summoning circle your father had made years ago. Inside the globe was a man.

A man.

A very familiar man.

You feel like all air from your lungs is stolen from you as you stare at him. Your dream man. There he was! Naked and curled up by himself inside his prison.

All this time, you were dreaming of the man in the basement. You find yourself stepping a little closer, not sure what to do. Nothing made sense. This was impossible. How can you be dreaming about this man? And why is he trapped like this?

Who is he?

Sensing your presence, he looks up. In those next few seconds, several things happen. Your eyes connect with his, and you find yourself lost in them. A searing pain crosses your wrist, and you gasp loudly, cradling your hand. You drop your gaze from him to look at the red scar on your wrist. When you look back up, he's cradling his own hand but doesn't seem to be in pain like you.

You stare at him.

He stares at you.

"Who are you?" You ask.

The man in the globe moves slowly, leaning forward slightly. He's keeping himself covered, but he's still moving toward the glass. With one hand, he reaches out, hand dressed against the glass of his prison.

You feel strange. At ease. It was like he was trying to calm you from within his prison.

"Who are you?" You ask again.

You watch as he part his lips, prepared to speak, but a voice behind you speaks instead, leaving you in shock and embarrassment for getting caught in the basement.

"What are you doing down here?" Alex asks.

You frown. "I came to see what was down here! You can't keep me in the dark forever."

Alex pulls you behind him as he looks at the man in the cage. "You have to stay away from him."

"Alex--"

"No! He's dangerous. I think..."

You push past Alex and stand between him and the other man. You glare at your brother. Alex looks at you with mixed confused and disappointment.

"Who is he? What is he?"

Alex says your name.

"No! Tell me. What is all this? What did father do?"

Alex clenches his fist at his side and takes a deep breath. "You need to leave. Get out of here."

"Why is there a man trapped in the basement, Alex?"

Alex loses his patience with you and lunges forward, grabbing your arm tightly. You try to fight him off, but he wraps both his arms around you, restraining your arms.

"Alex! Let go of me!"

"You shouldn't have come down here," he says angrily.

From within his prison, Morpheus stands. He doesn't like what he's seeing. You. You had been living in this house all along, and he had no idea. Now you were here, you had come to see him, and you were being dragged out again.

Alex called for help, and two people came running. Paul and the guard should have been on duty. Morpheus leans against the glass with both hands as he watches Alex demand you get removed from the basement. The two men take hold of you and start dragging you back upstairs, all the while you're ahouing at Alex.

Alex turns and looks at him.

"Don't you ever speak to her. Don't you ever do anything to her." Alex demands. "She was never supposed to see you..."

Alex leaves.

Morpheus sinks back down in his prison and curls up again. His hands ball into fists as he stares ahead of him.

His soulmate had been here all along.

He needed to get out.

He needed to save you from this house.

He turns his hand over and looks at his wrist. A small scar in the shape of a star. He had had it forever. He ran his thumb over it. He knew from the moment he looked at you, from the moment you received your scar, that you were his soulmate.

It was unheard of for an Endless to have such a thing, but Dream had always been unique. If anyone wasn't going to be granted a partner for eternity, it was going to be him.

Not that he was actively looking. Morpheus had had lovers before, certainly, but knowing you're right there above him, it changes things.

You were real.

They only let go of you once you're in your room. Alex closes the door on you and you hear him lock you in. You bang against the door furiously and then stop, sobbing as you sink to the floor.

None of this was making any sense to you.

Did Alex know something?

Who was that man?

And why did your wrist still burn?

☆☆☆

@deniixlovezelda - @missdreamofendless - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @meganlpie - @thoughtsfromlayla - @ladyjbrekker

@mwaaaaaugh - @bluespecs14 - @intothesoul - @lady-violet - @navs-bhat - @krahk - @oldsoulmagic

@rubyrose2014 - @lorkai - @roxytheimmortal - @thescarletwitchjobro - @intothesoul - @gemini-mama - @whotperlinda

@dreamingblueberries - @the-shadow-of-aurora - @novavida - @blackgirlmagicforever

#heart of the dreaming #Morpheus x Female Reader #morpheus x reader #the sandman #soulmate au #dragon writes

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thelargefrye · 29 days ago

Text

SWEET SORROW OF EVIL … series (21+)

CHAPTER ONE : ALL HAIL THE QUEEN | M.LIST

pairing : ateez x evil queen!f!reader

genre : mature, fantasy au, royalty au, angst, eventually poly relationship, dark

word count : 3.7k

warnings : language, ostracized (from family), kidnapping, weapons, murder / death, blood / body gore

co-author : @sanjoongie !!

she rules her kingdom well, sitting upon her throne, but what is a queen without her trusted advisor? what is a queen without making sure the rats stay in line? surely, even the queen has secrets that make her the most cursed of all.

You never understood why your siblings saw you as a threat. You, a simple child and youngest to the throne. And really... you'll probably never understand why, especially your sister. You can vividly remember her scowl that she always wore when looking at you.

She was always such a pretty girl, if it wasn't for that scowl and ugly attitude she had. You think she gets it from your parents.

"Ugh, get away from us, y/n! We don't want you near us!" your sister shouted before she harshly shoved you away from her and your brother. You let out a small grunt as you fell to the ground. The palms of your hands scraping against the dirt and uprooted tree roots.

"But why can't I play with you guys? You never let me play!" you wanted to know why your siblings pushed you away just like your parents.

Your sister let out an annoyed sound, like you should already know the answer for why she didn't want you around, "Because you're nothing but a freak. A monster," she answers as she crosses her arms.

You felt like shrinking away from her harsh stare. You wanted to disappear so you didn't have to hear her harsh words again. Carefully, you stood up and brushed your dress off. The palms burned from the scrapes from your fall, but you pushed the pain to the back of your mind.

"Mother and father should have just gotten rid of you, you bring nothing but shame to our family," she says and you feel the tears beginning to sting your eyes as they form at your waterline. No, you can't cry, don't let her see you cry.

You can't help but look towards your brother. He said nothing throughout all of this, just remained silent by your sister's side. Watching as she and your parents berate you. You could see he was conflicted about how they always talked down to you, but he never said anything. You hated how he was a coward like that.

"Why are you always so mean to me? You're supposed to be my big sister and care about me, not call me mean names!" You tell her and you see her look at you with surprise for a moment before her usual frown paints her face again.

She lets out another annoyed tsk before she's walking up to you, bending down slightly to meet your height. "Why would I care about a monster like you? You're nothing but a curse that stains this family."

You couldn't help the sudden rush of anger that flows through you. It all happened so fast with your sister's words continuously stabbing at your heart and your brother's pitiful stare. It was all too much.

So you shoved your sister harshly away from you and as hard as your ten-year-old body could muster. This sudden action took your sister off guard as she stumbled back several steps before falling to the ground. Her movements mimic yours from moments ago.

You also noted the loud tearing sound that accompanied her fall and all three of you noticed the large tear that appeared in her dress. You didn't have to say anything as your sister's screaming overpowered anything that you would have said.

"You fucking freak! You ripped my new dress!" Her shrill screams made you flinch and you noticed from the corner of your eye that your brother did the same thing.

"What in the world is going on here?" you felt a chill run down your spine as the sound of your mother's voice. Your blood ran cold knowing that this wasn't going to end well for you now that she was here. She would immediately believe what your sister said, because even though her words hurt, you would always be seen as a monster to your mother.

"Y/n ripped my new dress mother!" Your sister said, eyes immediately brimming with large tears. Fake, they were fake tears, yet they fooled your mother.

"What?" Your mother gasped looking at your sister with worry and then turned to you with a harsh scowl. Your sister is the spitting image of your mother. "How dare you rip your sister's dress! Who do you think you are?"

"B-but I didn't–

"Shut up!" She cuts you off with her loud voice and it makes you shrink away and into yourself. You hated yourself for being so afraid of her, but you had no other choice but to submit to her. She was more powerful than you and you knew what would happen if you disobeyed her. "Get out of my sight, child, before I punish you."

You didn't waste any time in turning on your heel and running in whatever direction would get you the furthest from your family. Tears filled your vision as you ran, making everything around you blurry and hard to see and before you knew it, you were lost. Lost in the garden maze with stinging palms and burning tears.

