#FUCKING !!! WREN GET OUT OF MY HEAD !!!!!!!!!

[hakusins]

i have a script that i need to have by tomorrow and here i am at 4 am in the fuckin mornin, listening to too sweet by hozier and thinking of nasty wrenpc fucking.

[morninkim]

Five years ago, Wren MacGowan was an ordinary farm kid from a small town who ran away to join an adventuring academy.

Now, after pretending to be nobleborn for a few months, a potential war, a military invasion of the school, an ongoing clone conspiracy, a god-like being known as "Salvation", dropping out of school, half a decade in isolation from their friends, and a lesbian situationship with a traumatized Rogue, Wren must prepare to face a new, but old, threat that has been left alone too long: themself.

[wittlesissyb4by]

Alphabet Soup

She really could steep so low when she was angry. He wasn’t suggesting she was dumb. He was just saying he’s smarter than her. Logically, there’s gotta be one above the other in a relationship, doesn’t there??

Ryan always prided himself on his intelligence. Constantly correcting people’s grammar, inserting a fun fact, discussing philosophy at length, and the only reason people spaced out when he started relaying the Socratic method of question and answer was because they couldn’t possibly match his intellect. But, most importantly, he always had to let Wren know when she was wrong, he couldn’t have her going around embarrassing him with inaccuracies. Just the other day she said there’s “got to be a million mosquitos out tonight”, and obviously there couldn’t possibly be that much. As smart he was, he couldn’t understand why she would get so butthurt about him correcting her in front of all of their friends. 

“You treat me like I’m stupid, Ryan! All the fucking time. I’m a doctor for crying out loud! I may not know everything, but I’m not an idiot!” She was white hot, taking sharp breaths to keep her blood from overheating. “And you know what? Not that it matters or I would ever fucking care, but do you ever think maybe, just maybe, I could know a little bit more than you about certain subjects? Like, everyone has their strengths Ryan…”

She looked at him expectantly, glaring into his soul, could he just admit he was wrong about something for once? Ryan could have kept himself from smiling–if he was just a smidge less smug. “I’m sorry, but in the years we’ve been dating, I just haven’t found something you’re smarter than me at. And if you really believe in hypnosis, you may be dumber than I thought…”

Steam erupted from Wren’s ears.

“Jesus, you are the most arrogant asshole I have ever met!”

“What??” Ryan scoffed exaggeratedly, throwing up his hands as Wren stormed off, “I’m just saying that that hypno bullshit is a bunch of crap! I don’t care how many so called ‘studies’ you try to show me! There’s no way you could possibly think that works!!”

Wren stopped in her tracks, clenching her fists. She wanted to just go into the room, slam the door, and make him sleep on the fucking couch, but she just couldn’t let him win this one. She couldn’t let him even think he had her beat, even if it was just in his own fucked up head. 

Letting out a hefty sigh to maintain her composure, she pivoted on her heels. “How about this…” She said through gritted teeth, “you think you’re sooo smart? Well we’ll see. I’ll bet you that in one month, I can drop your IQ down to less than 20.”

Ryan had no choice but to absolutely guffaw at the proposition. “Are you kidding? Twenty?! Wren, my IQ is at least 140, no way you could actually lower it. Much less by that much! I mean, Twenty?! That’s like, the average IQ of a todd–”

“Do we have a deal or not?!” Wren interrupted with rolling eyes.

“Well you haven’t set the stakes, young lass.” He said with a swaggering smirk, “What do I get if I win?” Ryan replied, crossing his arms.

It was Wren’s turn to scoff. “Pshh, I really don’t care…cause you’re not going to win. Name your prize.”

“Blowjob.” Ryan said almost without a thought, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even gotten one. He had no idea why.

“Fine.” Wren said without even blinking.

“Every day.”

“Sweetie,” she said, softening her tone as she brushed a hand to his cheek, bringing her face so close that he could feel her breath on his lips, then let out a whisper, “If you can maintain an IQ above 50, I’ll give you three of them! Every day. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

Ryan laughed, unable to find this preposterous notion any more amusing. “You’re really that confident?”

“If you agree to my methods without putting up a fuss? Yes. I absolutely am. I bet I can make you so stupid in just a month that you won’t even remember the fucking alphabet by the time I’m done with you!””

Ryan grinned from ear to ear. This was going to be the easiest bet of his life. His balls would never be full. 

“You’re on.”

******

Ryan scoffed at the patronizing nature of it. Was she really going to make him use his left hand?

“You have to color while you listen to the tape.” Wren told him when she placed a crayon in his hand. She sat him down ‘criss-cross applesauce’ in front of a little table with a coloring book on it. Wren flipped it open to the first page, which had a big letter ‘A’ on it. 

“Now Ry-Ry, can you tell me what letter this is?” She asked in a sardonic tone. 

“It’s an A.” Ryan grumbled, rolling his eyes. 

“And can you tell me what ‘A’ stands for?”

“Apple, asparagus, aardvark, apostesism…”

“Very good, Ry-Ry!!” She clapped mockingly, pulling out a large set of headphones. “Now you just sit here and color your wittle pages while you listen to this lovely music! I’ll be back to check on you in a few hours…”

“Hours??” Ryan repeated incredulously. Was she really going to make him sit and do a fucking coloring book for that long? There were much better things he could be doing with his time. But he had to play her game. A bet was a bet, and he planned to prove her wrong. 

She tapped something on her phone and the music kicked on shortly after. Much to Ryan’s chagrin, it wasn’t even good mysic like Bach or Tchaikovsky or even Tame Impala, it was some nursery lullaby bullshit, but with a weird reverb effect added to it. He could also hear faint little voices in the background, but they were too drowned out by the other noises for him to discern what they were saying. He could only pick out certain words like ‘baybee’ and ‘diapers’ and ‘poo poo’s”, which made sense, because it was nursery rhymes. 

He found himself zoning out, but that was just from the sheer boredom of it all. He was better than this. He’d submitted dissertations on complex epigenetic interactions of the human genome, and now he was just coloring the letter A a hundred times over. 

How was she going to make hom forget the alphabet if she was ‘teaching’ them to him? Maybe she was just exaggerating, it’s literally impossible to forget something that’s been embedded in his brain since before school even started. 

After what felt like an eternity, she finally came over and tapped him on the shoulder, removing the headphones. His mind was a little hazy, but again, it was probably just from the lack of any complex thought for the first time in his life. She shooed him and allowed him to resume his more age-appropriate activities. 

*****

The next day went much like the first, except instead of ‘A’, he was doing the letter ‘B’. 

“Boredom, beneath, balderdash.” Ryan sighed, listing off words to convey how ridiculous this whole thing was. 

“And…” Wren said, placing something down on the table next to the Crayons. “ Bottle.”

Ryan chuckled heartily. It was an actual bottle. A baby bottle, with a little nipple and everything. 

“You can’t be serious.”

“Do you give up?”

“No.” Ryan said quickly, “but i’m not drinking…whatever that is. Especially not out of that!”

Wren just shrugged. “You don’t have to, but it’s there if you get hungry.”

She put the headphones over his ears once more, clicked them on, and left the room. 

Ryan was already over this whole thing, but he wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of quitting. He swirled the blue crayon through the loops of the big B’s while the music played. The little voices seemed to be louder this time, but it still wasn’t worth paying attention to. 

About halfway through his 4 hour session though, Ryan’s mouth felt a bit dry. Something at the back of his throat was pulsing. His cheeks felt empty.  For whatever reason, he needed to have something in there. 

At first he bit his nails. That was nice, for a little. But that soon turned to his finger tip, and eventually his whole thumb. 

After another hour of suckling his fingers, he looked to the bottle. He was hungry, and Wren refused to give him cheerios and goldfish like she did yesterday. 

He picked up the bottle, pressing the rubber nipple to his lips. Jesus that felt good! He gave a little suckle, then another, then gagged. The liquid wasn’t milk, it was…something else. It tasted awful. But he couldn’t stop drinking. The nipple felt too good in his mouth, it was worth putting up with the disgusting flavor. 

He finished every last drop. 

Wren had to practically pry the bottle from his hands when it was time to remove his headphones. Ryan couldn’t explain why he was so attached to it all of a sudden. Why was he getting so angry and flustered over such a silly thing?

Thankfully, Wren had an alternative ready, another ‘B’ word:

Binky. 

******

Ryan sucked on it the whole night. His cheeks ached in the morning, but luckily a fresh bottle helped to ease the pain. 

His brain felt fuzzy, but it was probably because he didn’t sleep that well. He was too busy worrying about the binky possibly falling out of his mouth while he slept. 

The lack of sleep was also why he couldn’t think of complicated ‘C’ words. He could only come up with ‘Car’, Cat, and whatever the word is for the thing you put water and juice in. 

Luckily, after his hypno session, Wren had the perfect thing to help him sleep better: a Crib. 

******

Something happened that night. Maybe his bottle leaked, or maybe it was the ceiling. But when he rolled over from his cramped position in the undersized crib, the sheets were warm and wet. 

Wren assured him that this happens all the time but, just in case, she had something for him to wear. 

Ryan threw an absolute fit when he saw what it was. She was holding up a big giant diaper. 

He tried to tell her off, but his mind was too foggy to form a coherent argument. He really wasn’t sleeping well. 

Still, he tried to fight her when she took his hands and laid him down, but his arms and legs didn’t seem to want to cooperate. It felt like he was moving through molasses. 

She had him on his back. He stared at the clouds on the ceiling. Were those always there? Or was that just his vision? No, they had to be new. His whole room was starting to look different. Another large cloud floated into view. But it wasn’t a cloud, it was a diaper. 

His mind was back. She wanted him to wear a diaper. Absolutely not! This was perposter— prepos—perslweterous. 

“D’awww!! Don’t be scared!!” Wren cooed, it sounded like angels singing. “It’s just a wittle diapurr!! You’ll get used to them!”

Ryan felt something screaming inside him. Something deep down. But then Wren said “look! It has the ABC’s printed on it!” And that made him feel better. He recognized those letters, even though he couldn’t think of much else. 

But the padding felt weird when she slid it underneath him. Not bad. Just…weird. Different. Like something wasn’t right. 

He started squirming on the floor, flailing as much as he could, but even in his foggy vision he could see that his arms were only making minor twitches. 

So he did the only thing he knew he could do: he started crying. C-c-Crying. That starts with a C! He knew that for sure. He was so smart. 

He felt the tears slide down his face, one after another. He could hear his wails, could hear how ridiculous it sounded, but he didn’t want to stop. That is, until something rubbery entered his mouth. Then he immediately stopped crying, and felt instantly better. 

He suckled the binky while Wren made a cloud of powder between his legs. He watched as she pulled the diaper up and taped it on. It was hard for him to explain—especially now—but he felt this amazing sense of comfort once it was on. He really liked it. Which may be why something warm and sticky formed inside the diaper almost immediately. 

He spent the rest of the day coloring in ‘D’s’ while wearing his diaper. 

A few times he had to get up to use the restroom, but Wren insisted the headphones needed to stay on, even if his diaper was down. A very agitating song played the entire time he was on the toilet, and the words that the voices used were not very nice. It made him feel bad, very bad, almost guilty for doing something so silly as using the potty. 

Ryan didn’t get a bottle that night, just some chicken nuggets that Wren had taken the liberty of cutting into tiny pieces for him. 

When he was done, she took him by the hand to his new room. He didn’t know why, he didn’t need her help, but without her he probably would have gotten lost. Not because he was dumb, but because he just wasn’t used to sleeping in the guest room. 

Wren stopped in front of his new crib, making a show of checking his diaper. Another absurd display, just because he was playing her little game and wearing this stupid garment didn’t mean he would actually use it. So when she was finally satisfied that every square centimeter was not wet or ‘messy’, he climbed into the crib. 

When he laid back on the plastic mattress, he noticed there was a new mobile hanging above him. It had little geometric shapes and symbols that he didn’t feel like naming right now because he was tired, he could definitely do it if he wanted to though!

She placed his binky in his mouth and he gratefully accepted it, he was terrified of having to spend the night without something in his mouth.

Wren clicked a little button and the dangling shapes on the mobile started to spin. It was mesmerizing, even more so because it played a happy little tune from the speakers. The very same tune that played through his headphones earlier that day.

 ******

Ryan’s diaper was plump and swollen the next morning. His mind wasn’t as fuzzy, so he must have finally gotten a good night's sleep. 

Wait, his brain said, finally catching on to what was happening. He was in a diaper, and he’d wet it. Several times by the feel of it. 

Wren was smiling when she came through the door, even though Ryan was spewing vitriol. The words were coming easier to him again, but so was the gravity of his situation. Had she really been making him wear diapers and drink from bottles??

Wren continued to smile like a mother letting her little one get his tantrum out. Ryan hung over the bars of the crib, he was too scared to climb out himself, but he wasn’t scared to call Wren all sorts of names. 

After almost a minute of Ryan’s blabbering, Wren had had enough. She clicked a button on her phone which made the little mobile over Ryan’s bed start whirring again. Playing that tune that Ryan was really starting to grow attached to. 

Suddenly, Ryan didn’t even feel like calling Wren a bitch any more. He wasn’t even sure what that meant. Instead, he let out a hefty sigh, and brought his thumb to his mouth. He couldn’t find his pacifier. 

“How’s your diaper, little one? Did somewon have an uh oh’s last night?”

Even though Ryan was calm, he still felt this combative stirring rising from his chest. Something was wrong. He knew he wasn’t supposed to wear diapers. He knew he was too old for them. And he definitely knew he wasn’t supposed to pee in them. He shook his head ‘no’ in an exaggerated fashion. 

“No? You didn’t have an accident?” Wren tisked, squeezing the saturated padding, “what is this then?”

Ryan could feel shame welling up inside him. He was a grown man and he’d pissed inside a pair of pampers. He couldn’t even remember doing it. It was all while he was asleep, while those stupid songs were playing. He would do better. This would never happen again. She might have had an upper hand on him, getting him to agree to the diapers and cutesy shit, but he was not about to—wait. Was that a bottle??

He made grabby hands at the little container of off-white liquid, practically spilling some when he snatched it away from her. 

