#FUCK YOU???? if something worked once why the hell should I do something harder with worse results?????

[valentine-cafe]

Hello! Could I please get a strawberry shortcake?

Thinking about amab!reader and Rishen just casually hanging out in reader's apartment but for whatever reason, Rishen needs to bend over to get something only for reader to catch a peek of her thong as she's doing so.

Cue reader not-so-subtly glancing at her and making moves, his touches lingering and just overall trying to get Rishen to take the hint that he finds her really sexy👀

— 🫀 anon

˖⁺. “ he had those 'fuck me' eyes ! ” : 

﹙ top male reader x bttm nerd hybrid ﹚.𖹭 ݁

. . . verse 781 rishen x male reader !! 🍓 : ﹙ hero ˖ spider-moth-mantis hybrid ˖ preppy nerd character ﹚

you're over at his dorm when you notice his little surprise for you under his skirt - let's just say, you're all the more willing to accept his gift. with a few of your own. 

﹙ cws ﹚: explicit content ˖ teasing ˖ clothing kink ˖ handjob | wc : 0.8k 

﹙ receipts ﹚: hello darling nice to see you again! hope that you enjoy this!

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Why would the world do this to you? Present such a pretty boy with pretty eyes and a pretty ass Then put him so far out of your reach! And even better yet - make him oblivious as hell.

Rishen's red and black checked skirt hikes as he places a plate full of snacks on the coffee table. What a tease to your eyes indeed. They trace down his figure. Fall at his thighs. So bare - open —

And what does he do despite the catch in gaze? He smiles. That's all. Curls his lips at the corners in that pretty, infuriating way as he takes seat beside you on the sofa.

"You doing alright? I'm here now. Sorry for the wait."

What more should you expect? A part of you wonders when he'll pull his head from the clouds. Then again, you find his clueless eyes all the more attractive. Or perhaps he isn't clueless. Perhaps he is coy. Playing around with your poor, yearning self.

Fuck this. "I just. . ." Your hand wanders to her fabric-coated thigh. The skirt crinkles under your fingers. You wish it was around her waist as you pulled her back onto whatever movements you so deemed for the evening.

Focus. You haven't even gotten more than a kiss as of yet.

"Really like this skirt of yours. See you in it so often but it's a charm every time." Fingers flex into his thigh. All the beautiful nerd does is smile at you more. Tilt his head so that curls kiss his shoulder. Those affectionate eyes will be the death of you.

"That so? I've seen your eyes on it." Finally, some kind of acknowledgement. You suck in a breath and then sigh out deeply. Another chuckle etches from your throat and you rub your palm along the plump flesh.

Coy it is then. Rishen knows exactly what he does to you. It's in the way that he doesn't move away. In the way that he gives her thigh a little bounce. The way that he bats those pretty lashes at you.

Oh, it's more than coy.

It's brattish.

Two can play at that game. Your fingers tease the hem and slip beneath. They find his soft thigh once more. This time with your thumb to stroke along the inner. "Then you know what I'm after, huh?" A sly index sneaks into the fabric of his thong. Curls and snaps it back to him. What a pretty shudder he gifts you.

"Was wondering when you'd see it. . ."

Bodies move like clockwork. He turns to face you and braces a hand on your shoulder. Your own dives between his thighs and cups over his clothed dick. Damn that fabric. You slither your fingers through the gap with ease and cup at your prize.

He groans low. Bingo. "All for me baby? Should have showed me earlier." Your lips fall to his on instinct. Your thumb finds familiarity in one of your favourite veins. You massage over the indent and swallow his hushed whines.

His fingers lick at the back of your hair. So you crane your neck down further to kiss him harder. Tongue and teeth meet while your hand continues its work. So effortlessly jerking at his dick hardening in the palm of your hand. You miss this feeling. Miss it as though you don't find yourself in this position every week.

Hands withdraw. You catch the backs of his thighs and suck on his pierced tongue as you shove him back into the sofa. There it is. Your rightful spot between his legs.

Your hand stutters on his cock. Trails up after a few jerky strokes to swirl your thumb on his pierced tip. "Look at it baby. He's already leaking."

All he can do is nod shakily. Spill his moans and toss his head back with small bucks of his hips.

"Please, mi amor." How pretty he whines. "Don't you like my gift? Gimme more."

He bites his lip and so you kiss his tip. Chuckle lowly as you slip the flashy underwear all the way down after they catch on your teeth.

"Hands on my hair baby. Let me be grateful for a moment." You grin up at him. Before your mouth occupies itself with his pleasure.

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[steelthroat]

Self-taught artist? Went to art school? Why not both?????

Artist who went/is going to art school, but teachers ignored them/are never in class/just care about their favorites so they kind of had to learn things by themself and then go crawling like a worm to the professors and ask "like this?" And they grunt and nod instead of giving constructive criticism.

[jinxvex]

OH MY GOSHHHH CRYBABY READER AND CAITLYN 😵‍💫😵‍💫 can we have something like caitlyn fucking crybaby reader with her strap and she is soooo mean about it ☹️ like our makeup is running and she's being so condensing UGH I NEED HER BADDDD

♱ lesson learnt. ♱

lil drabble bc i’m lazy! + (a oneshot that may or may not involve ellie williams is in the works though…)

syp. mean mommy!cait fucking you with her strap after you got smart in front of her colleagues at a fancy event.

cw: nsfw content!!, strap-on sex, mommy kink, she slaps you once, choking, degradation/mocking, rough sex, vulgar language/cursing (obv), she's real mean!!

at this point in time, you were unsure what you had said or done to make it to this point. did you have too much wine? say or do something fucked up because of it? have a little too much attitude? arrogance? conviction? nerve…? your vision went white simply thinking of reasons as to why or how.

‘where was i?’ ‘when the hell did i get here?’

nevertheless, it’s a certain ‘who’ that snaps you out of your self-questioning turmoil with a striking *SLAP!!* across your tear-stained cheek.

“are you even listening to me, whore?” caitlyn spits at you with a venomous tone which is a daunting contrast to her usually sweet and caring voice.

she’s currently looking down at you from above—hands gripping the skin at the back of your thighs and legs planted firmly on the end of the bedspread. her hair is falling out of her neat ponytail and her eyes are dark. the darkest you’ve ever seen them. she has your legs resting on her strong shoulders with your hands bound together by a rope above your head.

the position you’re both in should be considered missionary on steroids because of the way you can feel her cock pressing against your cervix so magnificently yet, almost painfully. she’s pounding into you mercilessly, forcing you to take her cock for the way you acted towards her in public.

“you are so lucky i’m even fucking you right now. so lucky. do you have any idea how foolish you’ve been tonight? a disrespectful little slut, is what you are.”

as you look at her, eyes threatening to roll to the back of your head and tears streaming from your face, you can’t help but silently beg her, what for? who knows? her roughness sparks a string of desire that courses through your veins up to your brain.

“aww, poor girl. it’s so fucking deep, isn’t it? i bet you can feel it in your throat.” she’s taunting you. her dick thrusting inside of your cunt makes nasty, loud sloshy noises—makes your pussy drench the space below you.

“maybe that’s why you’re unable to speak.”

wrapping her hand around your throat, she squeezes harder the faster she moves in and out of you, “you love this. you love it, don’t you, darling? i can tell by the way you’re getting me all wet. so dirty.”

“ungh—f-fuck! y-yes, mommy!!” you respond to her for the first time in what seems like forever.

you feel the pure frustration seeping through her skin into yours, not just because of the sweat dripping from her brow onto your neck but because her stare sears daggers into you everywhere all at once.

“hmm. mommy can’t even punish you properly because you enjoy it. you enjoy being treated like a toy… solely for my usage. mine.”

the more she taunts and teases you, the more slick pools out of your puffy cunt—the more you tip closer to the edge.

“since you enjoy acting so heinously, you’re going to cum so much. so much, you’ll be begging me to stop, sweetheart. but i’m not going to.”

“not until you’ve learnt. your. fucking. lesson.”

…

AHHH!! i jumped 4 joy when i saw this rq thank u thank u!! 💋

(yes i used the british spelling for ‘learned’ on purpose.)

[pedrospatch]

fall into temptation | three

Jackson! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter Reader

series masterlist

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56). several mentions of religion and religious symbols, reader has a father and two sisters, all who come with names, reader gets put into a a very uncomfortable situation, insecurity, anxiety, Seth is an asshole, protective Joel, he threatens to break someone’s jaw which is a warning in and of itself. SMUT. loss of virginity, reader is inexperienced but not totally clueless, oral (both m and f receiving), risky unprotected p in v sex (please wrap it up), lots of praise and pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, you know, the works), Joel gets a teensy bit rough, creampie, hint of aftercare, ends with a cliffhanger, but also not really if you think about it?

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 10k

a/n: it was not my intention to post this on jesus day, but here we are. this took forever and a day considering the second part was posted back in september, but i am so so proud of myself for finally completing a wip i could cry. i did a bulk of the editing while i’ve been sick and in all honesty i probably should have asked someone to beta for me because i think i coughed out like 90% of my brain cells this week, but i think it turned out okay. ish.

Somehow, even over the volume of the live music, you could still hear their hushed, astonished whispers.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Is that Joel Miller with Pastor John’s daughter?”

“What’s she doing holding his hand?”

“He’s got to be at least twice her fucking age—”

Throat bobbing anxiously, you glanced up at Joel.

His shoulders were squared back, his head held high. 

Solid. Steady.

Joel couldn’t seem to care less about the bewildered stares, the judgment that was being flung his way. Not once did he seem to waver. But you?

Oh, you were already starting to crumble underneath it all, on the verge of falling apart right before everyone’s prying eyes. Shame sat heavily inside of your chest, the weight of the feeling suffocating you, making it harder and harder to breathe as it prevented air from reaching your lungs.

It had nothing to do with Joel. Of course it didn’t. It had all to do with you and with who you were. Their beloved preacher’s sweet, innocent young daughter. 

His youngest daughter. 

Suddenly, the whispers were no longer whispers.

“Oh God, she’s not going home with him, is she?”

“That’s not right! Someone should say something!”

“Pastor John would never allow something like this.”

“Poor thing’s naive—she doesn’t know any better.”

Hot, stubborn tears of frustration glazed over your eyes and threatened to spill. It was as if you were a child who didn’t know any better, a gullible, clueless little girl with nothing in her brain who needed to be rescued—saved from the bad, bad man before he did bad, bad things to her.

Had it been anyone else, no one would have batted an eye. No one would have noticed, let alone cared. But it was you that Joel Miller was leaving the bar with in the middle of the night and it was you whose hand he had clasped in his own. That is what made it wrong. That is why it was a problem.

Everyone’s concerns had nothing to do with him at all, they had everything to do with you. You, you, you. You were the sole reason why it was a problem, the reason why he was being perceived as the Devil himself, horns out as he dragged the poor little unsuspecting angel down to the fires of Hell.

“Joel?” Overwhelmed, you instinctively reached for his arm with your free hand. Cold and trembling, your little fingers curled tightly around his bicep, digging into the firm, bulging muscle through the thick corduroy fabric of his sleeve. You whispered his name again. “Joel—”

“S’alright, babygirl,” he reassured you quietly over his shoulder. He gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “S’alright. Just keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You just keep on lookin’ right at me, okay?”

Nodding, you inhaled deeply and focused on him. Only him. The broadness of his back and his shoulders. Tufts of hair that curled over the collar of his shirt. Only him. He’s what mattered. He’s all that mattered.

“Almost there,” Joel murmured, squeezing your hand again as the door came into view. “Breathe, baby. We’re almost there. I’ve got you. You’re alright. Ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you. Promise I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t until his fingers wrapped around the old, brass handle that you finally exhaled the breath you had been holding out in utter relief, though it was very, very short lived. Just as Joel pulled the door open, you felt a hand wrap around your arm. Dry, slender fingers dug into the soft flesh above your elbow as an attempt, and a feeble one at that, was made to tear you out of Joel’s grasp.

The music stopped and the bar fell silent. Everything and everyone came to a sudden standstill, freezing mid dance, mid drink, mid bite, mid gossip.

Shocked, you glanced over your shoulder. “Seth?” you squeaked his name. “What—what are you doing?”

Seth didn’t acknowledge you. His focus was on Joel.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Miller?”

Joel’s anger couldn’t be seen, but it could be felt. So palpable you could have wrapped your fingers around it. It radiated off of him and loomed over the entire bar like an incoming storm cloud. Threatening. Dangerous.

“Where are you taking her?” Seth demanded, his other hand curling around your wrist as he tried, but failed, to snatch you from Joel’s side once more. “Let the girl go! You let her go right now, you hear?”

Caught in between the two men, you nervously turned to look at Joel. Nostrils flared, jaw clenched, seething eyes that did the talking for him. His message was loud and oh so abundantly clear.

If Seth didn't take his hands off you, he wasn’t going to have any hands.

Not after Joel Miller was through with him.

Blazing heat flooded your face. As if it couldn’t possibly get any worse, everyone had now gathered around you to watch the tense encounter, eyes wide, brows raised and jaws practically on the weathered, hardwood floor.

Tommy Miller stood among the crowd, subtly shaking his head, his lips pressed together in a tight, thin line of disapproval as he glowered at his older brother. Would he be looking at Joel like that had it been Esther in your place? If she was the one he was taking home? Would any of this be happening if it was her instead of you?

“Seth.” Uttering his name, you shifted your attention back to him. You sounded calm and collected, despite feeling anything but. Joel’s hand in yours was the only thing keeping you steady and grounded. His touch was the only reason you hadn’t yet spiraled into a state of panic. Clearing your throat lightly, you spoke again and tried your hardest not to waver. “Please let go of me.”

Still fixed on Joel, he spat, “I’ll be damned if I let him take you anywhere.”

“He’s not taking me anywhere, Seth.” Without thinking, the words came tumbling out of your mouth—loud and clear for everyone in that room to hear. “He isn’t forcing me to go with him. I’m making the choice to leave with him. Out of my own volition. Please let go of me.”

Finally, Seth looked at you. His old, worn features were twisted in disbelief. “What?”

You swallowed dryly. Part of you wanted you to shrink away, curl into yourself. Instead, you straightened your posture, forced yourself to stand a little bit taller. Willed yourself to have a backbone for once in your life.

“You heard me,” you said, lifting your chin in defiance. Several onlookers gasped in surprise at your rebellion. Where had this insolence come from? “I’m choosing to leave with Joel. Now, please let go of my arm.”

Behind you, Joel stood silent and still. 

Watching. Observing. Waiting.

He wanted nothing more than to intervene. Rip you out of Seth’s hands and shatter each and every last bone in all ten of his fingers for putting them on you. Had Joel not realized that this was probably the first time in your whole, entire life you’d mustered up the courage to use your voice, he would have easily given into the urge. He wanted to protect you. He needed so badly to protect you. Yet, he knew you weren’t helpless or incapable of standing on your own two feet. He knew you deserved the chance to stand up and speak for yourself after a lifetime of being silenced, a lifetime of being forced to stay in your place, seen but never heard.

“Seth, let go of my arm,” you repeated. It was no longer a polite request. It was a demand.

He scoffed. “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you leave with somebody like him? You think I’m just going to stand back and let him take advantage of you?”

Oh, you hadn’t liked that insinuation, not one bit. 

It caused something inside of you to finally give way.

Snap.

The blood in your veins boiled, ran hot enough to make you feel like you were about to burn from the inside out. “Joel isn’t taking advantage of me! It isn’t like that,” you seethed, furiously. The quiet, well mannered, obedient good girl everyone in Jackson knew was gone. And she could stay gone. In your periphery, you could see Leah elbowing her way through the sea of people to the front of the crowd with an incredulous look plastered on her face. She stood there beside Tommy, who appeared to be just as incredibly bewildered by your outburst. “Don’t treat me like I’m some child who doesn’t know any better! I’m an adult and I’m old enough to make my own choices, okay?”

For a moment, you had forgotten it was Seth standing there in front of you.

“I’m capable of making my own decisions! I don’t need you to dictate my life. I don’t need you to tell me what is and isn’t good for me—controlling what I should and shouldn’t believe in.” Your voice trembled as emotions you’d been suppressing for years bubbled their way up to the surface. Amidst the chaos, you could feel Joel squeeze your hand again, as if silently encouraging you not to lose your nerve. He was your anchor, the only person who could keep your world from capsizing. You knew he wouldn’t let you drown. Not even God, who you had always been forced to believe was your pillar of strength, had ever made you feel this protected. Safe. “I don’t need you to tell me how to live and much less when it’s the end of the world.”

It wasn’t Seth you were addressing.

It was your father.

Your father, who controlled every last thing, from what you would eat to the way that you dressed and how you wore your hair.

Your father, who refused to let you have a mind of your own, who simply could not bear the mere thought of you thinking for yourself.

Your father, whose love felt like shackles, heavy, rusted metal restraints that had been digging into the flesh of your wrists for far, far too long.

“You need to let me go now,” you said, swallowing back the lump in your throat. Once more, you caught Leah from the corner of your eye, your heart lurching in your chest when you noticed her desperately trying to wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. She was the only person in the room who understood how you felt. Her rebelliousness only ever masked the pain of knowing her father’s love came with terms and conditions—and the fear of knowing what would happen if those terms and conditions weren’t met. For several weeks, you’d gotten a taste of what she went through everyday, how her fear of putting her foot down led her to run around in secret and live a double life. “Just let me go.”

Seth firmly shook his head. “No! I’m not letting you go anywhere with him. I don’t know what the hell he did to you, but he’s clearly got you all fucking brainwashed.”