Rubbing your tears away, you took a deep breath before you made your way over to the stone bench that was nearby. Now alone, you couldn't help the thoughts that poured into your brain. You never understood why your family hated you, calling you a monster even though you have done nothing.

It just didn't make sense.

"Y/n!" you raised your head at the sound of your name. The voice brings a familiar feeling to your body as you feel your heart skip a beat. "Y/n! Princess!"

"Jongho!" you called back, hopping off the bench and walking towards the sound of your friend's voice.

Suddenly you felt an embrace wrap around you. Jongho held you as tightly as he could, his arms squeezing you and comforting you. The embrace felt nice and warm and you felt yourself tear up knowing that Jongho was here with you.

"Y/n, are you okay?" He asks when he steps away from you, just enough to look over you before he notices your scratched up palms. "Your hands," he gasps as he takes them within his own, "we have to get them treated!"

"What's the point, Jongho?"

"The point? Y/n, you're injured and need to be treated," he says, why does he sound so mature for his young age.

"When did you get so serious sounding, Jongho?"

"Since I decided that I will be the protector of your heart," he says, his face the most serious you have ever seen it. You couldn't help but crack a smile at his words, "Don't laugh! I'm serious!"

"Sorry, sorry," you say, still laughing, but you're suddenly cut off by Jongho hugging you again.

"I mean it. I promise you will never cry like this again. Not by your family and not by anyone else."

"Thank you, Jongho."

“Y/n, are you listening?” the sound of Jongho’s voice cuts through your thoughts and brings you back to the present. You let out a sigh before you’re straightening yourself up on your throne. Your eyes settle on Jongho and the line of councilmen before the two of you.

“What did you say?”

Jongho sends you a curt look before brushing off some invisible dust as he speaks again, “we wanted to discuss dates for your upcoming coronation.”

“Coronation? Jongho, I do not need something silly and insignificant like a coronation when I am already queen.”

“But your highness,” a councilman says before shrinking a little under your stare, “i-it is mandatory for the new ruler to have a coronation for it to be made official.”

“Are you saying that I am not officially queen, councilman?”

“N-no, that’s not what he’s saying at all, your highness!” another one spoke up trying to save his fellow councilman and friend.

“What they are trying to say is that a coronation would make it more official, your highness. Let the country and all the other ones know that there is a new and better ruler for Illimité,” Jongho says, finally stepping in and not wanting the councilmen to it up more than they already have. He internally rolled his eyes at how they were basically shaking in their boots in front of you.

“I still don’t think it’s necessary,” you say, crossing your arms and leaning further back into the plush cushions of your throne. You note it had to be replaced after… that night. Which is probably for the better since this throne is a lot more comfortable than the original one your father and ancestors had previously.

“But think about it, my queen,” Jongho says, leaning closer to you so all your attention becomes immediately focused on him. His scent of paper and ink fills your nostrils and brings a calming presence in the otherwise tense throne room. “By sending invitations out, we can see who really supports you as Illimité’s queen.”

“Oh?” Jongho sees the gears begin to turn in your head, and he knows that he’s got you. “Well… I mean when you put it that way, I guess having a coronation wouldn’t be so bad. But make the responses mandatory! Anyone who doesn’t respond within a week we will pay some personal visits to.”

Jongho lets out a chuckle at your words, “of course, my queen.” He then turns to the awaiting councilmen, all still wide-eyed and waiting for either him or you to give a command. “Begin making the invitations for the queen’s coronation.”

The councilmen all bow before turning and filing out of the throne room, muttering to themselves and you find yourself letting your thoughts consume you once again.

All you could hear was your ragged breathing. You couldn't decide if it was because of your anger or your heartache. You tried to breath through your mouth because if you breathed through your nose, you were sure you were going to throw up.

The only thing that brought you back to reality was a commotion outside of the doors that your magic had kept shut. It was muffled at first, voices getting louder and louder, until finally one clear voice cut through everything.

“Y/N!” Jongho cried through the door. “Let me in, let me see her!”

“We are not the ones keeping the doors closed, young Lord Choi,” a guard said on the other side.

You took a shaky step towards the doors, which felt like they were a million miles away, and then another. You slipped and yelped as you crashed into something slimy and foul smelling. You gagged and cried out, throwing it away from you.

“Y/N! What’s going on? I can help! Let me in,” Jongho cajoled from the other side of the door.

“Jong-jongho,” You cried out pitifully, “You can’t.”

“Please y/n, please,” Jongho begged, “It’s my duty.”

Your hands slipped in pools of blood as you attempted to stand up again. “Your duty is to a monster!” You screamed back.

You had just murdered your entire family. Part was planned, but part was by accident. If only--! You couldn't risk Jongho, you’d never risk Jongho. You’d stay in this nightmare of a throne room for the rest of your life if that meant you kept Jongho safe.

“You’d never hurt me, y/n,” Jongho shouted, “You and I both know that. Now let me in!”

“Jongho…” You weren’t sure if the wetness moving down your face was blood or tears.

“I command it!” Jongho said courageously, although his voice sounded like he was worried, “I’m in charge of your heart so you have to listen to me, remember!”

Somehow you managed to stand up, stumble towards the large doors but couldn't pull them open; they were too large for you, especially covered in blood… “I can’t, Jongho,” You sobbed through the door, “I can’t!”

Jongho breathed in and out, his voice still coming from the seam of the doors. “You can do it. I believe in you. I’ll always believe in you, Y/N.”

You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead to the seam. You imagined Jongho coming through the doors, the wide, gummy smile taking up most of his face. He was your constant in a dark world alone. You needed light in this darkness right now.

You backed up and threw your hands up. You imagined the doors opening and then with a groan, they did. You blinked and threw up a hand to shield your eyes from the stark light. Then something hit you.

“Y/N!”

Jongho embraced you in a hug that felt like it broke your ribs but it was so genuine, so full of worry and love, that you accepted it and prayed that the monster side of you wouldn’t see it as a threat. Then, just as fast as he was on you, he put you at arm's length, eyes moving along your body, but there was too much blood to tell if you were actually harmed.

“We have to get you in the bath immediately!” Jongho informed you with a frown.

You laughed bitterly. “I don’t think a bath is going to wash this all away, Jongho.”

Jongho’s frown eased as he sensed the underlying words in your sentence. “The only thing that needs to be washed away is the blood. You are the queen, after all.”

“You are the queen, after all.”

You shook your head to dispel your old memories. Something about today had really made you contemplative of what you’ve got through. Perhaps it was Jongho, who’s own life was so interlaced with your own.

“I suspect that there are some that still see me as the sickly child that they only heard of,” You mused, eyes still on the rolling hills that sped by.

Jongho’s lips pushed out and his eyebrows furrowed. “That was a lifetime ago. Even I practically can’t remember…” His words trailed off as he saw you hold your hands up, flipping them up and down.

Immediately, he grabbed them. “They’re clean, y/n. Even if they were covered in blood, they’re still clean.”

You sent Jongho a brief smile and then allowed your mantle of royalty slip back on. Your back straightened, your shoulders were back, and your chin up high. “Let’s hope Lady Danvers sees the blood.”

“That is, if she can spare a few thoughts for anything other than her dogs,” Jongho muttered under his breath.

“Perhaps that’s why she did not respond,” You mused, Jongho slowly but surely pulling you from your contemplative mood. “One of the doggos ate--”

A resounding boom that sounded nothing like thunder echoed through the carriage, halting your words.

“What in the nine hells was that?” Jongho demanded.

He stuck his head out the window but when you heard a scream, you grabbed a fistful of his jacket and pulled him back in. “Let the guards do their job,” You hissed.

Riders whipped by and soon the carriage was slowed down. You gathered your magic around you, about to inflict walking nightmares on whomever dared attack you, when an arm shot through the windows on Jongho’s side and a knife appeared pointer at his neck.

“One wrong move and I slit his throat,” the bandit growled.

You felt all your magic drain from you, and all the blood from your face. You held up your hands in an act of showing you offered no harm, hoping nothing would happen to Jongho.

“I'll do as you say.”

“Slowly now, old chap,” the bandit instructed.

Jongho stepped out of the carriage and all you could focus on was the knife at Jongho’s throat. You hadn't felt this helpless since before your family’s murder.

“You're going to deliver ten chests full of gold and jewels,” Another bandit said, drawing your attention. “We'll keep your advisor hostage until we receive our dues. Then, we'll give him back to you once we've carted away our treasure.”