She let the bars of the crib down, allowing him to clamber out, rubber nipple not leaving his mouth. He would have walked, but he felt it was easier to scooch around on his knees.

About halfway through the liquid, Ryan felt something stirring in his tummy. 

“What is it, dear?” Wren asked sweetly, placing her hands on her knees while she smiled down at him. 

“I have to go potty.” Ryan said, unsure why he said it like that. 

“Oh?” Wren asked, looking overly surprised, “is it #1 or #2?”

Ryan couldn’t understand why she was talking about numbers right now. Wren giggled at what must have been a perplexed look. 

“Do you have to go pee pee or poo poo?” She clarified. 

“Poo poo.” Ryan said, feeling his face flush. Something told him this was a weird conversation with a little too much information, but he brushed that away. 

“D’aww! You need to make poopies?!” Wren exclaimed exaggeratedly, “well you don’t wanna have to go all the way to the bathroom do you? It’s a pretty long way…”

She was right. It was a long way, and his legs did feel tired…

“Hmmm…mayybee…” she said, deep in thought, tapping her chin, “maybe you could just use your diaper?”

The very thought was revolting. She wanted him to make a stinky poo’s all over himself? “Na uh! No way!” 

She dangled the binky in front of his face, “I'll give you a little present if you make a present for Mommy!”

Ryan immediately agreed, and he got to suck on his binky the entire time he was crouching down, pushing a warm load of mush into his pampers. 

Wren was so proud of him. She clapped and cheered and giggled uncontrollably, even while she pinched her nose and teased him about the smell. 

But with the warmth came a deep sense of displeasure. Disgust. A part of Ryan’s brain was ridiculing him for what he just did. The words were coming back to him now. 

“You’re doing something to me!” Ryan shouted. He knew it was wrong. Something was happening to him, he couldn’t figure out what, but he knew that the normal him wouldn’t like it! “Stop all this right now! Whatever it is you’re doing isn’t fair! You’ve got me shitting myself! I’m not doing this anymore! I’m not gonna—“

“Shhh…” Wren smiled, placing a hand to his droopy diaper. “Don’t be sad!” She whispered softly. Her voice was like honey, l angelic, the greatest sound in the whole world. “I’m your Mommy, remember? I’m right here.”

Ryan could feel his anger and shame evaporating from his body. 

“Do you want me to stop all of this?” She asked, rubbing her palm against the bulge of his diaper. “Do you want me to take your binky away?”

Ryan’s eyes immediately went wide. Why would she even say such a thing? Why would she need to take his binky??

“Nooo you don’t want that do you?”

Ryan heard himself whimpering, felt his head shaking. 

“And what about your diapers? Do you not like your diapers?”

No. He didn’t like them at all. They were sweaty and itchy, but they were also sooo soft…

“Do you think you should stop wearing them?”

His head moved up and down. 

“But what if you have another accident? What if you wet the bed again? That would be really embarrassing, wouldn’t it?”

It would. She was right. It would be embarrassing. 

“But if you wear a diaper you don’t have to worry about that do you? All your messes go in there! You don’t even have to walk all the way to the potty! You can use them any time, anywhere!”

She was making such good points. She always made good points. She really was so smart. 

Still, some weird logical part of his brain was firing again. 

“But I’m a big boy!” Ryan whined around his binky. 

“Oh?” Wren asked, shaken. “Do…big boys have accidents?”

Another great point. 

“And big boys surely wouldn’t use diapers, even on purpose!” Wren said, turning into a very scary tone. “But what did you just do, Ry-Ry?”

Ryan’s face flushed. “I pooped them.”

“You did what?”

“I made poo-poo’s…” he could feel the tears welling up again. He wasn’t even sure why. All of this was so confusing. 

“Awww! Don’t be sad!” Wren cooed, switching to that heavenly tone once more, “good baybees use their diapurrs all the time! Like you just did!!”

Ryan smiled, a flood of warmth seeped through his chest, and maybe also into his diaper as well. 

“And baybees that are good get to make a different type of mess, too!”

Ryan wasn’t sure what that meant, but Wren started rubbing the front of his diaper, squeezing it, massaging it, and that felt really good. 

“Tell me you’re a good baybee!” She said, rubbing faster. 

“I’m a good baybee!” Ryan squeaked. 

“Tell me what you did in your diaper.”

“I made pee pee’s and poo poo’s”

“Do you like making messies in your diapurrs?”

“Yes”

“Yes Mommy.” She corrected.

“Yes Mommy!”

“Which do you like to use better? The pampers? Or the potty?”

“The potty.”

She stopped rubbing. 

Panic coursed through Ryan’s veins. He was so close!

“Pampers!!” He corrected, “I prefer peeing and pooping pampers!!”

The rubbing started again. 

“Every time you poop your pampers, Mommy will give you a reward!” She said. 

Ryan nodded, moaning and groaning while Wren rubbed his defiled diaper. It felt so wrong, so disgusting, but he couldn’t stop her. He couldn’t tell her no, because it also felt so good!

It felt even better when he started spasming, and another warm load leaked into the padding. 

Wren patted his padded butt. “Such a good baybee!”

Even with her kind words, a huge rush of shame hit Ryan in the face. His horniness was gone, the haze was lifting, his complex thoughts were coming back, and so was his attention to this disgusting diaper! 

“Wren what the fuck are you doing to—“

But he couldn’t hear himself say the rest, because the headphones were back on his ears, and that lovely tune was playing again. His mind melted away, but before it did he could see her place the book in front of him again, a giant letter ‘E’ emblazoned across the page. 

“You just stay right here and finish your coloring” Wren said, even though he probably couldn’t hear her. He was laying down flat on his tummy, swishing back and forth in his pissy, poopy pamper, smiling and humming the little tune to himself.  “I’ll be back in a few hours to change your diaper.” She continued, patting him on the bottom, “Then we’re going to learn a new ‘E’ word: Enema!”

------------------------------

21 Letters to go! What else could be in store for little Ry-Ry? This is one of my favorite stories I've ever done, so if you would like to read the rest, head on over to SubStar! It's available for all tiers! Credit goes to @dj-kinkster for his help and ideas on making this story a reality!

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

Alex: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! [wheeeeeeze] Byrd: Woah, lady-.. I know karate! Wren: No, you don’t. Byrd: [whispers] She doesn’t need to know that. Wren: It’s Alex, dipshit. Byrd: Ohhh-.. wait, really? Wren: Sure looks like her.

Alex: Oh my god, I found you-.. and I followed your CAT! I missed you so much!! I hope you’re not mad at me-.. I’m so SO sorry for not writing! I thought I was being organised by printing some labels out to save time, y’know? But then I forgot them at home when we went to my uncles and dad said we’d only be gone for a month, so I figured it wasn’t a huge deal, but then we stayed for what felt like it’d be FOREVER and I couldn’t for the life of me remember your address which is ridiculous ‘cause I SHOULD’VE had it memorised by now and I felt so awful as the months passed. I tried to remember it a couple times but you never wrote back so I figured I obviously got it wrong-.. then I tried finding your house on a stupid online map but the internet was crappy at best and the Bay is WAY bigger than I thought it’d be and I’ve never really seen your house in full view from the street either so, like.. I barely knew what I was looking for, and what if that camera car didn’t even map your house, y’know?!

Ava: That was.. a lot. Alex: Sorry-.. you’re not mad, are you? [Robin shook his head and took a breath, but nothing came out] Wren: Oop. Byrd: Yeah, I think he broke. Ava: Ooh, do you know sign language? Alex: No-.. I totally should’ve learnt! I guess I didn’t know I’d be coming here though… Byrd: I can teach you! Well, some, I’m still learning, but Robin knows a bunch. Ava: He’s not mad, by the way. He was just worried. [Robin shot his younger siblings a look, fruitlessly warning them not to embarrass him] Byrd: I’m sure he’d say hi, if he could. Wren: I bet he’d say you look pretty too. Byrd: He’s been extra mopey without your letters-.. or maybe that’s just what puberty does. Ava: He has to wear deodorant now, otherwise he STINKS! Wren: You should stay for supper, dad’s baking something.. again. Alex: Ough.. I was supposed to be home ages ago, dad’ll kill me.. wait, what school do you go to?! Byrd: Bay C-… Wren: Not us-.. he goes to Copperdale. Alex: Ohh, yay! I promised dad I’d finally unpack tomorrow but the day after that is Monday, right? Wren: Well done. Alex: Okay-.. ahhhh! SEE YOU AT SCHOOL!!

…

[Robin deflated as soon as Alex liberated him from another bear hug and sped off, releasing a breath he’d kept tucked beneath his ribs for an uncomfortably lengthy amount of time] Robin: Ouuuuuuuuuuuuugh. Robin: Why-.. why am I like this? Wren: You’ll spew something out eventually. Oscar: Alright losers, pie’s-.. what’s up with him? Robin: I’m fucking BROKEN. Wren: I mean.. you’re a little fucked, but still good! Oscar: Quit it with the swearing-.. what happened? Wren: Alex showed up n’ he broke. Robin: I didn’t even get to say hi or ask why she’s here, or for how long-.. and you just had to be embarrassing! Oscar: What’d she say? Robin: She said Alex was pretty on my behalf and I’ve never said that and she’s a DICK! Oscar: That’s tame-.. for Wren. Robin: I hate you all right now. Wren: Not as much as you hate yourself. Oscar: Hey, too much! Robin, c’mon-… Robin: SHUT UP! Oscar: Right, you’re on dish duty. Wren: Seriously?! Oscar: You reap what you sow, honey.

[eff4freddie]

After She Left | Seven

Words: 7k Minors DNI

As it becomes increasingly clear Sarah's mom is here to stay in Jackson, you realise whatever's going on with you and Joel needs to stop. It's fine, because you've already decided you're not that sad about it. Telling Ellie you can't tutor her anymore, though...that one's going to be tough.

Chapter warnings: Finally get to some of the SMUT team! Oral (f receiving), tiny little bit of dirty talk

A/N: Things are still a little bit crap for me but writing has actually been a nice release (heh). I know some people aren't feeling super safe around here at the moment, but I want to reiterate you will always be safe with me. And in the meantime I will just keep writing my angsty smut for my own amusement, and suggest ya'll do, too.

Six | Series Masterlist | Eight

The new arrivals cleared quarantine in 48 hours. The two men, Wren and Steven, were put up in a share house with a few of the other men around town but Shauna was given her own place, a studio out the back of Tommy’s, nothing much more than a converted garage. Joel didn’t understand why Tommy wanted her so close, and also understood exactly, seeing as how he wanted to both crawl out of his skin when he thought of her, and also into her chest.

He waited exactly a day and a half after she settled into her studio before knocking on her door. The evening was just settling in, and it had been a warm day, the kind of day that gives you a warning of the summer about to descend. She wasn’t even surprised when she opened the door to him. Just beckoned him inside, pushed some old blankets off a chair and pulled it out for him.

The place had a long window running up near the ceiling to let the light in, but other than that it was cool, dark.

‘You’ll need heat in the winter,’ he said, smelling mildew. He wondered how long it had been since anyone had been back here. Tommy didn’t even use it to store his tools.

‘You got any suggestions?’ Shauna asked, smiling thinly at him.

‘Move into a better place,’ he replied.

She snorted. ‘Figure I got a couple of months to figure that out I guess,’ she replied.

‘So you’re stayin’? You settlin’ in?’ Joel asked her, firing questions at her like an interrogation, hearing it in his voice, the sadness and the fear and the sound of something tinkling at the bottom of a well.

‘Don’t know, Joel,’ she replied, sitting heavy on the bed while he stood up, took three or four paces before he had to turn around and pace back again. There was a bare bulb hanging in the middle of the room. He checked for outlets, found a few where you could set up a nice lamp. He had one she could borrow, over by the bed, so she could read of a nighttime.

‘Fuck, Shauna,’ he started, and she shrugged at him. ‘You had no idea I was here?’

‘How could I have, Joel?’ she asked. In the half-light the curls of her hair glowed around her head like a crown. He could remember the smell of Sarah’s shampoo, the first time he’d been able to recall it in years.

‘Twenty-five years and you happen to head here?’

‘Of all the gin-joints…’ she started, but he raised his hand to stop her. He couldn’t do jokes right now. He couldn’t do much but gawp at her and try and get his brain to stay with him, here in this moment, in this little garage at the end of the Earth.

‘I just…I never thought I’d see you again.’

‘I know, baby,’ she said, and he winced a little at the nickname. She caught it, cheeks red at the habit. ‘Sorry,’ she said, when he glared at her. ‘Mistake.’

‘What do we do now? How do we do this?’ he asked, turning to her. She had always been good with the decisions. Had made him eat healthy, not stay out too late, had filled his head with ambitions of owning his own business, of bringing Tommy on with him, showing him the ropes. He remembered then that she didn’t know he’d done it, that she’d been right, and he’d never let her have that. He opened his mouth to tell her, catching himself just in time.

‘I don’t know, Joel. Wren and Steve are here, and we’ve been a pretty tight crew for a while…’

‘You with one of them?’ he asked, and she smiled.

When she’d been pregnant, properly pregnant, her bump finally poking out from beneath her ribcage, Joel had developed a habit of resting his hand on it in supermarkets, out for dinner with Tommy and her parents, would follow her to the bar and rest his chin on her shoulder as she ordered a seltzer and a beer for him. Even then, barely out of school and struggling to grow into his limbs he was protective of her, possessive of her and the baby in her belly. There were times she could practically hear him chanting ‘my girls, my girls, mine,’ as she walked beside him.

‘It’s complicated,’ she said, after a while. ‘They’re brothers. I met them coming out of the QZ in Kansas, and its...well, y’know how brothers share.’

She watched as he reared back, his shoulders rising so fast he nearly knocked into his earlobes.

‘You’re with both of them?’ he asked, and he could hear how panicked he sounded, and couldn’t be certain what was behind it, but he didn’t like it, didn’t like Wren or Steven, didn’t trust ‘em.

‘Technically, Joel, I’m not with either of them. Not with with. Just…it gets cold on the sides of mountains. It gets hard to keep going. It’s about…securing the bond. Loyalty.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ he said, cocking a knee and wresting his hands on his hips. ‘Are you…in some kind of sex cult with those men?’