That was fucking enough. Joel stepped in, lowering his voice as he said, “Y’know, I’ve just ‘bout lost count of how many fuckin’ times she’s asked you to let her go now and it’s really startin’ to piss me off.” Raising an eyebrow, he laid his offer out on the table. “Here’s the deal. You let go of her right now and I won’t shatter your fuckin’ jaw into pieces. That seem fair enough to you?”

“No.” Seth gripped your arm even harder, prompting you to let out a little yelp as his nails dug painfully into your skin. Though it’d been accidental and he hadn’t meant to hurt you, it didn’t matter. He’d just set off the ticking time bomb that was Joel Miller.

Furious, Joel snatched a fistful of his shirt with his free hand—the other still held yours. Gentle, despite being mere moments away from beating someone to within an inch of their life.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy’s voice broke through the tension as he approached. His footsteps were slow—careful and cautious, as if he was afraid to make any kind of sudden movement. “Joel. Hey. C’mon now, let’s not do this, alright? Ain’t gotta handle things this way. We can talk it through. No need for anyone to wind up bleedin’ in the fuckin’ infirmary tonight, so just take a breath and let him go.”

Blatantly ignoring Tommy’s attempt to keep the peace, Joel tugged Seth forward, yanking him closer. “Listen to me and listen to me good ‘cause I ain’t gonna fuckin’ say it again. You’d best take your fuckin’ hands off her right now unless you wanna spend the rest of the night sweepin’ up your teeth off the floor of your own fuckin’ bar,” he threatened, his tone enough to send a chill up anyone’s spine, even your own.

“You wouldn’t dare, Miller.” Somehow, Seth managed to keep a straight face, but you could see it so clearly in his eyes and in the tremble of his lower lip—oh, he was terrified of Joel and rightly so. “Not in front of all these people. Not in front of your brother. That wouldn’t be a smart move considering you’re already on thin fucking ice for what you did to that boy’s face, now would it?”

Joel tugged him closer. “Test me,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Go on. Fuckin’ test me.”

His challenge was immediately met with a pathetic look of defeat. Seth dropped your arm and he was released.

“S’what I fuckin’ thought.” Without another word to the man, Joel whirled around and roughly pulled the door open, leading the way outside. As you both descended the building’s old, creaking wooden steps, you began to shiver and he suddenly remembered he’d left his jacket behind inside the bar. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “C’mere, my little dove,” he murmured as he tucked you against his side for warmth. “I’ve got you.”

The first thing he did was light the fireplace.

“Should start warmin’ you up, sweet girl,” he’d said to you over his shoulder. He tossed a log into the blaze as you sat perched on his couch rubbing your bare arms with your hands. “M’gonna go upstairs and find you a blanket, alright? You stay put.”

“Okay,” you’d mumbled, knowing there was no point in telling him not to fuss over you.

Even with the soft, fleece throw blanket he had draped around your shoulders and the warmth of the flames in front of you, you continued trembling. Subtle, but he’d noticed it, felt it when he had sat down beside you and pulled you close against his side. “Oh baby, you’re still shakin’?” That was when he realized you weren’t cold. Frowning, Joel rose to his feet and disappeared down the hallway. He came back to the living room a minute later with a glass of water in his hand. With a small, labored grunt, he dropped to one knee in front of you and held it out. “Here.”

“No, thank you.” You shook your head. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Maybe not, but I’m kinda worried you could be in a bit of shock right now,” he stated, the creases in between his brows deepening as he observed you for any other physical signs of distress. Carefully, Joel lifted the glass to your lips, gently coaxing you to take a drink. “C’mon, darlin’. Think you can be a real good girl for me and at least take a couple sips? Hm?”

Sighing softly, you nodded and did as he asked of you, taking a small sip of water. It soothed your dry mouth and throat and you took another one. Maybe you were thirsty after all.

“Little more, now. Little more. That’s it. That’s my good girl.” Once he was satisfied with how much you’d had to drink, Joel set the half empty glass down on the oak coffee table behind him. He turned back to you, placing his large hands on either side of your thighs below the hem of your dress. He started tracing soft, soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. “M’real proud of you for standin’ up for yourself back there, sweetheart. Took a whole lot of fuckin’ courage to do that, y’know.”

You glanced down at your hands in your lap. “Mhm.”

“Baby. Hey. Look at me.” One of his hands abandoned your leg and he reached up, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted your face upwards, his worried gaze meeting your own. “Talk to me. M’right here.”

“That—that was a lot,” you admitted meekly, shoulders sagging as the adrenaline started wearing off and your body slowly came down from the peak hormone rush. “It was a lot.”

Sighing, Joel’s hand fell away from your face. “Yeah, I know it was a lot, babygirl. I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” You were quick to cut him off. “Don’t be sorry.”

His chest heaved with another sigh, this one deeper, heavier, bearing the weight of his guilt. “Well I am,” he said. He planted his hands on either side of you on the couch and lightly shook his head. “Didn’t even fuckin’ think twice when I pulled you outta that fuckin’ supply closet and took your hand in front of all those people. I was so fuckin’ hellbent on showin’ everybody you were mine that I didn’t even stop and think ‘bout what all it would mean for you. It was selfish of me. Real fuckin’ selfish. And I’m sorry, little dove.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked, quietly.

Joel chuckled in spite of himself. “M’pretty sure I’m the one who should be askin’ you that question, darlin’,” he remarked. “Tell me. Do you regret it? Do you regret me pullin’ you outta that closet?” He momentarily paused. There was a stutter in his heartbeat when you dropped your gaze away from his, silence your only reply. “Do you regret me takin’ your hand in front of everyone?”

Of course not.

You wanted to be his and you wanted everyone to know it. There was no regret, none. 

Still. 

The consequences that you would undoubtedly have to face in the morning were overwhelming. Daunting.

Surely, by then, your father would know about you and Joel. When he came downstairs right after sunrise and he discovered you weren’t in the kitchen helping Lydia prepare breakfast, he would question where you were and make some kind of remark about how you should not be sleeping in this late. He would tell her just how irresponsible it was for you to ignore your duties and obligations to him and the family. Sloth was one of the seven deadly sins, after all. He would make her trek upstairs and wake you, and when she did, your sister would find your bed empty.

Meanwhile, there would be a knock at the front door.

No stranger to having members of the congregation show up on his doorstep when they were in need, be it of prayer or comfort, your father would answer it only to find someone, not in need of solace, but who felt that it was their responsibility and moral obligation to inform him that they had seen his youngest daughter leaving The Tipsy Bison with Joel Miller in the middle of the night, hand in hand.

He wouldn’t believe them.

“Now, that is simply not true,” he would say, offended that anybody would have the nerve to show up at his door and accuse you of something so vile. “That’s not possible. I know my daughter and she would never do such a thing. It must have been someone else that you saw with him. Someone who looked like her, perhaps.”

Then, Lydia would descend the staircase and tell him you weren’t in your bedroom. “She must have gone up to the main street as soon as she woke up,” she would suggest with a shrug, not yet privy to the events that had taken place the night before at the party you and Leah had snuck off to. She never had to worry about you, the good one. “I did notice we were running pretty low on eggs. Sugar, too. She probably wanted to be the first in line at the pantry to—Papa? What’s the matter?”

The color would drain from your father’s face when the realization slowly sank in. No, you weren’t out on the main street picking up eggs for breakfast and sugar for his tea. You were lying up in Joel Miller’s bed—defiled, impure, and with the curse of Eve on your flesh. Even after dedicating his entire life to making sure you did not stray from the path of righteousness, he had failed. You had fallen into temptation. 

There was a chance he would have mercy on you. All you had to do was beg and plead for his forgiveness—and more importantly, for the forgiveness of God. “Vow to atone for your sins,” your father would say, his gaze fixed on the Holy Bible in his lap. He probably wouldn’t be able to look at you, not after what you had done. “Repent. And swear to me, child, that you will never so much as glance in that man’s direction ever again.”

No. That’s not what you wanted.

You wanted Joel and the freedom to be with him. 

But that freedom came with a high, high price.

You were willing to pay it, but you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to navigate the consequences. Then again, was there really any way for someone to prepare themselves to be shunned by their own father?

“I can take you home,” Joel offered quietly, the sound of his voice taking you out of the future and bringing you back into the present.

“What?”

“I can take you home,” he repeated himself. “I can take you home right now if that’s what you want, sweet girl. Won’t give you any kinda grief ‘bout it.”

Confused, all you could do was stare at him.

“Listen to me, baby. You mean a lot to me. More than I can even begin to explain,” Joel reassured you before any kind of doubt could find its way into your mind. “I want you to stay with me. There’s nothin’ on what’s left of this fuckin’ earth I want more than for you to stay here with me. But what you want matters to me a hell of a lot more than what I want.” He reached up, lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “If you decide you wanna go home and go back to your family—back to your old man—then that’s where I’ll take you. Okay?”

Your father would give you an ultimatum. But Joel? He was giving you a choice. And he’d respect that choice.

“I wanna free you from your cage, my little dove. But I think we both know you’ve gotta make the choice to fly outta there on your own.” He lightly swept his thumb over your quivering bottom lip, his eyes meeting yours as he whispered, “Door’s wide open for you. What you do next is all up to you.”

“I’m afraid, Joel,” you confessed. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and rolled its way down the side of your face. He was quick to wipe it away, along with the others that followed. “I do want out of my cage. I really, really do. But I’m terrified. All I have ever known is my family and my faith. I have never been apart from my father and my sisters.”

His expression softened. “I know you’re scared. Can’t promise you things will be easy, but there is one thing I can promise you.”

“What’s that?” you questioned, then waited with baited breath.

He gingerly cupped your cheek in his large palm. “I’ve got you,” he swore to you, just like he had done so back at the bar. “If you decide to stay, I promise I’ll take real, real good care of you, alright? For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. You won’t ever have to worry ‘bout a thing with me by your side. Swear it on my life.”

Warmth blossomed in your heartspace and finally, you stopped trembling. Lifting a hand, you curled your fingers around his wrist as your gaze fell to his mouth. “Joel?”

“What is it, darlin’ girl?”

“Kiss me. Please.”

With a gentle nod, Joel’s other hand found your hip, the warmth of it seeping through the cotton fabric of your dress. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against yours. It was a chaste thing, soft and innocent until you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer to you. “Babygirl,” he mumbled against your lips. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue through your parted lips and into your mouth. He tasted like bold bourbon and citrus beer. There was a faint hint of tobacco too—you recalled him admitting to you one night in the church house that while he wasn’t all that much of a smoker, at least not like he used to be when living in the zones, he would occasionally partake in the habit if he happened to come across a pack of cigarettes while out on patrol, pairing the nicotine with a drink. He tasted delicious. He tasted delicious because he tasted like yours.

You sank back into the worn, supple brown leather of his couch, tugging him forward so he sank in with you. Over you. Releasing your near death grip on his collar, you managed to wedge your hands in between your bodies and began to claw furiously at the buttons of his shirt, your fingers shaking out of pure desperation to feel him. It wasn’t until you were halfway down that he finally noticed what you were doing and leaned back, catching both of your wrists.

“Baby, wait,” he panted, shaking his head. “Don’t think now’s a good time for that—”

“Joel, please,” you pleaded, the intense ache between your thighs almost too much for you to bear. “Please. I want it. I want you.”

“S’been a rough night for you.” Joel’s voice was hoarse—strained, like he was aching just as much, if not more. “You’re real emotional right now. Vulnerable. Last thing I want is to take advantage of you at a time like this.”

You frowned. Had Seth’s words gotten into his head?

“You’re not taking advantage of me.”

“Darlin’ I just don’t think we should—”

“Joel, please,” you begged him again. “I was so good for you, was I not? Wasn’t I patient, just like you asked me to be?”

His lips thinned into a tight line. He wouldn’t be able to resist much longer. You, his beautiful little temptress of Eden.

“I waited for so long,” you reminded him. “I’ve been so, so good for you. Please, just make me yours already. I don’t want to think about anything else right now. I just want to be with you. Please, Joel. I need you so badly it hurts.”

Christ.

No man could stand it. No man could possibly have the strength to deny you.

With a look of utter defeat, he folded. Before he could say another word or make another move, your greedy mouth was on his, and you kissed him with fervor, with urgency, as you finished the task of unbuttoning his shirt. Pushing it off of his shoulders, the corduroy fabric fell into a crumpled heap behind him, nearly knocking the glass of water off the coffee table. You broke away from him and shamelessly marveled at his mouth watering form—you admired the way miles of smooth, tanned skin stretched over his wide shoulders, broad chest and soft, soft belly. Arousal pooled between your legs and you reached out and raked your fingers down his chest, and over his stomach, going lower and lower, following the trail of coarse, dark hair that led you to his brown leather belt. You clumsily started fumbling with the brass buckle until he caught your hands once more.

“Slow down, my little dove,” he murmured. “No need to rush this. We’ve got all night.” He stood up and held his hand out to you. Time blurred a bit—maybe it was your nervousness mingled with the eager anticipation of what was to come, but there seemed to be a small gap in your memory, a blank space that spanned from the moment you rose off the couch until the moment you found yourself standing in his bedroom where you were about to answer to the call of the flesh.

Dropping your hand, Joel switched on the lamp on his bedside table and kicked off his boots before taking you into his arms. “C’mere, honey.” He nuzzled your cheek with the tip of his nose as he spoke, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheek. “Couple’a rules, sweet girl. I do somethin’ that you don’t like, you tell me. You want me to stop, you tell me to sto—”

Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, you slowly lowered yourself down onto the floor and knelt at his feet with purpose, as if kneeling before an altar, a sacred, holy space. Though you felt anxious, you were eager to worship. “I haven’t forgotten about what I said earlier tonight,” you cooed, noticing the mild look of surprise on his face. “I said I’d make it up to you and I intend on keeping my word.”

All the blood in his body rushed south to his cock and it strained painfully against the crotch of his jeans. “Baby, I—” Again, he was cut off, only this time by the sound of his own groan when your hand brushed up the front of his thigh and over his growing bulge. He glanced down, his heart thrumming painfully hard against his sternum as he watched you reach for his belt buckle.

With all your might, you willed your hands so as not to tremble. It was self-explanatory, what you were about to do, but your total lack of experience sowed seeds of doubt into your mind—you wanted to make him feel good, just like he had made you feel good outside of the church house during services. Just how you knew he would make you feel tonight.

Hand still over his buckle, you pressed the tenderest of kisses to his bulge through his jeans. Then, turning your head, you rested your cheek on one of his thick, blue denim clad thighs and peered up at him through your eyelashes with a small, nervous smile as you confessed what he already knew. “I’ve never done this before.”

Oh, how sweet and endearing you were. Joel reached down and smoothed your hair back and away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “S’alright, honey,” he crooned, grazing the silkiness of your cheek with his index finger. “I’ll walk you through it. Teach you how to be a real good girl and suck my cock just the way I like it. That what you want, my little dove?”

His filth made your cunt clench hard around nothing.

Slowly lifting your head off of his thigh, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and managed a clear, consenting nod as your hands fumbled with his buckle, the clinking sound of metal ringing loudly in your ears. You undid the button on his jeans and pulled down his zipper, your throat drying when you saw the outline of him, his size intimidating even behind the cotton fabric of his faded, black boxer briefs.

With a harsh swallow, you glanced up at him, silently asking him for his permission to continue.

Such a polite little thing, Joel thought to himself. “Go on, sweetheart,” he encouraged.

You tugged his jeans down to the middle of his thighs and hooked your index fingers underneath the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down and freeing his cock. There was a deep, swooping sensation in your belly as you watched it slap up against the lower part of his abdomen. After many nights of sitting in his lap, feeling him through his clothes, grinding your cunt down onto him, you thought you’d at the very least had an idea of what you would be in for, but oh, how wrong you had been. He was so much bigger than you could have imagined, and your stomach swooped again when you realized he was not going to fit. Anywhere.

Licking away the dryness of your lips, you take him in one of your hands, feeling the heaviness of his length in your palm. He was so long and so, so thick.

“Oh fuck,” Joel hissed the curse through gritted teeth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as your touch sent a charged jolt of electricity shooting up the length of his spine. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. Christ. You hadn’t even done anything to him yet, but seeing you sitting so prettily at his feet was almost enough to make him come on the spot.

Delicately wrapping your hand around him, you found yourself almost in awe at the way your fingertips barely, just barely, touched. The sheer size of his cock dwarfed your hand, and made it seem so much smaller than it really was.

“You’re so big,” you murmured, echoing your thoughts. You licked at your lips again, suddenly feeling ravenous, an appetite that had seemingly come out of nowhere making you salivate. The tip of him was flushed red, slit already glistening—how badly you wanted, needed a taste. Never, ever, did you think you would be down on your knees for anything but prayer, but there you were, starved and desperate to bite into the forbidden fruit.

“What’re you waitin’ for, darlin’ girl?” he croaked.

“Permission,” you replied, sweetly.

“Go right ahead, baby. S’all yours—I’m all yours.”

Yours.

Yours, yours, yours.

Finding your first push of courage, you leaned forward and so carefully swept your tongue along the tip of his length, collecting the slight saltiness leaking from the slit and getting your first delectable taste. With your hand still wrapped firmly around his base, you looked up, your eyes locked on Joel’s face as you flicked your tongue up against the rigid underside of his cock.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel groaned, all of the muscles in his stomach already pulling taut when he felt you dragging your tongue in a slow, purposeful lick along the length of him. “Babygirl.”

“Is that good?” you asked him, sounding hopeful. “Am I doing good?”

“Doin’ so, so fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart. Look so fuckin’ pretty down on your knees for me.”