“Alive,” You snarled.

“Alive, aye,” the bandit agreed. “So long as you don't follow us and try to murder us, your advisor will remain on this plane.”

Jongho began to struggle in the bandit’s grasp. “It's a trap, Your Majesty! They want you to appear weak. Kill them! Kill them all!”

You had to use all your control to not retaliate as blood appeared at Jongho’s neck. “Shut up and do as they say, Jongho.”

Jongho stopped at your command but his eyes burned still with suppressed anger on your behalf. Jongho would do whatever it took to uphold your image as the queen in control… even if that meant sacrificing himself in the process.

But you would never allow that.

“I will bring you all that you deserve,” You vowed. “And you will return to me what is mine.”

Jongho's face became pink when your words sunk in. Good. Then perhaps he would truly understand that he was NEVER expendable.

“Until then.” The bandit swept his floppy hat in a bow and the other dragged Jongho backwards, fading into the forest around the dirt road you had been travelling along.

“Your Majesty,” One of your guards approached, wincing at a wound at his side. “Are you truly going to give into their demands?”

“Of course not,” You replied simply. “But I will require you all to go back to the castle.”

“But--”

You held up a hand. “Leave two horses, that is all I need. But you will follow my commands to the letter. You’re not going to be very good guards if you die.”

The soldier saluted by pounding a fist over his heart and then he started to order the other’s to gather the injured and to leave two horses.

Once they were all cleared out, you grabbed the reins of the horses and led them into the forest, following the bath of the bandits. It wasn’t hard; they left the forest a mess with broken branches and sliced foliage. Halfway you secured the horses to a low hanging branch and then began to discard your clothes.

It was time to pull out your ultimate trump card: changing into the beast form you had been cursed with at birth.

You bent to all fours on the ground, holding in your screams as your body transformed into a shape that was completely opposite of your human form. Your arms and legs elongated, as did your head. Your teeth became sharp and your human thoughts pushed to the back. You needed the animalistic brain to come to the forefront if you were to accomplish your task.

Once your cursed beast form was complete, you began to gallop the rest of the way. Your nostrils flared and you followed the scent of your prey now. Saliva began to drip from your lips. A red mist spread over your eyes, with only one purpose in mind: to kill.

The first bandit didn’t see you coming. You simply impaled him on your horn with your head held low as you charged. You tossed his body to the side and he screamed. Other bandits stood up, unsheathing their swords at the first glimpse of attack. But quickly more were screaming.

“It’s a monster!” One man yelled.

“Stand your ground,” the bandit in charge bellowed.

But who had the nerve to stand in front of a raging, black unicorn?

You slaughtered the entire camp, almost as if you were creating the throne room after the christening of your powers. Blood sprayed the ground and the trees. Entrails and limbs were cast about as if macabre decorations. Not a soul was left alive, other than Jongho, of course.

You carefully, cautiously walked towards Jongho, flanks shaking, and hot air escaping your nostrils in plumes of smoke. Your hoof pawed at the dirt right in front of him. Your monster brain knew he was important but your bloodthirst was barely simmering down.

“Y/N,” Jongho said softly, his hand level with the bridge of your nose.

You whinied and shook your head. Some of your mane was matted with the blood of your prey. But you held still, waiting to see what he would do with that hand.

“You’re beautiful,” Jongho said, awe coating his voice.

The hand landed on your nose and you allowed him to pet you and praise you.

Slowly, but surely, as Jongho cooed at you, your bloodlust faded and your body shrunk back into your woman form.

You curled into yourself, shivering in the cool air. Jongho immediately removed his jacket and draped it over your form. You sat up and adjusted the jacket to sit on your shoulders.

“Y/N, look at me,” Jongho commanded.

“We should get back to the horses,” You said gruffly.

“My queen.”

Your eyes finally shot up and met Jongho’s defiantly. “What, Jongho?”

“Thank you,” Jongho said simply.

You looked away, unable to handle any other emotion other than retribution right now. You could not afford to become soft when you had nobles to interrogate in where their loyalties lay. That had been the whole point to this trip, after all.

Instead, you replied with. “Take care of my heart. I won’t be needing it for the time being.”

Jongho nodded astutely, reading between the lines. “Of course, my queen.”

Not once did Jongho insist that he carry you back to the horses and that is why he was the constant in your life. Jongho knew exactly when you needed him and exactly when he needed to step back and let you be the strong queen he knew you were.

“May I suggest something?” Jongho asked after you had donned your clothes.

“That is your job,” You mused.

“We were to visit Lady Danvers and then Duke Foix. I know you planned on using all the pomp and circumstance of your army to arrive and show your queenly-ness, but I think arriving ahead of the appointed hour might allow us some insights to what exactly these nobles are doing,” Jongho laid out for you.

You mocked a gasp. “Why Counselor Choi, one would assume you are thinking of the very worst in Duke Foix’s case.”

A small, tiny, conspiratory smile pulled at Jongho’s lips. “Perhaps.”

“I suppose I could take this piece of advice under consideration,” You replied, flipping your hair over your shoulder. “I am the Queen after all. All that’s required is my mere presence and my subjects should be impressed.”

“Precisely,” Jongho agreed, his smile becoming wider as your ego inflated bigger.

“Then we shall sneak across the border, into Duke Foix’s duchy, and see exactly what that old fox is up to,” You announced.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” Jongho bowed formally and then swung his leg around to mount his horse. “To the Duchy of Foix.”

#sweet sorrow of evil.#lapydiariesnet #cromernet #ateez jongho x reader #ateez x reader #poly ateez x reader #ateez blurbs #ateez imagines #ateez angst #ateez fantasy au #ateez royal au #ateez scenarios

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oceandolores · 2 months ago

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | ending.

dbf!joel miller x female reader

"I'm always going to be right here, no one's going anywhere."

summary: it's the end

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, pedophilia, cannibalism, human trafficking, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 22

masterlist!

previous | chapter 21

The stench hit Tommy first. Damp iron, rotting meat, and something more acrid that clawed at the back of his throat. He stumbled into the room, flashlight trembling in his hand as the beam cut through the darkness.

His boots stuck to the blood-slicked floor, and for a brief moment, he froze.

There they were.

Joel and you, collapsed together in a grotesque tableau of ruin. Joel's head lolled against yours, blood trailing from a gaping wound that soaked his graying hair and matted your cheek.

His arms clutched you fiercely even in unconsciousness, as though holding you was the only thing tethering him to this world. Your face was pale, lifeless, lips parted as if in a final whisper.

Both of you were drenched in crimson, a dark halo pooling beneath your entwined bodies.

Tommy’s knees buckled as his voice cracked. “No. No, no, no!” He dropped the flashlight, its beam rolling away and casting distorted shadows across the room.

He crawled toward you, shaking hands brushing against Joel’s still-warm shoulder. “Joel, Joel, Wake up, Wake up brother,"

"THEY ARE HERE!" His heart hammered in his chest as he pressed trembling fingers to your neck, then Joel’s.

Faint pulses—fragile, flickering, but there. Relief collided with dread. They were alive, barely.

"HELP!"

"Ellie! Maria!" he roared, his voice breaking like splintered glass.

Ellie was the first to burst through the doorway, Maria on her heels. Ellie’s sharp inhale morphed into a guttural scream as she threw herself toward Joel.

"Joel? NO! NO NO! JOEL NO!"

"You can’t—wake up, wake the fuck up!” She shook him, tears streaking down her face, hands smearing his blood as she begged.

Maria pulled her back, gripping her shoulders tightly. “Ellie, it's alright, it's alright,"

"NO! NO LET ME GO! JOEL WAKE UP!"

But Ellie wouldn’t listen, sobbing uncontrollably, her fists pounding against Maria’s restraint.

"Don’t leave me, Joel. Please! You promised!"

Tommy couldn’t look at her. He had to keep himself steady, had to shove down the overwhelming tidal wave of emotion threatening to consume him.

He helped the EMTs lift Joel onto a stretcher, his hand lingering on his brother’s wrist for a moment longer than necessary.

“I’ll go with him,” Tommy said hoarsely, his voice as brittle as dried leaves. “Maria, stay with her.”

Maria nodded, her face pale but resolute, and knelt by your side.