‘Joel, you can not be this naïve. Not after twenty years in the apocalypse. You know women have to…we gotta survive.’

Thoughts of you popped up in his head, instant and unbidden. You hadn’t done any of that stuff, he was sure of it. He wouldn’t allow himself to imagine any different. He knew you’d been in a QZ for a while, but you’d been FEDRA, and that would have afforded you some kind of luxuries. Security. Fuckin’ loyalty.

He swallowed. He knew FEDRA were as bad as all the others, possibly even worse since they were armed. He knew what women had to do to curry favour with them. But not you, he decided. Not you, because you would have talked your way out of it, would have charmed them with your smile and your sweet, pretty face hiding your enormous, glorious brain. You would have figured out a way around it. You would have…you wouldn’t have…

‘Joel?’ Shauna called him out of his panic, and he swallowed down.

‘Ain’t judgin’ ya,’ he said, and she scoffed a little.

‘You sure about that?’

‘I can’t…imagine…’ he said, and he felt the heat on his cheeks now. He could imagine. He just didn’t want to.

‘Yeah, well…things were bad in Kanas. They got me out. I guess I was grateful to them.’

‘You ain’t movin’ in with ‘em?’

‘It served a purpose and maybe now it’s done? Besides, not sure Maria really understands, or endorses…’

Joel nodded, grunting his understanding. Jackson ran on family values, and scorching gossip. Maria would have done it to protect Shauna as much as to keep up appearances.

‘Joel, can we talk about her?’ Shauna asked, and he found himself shaking his head.

‘Can’t,’ he said.

‘Please, Joel, I just want to know how-’

Joel felt the switch flip in his brain, the one that meant he could talk about her while he slipped himself out of the way to let the facts through.

‘Army, military, the first night. I was gettin’ her out, me and Tommy, if we could just find a road. She was hurt but I had her. They…’

‘No, no,’ Shauna said, stopping him because she could see he had fallen into the vortex, that he was miles away now, years away, bleeding and scared and holding their girl in his arms. ‘No, I…I meant, I wanted to know how she grew up. What was she like, when she was a teenager?’

Joel swallowed, felt the tears in the back of his eyes, the strain across the back of his throat.

‘She was…’ he didn’t know how to describe her. Shauna had left when Sarah was 9. 10 years they’d spent together after they’d found out she was pregnant, trying to save a marriage that had barely been more than a high school romance. He’d known it wasn’t working, had known that he was hurting her by making her stay, but he couldn’t imagine a world where Sarah would choose him if her parents split, couldn’t bear the idea of his little girl splitting her time between two houses, two Christmases, two sets of books, two sets of school bags dropped by two different doors.

He'd underestimated them both. Shauna for her ability to just outright abandon them. Sarah for her ability to know that loving her mom meant setting her free.

‘She was brilliant,’ he said, after a while. ‘So smart, basically ran the household, kept me and Tommy in line. N’she was capable, could handle her own shit. I guess…she had to grow up pretty fast, but she did it, and she was sweet about it too. Made me drink my juice in the morning,’ at this Joel smiled, tears threatening to spill, Shauna’s eyes wet as she watched him. ‘She was a brilliant little girl, and she was turning into a beautiful woman.’

He cleared his throat, letting himself remember her head on his shoulder as he all but forced her to watch some shitty Western on TV. Carrying her to bed, tucking her in, praying she never got so big he couldn’t lift her anymore, then after she was gone praying one day, somehow, she would.

Shauna wiped the tear from her cheek. ‘I figured when she was older, when I had my life back together, maybe we could…reconnect,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, Joel, I know I left you both, left you the most, but…’

‘You were already gone,’ Joel said. ‘All those years, you were never really in it.’

Shauna let out a quiet little sob. ‘I wanted to be,’ she said, and he could tell that she meant it, and also he didn’t care, could never really care, when he saw the chunk she took out of their daughter when she left them, watched as that brave little girl grew out of the scar.

‘She never asked about you,’ he said, and he wanted it to be comforting and he wanted it to be cruel. He wanted to hurt her, and he wanted to hold her, wanted her to know that he’d long given up on her, even before she left them, but that he had been holding on anyway, because he thought that was what you did when you had a kid.

Shauna gasped, letting out a little hiccup of sadness.

‘Is that true?’ she asked, and she fixed him then with a hurt on her face unlike anything he’d seen in a long while. No one walked around that sad for the world to see in a place that would kill you for any weakness. He swallowed down the bile burning at the back of his throat.

‘No,’ he said, because she had written letters every week for a year to her mother that he had never sent. Because each Christmas she wrapped up a little gift for her mother that she hid behind the tree down by the corner, where she thought he couldn’t see. Because each year on her birthday she waited for the mailman, sat with a book on her lap she was pretending to read while she watched out the window, and he had to see her face fall when all that got delivered was just bills and a lottery ticket from Uncle Tommy. She never said the fuckin’ words, but she asked for her mother every day.

He had hated Shauna for it. Had burned up all the energy he had left in him working to hide his fury from his little girl.

Looking at her now, sad and folded up against herself on the end of the bed he wondered what for. All those feelings, so hot and so bright and so sharp at the time now faded, now boxed up. He wasn’t even sure if this was the same person in front of him, the one who started taking shards of his heart the moment he met her, who stranded him with the weight of her absence over years.

He wasn’t sure if he hated her anymore for it. He wasn’t sure if he felt anything at all.

‘Don’t cry,’ he said, because she was still snuffling.

‘I thought I was making it better for her, that she could finally be herself if I stopped crowding her. You know when two vines are planted in the same pot either one of them will strangle the other to survive? Only way to save them both is to get ‘em out.’  

Joel watched her, understanding, not wanting to.

‘I didn’t want to…pull the life out of her anymore, Joel. I had to break the pot.’

He felt the creak in his knees, the old scar on his abdomen starting to ache from standing too long. He crossed his arms over his chest, looked down at his shoes to assure himself he was still on solid ground.

‘Yeah, well, you broke it,’ he said. Shauna nodded, pulling at her sling and wincing slightly. ‘You hurtin’?’ Joel asked, and she sighed.

‘Yeah, but Wren said he’d try and get me something from the infirmary. I told him not to bother. Don’t feel like I can ask for anything when we just got here.’

‘The town’ll be suspicious,’ he informed her, plainly. ‘Three of you in one go, s’a lot.’

‘I figured I could tell them I’m a Miller,’ she said, watching his face, the way it fell. He swallowed. ‘I mean, technically I still am.’

‘You ain’t been a Miller for years, even when we were still together,’ he said, and this time he didn’t want to hurt her so much as state the plain truth.

‘I know, but…could be useful in a place like this.’  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sarah, aged 9, at the doorway, peeking in at her separating parents, wondering out of her room for all the shouting. He blinked her away. ‘I won’t do it if you don’t want me to,’ Shauna continued.

He thought of you. Your warm classroom, the little wood figurines he’d carved for you lined up on the edge of your desk.

‘Don’t,’ he said, grim and firm and honest.

‘Ok, Ok,’ she said, raising her hands in defeat. She sighed, dramatic and maybe just a little for effect. ‘I’ll let the town hate me.’

He remembered what it was like to argue with her. How she’d end up bursting into tears and he’d rush to comfort her, always wrap his arms around her even if he still seethed, and afterwards he’d always wonder if she was actually sad or if it was only ever just to win a point. Worse, when he realised he didn’t care, didn’t feel anything, either way.

‘They might hate ya,’ he agreed. ‘But just until they discover your winnin’ personality.’ She examined his face, searching it for anger, for hurt. He grinned at her. Let her off the hook.

--

It wasn’t that you were sad, exactly, although some part of you knew that you were. It wasn’t that you were mourning, because you knew what that felt like, and besides which, you hadn’t lost anything, not really. It wasn’t that you were lonely, because you’d already decided not to be. It was just that for a second there, things had been different. There had been the prospect of something, and now it was gone.

You watched as Joel sat with Ellie, Tommy, Maria and now Shauna. Maria bouncing Robin, growing like a weed despite barely more than a newborn, on her knee while Ellie cooed at him, tried to spoon feed him stew. You couldn’t help noticing the way Shauna ignored him, the way she almost turned her back to the infant, to instead lean in close to the adults at the table. You were probably missing it. You were only stealing glances, after all.

Word had spread that the three were staying, and you knew that Wren was already out on patrols because you’d seen him go out with the morning group to check the perimeter. The other one, Steven, was apparently good with animals so he had been placed on stable duty. Shauna was helping out with the town council, doing admin and filing and things. It made sense, and it was easy work, and you wondered how she’d survived so long on her own without apparently being able to shoot or ride worth a damn, but it didn’t matter because it didn’t involve you, anyway, unless Shauna happened to decide she needed to redo grade school.

Joel didn’t look at you, and you didn’t want him to, you really didn’t, not at all. A few times Ellie waved you over and you had to pretend you hadn’t seen her. You should have brought a book with you to try and make it even vaguely plausible. You would remember, next time.

You just weren’t sure how you were going to tell Ellie that you couldn’t tutor her anymore. It didn’t feel fair that she had to lose out, but at the same time you knew you didn’t have it in you. The idea of sitting at Joel’s kitchen table, remembering his lips on yours, his arms holding you to his chest, his little gasp as he consumed you. Rose would have been able to carry on. You weren’t Rose.

You weren’t sure why you came down to the mess for breakfast. Normally you just grabbed an apple and ate it at your desk. As you left, you noticed some of Ellie’s stars were still strung up along the walls. You wondered if they would ever come down.

--

‘Didn’t you see me?’ Ellie asked, bounding up to at the end of the school day as you wiped the chalk from the board.

‘Pretty sure I’ve been seeing you all day,’ you said, and she made a face.

‘No, I mean this morning. You came by and then you sat on your own?’

‘Oh, you were there? Sorry, I had my mind on…the eggs. Just hadn’t had them in a while. Must have been craving it.’

‘Are you ovulating?’ Ellie asked, in that unnerving way she had of cutting you directly to the quick.

You paused, considering your answer for a moment.

‘I’m not sure why you ask,’ you said, eventually, settling for truth.

‘Craving eggs,’ Ellie shrugged, as if this was the most obvious explanation.

‘I don’t think that’s how it works,’ you said, and then you paused, because to be honest your sex education also stopped around the end of the world. ‘I don’t think that’s how it works,’ you clarified.

‘Well, whatever, I just wanted to ask you what time you wanted me for tutoring today. You didn’t tell me last time.’

You felt your heart rate pick up. Part of you had wondered if you just said nothing maybe she would forget.

‘Hey, I’ve been thinking about that,’ you said, smiling like you were about to bestow her with good news. ‘You’ve been doing some really great work, really strong, and I can see that you’ve come along so much.’

You paused for a moment, watching the pride break like a dawn over her face, wanted to take a mental photo of it, laminate it and stick it in your memory for eternity.

‘So yeah, I don’t think you need me anymore,’ you said, the smile feeling forced across your cheeks now, the strain in the muscle pulling across the back of your scalp.

You watched as her face collapsed, the light immediately shuttering away from it. You swallowed. ‘Tutoring, I mean…I don’t think you need tutoring,’ you said.

You knew Ellie was doing better socially, you could see she was more talkative in class, that she and Dina were edging their way towards friendship. But you knew, too, how much of a comfort it was to have routine after so long of living through chaos. That the two of you in the dying light of the evening waiting for Joel to finish cooking dinner so you could stop pretending that you were doing any work and take yourselves in to him, that there was a gift in that, that there was a prize in it, and that you were taking it back from her now, snatching it from her arms. You swallowed, heavy and tired and wondering if you were doing the right thing and knowing that you were. That it was necessity. That it was choice.

‘Oh,’ she said, and you nodded at her, smiling still, trying to keep her energy up, trying to dull the blow.

‘You really are doing so well, I’m super proud,’ you said, and then you felt wrong, like you were her mother when really, you realised, you had become her friend.

‘Is this because of Joel being a shithead?’ she asked, and you shook your head to hard and so fast you could hear your neck creak in protest.

‘No,’ you said, tightly, trying to regain your composure enough to get the girl over you and out the door. ‘No, it really is just that you’re…a superstar.’

‘So why don’t you want to keep going, then?’ she asked. ‘It’s not like I know everything.’

You had thought of this question, and had prepared an answer, and even though it wasn’t even remotely true you knew it would appeal to Ellie’s better nature, that it would work on her, and you hated yourself for it even as your mouth started to form the words.

‘It wouldn’t be fair on the other kids,’ you said, and she nodded her head, immediately understanding, immediately agreeing, immediately nailing the last of your self-worth to the floor beneath your feet.

‘Right,’ she said, but she was quiet, and she was backing away, and you saw that her face was closed off, and that she was turning inwards again, just like she had been when she first got here. You stepped towards her, but she was already out the door.

‘Thank you for everything,’ you called after her, and you realised at the same moment that you said it how final it sounded, and how trite. You had dismissed her, thoroughly. Had slammed the door behind her as she left.

For a long while after you stood in your classroom and surveyed the tables in front of you, the pictures on the wall, the photos you’d pulled from old, half-rotten Encyclopaedias and taped to the walls. You couldn’t bring yourself to turn, to see the wooden figurines lined up along the edge of your desk. You stood, instead, facing where Ellie had been minutes ago, half an hour ago, an hour ago.

You wondered if you could unspool time around you, just wind it down to a stop so that you didn’t have to move into the next moments, into the ones without her, without you at their kitchen table, without Joel’s warm eyes on your face as he spooned mac and cheese into your bowl.

--

Joel didn’t like that Wren guy, and he wasn’t too sure about Steven, either. He didn’t like the way Steven eyed off the women in the town, like he was figuring out how best to herd them, seeing as how he was apparently a cattleman. Wren, well he just got on too well with the rest of them, had fit right in with Guillaume, and he fuckin’ hated Guillaume. That was too strong, maybe. He just didn’t trust any of ‘em, when it came down to it. Preferred to be defending himself and his loved ones if it ever came down to it, if he had somehow failed to get them all far, far away.