Pleased, you wrapped your mouth around the head of his length, pressing forward and taking him in as far as you possibly could—which, in all fairness, wasn’t very far. At least not as far as you would have liked. Another groan tore itself from the depths of his chest as your plush, plump lips sealed around him, your tongue warm and wet on the underside of his cock. Moving both of your hands to rest on the sides of his thighs, you began to move your head back and forth, following what felt most natural to you. The nerves you initially felt slowly but surely dissipated, vanishing one by one with every curse, every tremble, every sharp breath.

Joel resisted the urge to buck his hips forward, fought the desire to feel himself at the back of your throat. He needed to be gentle, so careful with such an innocent, pliant thing who had much, much to learn. “Sweet little fuckin’ mouth feels so good around my cock, baby, just like I fuckin’ knew it would. Y’think it can take more of me, little dove? Hm?”

You hummed, the vibration intensifying his pleasure.

“Yeah? Y’trust me?”

Your reply came in the form of a muffled, “Mhm.”

Joel reached down and cradled the back of your head in the palm of his hand. He carefully guided you further onto his throbbing length, slowly feeding you one inch at a time. Your fingers dug into the denim of his jeans. He was much more than a mouthful for you, and you could only take about half of him before he hit the back of your throat, prompting you to gag around him. Drool dribbled out from the corners of your mouth and down the sides your chin, dripping onto your lap.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Yeah, that’s it. Little more now, honey,” Joel encouraged. He bucked his hips forward, his head slipping further down your throat. Just when you felt like you were about to choke, he pulled out and you tried your hardest not to cough and sputter as you took in a much needed, precious breath of air. He gave you a few seconds or so to finish catching your breath as he shoved his jeans and boxer briefs further down his legs. He stepped out of the articles of clothing and kicked them somewhere off to the aside, standing before you completely bare. “Open up.”

Your absolute devotion to him bred sweet submission, so as worried as you were that you wouldn’t be able to handle it, you nodded obediently and very willingly did as you were told. 

He guided himself right back into your waiting mouth, pressing deeply. You tried to relax your jaw, reminding yourself to breathe in and out through your nose. Tears streamed down the sides of your face as you did your best to forestall another gag. “Little bit more,” he said, thrusting his hips in a slow, steady controlled rhythm. He advanced even further into your mouth—trusting he wouldn’t suffocate you, nor push you too far past your limits, you opened up wider. He moaned, “Yeah, baby. That’s my good girl. That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

With a bit of newfound confidence, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him. You swiped your tongue along the thick, prominent vein on the underside of his cock, earning yourself more of his sweet, sweet praise.

“Fuck, yeah, suck me off, sweetheart. This pretty little mouth was fuckin’ made for sin,” he breathed, guiding your head back and forth with a firm, but gentle hand.

You moaned, the noise muffled around his length. Slick soaked through your panties and coated the insides of your thighs. With another moan, you tightly squeezed your legs together, inwardly reminding yourself that patience was a virtue.

Noticing the way you had shifted, Joel moved his hand from the back of your head, lightly curling his fingers around your jaw. He pulled you off of his cock, a loud, lewd popping sound bouncing off the sage green walls of his bedroom. “C’mere, baby.” He grabbed your arms, effortlessly hoisting you up to your feet.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned him worriedly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Chuckling softly, he brushed a finger along the strap of your dress. You could do no wrong, his perfect, perfect girl. “Of course not, sweet girl. You did so fuckin’ good for me,” Joel reassured you, lightly tracing along your collarbone with his finger and making your flesh erupt in goosebumps. He leaned forward and feathered a kiss onto your lips, murmuring against them, “Are you wet, little dove?”

Before you could even process the query and generate some kind of coherent response, he dove his opposite hand between your thighs, cupping your warm heat in his palm. At this, your weak knees buckled, prompting you to reach out and grab onto his arms to hold steady and keep yourself from falling into a helpless heap on the floor.

“Oh, honey. You’re soaked. That what sucking my cock does to you?” he cooed. He peppered another kiss, this one onto the corner of your mouth. His voice lowered another octave. “Poor little thing. She needs me, don’t she? Needs me to take care of her?”

You whimpered. “Yes.”

“Manners, babygirl,” he reminded you, skimming your cheek with his nose. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

Humming in approval, Joel withdrew his hand from in between your legs and guided you backwards towards his bed. “Sit,” he commanded gently, bidding you to let go of him. “Arms up.”

Reaching for the hem of your dress, he took great care in pulling it over your head, then discarded the vibrant yellow material over his shoulder, leaving you in nothing but your cowboy boots and thin, cotton white panties. Without a word, he knelt before you and pulled off one boot, and then the other, setting them both aside. He hooked two fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your underwear, coaxing you to lift your bottom off of the bed, just long enough for him to pull them down and slide them down your legs. He was so tender in the manner in which he undressed you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, beautiful girl,” Joel praised. His dark gaze dragged down the length of your body as you sat before him wearing nothing but the delicate, gold chain around your neck. The holy cross nestled between your supple breasts gleamed in the light of the lamp on the nightstand. He would leave it on until your decision was made, set in stone. “My pretty little dove.”

“Joel.” You whimpered his name, hands curling around fistfuls of his dark blue sheets. You were drenched now, in dire need of some relief. If he didn’t touch you where you needed him most, you would surely lose your mind.

Desperate, you leaned back slightly onto his bed and parted your knees, your folds glistening as you showed him just how badly you needed him.

Joel groaned, almost visibly salivating at the sight. The blazing heat in his eyes sent ripples of desire coursing through your body, straight to your throbbing core.

You opened wider. “Please.”

“Christ, babygirl. Already soakin’ the sheets.” Sliding a finger up along the seam of your pussy, he grazed your clit, the touch light, but somehow still enough to make your hips arch off the mattress as white-hot pinpricks of pleasure danced their way up your spine. He lowered his head and leaned in, your sweet scent drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Just when you were about to start pleading him for more, he dipped his face into the apex of your thighs, his mouth finally, finally, meeting your wet heat.

“Oh!” you gasped, your head falling back. “Fuck!”

Against you, his lips curled upwards into a wicked grin. He’d never heard you curse before, not until now.

Joel took his time devouring you, savoring the essence of your cunt with each broad stroke of his tongue. Sealing his lips around your clit, he flicked the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again, eliciting from you some of the sweetest noises that he had ever heard in his entire life. In preparation for what you both knew was to come, he pushed one finger inside of you, the invasion causing you to fist his sheets even harder. He then slipped in a second finger, groaning in sheer, carnal bliss at how your walls squeezed them, at the mere thought of them squeezing his cock in the same manner. How was it that you felt so much tighter this time around?

“Oh God.”

You shouldn’t be saying His name. Not like this.

Not when something this sinful was being done to you.

Hungrily, Joel lapped at you, curling both of his fingers in an upwards motion to hit the perfect spot. He knew you were close, felt it in the way that you squirmed and writhed. Draping his arm across your hips, he pinned them down onto the bed, holding you still as he chased your high as if it were his own.

“Joel,” you chanted his name over and over again in a fevered prayer. Releasing the sheets, your hands found his hair, tangling themselves in his curls. Your head fell back, and you cursed at the ceiling of his bedroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck Joel—”

Pushing onto his mouth, you came, moaning his name so loudly you were certain the whole neighborhood was getting an earful.

Joel pulled back, his beard and mustache slicked with your spend. “S’right, honey,” he crooned, his digits still buried to the knuckle as he helped you to ride out your wave of ecstasy. Eventually, when he pulled them out, you tried closing your shaking legs. He tsked and shook his head, wrenching them open further. “No, no, baby. Keep those pretty thighs open for me. Wanna see her.” He admired his work, his cock twitching at the sight of your pussy, swollen and shining, and ready to take him.

Like earlier, there was another brief skip in time.

Mind still in a haze, you hadn’t even realized that he’d risen to his feet and guided you further up onto his bed, not until you were lying on your back with your head on his pillow and he was hovering over you, his hard length brushing against one of your messy, inner thighs when he settled himself between your legs. 

Your heart began to pound in a mingle of both fear and excitement.

Joel’s eyes met yours. His pupils were blown so wide, there was not one, single trace of brown anywhere to be seen. “Y’absolutely sure about this, little dove?”

Your response came without hesitation. “Yes. I’m sure.”

He pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw. Your submission was a gift, and he would cherish every last second of your surrender to him, savor it for as long as he possibly could. His lips, soft and warm, skimmed along the column of your throat, leaving a trail of fresh goosebumps in their wake.

If, by some chance, you decided that you wanted to go back to your father and to your faith, Joel didn’t know how he would find it in himself to let you go, not after this. Of course, he would have to let go, though.

The last thing he wanted was to help free you from one cage just to stick you right back into another. While he was no stranger to loss, he had to admit to himself that to lose you would be a knife to whatever was left of his heart.

Shoving the thought out of his mind, he reached down and gripped the base of his cock, pumping it in his fist before running the leaking head along your puffy lips, coating himself in your wetness with the hope it would ease some of the pain you were bound to feel. “Ready, babygirl?” he asked you, lightly teasing your entrance. “Might hurt a bit. M’gonna go slow. Just need you to relax for me, alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got you,” he promised.

You nodded, saying softly, “I know.”

Though he knew he had all of your trust, Joel could still sense your anxiousness. He reached out for your hand, lacing your fingers together with his own as he gingerly pressed forward and eased himself into you, taking the very innocence you had been taught your entire life to preserve, one slow, careful inch at a time.

“Oh—Joel!” You cried loudly at the initial stretch, your pretty face scrunching in discomfort. Tightly slamming your eyes shut, sparks flew behind your eyelids when he finally bottomed out. The burning sting in between your thighs was too overwhelming, almost impossible to cope with. He felt so enormous within you, you could have sworn he was in your belly. Another broken cry fell from your lips and he swallowed it with a comforting kiss.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed against your lips, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow, neck, and chest. He wasn’t sure where he found the strength, but he suppressed his urge to thrust. Instead, he dropped his face into the hollow of your neck and waited, giving you the chance to adjust to him. He mumbled against your skin. “Doin’ so good for me, sweet girl. Y’know that? You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me.”

Even in discomfort, you preened at his praise.

He squeezed your hand, and after a minute, he gave an experimental thrust of his hips—and then another and another before he ceased his movement once again. He was so big and you were so deliciously full of him.

Eventually, the pain subsided, and you found yourself asking, no, begging for more. “Move.” Your other hand found itself cupping the side of his face, coaxing him to lift his head and allowing your gazes to meet. Your soft, plush thighs parted further to help accommodate the breadth of his hips. “Please, Joel. I need you to move—I need you to fuck me.”

Surely, you would be the death of him.

He drew his hips back with cautious, tender care, then advanced in the same manner to fill your precious cunt all over again. He did it over and over, your pleasured moans encouraging him to begin picking up the pace. He drove his cock in and out of your weeping pussy, the slapping of flesh against flesh, the lewd, wet squelch of you around him inspiring him to fuck you harder, faster. And the noises you were making?

There was something oh so beautiful about your cries, sweet raptures of submission as you laid there beneath him, all too graciously taking everything he had to give you like the good, good, good girl you were for him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” Joel rasped. “Look at you—look at the way you take my fuckin’ cock, honey.”

And you did.

Glancing down, your gaze fell between your bodies and you watched in awe, openly marveled at the way Joel slid in and out of your cunt, how he knocked hard so deeply inside of you, driving himself as far as he could possibly go.

“Fuck Joel, I’m gonna—” You tried warning him as the pressure in your belly neared its peak, but you tumbled over the edge before you even had the chance to finish your sentence. Arching up off off the bed, you pressed your chest against his, your fingers squeezing his own so hard you feared you might break them.

“That’s it babygirl, let go,” he grunted, speeding up his thrusts. “Squeeze my fuckin’ cock—just like that. Good girl. My perfect, perfect girl.”

You didn’t quite get the chance to let the praise sink in.

Joel pulled himself out of you, and with ease, he flipped you over onto your belly. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them up off the mattress, his fingers moving to firmly knead the fleshiest part of your ass. He leaned over you, the head of his cock nudging at your hole. “Y’think you can handle a little bit more, sweetheart?” he whispered the question into a tumble of messy hair, the delicate scent of the lavender shampoo you used to wash it filling his senses. “Answer me, little dove.”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly with a nod. “I can.”

With a satisfied hum, Joel sank into you, this second stretch not quite as overwhelming at the first, but still intense. “Relax,” he murmured, hunching further over your quivering back. He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and then leaned down to brace his hands on either side of you. “Need you to be sweet for me just a bit longer, okay, baby?”

“God,” you whimpered when the heaviness of his balls came to rest on your sensitive clit.

It was the second time you’d uttered His name.

Joel almost grinned at the irony. He found his rhythm, groaning in gut-deep satisfaction with each snap of his hips—each smooth stroke in and each smooth stroke out.

“Oh fuck, sweet girl.” Heaven was indeed a real place, and Joel Miller was buried in it to the hilt, right at this very moment.

He was getting closer and closer.

Maybe it was your eagerness to help him reach his own release mingled with the pride you knew you would feel once you did that gave you a second wind, a fresh, new burst of energy. You planted your hands firmly on his pillow. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you curved your spine and pushed back onto Joel with purpose, meeting his thrusts halfway as you rode his aching length to the satiation that waited for him at the end.

“There’s my girl,” he rasped. “Oh fuckin’ Christ—”

No way he could live his life without you now.

He needed you.

He needed you so much more than you needed him.

Joel slipped an arm around your shoulders, across your chest.

“Oh!” you gasped as he then yanked you back, pulling you flush against him. The rough crash of your back against his chest, combined with the angle in which he was fucking you knocked the wind out of your lungs.

His lips were at the shell of your ear. “Stay,” he panted, his breath hot against your cheekbone. He wrapped his other hand lightly around your throat. Relentless, were his hips now—his movements had become frantic. Desperate. “Stay with me, baby.”

Even as you fought to catch your breath in the position he had you in, you picked up on the fact that he wasn’t asking you of it, nor was he demanding you of it.

He was begging you.

Him, the most feared man in this town. Begging you?

“Joel,” you choked.

“Please, my little dove,” he pleaded, turning your head towards him. His mouth was then on the corner of your own, his beard roughly scratching the soft and delicate flesh of your cheek. “I need you, babygirl. Stay with me. Please, just fuckin’ stay with me.”

Your hands curled around his wrists. “Yes, I’ll stay,” you moaned. “I’m yours, Joel. I’m all yours. I—I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’ll stay with you.”

A low, guttural sound rumbled through his chest. Joel firmly took hold of your cross, and without so much as a warning, he ripped the chain from around your neck and tossed it somewhere over his shoulder. He heard it land on the hardwood floor with the tiniest, faint clink the moment he spilled into you, ropes of warm release coating your fluttering walls. Curses and groans spilled from his lips and into your neck. Your cunt clutched at his pulsing cock, greedy for every last drop of his spend she could get.  

Once you were filled, you both collapsed beside each other on the bed, heaving to catch a steady breath.

“Y’okay, sweetheart?” Joel managed to ask, his chest still rising and falling rapidly.

Exhausted, all you could do was nod and utter, “Mhm.”

He exhaled an amused huff through his nose. “C’mere.” He reached for you and pulled you against his side. He draped an arm around your shoulders, holding you as close to him as was possible. “Y’did so good, honey.”

Your mouth curled into a small, contented smile.

Several minutes had passed by, and despite telling him that you were too tired to even think about moving, Joel made you get up and use the bathroom, and while you did so, he ran a clean washcloth under warm water. “Here, darlin’. Let me clean you up,” he’d said, his lips meeting your forehead in a loving token of affection before he sank down onto one knee and ran the damp cloth along the insides of your thighs. He took extreme care when he wiped at your swollen folds, knowing you were still sensitive to the touch. “There we go. All done, now.”

Not long after, you were both back in his bed, wrapped up in his sheets.

Yawning, you nuzzled into bare his chest, your eyelids feeling heavier and heavier with each and every second that ticked by. You’d started drifting off when you heard his voice.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” you answered sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Mean what, Joel?”

There was a brief pause. “Y’know, when you said you’d stay with me.”

Snuggling closer to him, you mumbled, “Mhm. Of course I did.”

“S’not gonna be easy,” Joel murmured into your hair.

“I know.” You yawned. “But I have you.”

“You do. You’ve got me—and I’ve got you, babygirl.”

“Mm. I know that too, Joel.”

You felt him kiss the top of your head and then fell fast asleep in his arms.

The sun bloomed over the Grand Tetons.

Your father would wake soon, that’s to say if he wasn’t up already.

The nerves began to set in.

Joel must have sensed it. “Breathe, baby. S’gonna be okay,” he soothed, squeezing your hand.

With one of his warmer, heavier jackets that normally didn’t see the light of day until winter season draped around your shoulders, the two of you made your way down the road and towards your house. Or better said, towards your father’s house. Because after what you were about to do, that yellow and white cottage would no longer be a place you could call home.

He led you up to the porch. “Y’sure you don’t want me to go in there with you?” he asked, quietly.

You could have laughed. You almost did.

“Do you believe that to be a wise choice?”

“No, I reckon it ain’t the best idea,” Joel admitted with a sigh, raking his free hand through his unkempt, salt and pepper hair. He looked up at the house, then back at you. “Look, little dove. No matter what happens in there, just know that everythin’ will be alright. M’gonna take care of you. For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. I’ll try my hardest to be everythin’ you need.”

“You already are, Joel,” you said, your gaze earnest.

His chest swelled with warmth.

Truth be told, Joel didn’t know how he had managed to defy the odds—how he, of all people, had managed to make his way into that sweet, innocent, beautiful little heart of yours, but somehow he did, and he would not take this responsibility lightly.