Tommy sat rigid in the corner of the ER, his hands clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. He pressed them against his knees, trying to anchor himself, to keep his breathing steady.

But the panic was a wild animal inside him, clawing its way up his throat. He couldn't let it out—not here, not now.

Joel lay on the gurney, pale and fragile in a way Tommy had never seen. His big brother, who had always seemed unbreakable, now looked like a shell of the man Tommy had leaned on his entire life.

Blood seeped through the bandages wrapped hastily around his head, staining the sterile white sheets beneath him.

“Please, brother,” Tommy whispered, his voice trembling like a leaf caught in a storm. “Don’t go. Don't go, please,"

The words were more for himself than anyone else. A mantra, a prayer, a desperate plea to the universe. Joel was his anchor, the one who had always taken the brunt of the storm so Tommy wouldn’t have to.

Without him, Tommy felt like a ship unmoored, adrift in a sea of grief and fear.

He glanced at Ellie, who sat beside him, her hands buried in her face, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

She looked so small, so young, like a child who had just lost her world.

And maybe she had.

Tommy reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand on her shoulder. She flinched but didn’t pull away.

Instead, she looked up at him, her face streaked with tears, her eyes wild with anguish.

“He can’t die,” Ellie choked out, her voice raw and broken. “He can’t, Tommy. He’s all I have. He’s all I fucking have.”

Her words hit Tommy like a punch to the gut. He knew what Joel meant to her—how he’d become more than just a guardian, more than a father figure. Joel was her home, her safe place, the one person who had never given up on her.

“I know,” Tommy murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I know, kid. He ain’t going anywhere,"

But his own words felt hollow, like a lie he was telling to keep them both from falling apart.

Inside, he was unraveling. Every time the heart monitor beeped, every time a doctor barked out orders, he felt his chest tighten, his breaths growing shallower.

Memories flashed through his mind—Joel was always by his side, even when they were children and adults, he took care of Tommy, he believed in him, he was always holding him steady when the world felt like it was falling apart.

And now it was Tommy’s turn to hold steady.

To be the rock Joel had always been for him.

But God, it was hard.

Ellie’s sobs grew louder, her hands clutching the fabric of her jeans like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. “He promised me,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “He promised he’d always be here.”

Tommy swallowed the lump in his throat and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. She resisted for a moment before collapsing against him, her tears soaking into his shirt.

“He’s a fighter,” Tommy said, his voice barely audible. “You know that better than anyone. He ain’t giving up now. Not on you. Not on us.”

But even as he said the words, doubt gnawed at the edges of his resolve. He knew how fragile life was, how quickly it could be snatched away.

And yet, he couldn’t let himself believe it. He wouldn’t.

“Just hold on, Joel,” Tommy whispered, his eyes fixed on his brother’s pale face. “Please, just hold on.”

He tightened his grip on Ellie, drawing strength from her even as he tried to give her his.

Meanwhile, Maria sat beside your gurney, her hands trembling as they hovered over your pale, battered face. She couldn’t bring herself to touch you—not yet.

You looked so fragile, so breakable, like a porcelain doll left too long in the storm, your edges cracked and worn.

The steady rhythm of the heart monitor was the only proof that you were still here, still clinging to whatever thin thread tethered you to this world.

She didn’t know you like Joel did, or Ellie, or Tommy. But she had known you long enough.

Long enough to remember the shy little girl in her Sunday dresses, her hair tied up with ribbons, her voice ringing clear and sweet as she sang hymns with the choir.

You had always been so eager to help, bustling around the church like a sparrow, your hands too small to carry the weight of the world, and yet you tried.

Even then, Maria had seen the signs—the way you flinched when someone raised their voice, the shadows in your eyes that no child should have.

She should have known. She did know.

Maria bit down hard on her lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood. She wanted to scream, to cry, to beg for forgiveness—not from you, but from the universe, for failing you.

You were just a child.

All the signs had been there, like a map she had chosen to ignore. The bruises you tried to hide under long sleeves, the hollow cheerfulness in your smile, the way you’d cling to Joel or Ellie like they were lifelines.

And now, here you were, barely breathing, barely alive, because she hadn’t done anything.

Maria leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees as she pressed her hands to her face. She thought of her own son, her sweet baby boy, safe in his crib back home.

She couldn’t imagine him growing up without her, couldn’t imagine a world where he was left to fend for himself, broken and alone. But that was your world now.

You had no one.

Tears slid down Maria’s cheeks, hot and unrelenting. She reached out, finally letting her fingers graze your hand. Your skin was cold, too cold, and it made her shiver.

She wanted to hold you, to pull you into her arms like she did with her son when he cried, to tell you it was all going to be okay. But she couldn’t lie to you like that. Not now.

“You were just a child,” Maria whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her grief. “You didn’t deserve any of this.”

She thought of all the times she had watched you from afar, her heart aching with the knowledge she had buried deep down.

She had told herself it wasn’t her place, that your parents were good, church-going people, that someone else would step in if something was wrong.

Until Joel stepped up.

But still, now you were here, shattered and bleeding, because the adults in your life had failed you.

Maria wiped at her tears with the back of her hand, her resolve hardening. “I’m here now,” she murmured, her voice steady even as her heart quaked.

“You’re not alone, sweetheart. You’ll never be alone again.”

She didn’t know if you could hear her. Maybe you were too far gone, lost in whatever dark void had claimed you.

But she would sit here as long as it took, would fight for you in the way she should have all those years ago.

You were just a child.

But now, you were hers to protect.

***

The world around you dissolved into a weightless expanse of white. It wasn’t harsh or blinding; it was soft, endless, like freshly fallen snow untouched by footprints.

There was no floor beneath you, no walls, no sky. Just an infinite void, as if time and space had folded into nothingness.

You felt… nothing.

No pain, no fear, no exhaustion. The gnawing ache in your body, the sharp sting of wounds, the crushing heaviness of the world—it was all gone.

Instead, there was a quiet peace, gentle and all-encompassing. It should have been comforting, this emptiness, but it wasn’t.

Something was missing.

You tried to move, to speak, but your body didn’t respond. It wasn’t heavy or restrained—it simply wasn’t there. You were a thought, an echo in the silence.

Is this it?

The question hung in the air, unanswered. A strange calm settled over you, and yet, deep in your chest—if you even had a chest anymore—a faint tug lingered, a gnawing unease that refused to be soothed.

Something wasn’t right.

And then you heard it.

A voice, soft and familiar, weaving through the stillness like a hymn.

“Honey…”

Your breath—or what felt like breath—hitched. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. Slowly, you turned, and there she was.

“Mama.”

Your voice broke, raw and disbelieving, as you stumbled toward her. She stood there, whole and radiant, as if the years and the violence had never touched her.

Her face was just as you remembered—warm blue eyes, soft cheeks, a smile that had once been your safe harbor.

Tears blurred your vision as you threw yourself into her arms, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt solid.

Her arms wrapped around you, strong and steady, and you buried your face in her shoulder, sobbing like a child.

“Mama, I’m sorry,” you choked out, the words tumbling from your lips in a torrent of guilt and grief.

“I’m so sorry. I left you. I should have done something—I should have saved you—”

She hushed you, her fingers combing gently through your hair. “Shh, honey. Look at me.”

You pulled back, your chest heaving with unspent sobs, and looked into her eyes. They were filled with a tenderness that threatened to undo you.

“It’s not your fault,” she said, her voice firm but gentle. “It was never your fault.”

You shook your head, fresh tears spilling over. “But I—father—Negan—”

She placed her hands on either side of your face, forcing you to meet her gaze. “Listen to me, honey. What happened wasn’t because of you. It was us, it was our fault, all of it,—your father—and me. I was too afraid to protect you. I failed you.” Her voice cracked, but she pressed on.

“But you?” Her voice quivered, trembling under the weight of her own sorrow.

“You were just a child. You were just a child. My baby. My baby girl.” Her hands cradled your face, fingers trembling like autumn leaves barely clinging to their branches.

The warmth of her touch seeped into your skin, but it couldn’t thaw the ice of guilt frozen in your chest.

Her words unfurled in the void, weaving through your heart like a psalm you didn’t realize you’d been aching to hear. Her voice cracked, thick with grief.

“I couldn’t do anything to protect you. I failed—I failed as a mother, as your mother.” Tears glistened in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks like rivers eroding her steadfast resolve.