He found himself turning over what Shauna had said as he surveyed them now, coming to the end of his shift on the wall. He wondered if that was really something women out there were doing, having to do, to keep themselves alive and he knew that of course they were, knew that as much as he had seen it in the raider camps he’d had the unfortunate luck to come across, but now Joel was wondering what kind of man would let a woman do it. What kind of man would let her make the offer, let alone accept it. He knew the answer to that one, too.

As his shift ended, he decided he’d go talk to Tommy about it. Tommy had a good read for things like this. Would have the sense Joel didn’t to see it straight.

Except that it wasn’t just Tommy when Joel got back to his little office, the room crowded again with half of the town council, Maria and Shauna sitting perched on Tommy’s desk.

‘Seems risky,’ Tommy was saying, and at this Shauna rolled her eyes.

‘Course it’s risky, but show me something that isn’t,’ she huffed. Joel recognised that tone, had it imprinted somewhere along his spinal column.

‘Don’t see why its necessary, we have everything we need here,’ Robert was saying. Joel liked Robert. Robert was steady and had survived the fifteen-some years on his own by living off the same ranch he always had with his wife of thirty-years. He only came off it when she died, and he found himself unable to justify working land that size for one man. Joel could respect that.

‘If we don’t keep pushing out, we won’t have everything we need for much longer. We need to…keep up,’ Shauna was saying. Joel caught Tommy’s eye, who was looking at him as if this was somehow his fault.

‘What’s goin’ on?’ Joel asked, stepping forward and trying to ignore the way Shauna brightened when she saw him.

‘Town council meetin’,’ Robert said, ‘though as far as I can see it’s only half of us here.’

‘Not everyone was available at short notice,’ Shauna said, and he grunted at her.

‘That so?’ he asked. Joel watched his face carefully, as the older man gave absolutely nothing away.

‘I’ve got plans to expand, just an idea, really,’ Shauna said, backtracking when she saw Joel’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘Thought I should bring it in for…consideration.’

‘You ain’t been here five minutes,’ Tommy started, but Joel waved his hand and the younger brother immediately stopped. He wasn’t happy, Joel saw the way he rolled his shoulders, the little tic in his jaw Joel was fairly sure his little brother had learnt from him, but he quietened down, just the same.

‘Not for me to say,’ Joel said, trying his hand at post-apocalyptic diplomacy, ‘but that feels like something…if the town council thinks it has merit, mind…seems like something the whole of Jackson should get a vote on.’

He watched as Shauna’s smile faltered, for just a second, and Joel was surprised to find none of her tells had eroded over time. It wasn’t the answer she had hoped for, he could see that. What he couldn’t see was why.

‘We’ll call a proper meeting, with all the council, to consider it first,’ Maria said, definitively. ‘Now it’s dinner time, and some of us got family we need to get to. G’night, all.’

Joel saw Shauna move towards him, darting off Tommy’s desk and over to his side, but he was quicker than her, pulling away through the side door and out onto the street before she could get to him. He didn’t know why he did it, just that his brain stem had told him to get out of there. He felt a little bit sorry about it, but not enough to change his mind.

At home, he slipped his feet from his boots and left them by the door, calling out for Ellie as he stepped inside. She wasn’t at the table doing her homework, wasn’t on the couch reading her comics. He felt a little shiver of hope in his belly as he walked out the back, hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of the two of you before it got too dark to work.

‘Am I interrupting?’ he asked, only a little bit hoping that he was, as he rounded the corner to the back porch. He stopped when he saw her, folded up against herself with her head resting on her knee. It took her a moment to notice him, so she didn’t turn her gaze to him right away. When she finally did he stuttered, saw that her eyes were red-rimmed as she furiously tried to wipe the evidence away.

--

Later that evening you dozed on your couch, finding yourself deserving of the strain in your neck and the ache in your lower back. You would eventually take yourself off to bed but for right now you had your blanket and some pulpy murder mystery you were starting to realise you’d read two summers ago.

The pounding on your door startled you, jolting you up and off the couch. You could feel your pulse roaring up your neck as you looked down at your trembling hands. You allowed yourself a second to catch your breath, another second to wonder if there was ever a future for you where you didn’t startle at the slightest sound. This wasn’t slight, though, and it was still coming from your front porch.

‘Hello?’ you called out, willing the panic to evaporate from your voice such that whatever burglar or murderer was trying to get in would immediately reconsider his actions and retreat.

‘Teach!’ Joel bellowed, and you took a step back, his anger striking genuine fear in your belly. ‘Open the damn door,’ he followed up when you didn’t reply.

‘It’s late, Joel,’ you said, not moving, and you heard his grunt of frustration.

‘Open!’ he demanded again, and you wondered how far he’d go if you let him, if he’d splinter the wood. You tried to shake the tremor from your hands as you moved towards the door, bracing yourself against the frame as you pulled it open.

‘What the hell is the matter with you?’ Joel asked, his eyes crackling with barely restrained fury.

You knew. Of course you knew, although you hadn’t expected him to be so angry about it.  ‘She’s really doing so great…’ you started, but he wasn’t there to hear you out, wasn’t there to do anything other than chew your face off, it seemed.

‘Why…she’s barely talkin’. She’s over there all quiet at the kitchen table, won’t even swear or nothin’, tells me you said she don’t need you anymore?’

‘She doesn’t…’ you tried again, your voice feeble.

‘Ah, that’s bullshit,’ Joel said, and you faltered, casting your eyes down, unable to look at him. ‘You know it was more’n that.’

‘Joel, she’s a bright girl.’

‘You know what it’s like to lose someone?’ he asked you, and you reared back like he’d slapped you. ‘Because you actin’ an awful lot like you don’t.’

You could hear Rose in your ear, whispering at you to think for a second, reminding you that he was hurting, that he was worried for his girl.

‘You can’t fucking come here and ask me that,’ you said, instead, drowning Rose out. ‘On my fucking front porch? Fuck you.’

‘Fuck you,’ Joel shot back, shouldering his way further into the doorway while you planted your heels, squared your shoulders. You were furious now too, angry and hurt and wanting to tear his stupid gorgeous face off his stupid beautiful head. ‘She’s only ever had like…three people in her life she trusted, one she had to shoot, and the others is you and me.’

You didn’t hear him, not at first, priming an insult on the tip of your tongue, getting ready to spit venom and bile such that Rose had to scream over your shoulder to get your attention.

‘Wait…’ you said, faltering, ‘she had to what?’

But it was too late, now, Joel was too far gone, too angry, too hurt, too confused why he was telling you to fuck yourself when all he wanted was to carry you up to your bedroom and do it himself. Too surprised he was sitting at the table at the mess hall with fucking Shauna as if she hadn’t abandoned her daughter and him, as if Sarah didn’t matter, as if the loss could be erased just by her mother resurfacing. Too hurt for Ellie, too aware that it was hurt you had every right to inflict, that he had been the source of it, that you were just protecting yourself. Too sad and too old and too fucking tired for any of it. For parenting a teenager. For reparenting his daughter’s ghost.

‘You gonna stand there and tell me you don’t care about her?’ he was seething, barely hearing his own thoughts. ‘You gonna tell me you don’t care you’re ripping out her heart?’

For having you and not having you. For missing you and having to try so hard to look away from you in the mess hall.

‘Joel,’ you said, and suddenly your voice was so small, so far away. He looked down at you, saw that your eyes were wet. ‘What did she have to do?’

‘Let her tell you herself, if she’ll talk to you,’ he said, and he watched as your shoulders slumped.

Guilt, then. Already he could see he was snuffing out your light, your warmth. Not two minutes talking to him and you were drawn, pinched, folding in on yourself. He couldn’t keep doing this. Couldn’t keep going to you just to push you away. ‘M’sorry,’ he said, all the adrenaline retreating to leave him woozy and sick. ‘That wasn’t fair.’

‘No, I get it,’ you said, sniffling.

‘She just…she’d been doing so well.’

‘She still will,’ you said. ‘She’s so tough, tougher than I ever…’

‘F’you could find your way to still work with her…’

‘…but I just can’t…it can’t be where…’

He was nodding, too, the two of you nodding at each other so neither would have to say the words, talking over each other so you didn’t have to hear your own thoughts let alone the other person’s.

‘It’s different, now,’ you said, and he knew it, agreed immediately, tasted bitter across his throat that told him just how much he didn’t want it to be true.

‘She has her eyes,’ Joel blurted, surprising you both. ‘Shauna. Has Sarah’s eyes.’

He looked at you from under his brows like he was asking you a question, and you supposed in a way he was. Asking you to understand that he had this piece of her, this fragment, that he couldn’t turn away. Asking you to hold it for him, the brightness and the heat of it, that part of himself still reverberating with the spark of her, with the love of her pierced through it, hold it for him lest it scorch him. Asking you to forgive him, to let him go.

‘Oh, Joel,’ you said, and you wanted to throw your arms around his neck and bury your face in his shirt, hold him as he shook with it, with the love and the loss and the grief of it, as it wrung him dry. 

You took a step forward, holding out your hands to him. Without a second thought, he stepped away.

‘OK,’ you said, retracting your arms and wrapping them instead around your middle. ‘I’ll work something out with Ellie.’

‘Want us to still be friends,’ he said, barely scratching the surface of the things he wanted and knew he could never have.

You paused for a second, considering this.

‘We’ve always been friends, Joel,’ you said, after a while. You smiled at him, that same fixed grin you’d deployed on Ellie not six hours before.

You supposed it worked about as well as it did, then. In the circumstances, it would have to do.

--

Joel was cold. It was late, and it was dark, but his room had no business being cold like it was the dead of winter. He rugged himself up, put his jacket on over his old woollen pyjamas, blew hot air into his fingertips. Ellie had gone to bed after he’d got back, even if she’d been a little happier knowing you’d still agreed to work with her. He could read it on her face, knew Ellie better’n she knew herself in a lot of ways. It didn’t feel great that her Dad’d needed to go over and beg you to stay with her. He knew that, just as he knew the alternative was worse.

After she’d gone to bed he’d found himself wondering the house, trying to tread as light as he could so as not to disturb her, but still unable to still his hands. He considered going down to work the wall for a while, see if he could be of use, but coupled with his inability to stand still was also a bone-weary fatigue that would have made him dangerous up there. A herd of elephants with dynamite strapped to their bellies could have sidled up to the gate and he probably wouldn’t have clocked ‘em.

Up in his room he checked the window seals, looked for any lifting of the wall from the floor, checked the cornices for any gaps that could explain the cold. It made it impossible for him to settle, his bones jangling with the sharpness of the chill, his knee pulling him up to standing to try and shake some of the tightness out of the joint.

He felt like he might be going crazy. More than a few times he went and stood on the porch to try and figure if it was colder inside the house than outside of it, but each time he forgot exactly how vicious the chill had been. He worried, then, about a gas leak, that the town wasn’t getting any heat, that people would freeze in their beds even though it being a late Spring night, and he was walking, then, down the familiar path only because he’d taken it so many times in his head, right back to your front door.

Your lights were still on. For the second time that night he wrapped on your door, and when you pulled it open, he knew you hadn’t been sleeping either.

‘I just got so cold,’ he confessed, and you blinked up at him. He could feel the heat on his face radiating out from behind you, knew that if he lifted his fingertips to your cheek he would find it warm, welcoming.

He pulled you to him, snug into his body, and put his icy lips on yours.

Warm honey, slow and calming, seeping over the tip of his tongue.  

It’s hands, then, up under your shirt and onto your warm skin, backing you into your hallway and up against the wall, your head knocking with a thud into the plaster and neither of you noticing. Joel’s mind, finally quiet, just seeking out your warmth, driven by the want to have all of your skin mapped by his fingers, driven by the want to have all of you, take you apart in his hands. You hitched your thigh over his hip, felt him lift you and carry you over to your worn-out couch, leather and patchy and somehow now always reminding you of Joel.

Just a quiet huff as you both landed, Joel’s mouth seeking out yours again to latch to you, keeping his arms tight around your back, pulling you down onto him, grinding you onto his cock, already straining under the flimsy twenty-year old material of his sleep pants. You gasped into his mouth, the ache in your core screaming for attention as you shivered against him.

‘So fuckin’ beautiful,’ he muttered, almost too himself, as he lifted you, one arm on the back of the sofa to steady you both as he deposited you down onto the cushion beneath him, shucking off your own pyjamas as he slid down onto the floor beneath you. You mewled, wanting him back on top of you, wanting his heat and his muscles rippling under his soft skin, his broad chest pushing hard into yours as he hovered over you, the press of him into the seat of the couch.

He sensed you needing him, lifting one hand and running it up over your belly, coming to rest, palm up just below your breast where you grabbed it, held it in yours, let him anchor you to him while you threw your head back and hooked your ankles over his shoulders.

‘Fuck, Joel, fuck…’ you whimpered, needy and breathy and already so wet you could feel it trickling down between your cheeks to the leather. Joel, rearing back on his heels, took a moment to admire the view, his eyes dark and wolfish as he surveyed his prey.

‘I need to taste it,’ he grunted, palming himself through his pants as you glistened in front of him, warm skin glowing in the lamplight as he spread you, reached down with his hand and slid his fingers up the inside of your thigh, inching towards your drooling cunt.

You couldn’t speak, the back of your throat so dry you could only swallow and gasp, nodding your head at him, the thundering of your centre so encompassing now, so deafening, you could barely hear his high, gentle whimper as he descended, sliding his lips over you, his tongue licking a fat and not at all tentative stripe at your slit before pulling up, opening you, descending on your clit like he had a homing beacon, every nerve ending screaming for him as he sucked the fraught bud between his teeth.

Joel felt it, your warm nectar, sweet and scorching, sliding down his throat and he swallowed it down, consumed it, drank from you, felt the heat pooling in his belly where it would sustain him for another day. Still gripping your hand in his right, he slid his left further up to tease at your slit, the slick of you collecting on his skin as he hooked his fingers, spreading you further open again, unfolding you, fastening you to him as he reached high and forward, found that spongey spot that made your breath hitch.

He wasn’t even sure he was doing it for you, just needing it for himself, greedy and desperate, hunting for your heat. You were enlivening him, emboldening him, giving him something to shield and something to shield with. He muttered against you, little whimpered praises neither of you could make out, as he felt your cunt tighten around him, left your hand go to steady your hips, pull you harder onto his face as you bucked against him.