He brushed your lips with his and promised, “Gonna be waitin’ right here, okay?”

“Okay.” Inhaling deeply, you willed yourself to let go of his hand and took a step back. You then started up the porch steps on wobbling legs. When you made it to the top, you glanced over your shoulder at Joel, who gave you a subtle nod of encouragement. Exhaling slowly, you reached for the knob with trembling fingers and turned it, opening the door. You stepped inside, your heart dropping into your stomach when you saw your father sitting there at the foot of the staircase, as if he’d been waiting for you. He had been waiting for you. Fully dressed, he sat on the second to last step with both hands folded on his bible in his lap, a rosary clutched between them. “Papa?”

He said nothing. Instead, he silently observed you—his eyes glazed over the men’s jacket and the short dress you wore underneath it, the disheveled, loose hair and kiss swollen lips. Your holy cross nowhere to be seen.

“Papa.” You swallowed harshly and shifted your weight anxiously from the heel of one boot to the other. “We, um—we really need to have a talk.”

He peered around you, catching a brief glimpse of the man standing outside, waiting for you at the foot of the porch.

He cleared his throat, lightly. “Yes, child. I suppose that we do.”

Nodding tightly, you turned around and slowly closed the door. Joel’s words rang in your mind over and over, giving you the push of strength you knew you would need.

I’ve got you.

divider credit goes to @saradika 🤍

[madridfangirl]

Couple Intimacy Quiz

(Jude Bellingham blurb. 2.3k words. Mature language)

Jude and Ananya were laying in bed, naked, after some erotic yet exhausting morning sex. Her head in the crook of his neck, one arm & leg over his body while his arm was draped around her shoulders. One thing led to another and they decided to take a couple intimacy quiz. Brahim had mentioned one to Jude some time back and Jude had been curious ever since. He googled the most popular one and handed over the phone to Ananya.

‘You read the questions.’

She had been intrigued (& slightly embarrassed) by the idea of such a quiz. He thought it would be fun to watch her process the questions and read them out loud. The pink in her cheeks a welcome gift. Jude shifted them so they were on their sides, facing each other. 

Ananya clicked on the link and started going through the questions, very aware of his firm gaze on her and his warm, large palm stroking her bare waist. 

‘First question. How often do you have sex?’

‘Does it mean number of days or should we include number of times also on those days? Or the number of orgasms every time or what?’

Ananya rolled her eyes.

‘It’s not meant to be so technical. Just the number of days is fine.’

He smiled.

‘A few times per week, yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

Jude took her to bed pretty much every time their schedules allowed them to be together, unless there were some extenuating circumstances. And like he had insinuated, it was never just one time in those sessions, unless one of them was tired from work.

It had been almost 4 months of their relationship and the passion had only increased. 

‘Next question. Do you daydream about your partner?’

‘You go first.’

She played with the strands of her hair absentmindedly, something he always found cute. 

‘I mean, yeah.’

‘Tell me an instance.’

‘Like, when I am watching your match. Or some….training pics.’

‘But you can see me then. Do you think of me in a completely unrelated manner, out of nowhere?’

The hair playing became more vigorous, making him smile.

‘Umm when I’m in the shower sometimes, I can…’

‘Yes?’

‘….I can almost feel your gaze and your hands on me.’

His smile widened, and he leaned over to brush his lips against hers, lingering there.

‘Do you touch yourself then? Imagining it to be me?’

‘…..sometimes….’

‘Will you let me watch when we shower together next?’

She nodded slowly, lifting her eyes to watch his keenly hopeful ones. Earning herself another slow kiss. 

‘Once I was in a pool recovery session with the national team. And an Elvis song was playing in the back, which just reminded me of Valentine’s Day.’

He didn’t need to say more. She had made an Elvis playlist for him on Valentine’s Day. Wore his favourite lace lingerie. And it was the first time she had tended to him with her hands. Jude had held his breath when her tentative hands started to go lower, into his briefs, and he had discarded the garment quickly to give her better access, throwing his head back in pleasure.

‘It was that song again. And my mind just went to that night. Fucking hell I was with the lads, with fucking cameras on. Last thing I needed was for anyone to wonder why I was hard around half-naked lads.’

She giggled, visualising the scene.

‘Fine, laugh away. But it could have been a genuine PR meltdown.’

‘Sorry I torment you such!’

‘You should be.’

‘What did you do then?’

‘Waited for everyone to leave, then lunged for a towel.’

She giggled harder. But then he reminded her it was the same day he had called her from the hotel, while she was at work, and made her stay on the line while he took care of his need. She had to lock herself in a washroom and stay there for a while after.

The giggles paused, leading to an onset of blush, as she avoided his eyes. But he found hers & she quickly skipped to the next question.

‘Third one. Are you vocal during intimacy?’

‘Well, I am.’

Jude was a talker. During both foreplay and sex. His words would go from sickly sweet to downright filthy to everything in between. Assaulting all her senses.

‘I am too. Just….not with words.’

‘Love the noises you make for me.’

She shrugged lightly, and he caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers.

‘Would love to hear your words too, babe. You’d be so hot.’

‘I…it’s just…am not coherent when you….touch me like that…’

From the way his lips split into a grin against her jaw, she could tell he liked that response.

‘Next one. Do you feel comfortable when you’re naked in front of your partner?’

‘I do. Took you a while to get there.’

‘Yeah, no shit. You flash people in the middle of the stadium. And walk around naked in your dressing room. Of course you are comfortable with nudity.’

‘Nudity? Flashing? Just coz all my responses are an easy yes you don’t have to attack me.’

He stated matter of factly, but with a smirk, to soften the blow. It did the reverse.

‘This quiz is rigged. You’ve picked it on purpose.’

‘Yeah? You pick another one then.’

‘Am not playing.’

She tried to turn away from him but he grabbed her just in time, cooing into her ear, stroking her hair.

‘Heyy dove, what happened suddenly?’

When she didn’t respond, he rubbed his cheek against hers.

‘Remember how it was in the beginning? Took me forever to even have you the first time. Look how far we’ve come since then.’

It was true. Their intimacy touched new levels each passing day. But it bugged her that the physical part of intimacy didn’t come as easily or naturally to her as it did to him. Her forte was emotional intimacy, something he was growing into. Something she could kick his butt in. Why wasn’t there a quiz on that? She’d find one the next time.

‘I guess, yeah.’

‘Let’s continue?’

‘Uh-huh. Next one. Sexting and who initiates it?’

She rolled her eyes loudly, and he smirked again. What were these questions? The universe was seriously conspiring against her.

‘Love it. And I’m kinda the gold standard there.’

Kings of England would not have had cockiness like his.

‘Ofcourse.’

‘But you knocked it out of the park that one time. Easily my fav one.’

His hands slowly stroked down her bare back, as they both thought about that evening.

Roma’s boyfriend Chris was visiting & Ananya had not expected them to be this loud. And this obvious - the two had been locked inside their room for like a day & a half straight.

It did something to Ananya. Made her long for her boyfriend’s touch. And she was ovulating, which made her a desperate mess. She knew Jude was at a shoot, and his mother was with him for crying out loud. But a demon had taken over her senses. She had become a slave to the needs of the flesh.

Jude had been stunned when he checked her message.

‘Need you to come fuck me RIGHT NOW.’

He was surrounded by people on set & couldn’t even call immediately. 

‘Babe, what? You ok? Is this you? I’m on set.’

She took the shortest route to convince him. By sending him a nude. For the first time. Didn’t even feel any inhibition coz of how horny she was. 

His jaw dropped, and drool came out of it. But then he saw the message underneath.

‘Wanna have some? Or should I ask Chris to help a girl out - don’t think he’d mind, he likes me.’

The mad fit of arousal & rage made Jude’s head spin. The brattiness was new, infuriating, and Jude was going to nip it in the bud. He’d make her regret those words deeply, for putting that image in his mind.

‘Gonna ruin you. 25 mins. Stay there. DON’T DO ANYTHING STUPID.’

She was in no mood to back down. 

‘Let’s see who ruins whom.’

Jude had reached in 23 mins & found her on her bed. Naked. Legs spread open. Sucking on her fingers. Drunk on tequila. 

He tied her hands to the bedpost, flipped her over on her knees, smacking her ass hard. Revelling in her shocked gasps.

‘Jude please can we…’

A particularly harsh spank shut her up. The sting almost bringing tears to her eyes.

‘If I hear a word other than my name or our safe word, you’d regret the day you were born.’

His threatening growl delivered the message. And Ananya realised she had poked the tiger to a point of no return. 

‘You wanted to know how I fucked the other girls, yeah? Stuff I didn’t do with you? You’ll see now.’

She whimpered as he fisted his hands in her hair, pulling her up and thrusted inside from behind without preparing her much.

It was tough to take him with preparation. Now it was 5 times harder. Her lower body stung with the harsh intrusion, thighs shaking around him. But his hold was strong & relentless. Giving her 5 seconds to adjust, he thrusted again. With force. Making her cry out.

‘Your body is MINE. How dare you even mentioned another man? WHO GAVE YOU THE PERMISSION TO DO THAT?’

Jude made good on his promise that night. Ruining her mercilessly. Endlessly. Her screams filling the room. Hours later, she had to use the safe word, after some unbearable pounding.

Once he calmed down, he got back into his boyfriend mode, taking care of her, carrying her cramped body to the washroom. Boy, did she need tending to, and he did all of it, after making her profusely apologetic for her brattiness. 

It was one of Jude’s top 5 nights with her. The sounds she made were catalogued in his head forever.

Ananya jumped a little when Jude leaned over to kiss her temple, bringing her out of her memories. The flush on her cheeks spreading to her chest now.

He took the phone which was discarded on the bed somewhere to do the rest of the questions.

‘Fav body part of your partner - other than the two obvious ones. You first babe.’

It was impossible to answer. She loved so many parts of him. His height, his broad shoulders, his caked butt, large hands, meaty thighs, perky tits, chiseled torso, defined back, and his face. Everything on his face. How could she pick one? It was all of the above.

He smiled when she said it out loud. The authenticity in her voice making him preen.

‘Same for me.’

‘Liar.’

He smirked at being caught.

‘Your eyes.’

‘Right. Stop playing it safe, it's not a trick question. Boobs or ass?’

‘Why not your mouth? I love your mouth.’

‘Yeah..I mean…whichever. So which one is it?’

He reached under the blanket to cup her boobs in response.

‘These babies. Coz you’re more sensitive here. But your mouth is a close second.’

His hands played with her nubs, grazing & pinching softly, making her bite back a few moans. His eyes never left her face.

Grudgingly, he let go & went back to the phone. She opened her eyes in part-surprise.

‘A fetish of your partner that you like? Ooh this is interesting.’

Jude tapped his lips dramatically, thinking for a few seconds, then gave an enthusiastic nod.

‘Your special obsession with my thighs and ass.’

‘Well they are very juicy & meaty. So biteable.’

‘I can think of another thing juicier & meatier for your sweet mouth.’

‘You wish.’

‘Oh I wish it all the time.’

‘Win the Champions League & that would be your reward.’

‘You’re cruel you know that?’

‘Aww poor baby. Such first world problems.’

‘I promise you’d do it sooner. You’re gonna want to. You’re already curious, I know that.’

‘Next question, Jude.’

‘Don’t deprive yourself babe, lemme make you taste heaven.’

‘Next question, you idiot!’

‘FINE. Do you engage in role-play?’

They did. He had cajoled her into trying. The first role-play they did was the re-enactment of their first date, which ended in him taking her on the kitchen counter. Since then, they had tried many other scenarios. 

‘Tell me your fav one.’

She sunk into the pillow, coz her choice was embarrassing. Jude could tell the answer would be juicy. His hand slid to her lower back, stroking her slowly, the warm sensation seeping into her bones, making her sigh deeply.

‘C’mon baby. I wanna know.’

‘It’s…I….’

‘Please, love?’

She shut her eyes in defeat.

‘When you were the debt collector, and I was the defaulting college student.’

Ananya hid further into the pillow, face warm & red. A sight for his sore eyes. Flashes from the night swirled in both their minds.

‘Like the submission & manhandling, don’t you?’

She whimpered when he grabbed the back of her neck, kissing under her jawline, tracing the length of it with his tongue.

‘And the roughness, yeah?’

He bit her pulse point decisively, then pulled the blanket down, leaving her bare to his hungry eyes.

‘I’ve corrupted my dove, haven’t I?’

‘Y-yes. A little.’

‘Maybe you were always like this. And I just brought it out, yeah?’

‘I..I don’t know.’

His mouth on her upper body and his hands on her lower body were making her lose her senses again. She was sore from this morning, and from last night, but stopping him never crossed her mind. Resting him was not her forte, something he knew & exploited. 

Jude rolled on top of her, pinning her hands over her head.

‘What about the rest of the quiz?’

He dove into her cleavage, using his mouth with practiced ease & precision while she squirmed under him.

‘Loved the quiz. But this is more fun right now.’

.....................................................................

Needed some fictional Jude to restore order to my world. So whipped this one up.

Hope you like it, and hope it helps you recover :)

[marscardigan]

family line, part iii

ellie williams x fem!reader

family line masterlist

summary: falling in love with ellie was easy. it was harder to hate her once you knew she was the one hunting your sister.

word count: 2.6k

warnings: this fic doesn’t follow the original plot of the last of us part ii. canon typical violence. no use of y/n.

You’d always loved the stars. They made you feel closer to the people you lost, a silent reminder that, somewhere, they still existed. Even at the stadium, where you spent most nights alone, you had never truly felt lonely under them.

It had been a full day since you found yourself in the theater with Ellie and Dina. And while you felt a some kind of safety—at least from the brunette’s side—you missed your sister terribly. Without her, the nightmares returned. That’s why you were on the rooftop, staring at the endless sky, forcing yourself to breathe through the suffocating anxiety.

"You should come inside."

The voice nearly made you jump. You turned to find Ellie leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

"We don’t have enough meds if you catch a cold," she added, voice clipped but not entirely unkind.

You dropped your gaze, not wanting to meet those sharp green eyes. The panic still hadn’t left you, and forming words felt impossible.

Ellie shifted, clearly growing impatient. "Did you not hear me? Get inside."

Your chest tightened, breath coming in shallow gasps. The edges of your vision blurred. Your lungs refused to expand properly, and the weight pressing against your ribs grew unbearable.

Ellie stepped closer, but her posture changed. The irritation in her stance softened into something else you couldn’t quite decipher. A warm hand settled on your back, hesitant at first, then firmer, grounding.

Ellie knew what was happening. Hell, Ellie knew it better than anyone.

She didn’t say anything, didn’t push. She simply stayed there, her presence steady as the stars above. The minutes stretched, then an hour, maybe longer—until, finally, your breathing slowed. Until the grip of your panic loosened enough for you to lift your gaze to hers.

You whispered a quiet 'thanks', but if she did hear it, she didn’t acknowledge it, didn’t nod or brush it off. But the next morning, something in the air between you had shifted. Everyone could feel it.

Ellie had been pacing near the back of the theater for the past twenty minutes, muttering curses under her breath as she fiddled with something. The occasional thud of her fist against a wooden surface and the frustrated grunts told you whatever she was doing wasn’t going well. You’d been minding your own business—sorting through supplies Dina had left in a storage area—but the noise was starting to get on your nerves.

You turned your head slightly, peeking at her from the corner of your eye. She was hunched over a radio, eyebrows furrowed, jaw tight, fingers twisting the knobs in a futile attempt to get a signal.

You knew that look.

"That thing's not gonna fix itself just because you glare at it," you finally said, leaning against the wall, a small smile plastered on your lips.

Ellie stiffened, her head snapping toward you, "I got it."

"Sure, because that's working out great for you."

She scowled. "Fuck off."

You rolled your eyes but stayed where you were. She kept turning dials, adjusting wires, tapping the side of the radio like that would somehow make it magically start working again. Every few minutes, she’d pause and listen, only to get more irritated when all she heard was static.

Five more minutes passed before she let out a sharp exhale and shoved the radio away from her like it had personally offended her.

"Piece of shit," she grumbled.

You watched her for a second, then sighed. "Let me see."

Ellie gave you an unimpressed look. "What?"

"The radio. Let me see it."

Her fingers drummed against the table as she considered it, eyes flicking between you and the broken equipment. You half expected her to snap at you again, but instead, she scoffed, grabbed the radio, and shoved it into your hands.

"Fine. But if you break it, I’ll kill you."

You smirked. "Noted."

Sitting down, you turned the radio over in your hands, examining the knobs, wires, and the cracked casing. Ellie hovered nearby, arms crossed, watching your moves.

"You hit it a few times, didn’t you?" you asked.

She shifted her weight. "What? No."

"Ellie."

"…Maybe."

You shook your head and got to work. The wiring was all messed up, which explained why it wasn’t connecting to any frequencies. A few frayed pieces had come loose, and some of the internal components were slightly misaligned. Nothing you couldn’t handle.

Your fingers moved instinctively, twisting wires, reconnecting the right circuits, adjusting the battery placement. It wasn’t much different from fixing up your bombs and gadgets back at the stadium. A few minutes later, the soft hum of static filled the air.

Ellie’s head snapped up. "No fucking way."

You didn’t look at her, adjusting one final dial before a faint voice crackled through.

Ellie lunged forward, grabbing the radio from your hands, her face instantly more alert. She turned away, focusing entirely on the device as she fiddled with the settings.

You stretched your arms, smug. "Told you it wasn’t impossible."

Ellie didn’t respond.. You figured she was just relieved the radio worked now, but you didn’t think much of it. Why would you?