“I failed you, and I’m so, so sorry for it.”

You shook your head violently, choking on your tears. “No, Mama. Don’t say that—please don’t say that. You were scared. You didn’t have a choice—”

“I was supposed to have a choice,” she interrupted, her voice rising, fierce and broken.

“God entrusted you to me. He placed you in my arms, so tiny, so perfect. You were a gift, my precious lamb, and I—” Her voice faltered, her hands tightening around yours.

“I let the wolves devour you.”

Her grief crashed over you like a tidal wave, drowning you in its depth.

She shook her head, her sorrow spilling out like an overflowing chalice. “A mother’s love is supposed to be unyielding, a shield against all harm. I should have been your fortress, your refuge. But instead…” She looked away, shame twisting her features.

“Instead, I was a reed, bending under the weight of fear, snapping when you needed me most.”

Her words pierced through you, carving out a hollow space where the guilt had lived for so long. Your chest ached with the enormity of it, the shared burden of her regrets and yours.

Her eyes, luminous with love and pain, met yours again. “But you… Oh, my beautiful baby girl. You were never to blame. Never.” Her voice softened, turning into a prayer, a hymn.

“You were the lamb, innocent and pure, while the wolves prowled at your door. And I—I didn’t drive them away. I let them linger, let them sink their fangs into you. And for that, I will carry my guilt for eternity.”

"You did what you could. You loved me the best you could.”

Her smile was bittersweet, a fragile thing that barely reached her eyes. “Love isn’t enough, baby. Love must have action, must have courage. But I didn’t act. I let fear bind me, as surely as chains. Your father’s wrath…” Her voice broke, her tears falling freely now.

“It wasn’t just you he terrorized, you know. I was too weak to stop him, too paralyzed to shield you.”

She drew a shaky breath, her gaze lifting to some unseen point beyond you. “But now, I see clearly. In the kingdom of heaven, where grace flows like rivers of light, I’ve learned what I should have known all along. A mother’s love should reflect God’s love—unyielding, sacrificial, all-consuming.”

Her hands cupped your cheeks again, her thumbs brushing away your tears.

“But you, my child—you are stronger than I ever was. You bore the brunt of his sins, carried his cruelties on your back. You endured the cross I should have carried for you.”

Her words opened a wound in your heart, but they also poured something healing into it. Something divine.

“You are my lamb, yes,” she whispered, leaning her forehead against yours. “But you are also my lion. Fierce, unbroken, redeemed. You’ve endured what no one should endure, and yet you’re still here."

"Do you hear me, honey? You’re still here. You have a chance to live, to love, to heal. To have the life I always wanted for you.”

“I can’t…” you whispered, your voice small and trembling. “I don’t know how.”

She smiled again, this time radiant, her eyes gleaming with something you could only call holy.

“You will. God’s light is within you, burning brighter than you know. You will find your way, my beautiful girl."

"But you can’t stay here. Not yet.”

"You and him doesn't belong here,"

The void around you began to shift, the brightness dimming, pulling her farther and farther away.

"What? Mama, what's happening?"

Her kiss lingered like the warmth of sunlight breaking through storm clouds. “I’ll always be with you,” she whispered, her voice soft as a hymn, “as surely as the spirit of God dwells within you.”

Tears spilled from your eyes as her form began to fade, dissolving into the luminous void like mist burned away by dawn. Her final words echoed in the stillness: “I love you so much.”

And then, she was gone.

You stood alone in the vast expanse, the emptiness pressing in on you. Panic gripped your chest, and you screamed, Your voice cracked, reverberating in the silence, unanswered.

The world around you swirled, a disorienting blend of white and nothingness, until a figure emerged in the distance.

It was Joel.

Joel.

Relief surged through you like a flood, washing away your fear. “Joel!” you called, your voice trembling, desperate.

You ran toward him, but he didn’t seem to hear you. He stood motionless, his head bowed, and as you got closer, you saw them—two figures standing beside him.

His late wife, Jane, her features soft and kind, just as you had seen in the pictures your mother had once saved.

And next to her, a young girl, her smile radiant and full of life. Sarah.

You recognized her immediately, even though you’d only seen her in photographs. Her beauty was ethereal, her eyes unmistakably Joel’s—a mirror of his soul.

You froze in place, your heart pounding as Joel turned to embrace them both. The sight of him holding them shattered something deep inside you.

You called out again, your voice breaking, but he didn’t respond. He didn’t hear you.

“No,” you whispered, your chest tightening with despair. “No, Joel, don’t leave me.”

Then, Sarah’s gaze met yours. Her smile softened, her eyes glowing with a warmth that felt like sunlight breaking through clouds. She pointed toward you, her finger trembling slightly, and Joel turned.

His eyes found you.

“Baby?” His voice was soft, disbelieving, as though he couldn’t trust what he was seeing.

“Joel,” you choked, tears streaming down your face. You ran to him, your feet barely feeling the ground beneath you, and flung yourself into his arms.

His embrace was warm, solid, real—just as it had always been.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice trembling with confusion and fear.

“I came to find you,” you sobbed, clutching his shirt as though letting go would shatter you into a thousand pieces.

“No,” he said firmly, his hands gripping your shoulders as he pulled back to look into your eyes. “No, you don’t belong here.”

"What do you mean? I’m not leaving without you.”

“Baby…” Joel’s voice cracked, his hands trembling as they cupped your face. His thumb brushed away your tears, his touch so achingly familiar.

“Look at me. I’m here, where I belong.” He glanced toward Jane and Sarah, his eyes brimming with sorrow and something resembling peace. “Look—I found them. My family,”

Your heart fractured, the jagged edges cutting deep. “No, Joel. You don’t get to leave me. Please,” you begged, pressing your forehead against his.

“Please don’t leave me.”

His breath hitched, and he held you closer, his fingers threading through your hair. “Baby, listen to me..."

"I’m so sorry. For everything. For the pain, for the fear, for all the ways I failed you. But I love you. God, I love you so much.” His voice broke completely, his tears mingling with yours.

Joel’s voice was a broken melody, each word trembling with the weight of his love.

His hands cradled your face like you were the most fragile and precious thing he had ever held, his thumbs brushing the tears from your cheeks as though he could wipe away your pain.

“You are the light of my life,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion.

“Fire of my loins, my sin, my soul,"

"My moon, my sun..."

"You gave me a reason to keep going when all I saw was darkness. When everything else fell apart, when the world was nothing but ash and shadows, you were the one thing that felt real. The one thing that kept me grounded.”

His breath hitched, and he leaned his forehead against yours, his tears falling freely now.

“You’re my anchor, baby. You’ve held me steady when I was drowning, pulled me back when I was ready to let go. You’ve been my salvation in ways I never deserved.”

His hands trembled as they moved to cup the sides of your face, his gaze boring into yours with an intensity that made your heart ache.

“I’m so glad I found you. So damn grateful you walked into my life. You’ve given me something I never thought I’d have again—a reason to live, a reason to hope.”

He swallowed hard, his voice breaking as he continued.

“You’re every good thing I’ve ever known. Every sunrise that painted the sky in gold. Every quiet moment of peace that I never thought I’d have again. You’re the laughter I didn’t think I’d hear, the love I didn’t think I deserved.”

His lips quivered as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering as though he could pour everything he felt for you into that one touch.

“I don’t know how to let go of you,” he whispered, his voice cracking like thunder through the void.

“But I need you to live, baby. You’re the light this world needs, the light I need, even if I can’t stay."

You sobbed, your hands clutching at him like he was the only thing tethering you to existence. “Then stay,” you pleaded, your voice a raw whisper.

“Stay with me, Joel. I need you. I can’t do this without you.”

His own tears fell harder, but he smiled—a soft, broken smile filled with love and sorrow.

“You can. And you will. Because you’re the strongest person I’ve ever known, and you’ve got so much left to give, so much left to live for.”

He pressed his lips to yours, the kiss tender, full of love, full of goodbye. “I love you,” he murmured against your mouth.

“More than words could ever say, more than this life could ever show. I love you with everything I am, and I’ll love you with everything I’ll ever be.”

The light around you began to shift, and Joel’s form flickered, his edges growing softer, less solid. “Baby,” he said, his voice now barely a whisper,

“you’ll carry me with you. Always. In every step, every breath. I’ll be there, just like you’ve always been there for me.”