He wanted you to come. Wanted to hear you scream, feel your hands in his hair, wring you out with his tongue and his fingers, wanted to be the one that made it happen. He wanted you for his own, to consume you, keep you tucked away inside himself for crisp afternoons and chilly midnights. Wanted you, always wanted you, here like this, split open and writhing for him, always wet and dripping on his skin and his floor, open and needy and crying for him, grasping him to you, calling his name.

And when you did, when you finally released around him, when he swallowed down your come and your cries, with your hips in his hand and your cunt in his teeth he knew, then, this was it for him, that he’d never feel a heat like it again, that the wanting would be all the worse for having finally held it, for just a moment here in your living room, while you gasped and writhed and trembled, your breath the only sound as you fought to catch it.

Taglist (as always lemme know if you wanna jump on):

@harriedandharassed

@vickie5446

@kaseyconnour

@orcasoul

@missladym1981

@spacesoutdaydreamer

@tangled-tumbler-blog-blog

@fancyyoouu

@anoverwhelmingdin

@millersamour

@delicatetrashtree

@wand-erer5

[mellowwillowy]

Yandere Reader × DOL

Warning: Extreme Content, unsafe sex, Crazy Reader

Bailey - Eden (M), Sydney, Ivory, Whitney, Kylar - Mason, Avery, Harper, Alex, Wren, Great Hawk, Black Wolf, Robin

Bailey's boobs! Eden's boobs! These 2 squeezeing your face! DIE! HAPPILY!1!1!

"What are you doing? I'll be charging you for this." Bailey spat as he watched you sucked his tits, hands groping it like a squishy. Eden on the other hand lets you use his tits as some sort of pillow. Ah... heaven... bless.

Sydney's anal bead, I'll squeeze it down your throat instead of using it as a rosary!

Sydney's hand gripped yours tightly as you used the anal bead inside their throat, fuck, they didn't expect this at all. Please, don't stop. Better yet, use your hand or your cock/strap-on on their throat now!

"Mwooh... mhoreeee....!"

Ivory's Necklace, right, fuck you wanna do if I swallow it whole?

"Get it out..." Ivory throatfucked you as their hands and tentacles choked you, "get it out right now, fuck, get it out!" Actually, you doubt they were throatfucking you to get this shit out. They were just trying fuck their cum out.

Walking Whitney

Whitney and a leash on your hand, no, not a leash to you but to them! Crawling the school hallway naked, how did it feel like to have the table turned now? Oh... look at how turned on they are, "fucking slut, you like people seeing your sex hmm??"

"Shut up..." they growled back but the trail of cum they left said otherwise ♡

Kylar and Mason the undies sniffer

Look at them. You understand if it's Kylar but Mason? Really? Sniffing your undies while you were swimming?

"K-Kylar did it! He did it first!"

"That still doesn't change the fact that you are a teacher. Oh, aren't you a perverted one? Just how down bad are you to the point you are caught sniffing with this," you pulled Kylar by his hoodie, "damn fucking loser who jerks off to my picture?"

"Uuu... you look so cute in that jacket so..."

Avery and alcohol

Fuck, you are sick of them raging at you every now and then. So? What to do? You eyed on the alcohols they got for the two of you and...

Crash

You hit their head with it. Just before they could say anything, you forced the alcohol down their throat, burning it. Just as you noticed they were wasted from the hit and burning sensation, you stripped them down and,

"I think you'll look great with your hole stuffed with this," you showed them a bottle of alcohol, "I don't give a shit about safe sex, feel free to have a check with Harper soon."

Doctor Harper...

Harper groaned as you plunged yet another syringe into their arm, the content? It's empty. Better be empty than fill it in with the drug they would use on you right?

"I bet it feels good, getting injected here and there right you fucker?"

Wren the smuggled

"Ehehe~ look at you~ so adorable in my bag, all tied up hm?"

The smuggler had been smuggled. Fuck, you were so going to enjoy fucking them while charging everyone fortune just to watch you fuck them dumb.

Milking Alex~!

Oh, the farm was growing. Look at it, the milk production got better in both quantity and quality! As expected of Alex! Now, it's time to milk Alex with your mouth and hand again!

Great Hawk the terrored

"Come on now, walking is better than flying right?" Great Hawk whimpered as you handed him his daily food. You caressed his bandaged wings that you broke with your own hands. "Good boy~ now eat, you'll need the energy to mate."

Black Wolf, awooooooo

Black Wolf did so as you fucked him dumb. What a pack leader he is, a great breedable alpha all along.

Robin, burn your fat down.

At this point, they were probably either traumatized or suffered from the masochist traits. Look, look at those marks ♡ how many times have you whipped the fuck out of them? It'll help burning down some of the fat they had.

[pirateprincessblog]

Cry For Me 》 P. Seonghwa

I make these to help you visualise! But you are free to imagine whatever you like :)

NEW! Read the ongoing full version on Wattpad!

����𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔:

One

Two

Three (in progress...)

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: you promised your friend. you asked for forgiveness and gave a promise that you wouldn't even look her father's way. it isn't your fault that you suck at keeping promises. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: psh x reader x khj 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.5k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: best friend's father seonghwa, seonghwa's business partner hongjoong, smut, angst, bits of fluff 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, nsfw scenes, unprotected sex, voyeurism, dacryphilia 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: had to include both of my biases :D

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

༻♡༺

The pastry shop was flooded with people. It was Monday, which meant new specials were added to the menu. Your special Butcher of Blaviken piece of cake was long forgotten. You didn't even get a chance to taste the inviting red frosting. Oh, to be in the Witcher world now instead of being lectured by your friend. Henry Cavill would understand.

"You didn't think about it affecting us? You didn't fear about losing me as you did it?"

You're numb to the words. Her father fucked the thoughts out of you and you couldn't seem to feel any guilt in you. Yet, you didn't want to lose her. She was the only one who could keep up with your mood swings and random obsessions with movies and books that come and go. She was the only one that returned the energy you'd give her.

"Damn it, answer me! What the fuck were you thinking? How the fuck did you even manage to do it? He doesn't fuck anyone since mom left!"

People are staring, those sitting getting their chairs closer. Your friend is giving them a free show and they're willing to take it.

"I swear to God-"

"I wasn't thinking." You say, looking directly into her eyes.

"What?"

"I was not," you get closer, making sure not to break eye contact, "thinking."

"How the fuck did it happen? How did you convince him?"

The amount of the word fuck would even impress Geralt- well, you get it. I have an obsession with Henry Cavill. Little fourth wall break here. Okay, let's continue. No more, I promise.

Your calmness is angering her even more. She doesn't seem to understand how unaffected by all of this you are. You don't feel guilt simply because Mr Park agreed to all of it. In fact, you had already given up on your plan. He came to you and started it all over again.

"I was snooping around his library and he came, we hit it off and that's all you need to know."

"He came to you?" She laughs in disbelief.

"He came to the library, not me."

Frustrated, she groans and drops her head on the table. You glance at the cake, the chocolate Wolven sword on top of it as inviting as Mr Park in his unbuttoned shirt.

"Listen, I cannot undo what happened. Truthfully speaking, I wouldn't even if I could."

The girl raises her head, her angered look changing into the one of disappointment. You try putting yourself into her situation. You'd feel hurt, sure. But as long as it is a one-time thing, you're sure you'd get over it. It's not like Mr Park will declare his love to you and make you his new wife and her step mother. And that's what you tell her, causing her to calm down a bit.

"Didn't you make similar comments about Wren's dad? That you'd give him anything he'd ask for, if only he approached you?"

She seems offended that you remembered and mentioned that. Still, she remains calm. Her eyes are fixed behind you, concentrating on the moving line of people that are no longer interested in your conversation.

"It was just a one-time thing. It won't happen-"

"I miss mom."

And just like that, she breaks down. Your heart shatters when the first tear rolls down her cheek. After all, she is still her dad's little girl. And no matter what Mrs Park did, she was still her mother.

"Hey-"

"Just let me do what I need to do." She says, her voice trembling as words left her mouth. "I just need to let it out."

"You sure you want to do that here?" You ask, careful not to make her angry again.

She sits silent for a few moments. Her eyes are fixed on the traffic outside, a tear rolling down her cheeks every other moment. You've never seen her so helpless and vulnerable. She is always collected, calm, and usually the one to cheer people up. Now, when it's your turn, you don't know what to do.

"I could do it in a dressing room at Zara." She laughs, then sniffs. "Want to join me?"

And just how can you say no to her?

It is noon when you enter her house. Both of you are drowning in various bags full of clothes. She is an entirely different person than she was this morning. As if it didn't happen at all. You're watching her as she skillfully carries all her bags up the stairs and into her room. You almost trip and fall multiple times, yet you are determined to get there on your own, without any help. She laughs at you from the top of the stairs, then announces that she is going to take a shower.

You balance the bags in your hands, eyes glued to the marble stairs which shined brighter than diamonds under the expensive chandelier. Once you reach the top of the stairs, you put the items on the floor so you can correct your posture and crack your back. You hear a thump, then shuffling. With horror, you watch as two bags start rolling down the stairs. All of its contents are spilling on the way down, and all you can do is watch and hope they'll stop at some point.

But when they do, they stop in front of a pair of polished black shoes. Your eyes stay fixed on the Victoria's Secret pink bag, somehow hoping that if you're not looking at him, he will disappear. Pale slender fingers come into sight, the pointer finger hooked under the handle of the bag. Your eyes follow as he raises it to his head level.

"I think you might've dropped something." He speaks first.

You're not sure what to say. Or do. So you continue to stand like a deer on a highway, your feet refusing to move. Since you're already staring, you take a few more moments to admire the changes on him. His hair is darker than the last time, and not as fluffy. His lips have a red tint, and you notice a slight shadow at the corners of his eyes. He is wearing a black turtleneck, paired with perfectly ironed pants and a belt. He is effortlessly perfect.

He chuckles, then bends over to pick up the items laying on the white tiles. Your legs and brain finally make a signal, and you are running down to yank the items away from him. Your movements are rushed and clumsy, and all the clothes are landing outside the bag instead of inside it. From the corner of your eyes, you realise that he has stopped helping. Instead, he is standing again, his attention now on something else.

You wish the ground could swallow you. A piece of fabric lays on his delicate fingers, thumb caressing the lace as a smirk forms on his tinted lips. He is holding your newest holiday edition lingerie set. It is as red as your cheeks right now, and if you didn't look away, you're sure your head would've exploded from embarrassment.

"Good deal on the set?"

You're not sure if he is trying to lighten the obviously awkward situation, or if he is making fun of you. After all, he is standing there, dripping in designer clothes and looking classier than you. Yet you're standing there, dripping in clumsy and tacky.

"I would never buy something so ugly for a full price." You manage to mumble, then reach for the fabric.

"Ugly? I don't think it's ugly." He pulls his hand away, "It's very... Well, it screams Christmas. And only ten dollars for a full set?"

Unable to read his expression and tone, you stay frozen. You feel so small in front of him. The tone is tugging towards mockery more than towards harmless joking, and you're not feeling comfortable. Tears start to form in the corners of your eyes, your lip slightly trembling. You're a mess, standing in your scattered lingerie and paper bags, in front of your friend's hot father who isn't making you feel as good as last time you saw him.

"Can I please have my things back?" You manage to ask, voice cracking at the end.

His smile drops. The man takes a few moments to examine your body language, and once he realises what he has done, he puts the items in the bags. He takes his time to pick them up one by one, not once looking up at you.

Your sniffles echo through the room, and you're trying your best not to let the tears smear this little makeup you have left on your face. You still have to look a bit decent. Park Seonghwa is now holding the bags in front of you, patiently waiting for you to take them. You carefully soak in the tears with the sleeve of your top. Your eyes avoid his as you reach out to take your belongings. The slight brush of his cold fingers against yours has your stomach going on a rollercoaster. You remember how they felt against your lips as he touched you. You manage to look into his eyes, this time not looking away immediately. You wish to repeat the guilty pleasure. The way he looks down at you makes you want to drop on your knees and give him just what he deserves.

"That look is going to get us both into trouble again, kitten." He whispers.

Still focused on trying not to cry, you don't realise that you are pouting and looking at him through wet eyelashes. He gulps, then glances behind you. He then steps towards you, until you can feel his comforting warm breath on your face.

"That smeared mascara is giving me deja vu."

You immediately remember what he is referring to.

"Will you let me smear that pretty makeup of yours?"

So he gets off to smeared makeup. Ironic, since he always looks so neat and fresh. Not only him, but every area around him too. Your breath hitches as he brings his hand to your cheek, thumb ever so lightly grazing the skin where your tear had started the journey. He wipes it, then brings it over to his mouth. He closes his lips around the thumb, and you see his tongue peeking out a bit to lick the salty liquid off the tip. You are too taken aback by his action, and now you are the one to get a deja vu.

You stood like this in front of him the last time too, only this time, his fingers aren't in your mouth, but in his.

Maybe you spoke to soon, maybe he could read minds. You didn't know. You could only watch as he brings his thumb to caress your bottom lip, as if asking permission for entrance. You grant it to him, ready to give him anything he asks for.

Your core throbs at the way he sensualy massages your tongue with the finger. You allow yourself to get confident, swirling your tongue around it. He lets out a groan, tongue peeking out to wet his lips.

"Don't give me that look, kitten. We can't."

You pull away from his hand, a string of saliva connecting your body parts making both of you feel dazed.

"Then stop fingerfucking my mouth, Sir." You say as politely as you can, tone low with lust.

Before you know it, Mr Park has you slammed against the wall, hands pressed firmly on your waist. You whimper when your back collides with the cold wall, but his actions are quick to distract you. His knee parts your legs, rising a little so that it makes contact with your crotch. You let out a sigh into his mouth, ready to give yourself to him. His fingers press into your cheeks, cupping your jaw so that you can't avoid his gaze. He is looking at you so intensely that you could cum right there on his thigh and knee. The smell of sandalwood and jasmine coming from his neck and chest area is not helping at all. It is inviting, and you don't want to be rude and decline an invitation.