Shrugging, you stood up and left her to it.

If you had known what she would eventually use that radio for, maybe you wouldn’t have been so quick to help.

Ellie and Dina had returned from their daily supply run earlier that evening, but something was off. You could tell the moment they stepped inside the theater. Dina looked exhausted, her shoulders slumped, her movements sluggish, and she kept pressing a hand to her stomach like she was trying to steady herself.

The freckled girl, on the other hand, had been eerily quiet. No sarcastic remarks, no sharp glances in your direction—just this rigidness in the way she carried herself, like she was holding something in.

It wasn’t until later, when you were somewhere else in the building, that Dina finally told her.

From the other room, you heard Ellie’s voice, louder than usual, sharp with disbelief.

"You’re what?"

You frowned, pausing mid-step.

A beat of silence, then Dina’s softer voice followed, trying to soothe her. You couldn’t make out everything, but you caught the important part—Dina was pregnant.

Your stomach twisted.

You debated going back, but it wasn’t your place. Whatever was happening, they needed to figure it out themselves.

So, you stayed away.

Later that night, when things had settled and Ellie had cooled off enough to stop pacing the theater like a caged animal, Dina found you.

"Ellie’s going out again tomorrow."

You raised an eyebrow, "Sure."

Dina shifted, biting her lip before continuing. "I can’t go with her."

Something about the way she said it made your stomach drop. You stared at her, not wanting to be the one to say out loud what the brunette was thinking.

Dina’s gaze flickered to the side before settling back on you. "I want you to go instead."

You blinked. "Huh?"

She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. "Look, I know you two don’t exactly get along, but you held your own back there. And you…" she hesitated, then exhaled. "You saved my life. I trust you."

You scoffed, leaning back against the wall. "Yeah, well, she doesn’t."

Dina gave you a pointed look. "Ellie won’t like it, but she’ll have to deal with it."

That didn’t sound very reassuring.

"She doesn’t even want me here, Dina."

Dina rolled her eyes. "She’ll survive. Just… go with her, alright? Watch her back. It’s dangerous to go outside alone."

You hesitated, thinking about how Ellie had snapped at you the day before, how she looked at you like she was still waiting for an excuse to kick you out.

But then you thought about Dina, about the way she held her stomach earlier, the exhaustion in her eyes.

You sighed. "Fine."

Dina gave you a small, grateful smile. "Thanks."

Somewhere across the theater, Ellie sat alone, sharpening her knife. She had no idea what she’d be in for tomorrow.

You were surprised when she didn't fight against your company, and just accepted it by ignoring you at first. Both of you left the theater in mere silence, as she walked ahead, barely acknowledging your presence. You kept your hands tucked into your pockets, eyes on the cracked pavement as you followed her.

Ellie didn’t want you here, that much was obvious. But even as she kept her distance, you could feel her gaze on you, analyzing your every move.

"So… you really haven’t been outside much, huh?"

You turned to her, brows furrowing at the remark. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Ellie shrugged. "Just that… your hair’s all down. And it’s not exactly short."

You blinked, unsure where she was going with this.

"Infected could grab it. Get you killed."

"Oh." The realization settled uncomfortably in your stomach. "Right. Uh… thanks for the advice."

Five minutes later, as Ellie returned from rummaging through an abandoned pharmacy, and she found you waiting with your hair pulled into two simple braids.

"Better?" you asked, flashing a proud smile.

Ellie scoffed, barely sparing you a glance before continuing forward.

Silence was nice, but after a while, it kind of became suffocating. You were just about to say something—anything—to break it when Ellie suddenly spoke.

"You ever shoot a gun before?"

You hesitated, rubbing your fingers against your sleeve. "…Not exactly."

Ellie stopped so fast that you almost ran into her. "Not exactly?" She turned, her brows furrowing. "—but you saved Dina, right?"

"I mean… I did, technically. But it was kind of a lucky shot." You cleared your throat, not being able to look at her, "I hate to break it to you, but I really don't know what I was doing."

Ellie's expression was blank, as if she'd just crashed down.

You shifted uncomfortably. "The clicker was right in above her, and I—I may have closed my eyes when I pulled the trigger."

Ellie blinked. Once. Twice.

Then, she let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. "You closed your fucking eyes?"

You crossed your arms, suddenly offended. "Hey, I still saved her, didn’t I?"

Ellie groaned, dragging a hand down her face like she was in actual pain. "Jesus fucking Christ."

You frowned, and Ellie turned, muttering something under her breath before storming off the path. You hesitated before following, watching as she stepped into a clearing between two abandoned buildings.

She slung her rifle off her shoulder, turning to you with an exasperated look. "Okay, no. We’re fixing this right now."

Your stomach sank. "What?"

She held up her hands. "Do you or do you not want to survive out here?"

You hesitated. "I mean—"

"Do you or do you not?" she repeated, sharper this time.

You swallowed. "…Yes?"

Ellie tossed her rifle onto her back again and pulled out the pistol holstered at her side. She turned it in her hands before offering you the large gun.

You looked at it warily.

She rolled her eyes. "It’s not gonna bite."

You grabbed it, surprised by the weight. It felt heavier than you expected, awkward in your hands.

Ellie took a step back and pointed at a rusted stop sign a few feet away. "Alright. Shoot."

You squinted. "Just… like that?"

"Yes, just like that."

You frowned, adjusting your grip before raising the gun. You lined up the shot as best as you could, finger hovering over the trigger—

BANG.

The shot went wide, bouncing off the edge of a crumbling brick wall.

Ellie dragged a hand down her face. "Oh, for fuck’s sake." She took a few steps forward, closing the distance between you. "Your stance is wrong. Here—"

She placed her hands on your arms, adjusting the way you held the gun. You stiffened at the sudden contact, but she didn’t seem to notice.

"You’re gripping it too tight. Loosen up." You tried, you really did, but the nerves didn’t help.

Ellie sighed, stepping behind you. "Alright, straighten your arms. Line up the sights. And breathe before you shoot."

You did as she said, inhaling through your nose, exhaling slowly.

Ellie’s voice was lower now, steadier. "Now, squeeze. Don’t jerk it."

You pulled the trigger.

The shot rang out, and this time, it actually hit the stop sign—off to the side, but it was still a hit.

Ellie hummed, pleased by now.

Even when you arrived to the theater, your arms still ached from carrying Ellie's stupid rifle all the way back. You were a better shooter than when you left. And it was all thanks to Ellie.

Now, the two of you found yourselves huddled in the dimly lit theater, an old wooden table between you, covered in scattered materials—wires, broken bottles, and chemical compounds Ellie had looted earlier. Dina was still asleep in the couch, neither of you wanting to wake her up. That left just you and Ellie, working in near silence, the only sounds being the quiet clinking of supplies and the occasional flicker of a match.

Ellie had been eyeing some of the chemicals earlier, her fingers brushing over the labels as if deciphering a puzzle.

"You don’t know how to make proper explosives, do you?" you teased, breaking the silence.

Ellie scoffed, not looking up. "I know enough."

You grinned. "Yeah? Show me."

She hesitated for a second before grabbing a few ingredients, ignoring your teasing ton and how her belly reacted to it, and started mixing them together with a little too much confidence. You winced as she poured too much alcohol into the mixture, watching as it fizzled weakly.

"Okay, stop—just stop." You reached over, steadying the jar. "You're gonna blow us up before you even throw that thing."

Ellie narrowed her eyes at you. "Like you could do better."

You rolled your eyes, pushing her hands aside as you took over. "Watch and learn, rookie."

Carefully, you measured out the ingredients, balancing them with practiced ease. Ellie watched, arms crossed.

"You need to balance the chemicals," you explained, pouring just the right amount of a compound into the mixture. "Too much, and it'll fizzle out. Too little, and it won't even light."

Ellie leaned in slightly, watching your hands work. You struck a match, letting the flame hover over the mixture. A controlled whoosh of fire flared up,.

"Huh," Ellie muttered, clearly impressed.

You smirked. "Now you can thank me."

She rolled her eyes, but there was the faintest twitch of a smirk at the corner of her lips.

The quiet stretched between you, but for once, it wasn’t uncomfortable. You both continued working as you crafted bombs, reinforcing them with whatever scrap you could find. Neither of you spoke much, but then again it didn't felt like a tense silence, and neither of you felt uncomfortable then.

At some point, Ellie stretched her fingers, cracking her knuckles. "This better not be a waste of time," she muttered.

You snorted. "Trust me, it won’t be. You’ll thank me when this saves your ass."

Ellie shot you a glance, something unreadable in her expression, before going back to her work.

The hours passed, and the night deepened. At some point, you glanced over at Ellie, watching the way the dim light flickered against her face, highlighting the freckles dusting her cheeks. She was concentrating, brow furrowed, jaw tight. Even in her frustration, she looked—

You shook the thought away.

Instead, you clung to the moment, silently willing the night to stretch on forever, as if staying in that basement could freeze time itself. Little did you know, Ellie was thinking the exact same thing, even if she tried to ignore the feeling fluttering inside her chest.

taglist !

@kaykeryyy @vahnilla @autisticintr0vert @leavemeinthewater @alexandra-001 @liasxeatt @urge-to @catrapplesauces @jhyoos @womenlover0 @sevyscoven @antobooh

[afniel]

So today I woke up and promptly remembered that hey, didn't I have jury duty at some point this month...? I went downstairs and checked the summons postcard and sure enough, I did.

Last week!

Now, this isn't me confessing a criminal misdemeanor, because I was excused, actually. Luck was on my side (and so was the Wayback Machine, which is how I had to check). No failure to appear, no foul.

The thing I'm actually proud of is that I didn't freak out about it. See, when you've got a lifetime of internalized ADHD shame, the typical reaction to realizing that You Forgot Something, Again, goes like this:

Panic so much. You're going to be In Trouble. Nothing can possibly be worse than being In Trouble. This is a category 5 emergency.

Self-flagellate as hard as humanly possible. What kind of useless sack of unreliable shit, accidentally mislabeled as a human being, could have fucked this up so badly? This is just like everything else in your life. Nothing you do is ever right no matter how hard you try. What's even the point? You're an eternal fuckup. Might as well just accept it.

Existential crisis spiral until you can't even remember what the real problem is. The problem is just you. The problem has always been you. Why are you like this?

Eat an entire thing of Oreos, or whatever your self-destructive self-soothing behavior of choice is. Do you feel better? Not really. You stopped hyperventilating at least, so it'll have to be close enough.

Actually deal with the real problem, if it's even a problem. It probably wasn't. Now you just feel stupid for getting so worked up about it.

Completely fail to realize that you punishing the hell out of yourself in steps 2-4 is just reinforcing your panic response and making you less capable of coping in the future, because you've had it beaten into your head that forgetting things, a normal and reasonable human error, is Simply Not Acceptable, even if it's ultimately pretty harmless. But hey, if you kick your own ass about it harder than anybody else would or even could, then you've personally made sure you have control over the severity of the punishment, right?

Right?

Does that sound like a trauma response? Well, it should, because it is. Many people with ADHD have this same trauma response, because having a brain that doesn't work like everyone else's in a world that is not just not built to accommodate that, but in fact is built to convince you that this is a personal, moral, and unforgivable failure is actually pretty traumatic.

That's verbatim how I've lived most of my life. Don't ask me how the hell I got this far carrying on like that, because I don't even know. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger gives you a goddamn complex. But I've been working on it over the past I don't even know how many years, and today, my response was more like this:

Oh shit jury duty was a week ago. Well, now I just feel silly.

Uhh...let's figure out the worst possible outcome. Jail time? Seems highly unlikely for a first time misdemeanor. Possibly a fine, but probably a warning.

Let's look up what actually happens to people in my county who miss their jury duty. They get sent a second summons. That's very reasonable and not at all a real problem if it happens.

Let's find out if I was even summoned to appear. If not, it isn't even a problem. Mention it to my partner at this point. They say 'yeah, I forgot I had jury duty once. I looked up whether or not I was summoned on the Wayback Machine. You told me to not worry about it either way because people honestly forget all the time, and it's a fixable problem whatever happens.'

Realize they are right (and that I forgot this happened until they mentioned it because it was such a non-issue), and I should take the advice I give and treat myself like somebody I care about. I reassure myself that it's not a big deal and people do it all the time and nobody's doing to be personally affronted, and a sincere apology goes a very long way even with a cranky judge if it comes to that. I check the Wayback Machine.

I was excused anyway, so no big deal in the end. I now have a funny story to tell, and I'll probably remember better in the future as a result. Realize that even if it had gone worse, it still would have ended up a funny story later. Yeah, even if they inexplicably threw me in jail for a night. That sure would never get old retelling.

Have a shower and get on with my day.

Gold star for me, I completely didn't even realize that I was de-catastrophizing so well until after the fact. Like I've got it down to a reflex now. I am legitimately just a much calmer person than I used to be. Feels pretty alright! I could get used to this not kicking the absolute mental health out of myself every time something goes slightly wrong. Highly recommend being nice to yourself actually, 10/10 experience.

Anyway that's me tooting my own horn. I feel very emotionally stable and pretty good about that fact. It's been a fucking journey.

[lycandrophile]

it's silly but the biggest reason why im not into t yet is bc im so afraid of losing my hair. do you have any solutions/tips for it?

first of all, i don’t think it’s silly — it’s natural to be worried when hair loss is talked about by so many people as like…one of the worst results of aging for men. listening to my dad talk about how much he hates balding definitely did not make me feel particularly good about the knowledge that i may very well be joining him someday. i’m not saying the fear is right, because i don’t think hair loss is something awful that we should avoid at all costs, but it’s an understandable fear given the beauty standards we’re working with, and it’s one that a lot of us (myself included) feel.

one thing that’s helped me is just…paying more attention to the guys that i interact with on a daily basis. i’ve learned two things from it: 1) hair loss is super fucking common. i’d say it’s much harder to find an adult man who isn’t balding at all than it is to find one who’s completely bald. and 2) if you forget everything you’ve been told about how bad hair loss is, you’ll realize that quite frankly, every single one of those guys looks totally fucking fine. it doesn’t ruin their appearance and make them ugly, it looks totally natural and isn’t really even something you’d notice if you weren’t looking for it. we put so much weight on it but it’s really just not that big of a deal. i’ll hear my parents talk shit about men in my family who are losing their hair when i didn’t even notice a difference last time i saw them. it’s one of those things (like so many other appearance-related things) that you really only notice at all because you’ve been taught that you’re supposed to care about it.

this isn’t something i’ve done personally, but if you really want to desensitize yourself to the idea of it, embrace the time-honored queer tradition of just shaving your whole damn head! find out what you’d look like without hair, find out how you feel about it and what you can do that makes you feel good about your appearance without hair, test the waters while it’s still a temporary change and not something permanent. that way, it won’t feel like this big scary unknown, and you’ll actually have a frame of reference for your feelings about how you look without hair rather than accepting the societal assumption that you’ll inevitably hate it. if you don’t want to actually shave your head, you could also just fuck around with bald filters or photoshop and see what happens.

oh, and if you’re attracted to men, keep an eye out for guys who are bald or balding and also hot as fuck. in my experience, there’s no insecurity or potential future insecurity that being gay for other men hasn’t helped me with. just off the top of my head, i can think of a couple actors who i think are absolutely fucking gorgeous who have helped me get over my fears about losing my hair. despite what our anti-aging-obsessed world might want you to think, there is no such thing as a physical feature that automatically makes someone less attractive, and while making attractiveness less of a priority in your life is good, it can’t hurt to also give yourself some proof that actually, you might lose your hair and look hot as hell doing it.

basically, entertain the possibility that it won’t be a bad thing at all! whether that’s just because it turns out to be a neutral thing for you or because you end up actually liking it, it’s not an inherently bad thing. i’ve ended up liking a lot of things that were “supposed to” be bad effects of t — i love the weight i’ve gained and the new shape it gives my body, i get a lot of gender euphoria from the fact that my acne is now on parts of my face that i saw a lot of guys in high school get it and i’m not complaining about the scars i get from it either because i’ve always liked the added texture that acne scars give my skin, and so on. i think there’s a lot of joy to be had in the changes we’re taught to fear, once we look past that conditioning and actually explore how we feel about it.

but if it’s something you really don’t want and you just want to improve your chances of not having to deal with it, it’s not like there’s nothing you can do! products like finasteride (oral) and minoxidil (usually topical but i think there might also be oral versions) are pretty commonly used among trans guys, for the purpose of avoiding hair loss and for other reasons, and there are plenty of other anti-hair loss products out there (though i don’t know how effective any one of them might be). if it’s a big enough deal for you, you can just decide that you’ll go off of t if/when you start noticing signs of it, since no longer having higher t levels would stop the process in its tracks. and if you don’t find prevention options that work for you so it ends up happening, you can always explore different hair styles (judging by the pattern of hair loss i see in my family, i suspect that keeping my hair long would make it less obvious if i started losing mine), find your preferred method of covering it when you don’t feel good about it (personally i love a good beanie generally and would probably wear them a lot more if i didn’t have hair to worry about because my main complaint is the way they press my hair onto my neck), or just shave it all off if you don’t like the look of the partial balding but don’t mind a shaved head. the point being — you have options!

at the end of the day, whether you go on t or not, you’re going to see your body change as you age in ways that aren’t always going to be attractive to others or aesthetically pleasing to you. that’s just the reality of having a body. even if you never went on t, you’d get older and you might see your hair thin out even if you don’t bald, you’ll see your skin start to wrinkle and sag in places that used to be smooth, your metabolism might slow or your body fat might start to gather in new places; hell, you might lose your hair for a totally different reason and end up in the same place but without the benefits of having been on t that whole time. life is full of bodily changes like that. transphobes will fearmonger about the permanent changes of testosterone all day long but the truth is, there is no escaping permanent bodily changes. whether or not you go on t, your body now isn’t the same as it will be in 1 or 5 or 10 or 20 or 50 years, just like it isn’t the same as it was at any point in your life before now. our bodies are never supposed to stop growing and aging and changing throughout our lives. there’s no guaranteeing that we’ll love every single change our bodies go through, but that’s okay! there are so many things in life that are more important than the way our bodies look. even if you go on t and lose your hair and don’t like how it looks, your life won’t be ruined; plenty of other things will bring you joy and more than make up for the insecurities.

just think about the gender euphoria and relief from dysphoria that t could give you. would losing your hair be bad enough to outweigh all of that? or is it just the pressure of a society that decided balding is bad that’s making you fear one single change despite how much joy you could have if you let that fear go? only you can decide if going on t is worth the potential downsides for you, but i suspect that for most of us, the benefits of going on t far outweigh the possibility of side effects like hair loss happening down the line.