“No,” you whimpered, shaking your head violently. “I can’t.”

“You have to, babygirl.” His voice was soft but firm, a command laced with infinite sorrow.

“This isn’t your time. You have a life to live, love to give, and the world needs you. You don’t belong here."

His words sliced through you, leaving you gasping for air. He pressed his lips to your forehead, the kiss lingering, warm and full of finality.

“I’ll always love you, my sweet girl,” he whispered against your skin.

As he pulled away, Jane and Sarah stepped closer, their hands resting gently on his shoulders. You tried to cling to him, to pull him back, but his form began to fade, dissolving into the light.

“No!” you screamed, your voice shattering into the void. “Joel, please! Don’t leave me!”

"No, don't take him away from me please," you look at Jane and Sarah, like they can do anything to make stay Joel with you. But they can't.

His final words reached you like a prayer whispered into the wind. “I’ll never leave you, baby."

"I’ll be in every sunrise, every star, every moment you take a breath. You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

"I'll see you when you get here,"

And then he was gone.

You collapsed to your knees, the emptiness swallowing you whole. The void around you seemed colder, darker, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

But then, a faint warmth stirred within you, like the faintest flicker of a candle. His promise, his love—it lingered, eternal, a part of you now.

The sound was deafening. That high-pitched scream of the machine announcing a life extinguished. But it wasn’t yours.

A force stronger than gravity itself yanked at you, pulling you from the void and hurling you back into the world. You gasped for air, your chest heaving as your lungs filled with fire.

Your eyes fluttered open to blinding light, hospital lights, cold and clinical. Pain surged through you like a tidal wave, radiating from every inch of your battered body.

You looked down and saw the remnants of what had been done—stitches running jagged like broken seams, blood still staining your skin.

You're alive, but barely.

The room swam in and out of focus. Faces blurred, voices merged into static. But one name, one thought cut through the haze like a blade.

Joel.

“Joel,” you croaked, your voice weak, hoarse, but resolute.

The doctors were at your side instantly, their hands on your shoulders, their voices calm but firm as they begged you to lie down. You didn’t listen. You couldn’t.

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, your body protesting every movement, every step, but nothing would stop you.

Not now.

Maria’s voice rose behind you, calling your name, panic lacing her tone. You heard her footsteps rushing after you, heard her yelling for Tommy, but you kept going.

People stared as you stumbled through the hallway, their eyes wide with something between pity and horror. You must have looked like death itself—bloodied, fragile, dragging your broken body forward with sheer willpower alone.

But you didn’t care. Nothing mattered except finding him.

And then you did.

Joel.

He was lying still in the hospital bed, pale as the sheets beneath him, his chest unmoving. The machine beside him was silent, its flatline a cruel, unrelenting sound that confirmed your worst fear.

“No,” you whispered, your breath catching in your throat. “No, no, no.”

Ellie was at his side, her small frame hunched over as sobs wracked her body. Tommy stood nearby, his shoulders shaking, his face buried in his hands.

Maria’s voice was somewhere behind you, but you couldn’t hear her anymore.

You pushed past them, your movements frantic, desperate. “NO!” you screamed, throwing yourself at his bedside, your hands clutching his cold, lifeless face.

“No, this isn’t real. Joel, wake up! Wake up!”

Tears streamed down your face, hot and unrelenting, as you shook him, your voice breaking into pieces.

“Please, Joel. Please, come back to me. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me, please!”

The room felt like it was collapsing around you, the walls closing in, the air too thick to breathe. You pressed your forehead against his, your tears soaking into his skin.

He felt so cold. Too cold.

Your hands trembled as they clung to Joel’s face, your fingers tracing the lines of his cheeks now void of warmth. He was so still, so unbearably still.

The icy chill of his skin seeped into your bones, but you refused to believe this was the end.

It couldn’t be.

“Please, God,” you whispered, your voice trembling like the flicker of a candle in a storm. “Don’t take him from me. Please, not him. I’ll do anything—anything—just let him stay.”

Your words grew louder, desperate, until they became a chant, a plea that echoed through the room.

Tears streaked down your face in rivers, dripping onto his still form.

“Lord,” you prayed, your voice cracking as sobs overtook you. “I have sinned, I know I have. I am broken, unworthy of your grace. But Joel...he is good. He is so good. Spare him, please. Take me instead, but don’t take him. He’s my everything, my heart, my soul. Don’t let this be his end.”

Your fingers curled into fists against his chest, as though you could will his heart to beat again with your sheer desperation.

“You said you are merciful,” you cried. “You are the shepherd who leaves the ninety-nine for the one. Let him be that one, Lord. Bring him back to me. Please, bring him back!”

The room felt heavy, oppressive, as though the weight of the heavens themselves bore down upon you. Your voice climbed higher, louder, animalistic and raw.

“PLEASE!” you screamed. “Don’t you leave him! He is mine, he is yours, and I cannot live without him. Please, God, don’t forsake us.”

The doctors tried to pull you away, their voices a blur as they urged you to let him go.

Their hands gripped your arms, but you wrenched free, throwing yourself onto Joel’s body as though you could shield him from the inevitability of death.

“NO!” you shrieked, your voice ripping through the sterile air. “LET ME GO! NO! JOEL, PLEASE! COME BACK TO ME!”

Your screams were guttural, the kind of pain that stripped you down to nothing, leaving you raw and exposed.

It echoed down the hospital corridors, reaching ears far beyond the room.

Tommy’s heart broke as he watched you. Tears streamed down his face, his hands clenched into fists, helpless to do anything but witness your agony.

Ellie buried her face in Maria’s shoulder, her small frame shaking with sobs as Maria held her close, her own tears falling silently.

You pressed your forehead to Joel’s chest, your body trembling as you sobbed. “It’s my fault,” you whispered, your voice barely audible now. “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t—if I had never bring you into this, maybe—maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

His blood stained your fingers, dried and cracking like the earth after a long drought. You kissed his face, his forehead, his cheeks, your tears washing streaks into the crimson smudges.

“Joel,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as your forehead rested against his. “Please, don’t leave me. Don’t leave me, baby."

"I need you. I need you so much. Come back, please, come back...come back to me..."

***

Joel’s world was a haze, the edges blurred like an old photograph left too long in the sun. The last thing he remembered was you—your cries, your desperate pleas.

And then, there was nothing.

No pain, no noise, just a quiet stillness that wrapped around him like a soft, suffocating blanket.

When his eyes opened, he wasn’t in the hospital. The space around him was unearthly, bathed in a warm, golden light that seemed to hum with peace.

A familiar laugh rang out, soft and lilting, and his heart clenched as he turned toward the sound.

There they were.

Sarah.

Jane.

His breath hitched as his little girl came running toward him, her curls bouncing with every step, her smile as radiant as the sun. He fell to his knees, his arms wide open as she flung herself into his chest.

“Daddy,” she whispered, her small hands clutching his shirt. “I missed you so much.”

Joel’s throat closed, his arms tightening around her as he pressed his face into her hair. “Baby girl,” he rasped, his voice trembling.

“I’ve missed you too. I’ve missed you every day.”

Jane stood a few feet away, her smile soft, her eyes filled with a warmth that broke and healed him all at once.

“You’re here,” Joel said, his voice barely above a whisper. He reached out a hand toward her, but when she moved to take it, his fingers passed through hers like smoke.

“What...?” Joel’s brow furrowed as he stared at his hand.

“You can’t hold us, Joel,” Jane said gently, stepping closer. “Not anymore.”

His chest tightened, his eyes darting between them. “What do you mean? I’m here. You’re here. We’re together now."

Sarah stepped back, her small hand slipping from his grasp. “Daddy,” she said softly, her voice tinged with sadness. “You belong with her.”

Her words hit him like a blow, and his head whipped toward Jane for clarity, for something to hold onto.

“What?” Joel asked, his voice cracking.

“What are you saying?”

“She’s calling for you, Joel,” Jane said, her eyes brimming with understanding. “Don’t you hear her?”

Joel’s heart stuttered as he thought of you—your face wet with tears, your voice raw as you screamed his name.

It echoed in the recesses of his mind, faint but insistent, like the pull of a tide.

“I can’t... I can’t leave you both."

Jane stepped closer, her hand hovering near his cheek but never quite touching. “Joel,” she said softly, her voice like a balm to his wounded soul.