"As much as I'd love nothing more than to fill you up with my cock against this wall right now, until you're staining my wall with your arousal, I'm going to need you to stay away from me."

The tower of fantasies you've slowly started to build suddenly crumbled down under his words. Emotions are erupting inside of you, lust and disappointment merging into each other and creating frustration and sadness. You are sexually frustrated, and this man has done nothing but worsen the situation.

"You'll leave me like this, Mr Park?"

He looks down on your lips, eyebrows furrowed as if thinking about which wire to cut.

Red — the powerful lust growing inside of him. The desire to have you crying under his touch from immense pleasure. The urge to abuse your clit with his tongue until he has you shaking in his arms.

Blue — the fragile relationship with his daughter. He just won her back, and making a fatal mistake like this could mean losing her forever.

Green — harmless flirting and teasing. Messing around and seeing you blush is something he just might get used to.

Park Seonghwa was also very sexually frustrated. But he was also a man with a reputation and half a family. He cannot bring himself to ruin either of the two.

"I want you on your best behaviour, kitten."

You look at him through your lashes again, this time on purpose. His fingers then pull at your hair, exposing your neck to him and causing you to whimper. He looks down at you, and you see yourself in his dilated pupils, drowning in the dark pools of lust.

"I mean it." He says, lips grazing your jaw as he speaks. "Be good for me."

And with that, he steps away from you, giving you one last head to toe checkup. He then turns around and makes his way to the library, leaving you flushed and a mess against the wall. You watch his back as he walks, noticing how huge his shoulders are and how slim his waist is. The things you'd do just to bite into any of those things. If you only had the courage and confidence to seduce him. You can only watch from afar, wishing that he would drop his guard and come to you.

It feels like that evening all over again; him making you yearn for him, then leaving you and disappearing into his space. The promises you gave to your friend are pushed back, and your brain has opened the path doe the thoughts you shouldn't be having. Yet, it's not breaking a promise if he is the one to come to you, is it?

You pick up the bags, this time not letting go of them until you've reached the room. You drop on the bed, face buried into the softest blankets you've ever touched in your life. Your clit is almost pulsating and burning from being all worked up. Touching yourself won't help. It's not the same. You've gotten a taste once, you'll never be able to do it the old way. Park Seonghwa is the only one who can help.

How dare he get so close to you, get you all worked up like that, then tell you to stay away? What kind of sick teasing and torture kinks is he into? Whatever it is, you have already fallen into his trap. You crave him, your body yearns to be touched by his fingers again. Every place on your body he touched on the stairs burns with sensation. You can only let out a frustrated groan before getting up and fixing your hair.

Your eyes examine the abnormally red cheeks and smeared mascara. You looked like you were fucked senseless, not just cornered by your friend's hot father. Although you wish he did the first.

"Professor Gellert gave me this stupid project that needs to be done by tomorrow. I don't know how the fuck I'm supposed to— damn. Are you okay?"

The girl comes in while drying her hair with a towel, eyebrows scrunched with worry as she looks at your reflection in the mirror. Your back is turned towards her, and you're having a hard time looking into her eyes. How can you, when in your mind you're picturing Mr Park forcing your head onto his cock as tears run down your cheeks, just how he likes it?

"Are you sick?"

"The stairs killed me." You laugh it off, pointing at the bags.

"Oh, right." She brushes it off, then throws the wet towel into the basket near the bed. "Do you have a dress for the college celebration next week?"

"I'm not going." You say, remembering how many familiar people will show up.

"Why not?"

"I'm going to have a stomachache then."

You don't even have to look up to know that she is killing you with her stare. Both of you know that you will end up going, you just choose to throw a little tantrum before giving in.

"Your dance partner is so excited for you though."

"I forgot whose name I even pulled. Mind reminding me?"

To avoid having people without a pair, all people were supposed to pull out names. You know you weren't too thrilled about it, but you still can't remember who it was.

"Avan? No, he is with Vic. Oh, Joseph!"

"The Catholic boy?" You ask, now realising why you were so unimpressed.

"No, no, the hot Catholic boy. His hair grew since last summer and his teeth are like, super straight and white. He became the hottest thing to ever walk at that college."

A sigh leaves your lips at the realisation that more money will be reduced from your bank account. You can't go looking basic nor weird. People there aren't the nicest little dandelions, and you are very fragile when it comes to real life. You will need a proper dress, proper heels and equally good makeup. Luckily, you know just the person who will help.

Hours of goofing around, working on the project, and a warning to quiet down from Mr Park due to his business video chat, both of you are asleep. You'd lie if you were to say his stern voice didn't do things to you. He was so good at giving orders, and you are willing to take all of them. Both of you were in your matching satin sleeping dresses, laying on your stomach and watching funny moments of your favorite groups, laughing your heads off and making weird noises on purpose. It was a competition, each of you making a weirder and louder noise than the other. A few screams and laughing fits later, Mr Park Seonghwa knocked on the door. He came in calmly, eyeing up both of you.

"Girls, I have an important meeting and I'm trying to win an opportunity to keep our lives the way they are and not lose everything. Yet, here you are, sounding as if I've kidnapped you and am boiling you alive."

Your smile drops, but your friend remains the same. This tells you that him coming in to intervenire happens more often than you'd think. His usually soft and sparkly eyes are now sharp and serious, his eyebrow raised and his tinted lips going slightly downwards. He is still wearing the turtleneck, only this time he has added a grey coat resting on his shoulders.

"Sorry, dad."

His eyes shift to you, and silence swallows the room. You are taken aback by the intense gaze, and your friend nudges you with her elbow.

"S-sorry, da- Mr Park." You stutter, and your face heats up as soon as you finish the sentence. You wish to crawl out the window and disappear in the bushes. Maybe even cry yourself to sleep there.

Your mission is to seduce him, yet how can you succeed when all you do is embarrass yourself in front of him? He must've lost interest. You are convinced that he is your fantasy come to life, and you simply can't let go. You don't want to let go. Not until you get at least one more taste.

To your surprise, he only hums, then exits the room. You hear his footsteps in the distance, then a door being shut louder than usual.

"He's a real dick sometimes."

In the morning, you are awoken by your friend's raspy voice asking for period cramp pills. It takes you a few moments to adjust your eyes to the morning light.

"Where are they?" You mumble, mouth full of toothpaste.

"Your favorite place in this house." She laughs.

You peek outside the little bathroom to ask why she is laughing and what does she mean by that.

"Dad's office."

You roll your eyes, then return to brushing your teeth. Once you make sure to pick on your skin a little, then put on foundation so that your friend doesn't give you a lesson about it, you head outside.

"You'll see a few drawers below his fantasy section. There's all kinds of pills, just bring me the ones we usually use in these days of suffering."

As you approach the room of your favorite memories and dirty pleasures, you hear his voice coming from inside. It sounds lower than usual, and he sounds very professional. He is saying words even you've never heard of. In conclusion, he even talks expensive and sexy.

"Hongjoong, my marketing team is suffering because they took the most important elements from them. Half of the team quit when they heard who is trying to get involved."

You don't want to interrupt, but if you don't get those pills, you're going to be the first victim of the Hormonal Queen Park. You knock lightly, then slowly open the door.

You swear that if your toes didn't hit the wooden door frame as you tried going inside, you'd let out a moan. Mr Park is sitting in his usual chair, wearing a white shirt. It is halfway unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. You see a thin gold chain decorating his sun kissed skin on his neck. His lips are reddish as usual, and his hair isn't as neat as it was yesterday. His jaw rests in his hand, while his other hand is scribbling something on the papers at the corner of his desk.

He doesn't speak. Instead, he raises an eyebrow towards you. You point towards the drawer, then try showing him that you're looking for pills with your hands. He scoffs, then returns to his conversation. Still sleepy, you forget that you are still only wearing the satin lavender dress. It is when the morning cold breeze hits your legs that you realise. You're already here, there's no point in being embarrassed anymore.

Your eyes read the signs at the top of the bookcase. Adult fiction, Criminal, Erotica, Fiction, Horror... and Fantasy! Right behind his back.

Fuck.

Having no other choice, you get down on all four, and start crawling towards the drawers. Mr Park hasn't yet noticed your little mission. He is too frustrated with his ongoing problem to notice a half naked girl crawling on his office floor. You cheer inside your head as you successfully reach the drawers. You pull at the handle, but it doesn't budge.

"You've gotta be kidding me." You sigh, trying with all your strength. The drawer stays closed, and you're already ready to go home.

The only thing left to do is ask Mr Park, but you wouldn't dare to interrupt. Instead, you crawl to his side, careful not to be seen on camera. You're sitting near his leg, looking up at him while figuring out how to ask. You opt for the quietest solution, and you'll see where it gets you. With a quiet gulp and a sigh, you finally reach out towards him. Instead of quietly calling him like you intended, you gently poke his leg under the desk.

The man looks down, eyebrows scrunched with confusion. He almost chokes on his saliva when he sees you, then redirects his attention at the screen.

"Mr Park," you whisper.

"Hongjoong, I'm gonna have to pause the video for a second."

"That's fine, I'll just go through the mails one more time."

You hear a click, then silence. Mr Park grabs your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. You look like a treat, waiting to be picked up and consumed by him. The way your knees have a slight red tint have his mind racing with thoughts.

"Are you crazy?" His tone is calm and low. The grip on your jaw is firm, his fingers pressing into your cheeks and forcing your lips into a pout.

He can't get over how big your pupils have gotten, and how well he can see your cleavage from that position. The sight of your breasts squished together by the shiny satin fabric combined with your pouty stare from the bottom aren't helping his situation at all. How can he hold back when you're sitting there like a present, waiting to be unwrapped and enjoyed? He had countless comparisons, and hundreds of ways he could take care of you. If only he could.

"I just need some pills," you whisper, too mesmerised by his intense gaze to speak in normal voice.

"So you decide to crawl under my desk to ask for it?"

"I'm not—"

"Right, still nothing. I guess we really lost the proof."

The voice is coming from the screen again. A flash of disappointment crosses Park Seonghwa's face. Still, he leans back into his chair, hand still holding your jaw. His grip softens, and he proceeds to caress your cheek with his thumb. The simple action makes you almost purr. You don't remember the last time you got this kind of affection.

With your eyes closed, your body relaxes into his touch. Nothing exists anymore, except Mr Park, his scent and touch. You allow yourself a few moments of silence. The men's voices are becoming distant, and you swear that you could fall asleep just like this. You feel the slight roughness of his fingers, a sign that he aged like fine wine. You remember your father's hands being all rough and dark due to working hard jobs all these years. Seonghwa must've inherited family business. Or he knows how to take care of himself.

You look up at him, chin now resting on his knee. You aren't sure if you want to climb into his lap and take in all the affection he is willing to give you, or get down further under the desk and make him squirm in your hands. Deciding to test the waters, you drag your fingers up his leg, resting them just near his crotch. Mr Park wets his lips, glancing at you for a second. When you see no signs of complaining, you move over so that you're sitting comfortably between his legs. Your hands continue the journey to his belt, excitement rushing through your veins and into your heart as you feel the cold leather underneath your fingertips. You take your time to play with the buckle, just like you read in one of your favorite books.

Just like the man on the worn out pages of your book, Park Seonghwa gulps when you pull the zipper down, just enough to graze him with your nails. You're overflowing with confidence, and you're a little impatient too. But you want to take your time to take care of him. Make him yearn for you just like he did to you. As quietly as possible, you undo his pants, and are delighted when you find out he is wearing no underwear. You reach inside with your tongue, just enough to touch him and make him adjust in his chair.

"You good?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

Mr Park moves your hands, then pulls his cock out for you. One of his hands is holding onto your hair, gently pushing your head towards it. You don't have time to admire the size or all the little details you wanted. Your lips are pressing against his tip, the taste of precum sweet and salty at the same time.

He is impatient, and in desperate need to feel your hot mouth around him. You obey, finally taking him in and making sure to press your tongue flat against him. Unable to control it, he releases a groan.

"Hwa, you sure you're good?"

"I'm good, I just —" he pauses, looking down at you. How does he tell his business partner and best friend that his daughter's friend looks too good with her mouth stuffed like that? With her tits almost falling out and her pupils so big he just wants to slam his cock into her pussy and fuck her into oblivion?

"Just...? If you're not feeling good, we can continue later. I get this must be very hard for you, but —"

Just when you think you've won, Mr Park shakes his head. "No, no. That's fine. Remember how I told you my daughter wanted a kitten? Well, she's not letting me work in peace."

"Oh, that's adorable. Give her a few pets from me."

Park Seonghwa smirks, then looks down at you. His fingers caress your cheeks, and you melt at the touch. It is a motivation to take him in all the way, slamming the tip against the back of your throat.

"She's a very naughty kitten. I can't seem to get rid of her."

"See, no matter what they do, I'll never be a dog person. I love them so much. Just the sight of one makes me feel all fuzzy."

"Oh, just wait until you see this one."

You freeze in your spot. Seonghwa pulls your head away with a loud pop, and shoves his desk away to expose you. His thumb wipes your drool and his precum from your lips, then proceeds to pull you into his lap so that you're facing the screen. The man on the screen is as frozen as you, and as handsome and Mr Park. His gaze drops on your now exposed breasts, and you see his chest slowing down as he tries to breath normally again.

"A unique one, isn't she?" Seonghwa speaks first, holding your head in place by pulling your hair. You're forced to look at the man, and instead of feeling ashamed, you are only feeling more worked up. "I've never been a cat person, but this one is just so obedient I might actually keep her."

"Well, fuck me. That is one hell of a kitten."

"Come on, love. Why don't we show Hongjoong all the tricks I have taught you?"

You aren't sure what he means, until he lays you on his chest and spreads your legs. Your panties are so drenched, they're almost see through. The man on the screen is devouring you with his stare. Something about both of their gazes and confidence has lit a fire inside of you that cannot be put out. In the corner of the screen, you see your exposed and messy figure spread out on Mr Park's lap, and it only adds up to the atmosphere you are so enjoying.

"Actually, since Hongjoong has more experience with cats, how about he shows us how to perform a some tricks?"