[steddieas-shegoes]

i wanna make your heartbeat run like roller coasters

for @subeddieweek day one with the prompts manhandling and accidental subspace

rated e | 3,520 words | please check ao3 for tags

⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕

Eddie gets pushed against a lot of lockers.

It’s rarely accidental.

It’s always painful.

He doesn’t exactly have a lot of meat on his bones. Every hit leaves a bruise.

So when Steve fucking Harrington does his own dirty work for once, even though he graduated the way Eddie was supposed to, it’s just a bit embarrassing that it doesn’t hurt. It feels…kinda like he should be on his knees.

Which is really not something he wanted to think about when Steve’s got a hand on his shoulder, gripping hard enough to bruise, and something like fear in his eyes. Why is he scared?

“Did you sell weed to Robin?” he asked, teeth clenched.

Jesus fucking Christ. Steve’s got himself a band nerd girlfriend. How the hell did that happen?

“No, I sold to her friend. She waited by the treeline talking to herself the entire time.”

Eddie could hear his own voice shaking, but he wouldn’t back down. Black eyes were kinda metal weren’t they?

“Which friend?”

“Dude, I don’t even know. Someone else in band.”

The hand on his shoulder tightened and he barely bit back a whimper.

Steve’s eyes were very pretty this close. They were pretty from far away, too. Honestly, having Steve this close was probably rewiring something already broken in his brain. Having Steve’s hand on him like this was making his brain do somersaults trying to stay focused.

And then his hand was gone.

Eddie breathed in, breathed out.

“Sorry. I-” Steve shook his hands out and backed away. “Sorry.”

Eddie ignored whatever the fuck was happening in his stomach. It shouldn’t be happening so it isn’t, simple as that.

“Maybe you should ask your girlfriend if you’re so worried about her buying drugs.” Eddie should learn to shut his mouth at some point. “I only sell to the people who come to me first.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I remember.” Steve wiped his hand down his face. “Sorry again.”

Eddie looked him up and down, taking in the fact that he was genuinely apologizing. No one ever apologized for knocking him around, not even when it was on accident.

“You good?” He eventually asked.

“Yeah. Just, she’s been through a lot. I didn’t really want her to get pressured into buying something,” Steve sighed. “Has she come out of the band room yet? I’m supposed to bring her to work.”

“Uh, yeah man, everyone left an hour ago.”

Eddie watched Steve’s face fall as he checked his watch and must’ve realized the time.

“Shit. Okay. I must’ve lost track of time.”

Steve looked pitiful. Eddie’s seen dogs in alleys who looked less beaten down and neglected than Steve currently did.

“I can help you find her?” Eddie offered for some unknown reason.

Well, he knew the reason, but he was choosing to ignore it.

“She’s probably already at work. It’s my day off so I ended up getting distracted with something and didn’t realize it was so late,” Steve admitted, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “Thanks, though.”

Wayne liked to tell Eddie he was too nice to undeserving people. Lord knows he gave his dad too many chances and got let down every time. He even tried to be friends with Tommy Hagan in middle school because he could sense something was going on with Tommy’s dad much like his own.

But Eddie liked to remind Wayne that Eddie is often considered undeserving and he took him in and gave him multiple chances regardless.

“You wanna smoke?” Eddie asked, despite knowing he barely has anything left after the long week of midterms for students. His busiest times of year were right before school breaks, midterms, finals, and graduation weekend. He usually stocked up, but with Rick being in prison again, he had to try to stretch what he had out.

“Uh…smoke what?”

“Weed.” Then it hit Eddie that maybe Steve was into harder stuff. But he hadn’t ever even bought from him in high school. Tommy had, Carol had, almost everyone at his parties had, but Steve never did. “I have regular old cigs too if you prefer.”

“Yeah, man, cool,” Steve sighed with relief.

“I got a spot behind the cafeteria if you wanna…”

“Sure, yep, let’s go,” Steve nodded, gesturing towards the double doors that led outside to the cafeteria and auditorium buildings.

As they walked, Eddie’s mind raced with thoughts of being alone with Steve, Steve’s arm brushing against his, Steve pushing him against the wall of the cafeteria, of Eddie dropping to his knees and unbuttoning Steve’s pants and-

“I’m really sorry about what happened back there.”

Steve’s voice shook him from his thoughts, but his dick didn’t quite get the memo. When did he even start getting hard?

“No worries, dude.” His face scrunched in disgust at calling Steve dude. What was next, the bro pat on the back? A fist bump? “Kinda jealous of how protective you are of your girlfriend.”

Okay, actually, what the fuck? Eddie needed to shut his fucking face, right the fuck now.

“She’s not my girlfriend, but uh, I don’t think you’re really her type either,” Steve gave him a look, one Eddie knew well and one he couldn’t quite believe he was seeing on Steve’s face right now.

“Right, right.” Eddie wouldn’t make him say it, especially if it was actually the look he thought it was, but maybe he could offer a little something in return. “Yeah, she’s not really my type either.”

Steve stopped just before they reached the hidden area behind the dumpster and picnic table for staff to smoke.

“Really?” Steve’s eyes were wide. “So you’re more into…someone like…me?”

Eddie was actually leaking into his goddamn boxers. Why was he getting turned on just talking to Steve?

“That would be one way of saying it,” Eddie said. Still easy enough to back out of it, at least. Could just say he likes women who wear polos and use more hairspray than Melvald’s has ever carried at any given time.

“Huh,” Steve continued walking to the picnic table, sitting on top of it and kicking some dirt off the bench by his legs for Eddie to sit. “So those rumors were true?”

“That depends on if I’m gonna make it back home to my very loving uncle if I say yes.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Obviously, I’m not gonna judge you about it when my best friend is-” He cut himself off and Eddie had to give him major credit. The Steve he used to know never would’ve cared if he outed someone, or at least never would have realized that was wrong. He coughed and then looked down at the bench. “You gonna sit?”

Eddie sat down on the bench, extremely close to Steve’s legs. Almost touching. Was that heat coming from his body or was Eddie just extremely warm?

“Did you actually wanna smoke or did you just wanna get out of the hall?” Steve asked after another minute of awkward silence.

“We can smoke.” Eddie reached into his pocket, hating how tight his jeans were in the front, and grabbed his lighter. His pack of cigarettes were usually stored in his van because he rarely smoked them, but luckily he’d brought them with him all week to sneak smokes between classes. He pulled one out and handed it to Steve.

He started to light his own when Steve leaned down, his face right next to Eddie’s, breath hot on his neck.

“You aren’t gonna light it for me?”

Eddie whimpered.

He would deny it a million times over if anyone asked. He almost had himself believing he imagined it.

But Steve laughed and backed away, pulling out his own lighter and giving Eddie a second to catch his breath.

What the fuck was that? Did Steve know he was making Eddie’s brain flatline?

He watched Steve take a long drag out of the corner of his eye, his mind shuffling between ‘what if he fucked me right here?’ and ‘get the hell away before your dick pops a hole in your jeans.’

Steve’s lips were so pink, and looked so soft, and just wet enough from licking his lips before taking the next drag, and Eddie was really going through it right now.

He’d gone through his Steve Harrington phase just like everyone else, thought it was over when he graduated. Had avoided the mall all summer when he heard he was working at Scoops so he didn’t have to see him in those tiny blue shorts. Had even gone so far as to avoid being around when the kids were being picked up from Hellfire because Dustin mentioned Steve was his ride.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Except for Eddie’s imagination was impressive, and his late night thoughts turned into very vivid scenes of Steve working him to the edge and making him beg, or pushing him against a locker and making him take his cock with barely any prep, or-

“Dude, anyone ever tell you you’re kinda space-y?” Steve’s voice once again lifted him from his thoughts, though he felt a bit hazy.

“Think I’m comin’ down with something,” Eddie squeaked out. All he was coming down with was a sickness deep in his chest: Harrington Heart-itis.

“Did you hit your head?” Steve sounded concerned now, setting his cigarette in the ashtray left on the table and moving so he had one leg on either side of Eddie. His fingers landed in Eddie’s hair, pulling his head closer and inspecting it for injury. “I didn’t think anything but your shoulders hit, but maybe-”

“No,” Eddie gulped. He should pull away. “Didn’t hit my head.”

Steve’s fingers tightened, not quite painfully, but enough of a bite to it that Eddie whimpered. Again.

Steve’s grip loosened, but his fingers stayed buried in his curls, and Eddie felt pressure guiding him to rest against Steve’s thigh.

“You eat today?” Steve asked, though his voice sounded kinda far away, like he was above the surface of the water and Eddie was sitting at the bottom of a pool looking up at the sun. “Eddie?”

“Hm?” Eddie blinked up at Steve. “I ate.”

“When?” Steve’s hand was cupping his cheek. “Lunch?”

“Mmm, no,” Eddie shook his head, blinked. “Breakfast? Cereal.”

Steve cursed under his breath.

He was so pretty. Had he been told how pretty he was? Surely when Nancy was with him, she told him.

Even if Robin liked women, she had to at least notice how pretty he was, right?

Steve’s sharp intake of breath somewhat centered Eddie.

“I’m gonna drive you home, okay?” Steve whispered, leaning down so his face was only inches away.

Eddie could kiss him. It would be the easiest thing in the world to lift his head the final two inches to make their lips meet.

“Eddie, eyes open,” Steve’s fingers tightened again, gaining Eddie’s full attention. “Should I call someone? Are you dynamic or something?”

Eddie’s brows furrowed. What did that even mean?

“Like the sugar thing?” Steve continued.

“Diabetic?” Eddie still felt a little hazy, but he was starting to come back to it with Steve’s hand migrating from his hair to his shoulder. “No, my sugar’s fine.”

“I’ve got some soda in my car. I can drive you home and then bring you to school in the morning. You probably shouldn’t drive like…this.”

It all came crashing down when Eddie realized how vulnerable he’d just been, how he’d actually lost track of time, not sure exactly how long he’d been sitting between Steve’s legs with his hands in his hair before he started coming back to earth. He stood up, maybe a bit too quickly, rocking a bit before finding his balance.

“Woah, take it easy.” Steve held his hands out, grasped his biceps to hold him steady. “You were pretty far out of it. Don’t rush it.”

How fucking embarrassing.

Eddie had only gone down that far one time with someone and they got freaked out when he was giggling and couldn’t walk on his own because his legs felt like jelly. But that had been on purpose. This was- Steve didn’t– Jesus Christ.

“I’m fine now.” Eddie was not fine. He knew what would happen if he left right now. Aftercare was a major part of this whether Steve was prepared for it or not. “Just, um, walk me to my van.”

Steve looked like a kicked puppy, but Eddie didn’t have the time to explain all of this to him.

Steve Harrington didn’t know how much of a freak Eddie was even if he did know he was gay. There’s no way Steve participated in any type of BDSM with the many girls he slept with in high school.

There was absolutely no fuckin’ way Nancy Wheeler let herself get tied to a bed and get fucked by Steve.

He shook his head at the thought.

“I’d feel a lot better if you let me drive you. I promise we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” Steve sighed. “I just don’t know if you should drive when you went down so hard.”

“You have no idea what even happened,” Eddie argued, pacing back and forth. “I can drive. I just need to walk it off.”

“You don’t walk off subspace.”

Eddie froze. Steve was standing right in front of him now, concern in his big, stupid, adorable eyes.

“How do you even know about subspace?” Eddie whispered.

“I slept with half the high school and two guys in Indy. I know what subspace is, Eds.”

Eddie must still be in space. Or maybe another galaxy.

“Sorry, did you just say you slept with two guys in Indy?” Has Steve seriously fucked more guys than Eddie has? Eddie, the resident gay man of Hawkins, has only been with one man in his entire life and Steve has apparently slept with two?

“Well, I wasn’t gonna sleep with two men in Hawkins!” Steve threw his hands up before putting them on his hips. “I hit up a gay bar and didn’t realize it doubled as a BDSM club until I was already in it and then a nice guy showed me the ropes. Literally. There were ropes involved.”

Eddie snorted. Steve was pretty and funny. Great. Just what he needed.

“I have a quick recovery, so I’ll be fine to drive home,” Eddie tried, though even he could hear his voice still shaking.

“No one is that quick,” Steve wrapped an arm around his shoulders, tugging him into a hug. “Has that ever happened before?”

“Not like that.”

“We should probably talk about it.”

The last thing Eddie wanted to do was talk about how someone playing with his hair and moving his head around while showing the bare minimum of care was enough to send him into subspace, but he had a feeling Steve wasn’t gonna give up easily.

“Fine. What should we talk about? How no one ever touches me gently so the moment someone did, I slipped? How I’ve been avoiding seeing you anywhere in public because I knew it would make my crush come back full force? Oh, I know!” Eddie laughed hysterically as he pulled away. “Let’s talk about how I still think about you in your stupid basketball shorts when I’m fucking myself on four fingers, which is never enough because I can never reach the spot I need to. Or how I once cut out your yearbook photo to keep for jerking off material because my mags weren’t enough. Could even talk about how earlier I wanted you to put your leg between mine so I could rub off on you. Or maybe the weather if you’d prefer that.”

Eddie was panting, could feel the heat on his face rising as he realized everything he’d just said, admitted, to Steve.

He’d never said any of that out loud. Shit, he’d barely said most of it in his own head.

Steve’s arms were pulling him in and Eddie let himself have it, let himself feel small for just a moment. If Steve wasn’t completely disgusted by what he said, then he would at least accept this offering of kindness for now.

They stayed like that for a while, long enough that Eddie started to wonder if he could just live here, right in Steve’s arms.

“It’s looking a little cloudy,” Steve said quietly, hands still rubbing Eddie’s back slowly.

“What?” Eddie still felt a little out of it, but that was entirely out of left field.

“You said we could talk about the weather.”

Eddie snorted. “Oh my God, you’re so-” Eddie looked up at Steve, who was smiling down at him. He felt off-kilter, being the object of that particular Steve look. “Stupid.”

It was fond, probably too fond for someone who needed to protect himself from whatever the hell was happening. He needed to shut this down.

“It’s been mentioned,” Steve’s eyes flickered down to Eddie’s lips, then back up to his eyes. “You good to head out?”

Eddie started to nod, but stopped.

This was his only chance. He wasn’t dumb enough to think he’d ever be alone with Steve again. If he was gonna kick start a spiral over feelings, he might as well go all out.

He stood at his full height, almost eye level with Steve, and leaned in.

The kiss was not even close to perfect. In fact, as far as kisses go, it was probably in the bottom three for Steve. Eddie chose not to think about how he screwed it all up.

But once the initial shock wore off, and Eddie put his teeth away, Steve’s hand cupped Eddie’s cheek and he licked past his lips.

Leave it to Steve to turn this around, make it something worth the risk.

Their lips moved in sync, both of them deepening the kiss without making it too wet, too filthy for a public space.

It was, dare he say, romantic.

Most kisses Eddie had managed to have were dirty and rough, hidden away in dark bars and alleyways, not exactly prime teen romance.

Of course Steve was good at this, of course he made Eddie melt against him, and of course Eddie was going to start writing hearts around Steve’s name in his notebook as if they were high school sweethearts.

When they pulled apart, it took him a minute to open his eyes. How stereotypical.

Steve was already looking at him, softer than he probably deserved.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Eddie breathed out.

“It’s been mentioned.” Steve’s lips turned up in a smirk before he pulled away completely. “Let’s go.”

They walked back through the school, stopping at Eddie’s locker to grab one of his textbooks as if he actually would use it. By now, he didn’t really need the textbooks to get his work done. And he was actually committed to getting it done this time around.

They were quiet as they continued out to the parking lot, only a few cars belonging to teachers left, maybe a few students stuck here for football or basketball practice. Steve’s car was towards the back, but Eddie’s was almost all the way in the grass field by the main road. It was less risky leaving it further away, less likely that anyone would slash the tires or key the side.

“You’re sure you can drive?” Steve asked as they stood outside his car.

“Yeah. Only five minutes to the trailer. It’ll be fine.” Eddie shrugged like it was nothing, but he was actually a little worried the kiss set him too off balance to focus on the road. Fuck the subspace, Steve’s lips were like discovering a new galaxy.

“Can I call you later? To check on you?” Steve seemed hesitant to ask.

“Uh, yeah? Do you…have my number?”

Steve shook his head, opening the door to his car and reaching into the glovebox to find a pen and an old receipt. As Eddie wrote down the number to the trailer, he thought about how much worse this would be tomorrow, how shitty it would be to have had this absolutely out of this world experience with the one person he never thought he could and then be left with scraps for the rest of his life.