“It’s not your fault.”

His shoulders shook as he closed his eyes, the guilt rising in his chest like a tidal wave. “It is,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

“It’s my fault you’re gone. You and Sarah. If I, If i didn't lose control, If—”

Jane cut him off, her voice firm but kind. “It wasn’t your fault. It was fate, Joel."

"God’s plan."

"As much as it hurts, we were never meant to stay.”

Tears streamed down his face, his fists clenching at his sides. “But you were my family,” he choked out. “You’re my family.”

Jane’s smile softened, and she shook her head gently. “No, Joel,” she said.

“She’s your family now. The woman who’s calling for you, the one who refuses to let go. She’s your home. And the children you two would have... they’re waiting for you.”

Jane nodded, her eyes shimmering with tears. “You found her, Joel,” she said.

“You found the reason to keep going. Now go back. Go to her. And just know that we’ll always be here, by your side.”

Sarah stepped forward, her small hand brushing the air near his. “We’ll always be with you, Daddy,” she said, her voice sweet and unwavering.

Joel’s heart felt like it was being torn in two. He looked at them, his girls, his everything, and then closed his eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

"I love you, daddy."

“Now go.” Jane said.

A force tugged at him, pulling him backward, away from the light, away from them.

Their faces blurred, their forms dissolving into the golden glow as the world around him grew dark.

And then he heard it—your voice. Raw, desperate, filled with a love so fierce it defied everything.

“Joel, please! Come back to me!”

***

youtube

(listen to this for this scene, xx)

The English countryside stretched endlessly before you, a quilt of rolling green hills dotted with wildflowers and the occasional stone cottage, their chimneys releasing tendrils of smoke into the brisk morning air.

The sky above was a canvas of soft pastels, where the first light of dawn kissed the earth with a gentle embrace.

Yet, even amidst this beauty, your heart felt heavy—a weight you had carried for five long years.

Five years since everything changed.

The memories came unbidden, sharp as the cold breeze that whispered through the grass. They were vivid, like paintings etched in fire, each stroke searing with the weight of all you endured.

You remembered Texas—the dry, oppressive heat of your small town, the suffocating walls of the preacher’s house, and the silent screams you carried within you.

You were just the preacher's daughter then, the perfect picture of obedience. But beneath the surface, the wounds left by your father ran deep.

His hands left bruises, his words left scars, and his righteous fury left you trembling in the dark.

And then there was Negan.

The man who had stolen you away from Joel, the man who nearly destroyed you both. You still remembered the cold steel of his chains, the cruelty in his gaze, and the weight of hopelessness in that basement.

He had tried to take everything—your love, your freedom, your soul. But the ache in your chest reminded you that he had failed. You had fought.

You had survived.

California.

It had been your dream once—a place where sunshine and salt air might have smoothed over the jagged edges of your memories.

You had imagined golden beaches and blue skies erasing the shadows of your past.

But when the time came, the brightness of that place felt like a lie. It was too glaring, too sharp for a soul so fractured.

Instead, you fled across the ocean to the English countryside, where the world moved slower and softer.

Here, the hum of life was a quiet balm, the rolling hills and open fields a canvas of peace.

The sound of children’s laughter pulled you from your thoughts. Their bright, melodic voices mingled with the chirping birds and rustling leaves.

You turned, watching them run through the yard, their small figures glowing in the morning light. Their joy was an anchor, a reminder of what you had fought so hard to build.

A faint smile tugged at your lips. They didn’t know the depth of the ground beneath their feet—the battles you had waged, the demons you had vanquished to stand where you were now.

There had been years of sleepless nights, haunted by the shadows of your father and the cruelty of men like Negan.

Therapists had tried to reach you with kind faces and soft voices, but no amount of words could silence the screams in your mind.

The memories were relentless, dragging you into spirals of despair until you admitted yourself to a mental hospital.

Healing had been slow, agonizing work, each step forward feeling like climbing a mountain barefoot. Not all scars faded—some you carried like a hidden roadmap of your survival.

Yet here you were, standing in the golden light, breathing in the scent of wild lavender, alive and grateful.

The breeze caressed your skin, and then you felt it—a hand, strong and steady, sliding around your waist.

That touch, that presence—you knew it as intimately as your own heartbeat. It brings you comfort.

“Lost in your thoughts again?” His voice was low, warm, familiar. It settled over you like a prayer answered.

Joel.

There he was, standing before you, a figure drawn from dreams and memory.

His face was lined with years, his hair streaked with more gray now, but his eyes—those deep, brown eyes—still held the strength you had clung to through every storm.

The memories rushed in, unrelenting. You saw the hospital again—the sterile smell of antiseptic, the blinding lights, the cacophony of voices urging you to let him go.

You hadn’t.

You couldn’t.

For those agonizing moments, you believed you had lost him. You had screamed and sobbed, clinging to his lifeless form, willing him back to you with every ounce of your soul.

And then, like a divine answer, Joel had gasped for air.

It had been nothing short of a miracle.

The doctors called it improbable; you called it grace.

A man who had been stitched together by tragedy had been handed back to you, like Lazarus rising from the tomb.

But even miracles come with scars. The year that followed was not without chaos.

Joel was proven innocent.

With all the evidence back in Negan's house, his DNA all over the place and the bodies and thanks to Emma, who had captured Negan’s confession on tape.

The truth had shifted blame away from Joel, painting Negan as the monster responsible for Jamie and Ben’s deaths.

Joel finally walked free, but freedom didn’t erase the shadows.

For a year, both of you were haunted by what had happened. You by the ghosts of your father and Negan, Joel by the weight of Ben and Jamie and the fear of losing you again.

Yet, through every sleepless night and every whispered fear, you clung to each other, vowing to fight for the future you both deserved.

And look where it had brought you.

Joel’s hand tightened around your waist as you gazed into his eyes. The love there was steady, unyielding, the kind of love that had carried you through hell and back.

He's your sanctuary, your savior, your home.

You thought of the vows you had whispered to him on your wedding day, standing beneath an arch of wildflowers in this very field.

“To love and to hold, in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, until death do us part.”

Yet your love had defied even death.

You rested your hand against Joel’s chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart—each beat a testament to the life you now lived, the love you had fought so hard to keep. The world around you seemed suspended, wrapped in the golden haze of the countryside, but your mind drifted to places far from this gentle field.

“You’ve given me a life I never thought I deserved,” you whispered, your voice trembling under the weight of gratitude and sorrow.

Joel’s lips curved into that faint, familiar smile—the one that always held a mix of strength and tenderness. “You gave me one too, doll. You’re the reason I kept going.”

The words settled deep into your chest, yet a shadow flickered behind your eyes. The life you held now—this sanctuary you built together—wasn’t free. It had been bought with sacrifice, and you could never forget those who had been lost along the way.

Emma.

Her name was a quiet ache in your heart, a hymn of both love and loss. You still saw her sometimes in your dreams—her soft smile, her fierce determination, the way she had stood between you and Negan that final time. Her blood had stained your hands, her final breath etched into your memory like scripture on ancient stone. Jim, her husband, followed her into the grave, his love for her carrying him into the arms of eternity.

At night, you knelt at your bedside, your hands clasped tightly as you whispered prayers into the silence. “Lord, grant them rest. Let their souls find peace in Your grace. For Emma, for Jim, for the girls who never found freedom. For the innocents who were lost, for those who suffered.”

The words felt like offerings, fragile and holy, sent up to the heavens where you hoped they might find solace.

And then, there were your parents.

Your father’s shadow still lingered in the corners of your mind. His voice, heavy with righteous fury, had once filled your world with fear. His hands, meant to guide, had instead punished, and his sermons on forgiveness had tasted bitter on your tongue for years.

Yet here you were, trying to live those very words he had preached.

Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.

Forgiveness wasn’t a flood; it was a river—slow, winding, carving through the stone of your heart over time. You had forgiven your mother first.

She, too, was a prisoner in her way, bound by duty and fear, but her love had always been there, quiet and trembling.

Your father, though—he was the stone that took the longest to break.

You had stared at his face in your mind, the lines of anger and authority softened now by memory, and whispered, “I forgive you.” The words felt like pulling thorns from your skin—sharp, painful, but freeing.

Even now, the pain lingered, like bruises that hadn’t fully faded.