You know he isn't asking, just giving you a trailer of what awaits you. A chuckle comes from the screen, and the man flashes his pearly white teeth at you through a smirk.

"First, you might want to tie her up. You don't want her running away, do you?"

Without hesitation, the man yanks his belt from his pants, and secures it around neck. You are having a hard time breathing. Not because of the belt, but because of the overwhelming feelings mixing inside of you. You've never been manhandled like this, and you are afraid that you might get too used to the feeling of Park Seonghwa doing this to you.

"You still have that wand?"

"Sure do."

Confusion takes over your features, and you can't help but wonder why Hongjoong knew that. Do they do this often? If so, are you just another toy Mr Park is going to play with and leave?

"Relax, kitten." Mr Park seems to notice your sudden discomfort. "Spread your legs for me."

And just like that night, your legs are over the armrests, the wand dangerously close to your clit.

"Having a good view, Kim?"

"A gorgeous one, Park."

Mr Kim leans back on his chair, hands working on his belt but not yet doing anything. It seems he enjoys watching more than doing anything. A sweet vibrating sensation spreads all over your folds, and you cannot help but buck your hips into the toy.

"Make your screen bigger, Seonghwa. So that she can see just how pretty she looks."

The man doesn't pull the gadget away as he changes the screen size, making Hongjoong's the one in the corner and yours taking over the screen. Now you can clearly see yourself; spread on Mr Park's lap, his chin resting on your shoulder, dark eyes looking at you through the camera. His ringed fingers are skillfully moving the toy up and down your clit, while his other hand holds onto the belt, lightly choking you.

"Doesn't moan easily, huh? Try circles."

Mr Park listens, circling the swollen bud with consistent vibrations. You feel like you're going to cum any second, and you don't want to do that so soon.

"Feel good?"

"Yes," you breathe out, holding onto the fabric of his pants as you try your best not to go over the edge.

"Then let us hear it, doll."

No matter how good it felt, it wasn't enough to draw moans from you. "You have to try better than that, then."

A scoff leaves his tinted lips. He brings them close to your neck, just enough to lick a stripe up to your jaw.

"Use your other hand, too."

Mr Kim is so skilled with giving orders. And Mr Park is so good at listening to him. His fingers, which are the prettiest ones you've ever seen in your life, move your panties aside just to slowly thrust between your walls. He explores, wiggling his two fingers inside until he curls them up. With the elbow of the hand which holds the toy, he presses into your lower stomach, making the feeling more intense than ever. He starts pumping into you slow, matching the rhythm of the vibrations.

"I've never seen such an obedient kitten. Look how good she is doing."

"Indeed, she is doing so well. Now, if she could orgasm on my fingers, she would be the best."

"Ngh—" you groan, chasing the orgasm just like he asked you to. You know you can't handle two, but you're willing to try for him. Well, them.

"Come on, pretty girl."

"S-sir—" you cry out, ready to spill over, "I can't—"

"Can't what?" He slows down, moving the wand away for a moment. You take a few seconds to catch your breath. You feel all wet and sticky, but look hotter than ever. You're still unused by him, yet you looked like he has ravished you twice today.

"If I cum now, it'll be too much." You admit, pupils big as you look at him. "I want to cum when you fuck me."

"Spoke too soon about obedience, huh?"

The wicked smirk on the screen lets you know that they won't let you off so easily. Mr Park then slams his lips onto yours, sucking and licking at the plump flesh of your bottom lip as he brings the wand back to your clit. You shake in his lap, feeling a tad bit overstimulated. His other hand holds your thighs separated, but you still try to close them. The warm muscle of his tongue massages yours, and for a moment, you forget about Mr Kim. You forget about your best friend. You wish to wake up like this every day, admired, praised and consumed by him. Your hands reach into his hair, grabbing at the fluffy strands and anything else they can reach.

"That's so fucking hot. I didn't know how sexy you make out, Hwa."

Park Seonghwa smiles into the kiss, and in that moment, you wished to experience it every day. You wished this wasn't just messing around with your friend's dad. Your feelings for him are growing, and you know them well it's forbidden. But how to tell a heart no?

"You're welcome to come over and try these days," he winks at the screen, then shifts his attention back to you. "And just what do we do with you now? Do I make you cum and stop the fun?"

His thumb caresses your flushed cheek. You have a hard time forming a sentence, and all you can do is breathe into his mouth and look at him. His tongue peeks to wet his lips, doing the same to yours in the process.

"You'd rather shamelessly drip all over my pants like this? You just want my daughter to find out?"

Come to think of it, it's weird that she didn't notice your absence. Maybe she gave up. Maybe she went back to sleep. Whatever it is, you've made it clear to her that this is nothing more than just messing around. No romance involved. Even though your heart feels tight at the last sentence, you pretend like it's nothing. All those things you've thought about while touching yourself late at night are coming to life, and you won't try to stop that in any way.

"Mr Park?"

He hums, fingers fixing your hair and eyes scanning your face with adoration. "Yes, pretty girl?"

"Please fuck me."

"When you ask so nicely, how can I say no?" He says with a chuckle, then glances at the screen.

Mr Kim is sat still, looking at everything unfolding in front of him as if he's watching a movie. Or a porn video. His attention is fixed on your breasts, and you allow yourself another moment of confidence. You cup them, rubbing your nipples and squeezing the soft flesh while throwing your head back.

Mr Kim clicks his tongue, then gets closer to the screen. He rests his elbows on the desk, and his head on his hands. "Hwa, give her a little treat from me."

The older man doesn't waste a single second before licking a stripe over your breast. He wraps his lips around your bud of nerves, then proceeds to work his tongue around it. You're squirming in his lap, accidentally stroking him while doing so. He hums into you, the vibrations making you let out the first moan.

"There it is."

You feel so close, but you're too far. Your body is limp, and he hasn't even had you the way he promised yet. As if he could hear your thoughts, Mr Park hooks his fingers under your panties. He grazes over your clit, then pulls the panties down your legs.

"Let's pull a real trick now, kitten."

The man adjusts your body on his lap with ease, and you're too mesmerised by his strength to notice that his cock is at your entrance. It is when he lightly slaps your clit and pulls the belt on your neck that you give him attention.

"Eyes on Hongjoong."

You try to protest, but he grabs your jaw and inserts a finger into your mouth. Your head is now stuck in one position, and you can't avoid Mr Kim's gaze. He has a wicked grin on his face again, and just when you're about to make a stupid remark, Park Seonghwa slowly lifts his hips to enter you. He deliciously fills you up, leaving no space at all. His hot skin is grazing your walls just right, but not yet hitting the spot you need the most.

"Fuck—" he hisses, keeping the slow motions going.

You glance at the corner of the screen, seeing Mr Kim now palming himself through his pants. "You've gotta tell me where you buy these kittens, man."

The man behind you laughs between the moans, but doesn't say anything. He enjoys it as much as you, and isn't bothered to keep any conversations or teasing going. At least you hope so.

He lifts your body up, then moves his hips upwards so that he can move faster. Watching yourself get fucked on the screen by a man your dad's age, while another one watches wasn't quite in your fantasy list. But fuck, you're so happy that it's happening. Your eyes follow Mr Park's cock as it smoothly disappears inside of you, causing you to whine and moan in his arms.

"Think you've teased her enough?"

"Just a bit more." The man whispers, head falling back on the chair and his moves getting sloppy. "Fuck, love, you're gonna make me cum so quick."

You feel like you're dripping all over the place. His cock is soaking up your juices, making wet noises in the process. That, along with his skin hitting yours as he reaches the deepest ends of you, is what will keep you fueled for months. You glance at him through the screen, and you almost cream right there on his cock. Something about fucking in clothes is a huge turn on for you, and seeing Park Seonghwa sprawled out on his chair, with his unbuttoned white shirt and pretty gold jewellery, with his head resting back and eyes rolling from pleasure, with his fingers digging into your skin and hair sticking to his forehead, makes your head spin. You wish to take a picture, and look at it every night just to admire him. His sun kissed chest is exposed more than when you entered the room, and you wish to mark him up so bad. Hopefully, next time.

His hips are going at a slow pace, but deeper than last time. He reaches to all the places inside of you, stroking them all just right. He lifts your body, just to slam it down on his cock and hit your most sensitive spot. A loud moan is halfway out your lips, but he is quick to pull the belt to keep you quiet. He repeats the movements, this time faster and harder.

"Oh, baby," he almost growls under his breath, "making daddy feel so good."

Then, as if something has snapped inside of him, he pushes the chair back and lets it fall back with a thud. His hands push your body down onto the desk, and he grabs your waist like his life depends on it. He adjusts the camera so that Mr Kim can get a clear view of your drooling and flushed face, along with Mr Park's lower body continuously slamming into you. You feel so sensitive, and you haven't orgasmed once yet. Tears form at the corners of your eyes, and you let them fall. You're not sure if you're crying from pleasure or pain, but you didn't want either to stop.

And Park Seonghwa fucking adored it. He adored your face decorated with tears as he took you from behind, forcing you to watch yourself on camera while another stranger is watching you.

"Wish you could see how well you're taking me." He groans. "So fucking good for me."

"Is she taking it like a good girl, Hwa?"

"Oh, she's doing such a good job. Aren't you, love?" He says with a smirk, knowing that you're incapable of speaking.

Your eyes roll back, and you feel like you're going to evaporate. His consistent thrusts are helping you build up the orgasm, and you just know that you're going to cum harder than ever.

"You're fucking her dumb."

"I know. Look at her." Mr Park pulls the belt so that you can lift your head from the desk. Your lips are dry, and you can barely see anymore. Everything is blurry, and you feel nothing but endless pleasure. "Loves being thrown around and used until she cries. Don't you?"

You manage to nod, but quickly go back to moaning and almost drooling all over his desk and keyboard. His hand sneaks towards your clit, toying with it in circles until he has you screaming and almost growling. He is abusing all the sensitive buds on your body he can reach, from you G spot and your clit, to both of your nipples.

"Talk to her, Hwa. Make her speak even though she obviously can't. Make her cry and beg for you."

"Hear that, pretty one? Talk to me. Tell me, who does this pussy belong to?"

You want to kill Mr Kim for giving him the idea of making you talk. All you want to do is cum already. All this teasing is doing you no good. It's becoming addictive, and you just know this won't be the last time.

"Y-you, Sir." You choke out, body still rocking into his.

"Will you take all of my seed like a good girl you are?"

"Fuck, yes, yes, yes—"

"Will you fuck yourself on my cock until you've creamed all over it?"

"Yes, oh fuck, yes—" you groan, moving your hips back so you can fuck yourself on his cock just like he asked you to.

You look at his figure through the screen. His gaze is fixed on the way your tight walls are swallowing him up, and he seems completely mesmerised by it. You use him as you'd use one of those dildos you have saved on a Web shop, milking him just right. His moans are low and the hottest thing you've ever heard in your life. With each minute that passes, his voice becomes lower and much more of a whisper.

His eyes search for yours, and once you lock your gaze with his, you don't let go. You let him fuck you into the desk, with a whole stranger watching. Tears roll down your face, pleasure too intense to take. You groan, moan and whine at each thrust, trying your best to chase your orgasm.

Seeing that you're struggling, he picks you up, only to throw you against the bookshelf. He lifts your leg up, almost resting it on his shoulder. The new angle has you reaching new notes, and he has to stick his fingers into your mouth to keep your noises muffled.

"How cute. Fucking her against the Erotica section."

The shelves shake as Park Seonghwa slams into you, each thrust abusing your G spot so good that you're drooling around his fingers.

"Come on, kitten. Cum on daddy's cock. Milk me dry."

You moan around his fingers, and he takes that as a signal that you're close. He replaces the fingers with his lips, tongue searching for yours only to caress it in the most sensual way ever.

"You close, baby?"

"Yes, yes, yes—"

"Come on, just a bit more. Almost there—"

"Fuck, oh fuck, yes—" Your head falls on his shoulder, hands holding onto them for dear life.

"I'm cumming, love, I'm gonna—" his breathing is heavy, and his moans are now getting high pitched," fuck, oh God, baby—"

You squeeze around him, riding out your orgasm as he paints your walls with his seed. You're weak in his arms as he uses you until the end, making you milk him dry just like he asked. He thrusts into you a few more times, slower and more gentle than ever.

His fingers cup your jaw, lifting your head up so that he can look at you. He wipes your tears with his thumb, then inserts it into his mouth. You can't help but laugh at his wicked kink. He isn't moving away from you. Instead, his lips mold into yours softly. He caresses your cheek as he gently sucks on your lip, occasionally grazing it with his tongue.

"Ah, the aftercare. The best part, honestly."

Park Seonghwa smiles into the kiss for the second time that day, making your heart flutter. "Liar," he mumbles.

He pulls away for a moment, eyes searching your face for any sings of discomfort. When he sees none, he rewards you with another kiss, a kiss so light and comforting that for a second, you really thought he could want something more than just fooling around. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer towards you and deepening the kiss. You're mesmerised by the way he kisses. His scent is all over your body, and his tongue is taking care of yours in ways nobody ever knew.

This time you're the one to pull away, trying to catch some air. He rests his forehead on yours, his heavy breathing comforting on your face.

"I think I'm addicted to you."

You're taken aback by his statement. You're unable to move, or say anything. All you can do is watch as his face turns from calm and content to one of worry and fear.

"I'm sorry, I—"

"Only sexually?"

Now he is the one who is taken aback. He didn't quite think about it. Sure, he can't wait to see you. He always checks if you're coming in the house with his daughter. He loves seeing you in your bubble when you eat or speak about your newest fandom.

Ah, shit.

"Let's start differently."

You raise an eyebrow in amusement. The man licks his lips, then sighs. "How does dinner this Saturday sound?"

A laugh escapes your lips, and he follows right after. It takes you a moment to collect yourself, then finally speak.

"That's quite formal for someone who is still balls deep inside of me."

A moan of surprise leaves your body as he thrusts into you, more teasingly than sexually. He then proceeds to pull out, making his seed drip down your legs and onto the carpet.

"Want me to try again now?"

"Not necessary," you finally put your leg down from his shoulder, muscles sore from the new position, "I accept the invitation, Mr Park."