“You uh, you don’t have to call, man. Don’t feel pressured. My uncle will be home so it’s not like I’ll be alone.”

Steve took the paper and pen back, folding the paper and putting it in his pocket and throwing the pen back into the car.

“I’m gonna call.” Steve moved a piece of Eddie’s hair from in front of his face. “You got a phone in your room?”

“No, but the one we have reaches to the bathroom?” Why the hell did he need one in his room?

“Good. Need you to be alone.”

“Steve, what the hell does that mean?”

“How else am I supposed to tell you what I wanna do to you?”

Well, fuck.

Day two: ao3 | tumblr

[lennadanvers]

The Heartbreak Chronicles

 Edward The Freak Munson was your first love.

(In more than one way).

(None of them ended up well).

High school Edward was something. Jean and leather, band t-shirts and patches. The shiny chains were still there. He had picked up guitar and stuck with it, as you found out at the talent show. His hair and his opinions had grown.

And his big, sad eyes were still there.

He had a reputation now: dangerous, freaky, dark. Maybe it was true. Maybe it had always been. It was just that people took a while to realize. He was the same over dramatic, fun, imaginative boy you had lost. Except that he took his drama all the way up to the tabletops of the cafeteria now.

It was hard not to enjoy the show. It was even harder to wonder how would it be to know him again. He had so much determination and sarcasm, he was so over the way the world worked, so full of disdain and passion… As someone who had served under the Queen’s orders- even if it was a fantasy queen, years ago, in the battlefield that was kindergarten-, you wanted to be loved by him.

How would anyone not want to be worthy of his love?

You knew better, of course. He had distanced himself. And yeah, maybe it had been a long time ago, but why should you give him another chance? No, sir. You didn’t have many things, but your pride was something no one could take from you.

Besides, he had never asked for another chance.

But he was fucking everywhere. He had founded the coolest club in the whole state. His van took up half the parking lot, a lighthouse in the middle of a naked shore. His hair was impossible to miss in the hallway, and your lunches were plagued by him and his stupidly interesting speeches. He even showed up at every party, ready to supply the sheeples with the only best weed in Hawkins.

And not once, in any of those scenarios, were you the object of his attention.

You could have stayed away, of course. It was just a matter of willpower. But your curiosity was bigger. Also, the sheet to sign up for Hellfire Club ended up being taped to the wall right next to your locker. It had to be a sign, if fate could be any more literal: just sign the sign.

It was a terrible idea. Made your nerves skyrocket and your appetite disappear, and your hands were trembling more than usual. You promised yourself you wouldn’t go back if it turned out to be as awful of an experience as you feared.

It was much, much worse: your first day at Hellfire was amazing. You had actual fun- something you hadn’t had in years, if you were honest. The boys were nice in a warm way, talking over each other and, frankly, more excited about the game than you. It was great, because it didn’t make you feel like a guest, but like you belonged.

And Edward welcomed you.

After years without talking to you, without even glancing at you, he smiled and bowed, arms wide as if to show you his kingdom.

“Be welcome to our humble table, mighty lady. Be prepared to face more adventure than you’ve ever heard of, more danger than you can fear and to conquer more victories than anyone can dream.”

He acted that way with everyone. And he lied.

You had heard of that much adventure, sure as hell. Actually, some of his adventures sounded familiar- they were detailed evolutions of childhood games.

But you fell for it anyway. It was good to be back home.

Even if he stabbed you in the back every now and then.

After the first session, as everyone was tidying up, he had cocked his head at you.

“We used to play together when we were kids, didn’t we? You’re not as boring as you look.”

And he had the audacity to wink, as if it would do anything but burn. So you punched back.

“Oh… Did we? I have a pretty bad memory. Sorry.”

Cue innocent and nonchalant shoulder shrug, finished off with a tight lip smile.

The second time Edward Munson broke your heart was worse, because you saw it coming. And you still followed him, like a reflection on a dark mirror, like you had no choice but to help him shatter you.

Second part! The next one is Eddie's POV! Please comment or reblog if you like it, that really motivates me to keep writing! Also, my inbox is always open (not just for requests and ideas about fics, you can also come say hi and tell me about your day or whatever you want to talk about). If you want me to add you to the taglist, just let me know!

Taglist: @arabellagreenleaf , @stylesxmunson , @am0iur

[audliminal]

It's Just a Game, Right? Pt 6

Masterpost

"I'm telling you, Fenton!" Wes announces. "I'm onto you." A few of the kids walking past snicker at them, as Danny does his best to look confused. The startled part is easy; Wes is turning out to be a surprisingly good actor. He's been gradually leaning even harder to the image of a conspiracy nut, and the result is impressive. Danny, on the other hand, is simply trying to keep up with the insanity.

"I have literally no clue what you're talking about, dude." Danny says, attempting to push past Wes, so he can enter their classroom. Wes doesn't seem inclined to let this confrontation end, though.

"You may have everybody else fooled, but I know the truth. You made a pact with the so-called ghosts and their efforts to take over our world. You're just manipulating your parents' tech in order to convince everyone that they actually are ghosts, and not the invading fae army they really are!"

"Dude, what?" Danny responds, not quite able to hold back the laugh.

"Honestly, Wes, don't you have any common sense?" Star asks, as she walks up. "Rumor has it that Fenton's failing like half his classes, and you think a bunch of fae lords, or whatever would trust him to help their scheme? Surely they'd choose someone more competent." She flips her hair, and then walks past the both of them, as a couple of the kids nearest to them start snickering.

Outwardly, Danny winces and hunches in on himself a little more, as he takes the opening Star just created and ducks into the classroom after her.

In hallway outside, Danny catches Wes muttering to himself before following them in. No one says anything for a minute, but the moment the bell rings and Mr Lancer shuts the door, Star turns to Wes.

"I think you should be a writer or something after we get out of here." Star tells him. "That theory was honestly inspired."

"It gets even better. I have so much evidence to force on you guys, it'll be great." Wes answers, then turns to Danny. "You good? I know we don't mean any of it, but it's still gotta suck to have us acting like assholes all the time."

"I mean," Danny hums. "I'm not gonna say it's fun? But like honestly compared to everything else, dissing my work kinda seems..."

"Banal?" Sam offers.

"Yeah, sure, that." Danny nods. "Like, compared to people wanting me dead, who cares, I guess."

"Yikes," Kwan mutters. "Your life is a fucking mess, dude."

"Well, i do have some good news about that." Tucker announces, turning his computer to face everyone else. "Looks like the fanbase is making some progress towards finding the real stuff.

Danny stares at the reddit thread Tucker is on. He's honestly been only loosely paying attention to the actual stuff Tucker and Wes have been posting. He's happy to offer his knowledge of space stuff, or engineering, but the intricacies of secret code aren't really something he ever pursued. Well, except for the secret language he and Tucker had made as kids. Wes, on the other hand, peers at the screen and lets out a soft whoop.

"Hell yeah! They found the second layer!"

"Yeah. Which means they've found our first plea for help."

"Oh, wow," Sam says sardonically. "A plea for help that's so great. Why are they gonna think it's anything other than another part of the damn story."

"Chill out, Sam," Tucker responds. "The point is to encourage them to look harder. And once they find the next level, they'll start finding our info on the infinite realms."

"Whatever," Sam says, frowning. "I just... Don't like how much waiting this involves."

"Yeah it would be a lot easier if we could just, like, beat them up and call it good," Dash agrees. "But, like, jail would probably suck."

"At least they're making progress," Danny points out. "I don't really get how you guys are making these layers, but. It's more progress than anything else we've tried."

"Yeah, but like, what does this mean for us?"

"Why not interact directly with that post?"

"Maybe. We'd have to be extra careful about what and how we say it, so they don't write us off as a copycat or anything, but it could serve to reinforce, uh-" Wes leans in, to read the username. "BenBlues379's theory."

"Okay then, let's draft a reply." Danny zones out as they start to discuss the specifics. He hadn't actually had to go deal with any ghosts last night, but his parents had been working on some new invention, and the noise of their trials had made sure he didn't get much sleep despite the supposed reprieve. Luckily, nobody in this class is going to complain if he takes the opportunity to catch up on the missed shut-eye now, so with one last deep breath, Danny folds himself down onto his and relaxes into sleep, as the sounds of his classmates debating echoes around him.

[d6volution]

imagine jax eaves dropping over you, his one and only fuck buddy and ragatha, something about you confessing to RAGATHA ?? spoiler alert she was helping you to practice your confession to jax !! he doesn't know about that part since he left silently fuming, now here he is waiting at your room. long story short jealous sex turns fluffy :)

yes yes a thousand times yes.

---------

tags: oral sex, rough oral sex, jealousy, misunderstandings, confessions, smut, and fluff.

minors dni.

more below the cut.

You and Jax had established a .. friends with benefits type of relationship as of late. The next best thing to keep your brain stimulated was well... sex. And boy did it work, Jax knew how to push your buttons, among other things. But... as time passed, your feelings began to change into something much stronger. Lust was becoming .. love? You felt so silly thinking it ... so how the hell were you supposed to say it?

Unfortunately, it wasn't easy to read Jax, so you couldn't even tell if he felt the same way. There was a fifty percent chance he'd deny you. And that was all too high. You'd need help on this endeavor, and you knew just the doll to ask.

A short while later, you arrived at Ragathas door. Lucky enough to have Kinger become a distract for Jax to sneak away. Once she swung the door open, the words erupted from your mouth. "Woah, woah y/n slow down ! Wanna come in?" You caught your breath and nodded, a little embarrassed.

"So, Jax, huh? He's... not my first choice for you, but I will be 100% supportive!" She said with a smile. "Thank you, Rags.. I just know how to confess to him. What if he..laughs you know?"

"Hm.. yeah, I see. He can be a jerk sometimes! heh.. But, I think if you're serious.. he'll listen. Like really listen. I have an idea! Practice on me."

"W.. What? On you? That'd be, too.." Your voice trailed off.

"Come on, y/n it's just me!" She nudged you and caused a smile to lift at the corner of your lips.

"Fine." You rolled your eyes before straightening up your back and looking the doll in the eyes as if to get into character.

"I've.. wanted to talk to you about this for a while now.." You started your 'confession.'

Unbeknownst to you, Jax finally managed to shake off Kinger and was searching for you. He checked your room first , then a few others before ending up in front of Ragatha's. "I finally get rid of that nutcase and you ditch me. Givin' me a taste of my own medicine, huh?" He spoke outloud just before he rose his fist to knock on Ragatha's door.

Before his knuckles could make contacr with the wood, he heard your voice and leaned in. That permanent smile was growing on his lips. He was evesdropping, of course, because why wouldn't he?

Unfortunately, this was the first time he regretted doing so, he heard you.. confessing!? He quickly pressed his head a bit harder to the wood. Making out the words carefully.

'I love you. I.. wanted to tell you for the longest time but I didn't think you saw me in that way.'

Love? Her? Since when?

Jax felt clenched his fist , absolutely seething. Sure, you were only friends with benefits, but maybe you should have disclosed our feelings for the rag doll before allowing him to rearrange your guts.

He stomped off to your room like that of an upset child and waited , sitting your bed and staring at the door.

Meanwhile, you were giving Ragatha a goodbye hug, squeezing the doll. "Thank you, that helped a lot. I'll .. let you know how it goes." You parted ways and headed to your room, knowing Jax would either be there or eventually show up sometime tonight. You were in a chipper mood, full of confidence as you swung the door open to your dimly lit room.

Immediately, you felt the wave of anger hit you. It was thick in the air. And Jax was sitting there, his eyes on the ground and his smile not there. "Jax..?" Your voice was small, you couldn't muster up anything more than that.

"So, you and Ragatha, huh?" He almost spat. "Y'know I knew you were a slut but, .. you really had me fooled."

"What? Jax? I can explain— it's not what you think." You said and nervously scoffed towards the end of your sentence.

He took this as you laughing at him, "C'mere, doll." His voice was flat, not playful and teasing like it usually was. Your body didn't want to move.

"Now."

You shuffled over, a familiar heat growing in between your legs. You knew this was a misunderstanding and knew you could clear it up if he let you speak.. but he was also really fucking hot right now.

"Jax just listen to me please." You begged.

"On your knees toots, ya know. I was here first, befofe her. If she's gonna have you, its not gonna be til im done with you first." He said, pointed at the ground, and you instinctively fell to your knees. "That alright with you doll?' He was still checking in, making sure he wasn't really doing something you didn't want but you nodded eagerly.

"Like I thought, a slut." He scoffed and gripped the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he pulled his semi hard cock from his pants. "Be a good girl and suck me off, I want you to go back to Ragatha with the taste of me on your lips." His words morphed into a whisper towards the end, and a breathy chuckle escaped his lips. Your stomach was in knots.

He yanked you forward again, and you whimpered, lips brushing against his tip. Your mouth opened and accepted him inside with ease. He moaned, "Mn.. yeaah.. ya think you have the luxury of takin your time? Nah." He slammed your head forward and you scrambled in between his legs , gagging on his cock as he used your throat like a flesh light.

"J.. Just like that, take it .. gonna shake that little brain up til you forget about her.." He groaned, and your eyes fluttered shut. Trying hard to keep up with his thrusts, but they were too sporadic. To harsh, yet your cunt throbbed the entire time.

He was quick to spurt ropes of cum into your mouth, pulling back— his cock slipping out of your mouth with a lewd pop. "Nh.. hhaa.. " You tried to catch your breath. "Now, what were you tryna say earlier doll?" He leaned back on his elbows, also trying to catch his breath.

"I was .. practicing my confession to.. ragatha.. it was just practice..f-for you.. Jax.."

His ears seemed to get straighter, pointing directly up upon hearing that. He immediately slid off the bed and kneeled next to you. Gathering your face in his hands and wiping your damn hair from your face, "Me? You.. were plannin' on confessing to me..? If this is some kinda joke y/n—"

You cut him off and planted your lips onto his cheek. Peppering his face in kisses. "It's.. not a joke. I love you, Jax." You were flushed, your body still so turned on yet filled with emotion as well.

"So , you wanted me to face[censor!!] you huh? Ya could've told me to stop ya airhead." He teased and stared at you with a softer grin.

"I didn't want you to, you getting all jealous was actually pretty hot."

"Was it now? C'mon toots, on the bed.. I got some makin' up to do." He said and helped you onto the soft mattress, "Oh and.. I love you too. Took ya long enough."

[kissesforsatoru]

MINE FOREVER | wc: 1.1k

BONTEN! SANZU HARUCHIYO x GN! READER

₊˚⌗ after a bad argument with sanzu, you try to leave him. he doesn’t take it very well. or sanzu’s yandere awakening

⤷ cw : general yandere themes, violent thoughts, violent outbursts, threatening violence, choking, mentioned murder, possessive behavior, a lot of cussing, reader is in love with sanzu but vv scared of him, sanzu doesn’t really understand his emotions, comfort??? maybe??? it’s up to interpretation i guess, somewhat soft sanzu

"haruchiyo, you're being mean," you say while looking up at him through your tear-soaked lashes. your voice sounds so raw when you speak his full name, cracked and broken from all of the crying you've been doing, but no doubt the way he's been treating you attributes to the defeat in your tone.

he looks at you with an indecipherable expression, but inside of his head he's overwhelmed by thoughts assaulting him all at once at full force. mean? he's being... mean??? something about the word catches haruchiyo off guard. he's used to you screaming at him that's he's an asshole, a heartless monster, and anything else that dehumanizes and villainizes him in the worst ways, but you've never called him fucking mean before. what the hell does that even mean, and why does it hurt so fucking much to hear that coming from you? his hand reaches up hesitantly to rub at his chest where his heart is, irritated that it won't stop thumping painfully against his ribcage.

"what did you honestly expect from me, angel? i'm a murderer. murderers aren't exactly fucking nice you know," he spits, rolling his eyes. he immediately regrets it. why does he regret it?

a weak noise falls from your lips and the pang in haruchiyo's chest thrums faster, harder; he's now digging his nails into his skin with an angry growl, uncaring of if he starts to bleed. no wound, not even ones from knives or bullets, hurt as badly as whatever the fuck it is that he's experiencing right now. it's excruciating, and annoying.

you laugh, dry and bitter, "yeah, what did i expect?" you whisper under your breath just loud enough for haruchiyo to hear. you aren't agreeing with him, that much haurchiyo understands. you're questioning why the hell you're even with a crazy bastard like him.

he wants to strangle you for being so snarky, watch you struggle and beg for his fucking forgiveness for causing such a big fucking problem for no fucking reason; you should expect only bad from haruchiyo by this point, so why bother bringing up all the things he does wrong? but... sanzu doesn't move to put his hands on you even a little bit—something is stopping him. he doesn't know what.

"haruchiyo," you call, sniffling and biting back a sudden onslaught of tears, "this isn't working out."

another pang, and now a sudden feeling of restlessness itches at him along with it. shit, did he take a new drug and fucking forget about it or something? what the hell is going on with him?

"what?" he growls, finally taking a step towards you. you flinch, closing your eyes as you look away. haruchiyo ignores it despite the fact that, again, his heart aches and pounds and practically cries out in pain with the way it's beating so fucking loudly that the sound rings incessantly in his ears. 

he takes three more steps before he's right in front of you, bending down a bit so that he's face to face with you sitting on the couch. "you wanna fucking repeat that for me, sweetheart?" he hisses. you flinch again, leaning back a little bit so that he's not so close to you. you're shaking, which almost makes him smirk, but he's honestly too pissed off to really find any sort of amusement in your fear right now.

"this isn't working out, haruchiyo. i can't do this anymore," you whimper pathetically. a sob slips past your lips when haruchiyo slams his hand on the couch beside you.