But you had chosen to let go, to leave those wounds in the hands of God, the ultimate judge and the endless source of mercy.

If He could forgive, how could you not try?

The weight of your past drifted on the breeze, carried high into the endless sky where it could no longer touch you.

The air in the English countryside was sweet and clean, like a hymn sung in spring, wrapping your soul in a quiet kind of grace.

This was your sanctuary—a land flowing with the milk of peace and the honey of redemption, where time felt softer, like it had been ordained just for you.

Joel’s decision to move here had been as much for you as it had been for himself. Away from the cities, from the noise, from the echoes of everything you had left behind.

The ranch, with its soft bleats of sheep and a garden kissed by sunlight, was a place to plant roots—not just in the earth, but in each other.

Joel still worked, commuting to London for his business, but home was here, in the rolling green hills, with you and the children.

Tommy and Maria, now raising seven-year-old Luke, remained stateside, but their love traveled across oceans. Ellie, newly wed to Dina, lived closer in London.

She came often, her laughter filling your home like music, her love for her little brother and sister an anchor in your growing family.

Frank and Bill, although they can't visit much to England, they always have time for video call you and the kids, and sending them the strawberries from your own garden.

You, once a wandering soul yearning for a place to belong, were now a wife and a mother.

Two beautiful children—Emma, with her bright, curious eyes, and Jack, with his chubby hands that reached for the world—had brought new meaning to your life.

And Joel…your husband, the father of your children.

Joel had become a father again, though you could see in his every move the man who had always been a protector, a nurturer, even through his hardest years.

This was the family you had prayed for as a child. A home stitched together not just by blood but by love, by the grace of second chances.

The children’s laughter rang out, clear as church bells on a quiet Sunday morning.

You turned toward the sound, watching them run through the field, their joy as boundless as the sky.

Gratitude swelled in your chest, a psalm of thanksgiving rising silently to the heavens.

A car horn echoed in the distance, cutting through the stillness. You squinted toward the road and saw a familiar truck pulling into the drive.

Tommy, Maria, Luke—and Ellie and Dina. They had come to celebrate Joel’s 56th birthday.

A smile broke across your face as you waved them in. “Emma! Jack! Come here!” you called, your voice full of warmth. “Uncle Tommy’s here! Your sister’s here too!”

The children turned, their little legs carrying them toward you as fast as they could.

You scooped up Jack, his tiny hands clutching at your shoulders, while Joel bent to lift Emma, who squealed in delight as her arms wrapped around his neck.

“It’s Daddy’s birthday today,” you reminded them, your voice playful. “What do we say to Daddy?”

Emma and Jack turned their bright faces to Joel and shouted in unison, “Happy birthday, Daddy! Thank you for everything, We love you so much!”

Their tiny hands reached for him, planting sloppy, sweet kisses on his cheeks.

Joel’s expression softened, his lips parting slightly as he stood in awe of the moment, his hands gentle yet secure around Emma.

Ellie arrived just in time, stepping out of the truck with a teasing grin. “Here comes your favorite big sister! Who wants candy?”

Emma and Jack squirmed out of your arms and Joel’s, running to Ellie with the excitement only children could muster. You laughed, watching her kneel to their height, pulling candies from her pockets like a magician performing a miracle.

“Happy birthday, old man,” Ellie teased as she stood, turning to Joel. “Old as a fossil now, huh?”

Joel chuckled, shaking his head. “Still got more energy than you, kid.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ellie replied, rolling her eyes, though her smile betrayed her affection.

As the others went inside, you heard Tommy has played Harvest Moon by Neil Young inside your house, full volume, as Joel saw him give him a wink and a thumbs up.

You laughs when you saw it, "This is our song," you said to Joel, as he wrapped you around his arm, "I can still remember those rides with you, baby."

You chuckles as you lingered with Joel, the two of you standing in the soft afternoon light. The air was quiet again, save for the rustle of leaves and the distant laughter from the house.

“Happy birthday, Joel,” you said softly, holding out a gift wrapped in simple paper.

He opened it slowly, his breath catching as he saw what lay inside. It was a photo album, filled with snapshots of your life together—the two of you, the children, Ellie, Tommy, Maria.

On the first page, written in the shaky handwriting of Emma and Jack, were the words:

Happy birthday, Daddy. Thank you for everything that you've done for us, we are forever grateful for you, we love you so much! -With love, Always, Emma, Jack, and Momma.

Joel stared at the page, his fingers brushing lightly over the words. His throat worked as he tried to speak, but no words came. Instead, he turned to you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

He kissed you then, deeply, his lips pressing into yours with a fervor that spoke of everything he couldn’t say. When he pulled back, his voice was rough, filled with emotion.

“You’re the best gift I’ve ever had, doll,” he said. “You, this life, and these beautiful little minxes and the big minx we’ve got. I never thought I’d deserve this.”

Tears stung your own eyes as you cupped his face, your thumb brushing over the lines etched by years of sorrow and joy.

Once, you were just a preacher's daughter—raised in the shadow of a pulpit, where every word of faith felt like a heavy garment, protecting you from the world's harshness.

Your life shaped by doctrines, by prayers, by the weight of others' expectations, as though you were a vessel to carry their beliefs, not your own.

Yet, through the storms of confusion, there was always a flicker—a quiet flame deep within you, a seed planted by grace, watered by love.

You hadn’t always seen its roots, but God had always been there, gently guiding you when the world seemed too loud, when your faith faltered.

He had whispered your name in the dark, reminded you that you were never alone.

Now, standing here with Joel, the weight of the past felt lighter. The ghosts of old wounds, of the pain that once defined you, no longer reached into this space you and Joel had carved out together.

His calloused fingers, reminders of everything he had fought through, told a story of survival.

And yet, in the stillness of the twilight, his touch was gentle—a promise of love and safety, a love you had never dared to dream possible.

As the stars began to pierce the darkening sky, you and Joel stood together, watching the first one flicker into view.

He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds—the verse that had carried you through your darkest hours, and now, you felt the truth of it wash over you.

Your heart, once shattered, was whole again.

Your soul, once heavy, was light with love.

Through all the loss and pain, God had been with you, guiding you through, and now you stood here, redeemed—not by your own strength, but by His infinite mercy.

“I love you,” you whispered, tilting your head to press a kiss to Joel’s cheek.

“I love you too, doll,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “More than words can say.”

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he rested his forehead against yours. “Don’t ever leave me, okay?”

You leaned into him, your voice a gentle promise as you whispered into his ear, “I’m always going to be right here. No one’s going anywhere.”

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, his breath warm against your skin. You leaned into him, feeling his strength, his warmth, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

In that moment, all that mattered was the two of you, standing in the soft twilight, wrapped in the cocoon of each other’s love.

For once, you were free.

Free from the past. Free from the darkness that had once suffocated you. Free from the weight of the world, because here, in this corner of earth, you had found your peace.

This was no longer a dream—it was your reality. A life that had been rebuilt in the image of grace. More beautiful than anything you could have imagined.

Your life, once a patchwork of broken pieces, was now whole. A garden blooming after a long, hard winter.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours—built with love, nurtured through faith, and made whole through forgiveness.

And as you crossed the threshold of your home, the warm light spilling over the threshold, you realized this wasn’t just a happy ending.

It was your promised land. The life you had always longed for.

This was salvation.

With Joel by your side, the stars above, and the grace of God wrapping around you like the softest blanket.

You knew, truly knew,

That you had finally found your home.

－ＴＨＥＥＮＤ－

To the readers, Thank you so much from the deepest place in my heart for walking this journey with me. Your time, your attention, your willingness to explore this story with me means more than words can say. Writing this story, sharing these moments, has been a gift—a gift made even more meaningful by the space you've given to these characters, to their struggles, their growth, and their love. It is a beautiful thing to know that stories, like the ones we share, can find a place in someone's heart. I am forever grateful for you, for your patience, and for the grace you've extended to this narrative. You are the reason these words exist. I hope that, in some way, this story has touched you, made you feel something real, something true. If it has, know that my heart is full of gratitude. Thank you for being here. Thank you for being a part of this. Thank you for all the support and love from the beginning of it. and special thanks to Mother Ethel Cain, Hayden, your masterpiece change something inside of me. Until I see you in the next story. 🩵

With all my love, N.H xxx

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