"that's really too fucking bad. you're not leaving me," he snarls, pushing you down onto the couch and crawling over you to pin you under him. you whimper again when you feel his hand on your throat, right at the juncture of your neck and jaw, squeezing with enough force to be threatening, but not painful. he watches as you sob uncontrollably, hiccupping and choking on tears that slip between your pursed lips.

"haruchiyo, please," you barely are able to say through the scratchiness of your voice that cracks under each word, "you're scaring me. you always scare me, i—i can't live being scared all the time." you try to reason with him, but haruchiyo isn't a reasonable person in the least bit. he clicks his tongue.

"you're fucking mine. you belong to me; do you understand me? you don't get to leave me because of a stupid fucking reason like that. you don't get to leave ever." he squeezes on your throat tighter, still not tight enough to hurt you, but your hands instantly shoot up to grab at his wrist anyway. he doesn't try to push you off because you aren't a threat to him; he can easily overpower you and for that reason he lets you have your semblance of security.

"i asked you a fucking question, y/n, you better fucking answer me," he urges, leaning down closer to you to you to nip at your cheek in warning. you gasp and whine at the feeling and clamber to muster up a reply that will satisfy him in your fearful, anxiety ridden state.

"mhm, yes– yes, i understand, haru," you manage to get out, and you hope the nickname you always call him will help you to soothe him, reassure him enough for him to ease up and let go of your neck.

he looks down at you for just a few seconds that feel like hours under his intense gaze, and then, "good. don't you ever try to pull that shit with me again or i will break your fucking legs so you can't even dream of leaving me," he warns, letting go of your throat. he doesn't move off of you though; instead, he dips down and his tongue presses into your skin to tenderly lap at the tears that are still pitifully slipping down your cheeks, humming at the salty taste. you breathe out a sigh of relief and lay limply under him, allowing him to do with you what he pleases.

when he's done, haruchiyo lowers himself onto you all the way and wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer into his body. he kisses at your cheek and jaw sweetly, and you hate to admit that the action lulls you, calms you down and makes you feel safe again—haruchiyo has that effect on you, unfortunately.

the pain in haruchiyo's heart has dissipated, and he feels at ease knowing you no longer wanna leave him. he realizes he would die if he ever let you go and he's going to make damn fucking sure that you don't.

© 2023 by kolyasobsession━all rights reserved. modification, reproduction or plagiarism of my works and theme are strictly prohibited. likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated.

[swanimagines]

A MISTAKE | KAZ BREKKER

Summary: Imagine doing an unsuccessful heist and Kaz taking it out on you.

The heist hadn't gone as planned. It was no one's fault, you had just been incredibly unlucky, but Kaz was still enraged at everyone and looking for a guilty one, accusing everyone on their turn before you stepped in.

"Kaz, stop it." You sighed, wrapping your arms around yourself. "We could have done nothing otherwise. Sometimes these things happen, it isn't anyone's fault. You made a brilliant plan, we all tried to follow it-"

"No," Kaz grumbled, glaring at you in turn. "A mistake like this can't happen without someone taking responsibility. You weren't much of an use either, or what were you doing there at the hallway when guards were rushing towards us? We could have hid, but you gave us away before we could. I blame you all the same for this failure!" He shouted, his eyes flashing dangerously.

Your face dropped at Kaz's words and you took a step back from him. His hands clenched around his cane as he glared at you.

"I didn't do anything wrong," you mumbled, trying to hold his gaze.

He snorted and turned away from you. "Yes, you did. This wasn't your first job, so why the hell did you think you could get away with going solo there?!"

You rolled your eyes, clenching your jaw. "I had to! They could have reached us and killed us all if I didn't slow them down!"

Kaz scoffed. "If you would have followed the plan, we could have had an opportunity to hide!"

"No," you shook your head quickly. "They knew exactly where we were, they would have surrounded us and either imprisoned us or killed us! For your information, I saved our lives so thank you so much for your fucking gratitude!"

"Kaz, they're right, we could have-" Jesper tried to intervene but Kaz interrupted him.

"This is between me and them, keep your mouth shut!" Kaz growled.

"Hey, let's just all take some time to calm down." Wylan murmured as he carefully approached you but Kaz still hadn't stopped.

"You're of no use," he snarled at you. "We don't need people like you during heists, maybe you should take up the broom instead or stay in your room, out of sight."

"Kaz!" Inej scolded him while the rest of the Crows stood dumbfounded, staring at Kaz in shock.

Your eyes became glossy, tears threatening to spill over. But Kaz still didn't seem to care. So you turned around and sprinted towards the Slat, letting the cold wind bite your face as your tears finally began cascading over your cheeks.

The Crows stood there for a while, seeing you disappearing to the crowd. Then they all laid disappointed looks at Kaz.

"Happy now?" Nina sighed and started walking faster, with no doubt of wanting to offer a listening ear for your once again broken heart.

They all knew you both had feelings for each other, but you didn't deserve to be treated like this by him. Kaz was usually cool and collected, but his conflicted feelings for you merged with frustration was never pretty to watch. But this was something worse than your usual bickerings, and Inej noticed the slight flash of regret in Kaz's eyes. He hid it incredibly well, but it was still there. She'd pop by his window in the morning and talk him into apologising to you like so many times before - you deserved to know he still cared about you, even when you had fights like these. She was just concerned about how many fights would you take before giving up on him...

---

Inej's presence floated in the air early in the morning. Sun had barely risen, and Kaz had once again stayed awake the whole night. You had usually made him sleep a little, even take a nap. Telling him his brains would be able to work harder if he slept and he wouldn't feel so frustrated.

But yesterday, from obvious reasons, you hadn't come to talk him into going into bed for a little while. It had felt weird, but Kaz knew the reason. Nina had taken food with her at the evening and headed towards your room, laying a glare at Kaz as she passed him but didn't say anything.

Kaz had sensed Inej long before the shadow passed his desk and Inej's soft steps approached him.

"Kaz," she sighed. "You owe them an apology."

Kaz ignored her. "What time is it?"

"Early."

"Is anyone else awake yet? We need to start working on a new plan."

"No. We need to talk about your fight yesterday with a certain Dreg."

"Why?" Kaz asked, irritated.

"When will you go and apologise to them?"

"There's nothing to apologise for."

"You had them cry in Nina's arms for an hour. Nina had to help them to fall asleep. So yes, you do have something to apologise for."

"It's fine, Inej."

"I'm serious, Kaz."

"They'll get over it."

"If you want them to hate you forever."

"They already hate me," Kaz muttered.

Inej sighed, staring at Kaz for a moment. Kaz ignored her accusatory look and just continued working with the plan. Suddenly, Inej's hand appeared on his way.

"Saints, Kaz!" she exclaimed suddenly and Kaz's eyes met hers for the first time today. "You need to think about their feelings for once."

"I don't have time to think about whether someone gets hurt from things I say, in the Barrel, you have to be tough and if you aren't, you're screwed." He huffed.

Inej sighed. "We all know you care about them more than you care about the rest of us. We know you have feelings for them."

Kaz paused then, letting a long breath through his nose. "I don't have feelings for them."

"You do. We all have seen how you look at each other. Nina has heard your heart when you look at them. You both are just so stubborn and won't act for it. It's getting ridiculous."

"It's not like that."

"You say it's not like that, but still everything points the other way."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Kaz growled, his fingers tapping the desk.

Inej groaned. "Kaz, you know you want to go to apologise. Swallow your pride for once.."

He huffed. "Dirtyhands being soft for someone doesn't fit the picture."

Inej laughed and rolled her eyes. "I know that while living in the Barrel and being a crime boss, it's necessary. But I know you. This is just petty, and you don't want to lose them. Go apologise. Or I'll drag you there."

Kaz looked at Inej for a moment longer before he took a big breath in and stood up. "Fine," he grumbled, "I'll go talk to them."

---

Kaz didn't know how long exactly he had stood in front of your room. He couldn't help but think that you would be too angry at him to speak - and Inej's claim of you having feelings for him.

It wasn't possible. Kaz's feelings for you were hardly possible, so yours would be even less. And you'd deserve someone better than him anyway.

Kaz tried to convince himself of this, but a little voice echoed at the back of his head.

What if they do like you back?

He stared at your door for a moment longer before finally bringing himself to knock.

A groan was heard and then your groggy voice, "Coming..."

The door opened and Kaz's heart started to beat faster the moment he saw you. You squinted your eyes at the light and when you recognised him, your expression immediately transformed into a scowl.

"What do you want?" you snapped, your hands on your hips and your hair messy from sleep.

Kaz opened his mouth but then shut it again. You were angry, he was sorry but he didn't know how to word it. He sighed.

"I thought we should talk this through," he finally said, taking a step forward.

You didn't say anything and just stared at him for a moment. "Oh, mighty Dirtyhands wants to talk now."

Kaz groaned and was quiet for a moment. "I owe you... an apology."

"I don't want to hear it," you said and attempted to slam the door shut, but Kaz got his cane between it and pushed himself inside to your room.

"We need to talk," Kaz said, moving his cane into your way again. "And I won't leave until we do."

"Stop that," you snapped.

"Why?"

"Because I'm trying to be mad at you."

Kaz bit back a smile at that. "If you want to be mad at me, you need to have a proper reason for it."

You huffed and crossed your arms. "Fine, then talk."

Kaz sighed and laid his gaze on his hands gripping the cane. "What I said last night was needless and inconsiderate. I..." He clenched his jaw and cast his eyes downwards for a moment, and then met your eyes again and continued. "I apologise for it."

He glanced up at you, expecting to still see your anger, but instead, your expression was confused.

"Well, I wasn't expecting that."

Kaz smirked at your confusion. "I know how to be an asshole, but I'm trying to be a good boss, too."

You chuckled. "I've gotten used to you being an asshole even when I know you care about me- care about us, I mean, so... it's weird to hear you apologise."

Kaz huffed with a small smile, his heart thudding. He smiled at you, and you were smiling too, and he felt his heart jump at that.

"Have you slept at all last night?" you asked him.

Kaz shook his head. "No. I had work."

You sighed and rolled your eyes. "Work can wait, you go have a nap right now."

You opened the door for him, and you began ascending the stairs together. Kaz smirked at your order. "And if I won't?"

You laughed. "I'll knock you out and drag you to bed. Your call."

---

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[evangelineshifts]

FUCK IT !

You know I started thinking about the analogy that people use for manifestation and shifting comparing it to when you order something online.

And for me that analogy made sense but I could never truly relate to it cause when they said “you don’t wonder when your package is coming, you just know it is and you don’t question that etc etc”

And while yes that is true to a certain extent, I actually DO wonder when my packages are coming sometimes. I DO check how far they are from my location. I do anxiously wait for them to come.

I realize that that’s okay. Cause no matter how many times I check the order status. No matter how many times I check how long it’s been since I ordered it, my package STILL CAME.

I think the way we’re told to restrict ourselves from thinking about how much time our manifestations are taking or when we’re gonna shift actually makes it worse.

When you tell someone not to worry about something, to let it go and not thinking about it, to feign indifference the harder they’re going to try to. Which in turn just makes them think about it more.

It’s counterproductive at best.

When I order something I do think about how long it’ll take. I do check the status but once I do I just kind of go on once I’m done. I don’t really feel any particular way about how long it’s taking cause I know it’s mine and it’ll get here.

I trust that the delivery service will get it here in due time cause that’s THEIR job not mine and leave it at that 🤷🏽‍♀️

Another thing I noticed is that in ordering things- at least for me - I don’t worry about HOW it’s gonna get here. It could be delivered on my doorstep, in the mailbox, dropped from a fucking helicopter, ANYTHING, and I have never once cared.

And it might just be me being slow and realizing this is what they meant in those posts later than everyone else but it’s just like- clicked !

I’m always SO worried about the process of shifting.

What method should I do? Should I even do a method?

What if I get bored? I dont want to do it if I’m bored.

What will I think about? Should I look over my script? Maybe Pinterest boards for visuals?

What if I forgot something? I should check my script.

What if I fall asleep?

What if? What if? What if?

WHO FUCKING CARES?!? That is not why you’re doing this. Who cares about that process when the end goal is the destination.

I’ve been avoiding shifting for the longest because I just kept stressing out over the shifting aspect of it. I would maladaptive daydream about my dr and be happy in that but the thought of attempt a shift made me groan.

The thought of affirming and persisting in my manifestations seemed strenuous.

But thats not the point. With practices as fluid as this focusing on what to do is literally the last thing you need to be worried about and I just now realized that.

You’ve probably heard this all before but like fr, do whatever the hell you want. If you want to shift wide awake, eyes open and dancing with music blasting in your ears- do it. Who’s gonna tell you that you can’t? Who has the credibility to say it’s impossible.

No one.

If you want to manifest by literally saying one affirmation and deciding it’s done and then going on doing whatever the fuck you want until the 3D catches up, then do it.

Tell yourself it works for you and then do it.

✧ dividers by @benkeibear !

[sixosix]

Hi! I'm on a sae brainrot lately it's gonna consume me and your fics are soo good😫 can I req a sae with reader in love with him despite being friends with rin, I just love the idea of rin being annoyed with the two of them giving each other heart eyes when reader comes over to their house, thank you sooo much!

think of this as an au where the itoshi brothers aren’t as insane and strained ur welcome ALSO ANON HELPP this idea is so funny

rin doesn’t consider himself as someone who has homicidal urges. on a good day, at least.

but you are making it harder and harder not to just strangle you and yell out strings of profanity whenever you sigh dreamily over his brother.

his big brother, of all people. rin knows that he and sae are pretty popular, but for his best friend to be head over heels for his brother when you should be immune to the itoshi bloodline is a bit absurd.

“it’s the best friend’s brother thing,” bachira said. rin has no idea what that means, but apparently, it’s when people go crazy over the best friend’s brother. rin hopes that none of sae’s friends are giving him the same googly eyes you do whenever sae passes by—that would be horrifying.

“he’s so handsome,” you explained to him when he asked why you are so obsessed with his brother in blood. “so—! just soo fucking—” and then rin asked you to not finish that sentence because he might have to damage his eardrums by hand if you continue.

that’s not even the worst part, no.

a normal person (like rin) would think that, okay, pining isn’t that bad. crushes are normal. my friend’s weird obsession with wanting to kiss my brother stupid is normal, maybe. but no. it’s not that easy. rin cannot just coax you to move on or force to imply anything in case sae hunts him down.

because his big brother, itoshi sae, is in love with you.

rin doesn’t know when— how it started. he just found out when you had to come up to rin to ask for something and left like a frightened deer, and sae, dead-inside, doesn’t-give-a-fuck-about-you sae, kept staring at you until you were out of sight. there was a smile on his face—a fond one, if that makes it any better.

(it does not. rin didn’t even know what to say at this point. his hands are itching.)

“that’s just a little brother thing,” shidou remarked once when rin lamented about his worrying urge to throttle you and sae simultaneously. rin understands that one, at least.

you have to come over today.

it’s not a big deal since you’ve come to his room to hang out before. it’s not always voluntary on rin’s part; you just appear out of nowhere, carrying pillows and about three blankets, materializing out of nowhere and onto his doorstep.

the difference is that his brother is back in japan, and you’re coming over today.

why is this a problem?

well, for starters: rin is not fond of seeing you make a fool of yourself and cry about it to him later on. he sleeps through it, usually, but you smack his head when you meet again, and he is afraid he might get brain damage soon.

second, rin only stays in his room, so it is where you follow. if the time comes you leave, sae will interrogate the hell out of him and give the coldest glares out of sheer jealousy. rin cannot be bothered to explain that no, he doesn’t like you that way, and sae is free to take you.

he doesn’t want to expose you like that, though. he is not that much of an asshole. as horrible and hilarious it is to watch you trip over yourself to see him, rin knows you genuinely like sae.

rin sees it in the way you smile helplessly whenever anyone mentions him, and rin can tell that it’s serious. you’re still his friend; he still cares about how this will work out for you.

“rin, i’m telling you,” you say, and in your excitement—or hysteria, really—you fail to notice that your voice is terribly loud. “shidou is out to get me. i have nightmares about him hunting me down because i beat him four times. he has a bat with nails on it.”

“let him win, then,” rin deadpans.

although it is his house, he’s the one trailing after you. mostly to make sure you don’t eat all the ice cream. again.

“i can’t lose to shidou, rin. that’s a stain on my resume.”

“then don’t dream about shidou with a bat with nails on it.”

“you’re the life of the party, itoshi.”

you yelp as you turn into a sharp corner on the way to his room. rin blinks at the sound and visibly deflates when he realizes who you’ve crashed into. he holds back a groan, knowing precisely what’s coming next.

cue: romantic guitar, doves flying, bells ringing.

“y/n,” sae says, holding you up by the shoulders.

“...sae,” you reply, belatedly. and then proceed to gape at him as if you forgot that he is rin’s brother and they live together for that reason.

“nii-chan,” rin says, too, because he really is not in the mood to witness this.

sae blinks up at rin. “where are you two going?”

rin hesitates. “my room.” you’re still steaming because sae is still holding you.

sae narrows his eyes.

“y-you can join us!” you blabber, refusing to meet sae’s eyes—which is horrible, really, because if you just took a single glance at sae, you’d see how his eyes softened impossibly.

“don’t say that.” rin scowls. he already has it rough having one lovesick freak in his room; he is not fit to handle two simultaneously, for each other, too.

“i’ll join,” sae decides instantly, staring right at you. rin wants to throw his hands in the air. “what did you say about shidou?”

thx for reading i had too much fun w this LMFAOOO