He hums, not bothering to correct your addressing. You were hoping you'd get to call him by his first name. Maybe it's too early. Still, it doesn't stop you from constantly thinking about it.

Seonghwa.

How pretty.

♡

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬:

@scardorosht @kitty4hwa @seokjins-condoms  @variety-is-the-joy-of-life  @rkivesofmymemories @ateezzseonghwaa @bangmechann  @dandelion-aj  @rialovesyunho  @ryleleee  @anoooon13

[supergirl000983]

Going Home

Travis Wheatley x Dutton!Reader

Warning: Smut, Language,

Note: No one ever writes for Travis, so I decided I was going to. Also, he's not a whore in this. lol

The Middle Child

The Youngest Daughter

The Favorite Child

Y/N Dutton…well technically she had been Y/N Wheatley for 8 years now hell she was the only one outta her siblings that seemed to be popping out more than one kid. Then again that was more because even after being together for 15+ years her and Travis still couldn’t keep their hands off each other. That’s actually how they ended up in their position now with her bent over his office desk and him fucking her from behind. “With the bruises you will have on your hips I’m gonna owe you flowers.” Travis said as he leaned down kissing his wife’s neck. “Fuck flowers buy me a fucking horse and fuck me for the rest of our lives.” She said turning her head to give him better access. “God, I fucking love you” he said as he brought his hand around to rub circles on her clit after a few moments they both reached their climaxes. After a few minutes he pulled out and kissed his wife’s shoulder and popped her on the ass. “I’m almost positive that you are pregnant with baby #5 after that.” “Well considering we’ve been fucking like rabbits in heat I would hope so.” Y/N said after they were both dressed. Y/N turned and hugged her husband knowing she had to tell him the real reason she came in here. “We need to go back to my dad’s ranch for a little bit I’m not sure how long. I just know he called and said he needed all of us there for a little bit.” She said looking up at him with hopeful eyes. “Ok. We will leave in the morning I’ll have Rayden and Harlow help Stetson and Wren-Leigh pack. If you will go ahead and get our bags packed, I’ll get the SUV read and have Lucas follow behind us with the truck and horse trailer?” He said as he pulled her, so her head was on his chest. They stayed like that for a moment with him rubbing her back before there was a knock on the door then the voice of their oldest child Rayden who was 14 years old. “Mom Aunt Beth’s on the phone she said Uncle Jamie is in deep shit with the rest of the family.” Y/N walked over and opened the door to take the phone and reminding her child to watch his mouth. “Hello?” She asked “God, do you ever answer your fucking phone? I have called your mobile like 4-5 times.” Beth scolded her. Y/N felt bad as she looked over and saw her phone on Travis’s desk. “Sorry I was busy handling something.” “More like busy handling a certain horse trainer.” “What did you call for Bethy?” “Jamie is running for Governor of Montana, and I need my dear sweet sister’s help to take him down.” “We will be on the road first thing in the morning.” Y/N said before disconnecting her son’s phone then handing it back to him and sending him to go pack and help his younger siblings pack. “Holy shit. What the fuck is Jamie thinking. Like Governor? He wants to be governor now?” She said as she crawled into her husband’s lap on the couch of his office. “I don’t know darlin.” He said wrapping his arms around her and kissing her on the forehead before standing up with her and carrying her to their bedroom. Sitting her on the bed he started to pack for both of them. “Make sure you pack your green hoodie.” Y/N said as she walked to the bathroom to pack up their bathroom bags. After she got done packing the bathroom bag, she helped Travis finish packing. Then they parted ways with a kiss so he could go start loading bags in the car and she could walk through the house to finish helping the kids pack.

She came to a stop in front of her youngest's room where Harlow was helping Wren pack. "Why don't I finish packing Wren's bag and you take your stuff down to your daddy ok?" Y/N said as she walked up to her daughters. "Ok Mama." Harlow her 10-year-old daughter said as she grabbed her 4-H duffle bag, and walking out the door. "Mama are going to see Grandpa?" Wren her 5-year-old asked looking up at her. "Yeah, baby we are. Mama and Aunt Bethy have to take care of something for grandpa." She said looking down at her blonde headed child that she swore she could have had completely by herself. "Does that mean I get to see Uncle Rippy?" the small child asked as she grabbed her stuffed moose who she took with her everywhere. "Yes, baby that means you get to see Uncle Rippy, and Uncle Kayce, Aunt Monica, and Tate." "TATE?!" Wren screeched as she stopped in front of her dad that had just walked into her room to get whatever was left.

"Wren-Liegh Wheatley inside voice." Travis scolded as he grabbed her 4-h duffle from Y/N. "Sorry daddy I'm just really excited to see Tate." The small child looked a Travis with the same puppy dog eyes her mom uses. Travis gave his youngest a kiss on the head before sending her to go help her siblings feed their horses. "How do feel about leaving late tonight instead? Get there a lot earlier if we do." Travis asked his wife as he set the bag down and brought his hands to rest on her hips. "Yeah, that sounds good. I'll let Beth know we will be there earlier." She said leaning up to kiss her husband. As they kissed Travis's hands moved down to grab at her ass, but before it could get to heated, she pushed away a little keeping her hands on his chest. "We will definitely finish this later." She said as she fully pulled away and went to walk past him, but he was quicker, and his hand made contact with her ass. "Yes, we will." He said laughing following her out to the vehicle.

[hellishfig]

just finished listening to episode 34 of worlds beyond number, "something to remember you by," which is the end of arc 3 of the wizard, the witch, and the wild one, and i feel sick from how incredible it was. the physical reactions my body made to some of the words and music in this podcast really took me by surprise. i'm still reeling.

some thoughts:

i'm so happy that suvi is questioning the citadel, her reaction to silver's letter was inspired, and i LOVED her interactions with the quartermaster. she's so clever and intimidating (holy shit that was HOT), but i'm worried about what's happening to silver. i have an inkling that the witches may have already started making moves alongside the man in black, and i wonder how that will affect suvi going forward. and going to try and save silver before returning their "precious cargo" to the citadel... i hope suvi can keep questioning, and that whatever she faces, she doesn't let the justification machine run its course any longer.

eursulon meeting up with tefmet was really cool. i enjoyed the return of the strongest man in silbury immensely. it was extremely funny. and then, when eursulon asked to help and succeeded on his persuasion checks, it was solemnly touching. i love eursulon's power being in steadfast support and protection, and how to him, it's not about opposing the citadel in its entirety, it's about saving spirits, great and small, from those who would use them. and that's something he can do while still protecting his true friends.

ame let the chaos OUT this episode, and it was delightful and nerve wracking and thrilling to listen to. she's very bossy and it's so funny to hear how immediately eursulon goes along with it, despite not knowing what "it" is. growing up watching grandma wren, she seems to have gained a natural authority that makes people who love her listen to her when she asks them to perform innocuous menial tasks. but that's also interesting, because her chaos is focused, if imprecise. she knows what she needs to do and will do it, damn the consequences. as long as she can get away, who cares what she leaves in her wake? that's a problem for future ame.

they stole some brass knockers and a lion! they kidnapped nif to save her from being killed by indri! tof burned bright to free a vrock! suvi heads to war, eursulon and ame TO TOMA! (i almost cried when eursulon said those words and the music swelled. what the fuck, lou. what the FUCK taylor and jared. i'm not okay!!!)

and then of course, brockvale. holly hill. the resting place of sir curran of the hawthorn, who unknowingly sent eursulon on a quest that would lead him to our story. the man in black, the pilgrim under stars, the king of knight, the stranger, holds sir curran's shield. he comes to make an offer. will this poor old guard bid a weary traveler to step over this threshold?

this is why worlds beyond number feels so different to me from other dnd shows and podcasts. these artists have come together with the shared goal of not just playing a fun game that they all enjoy, but with the express aim of crafting a brilliant story. i love a goofy campaign full of shenanigans as much as the next person, but i adore how every choice in this show is given weight and meaning. there are no decisions made for laughs. it doesn't feel like playing a game. it feels like living in the story.

and there are also moments like the ending of this episode. a snapshot of elsewhere in the world, something the players don't know, but the audience gets to. it fills out the edges of the story and provides a richer tapestry of lore and reasoning behind the machinations of those who oppose our heroes. it gives life to the tale.

my heart is beating so fast. this show is incredible. thank you, @worldsbeyondpod , for the world you're creating.

[forwhump]

a/n; this one’s pretty fucked up :-; more rape & more murder but it’s a story about a sex slave & a weapon so that’s just kinda what you get ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ my bad !

tw/cw: rape, noncon, mutilation, dismemberment, decapitation, murder, grievous bodily harm, misgendering, transphobia, psychological torture, urine, gore, bodily fluids

living weapon whumpee, multiple whumpers, revenge, military

There has not been a time, since his creation, that Silas has been above ground.

Everything that’s been done to him, everything that he’s done, it’s happened hundreds of feet below the ground in the concrete labyrinth of the district. Every surgery, every slaughter, every field test.

Even the fuckin’ field tests. The field tests are training exercises, combat training, but they don’t trust Silas above ground to participate in them. They’re probably right not to. They’re smarter, sometimes, than Silas will ever give them credit for.

Within the labyrinth there are these arenas, these massive, open spaces made up to look like a world Silas has never seen. There’s a number of them, made to look like different practical terrain; forests and deserts and small villages and mountains and cities. It would be impossible for Silas to fathom if he ever had the time or the means to sit and try and fathom it. He’d almost think he left the district were it not for the concrete sky, hundreds of feet above his head.

He didn’t always mind the field tests. It was a chance to stretch his legs. The enemy was always played by military recruits, young and green. Silas isn’t sure if they know what they’re getting into when they enter the arena, if they are briefed on exactly what Silas is, but none of them ever walk out again. Their grieving families will bury a flag and a handful of teeth on Silas’ most generous day.

Barbarity is encouraged. Bloodshed is lauded. It’s always a slaughter, but it’s expected of him. It’s always been a good way to blow off some steam, even if he never walks away unscathed. He gets to use his hands.

But the rules had changed since they’d taken Wren from him.

The rules have been the same for every field test so far — kill or be killed. The recruits get weapons and machinery and supplies and dogs; Silas doesn’t even get a shirt. He gets a pair of prison grey joggers and his own two hands. Kill or be killed.

They didn’t tell him they’d added civilians.

He doesn’t realize that anything’s wrong for an entire three days. He soldiers through the rainforest arena and kills recruits with tooth and talon. When the lights get shut down for the third night, nighttime in the wilderness, Silas has become that thing the field tests always stoke to life in him; Silas isn’t human anymore. It slides under his skin, that feral, rabid thing, and it rips limbs from screaming bodies, it peels skin back with his teeth. When the lights get shut down for the third night, Silas’ hair is glued to his back and his throat with the thick layer of blood that crusts his skin. None of it is his own. Not a single recruit had gotten a single shot in yet. It was going exceptionally well. Silas should have been suspicious.

He should’ve fuckin’ known. He should’ve done better. He should’ve been faster. When he finally sees Wren again, his Wren, bathed in the flickering firelight of the enemy camp, all the human parts of him are reignited with a screaming rage and a sort of guilt that makes Silas feel heavy. He should’ve known something was wrong. He should’ve been here three days ago.

The surviving soldiers are set up around the fire, cocky and comfortable. Wren’s in the dirt at their feet.

Fuck, Silas had missed him. Silas had missed him in a big, impossible way, and he can’t even be happy to see him because Silas wishes more than anything that Wren was not here. Wren would be safer almost anywhere but here.

He’s dressed like a child and his hair is down, grimy and matted, pooling in the dirt around him. He’s face down, limp, and Silas has to blink red mist from his vision. Before he’s close enough to stop it, one of the soldiers stands, pulls his belt, and pisses in Wren’s hair.

Wren doesn’t move or moan or otherwise react in any way. He’s still limp — he’s so still, actually, almost unnaturally still, and Silas is — he can’t be too late, Wren can’t be —

Another soldier stands, some blond puke, and he turns Wren onto his side with his foot before he boots him in the stomach.

Weakly, Wren groans. Weakly, softly, but he groans. He isn’t dead.

Silas is gonna cause a fuckin’ bloodbath.

“Stop passing out on us,” the blond groans. “You got a long night ahead of you, girl.”

Wren doesn’t make another sound and the recruit kicks him again, so hard he’s forced onto his back. He groans softly.

A soldier with a shock of red hair spits in the dirt next to him as he stands. “I know how to wake her up.” His grin glints in the firelight and the blond laughs. He spits again as he takes a handful of Wren’s hair, coiling it around his fist, hauling him across the dirt and a safe distance away from the bonfire. He whistles back over his shoulder at the other recruits, watching him with varying degrees of obvious humour. “C’mere. Hold her open for me. Hold her down when she starts fighting and I’ll let you have a turn when I’m done.”

No.

How can this keep happening? How can this be somebody’s life?

There’s something casual, something genuinely amused in the way the recruits laugh between themselves as they splay their hands over Wren’s skin, as they hold his limp body into the dirt and he whimpers. The redhead tugs his belt free before he kneels between Wren’s legs, shoving the frilly hem of his little dress up and around his ribcage. He settles over him, his knuckles white against the purpling bruise of Wren’s skin. His answering groan is loud and low and satisfied.

Silas can hear when Wren regains consciousness because of how horribly and primally he screams.

All of the recruits laugh, but it’s the blond that coos, pleased, “there she is.”

When Silas breaks the tree line it’s his shadow that gives him away. One of the soldiers, holding one of Wren’s thighs, looks up, distracted, and the double take he does would be comical if Silas weren’t out for blood. He jumps to his feet, fumbles for his gun, green and unprepared. He cries, “what the fuck is that?”

Silas grins, but it isn’t nice.

The rest of the recruits look up in militant unison but react quickly with varying degrees of unrestrained horror. Almost every one of them scrambles to their feet and for their weapons. Except, of course, the redheaded puke knelt between Wren’s thighs. He stills, a picture of cruelty.

Silas cracks his knuckles.

Wren’s head lolls against the dirt and he finds Silas through the idiot cavalry. This’ll be easy; the recruits are always just as evil as the soldiers — a requirement of them, apparently — but they aren’t nearly as dangerous. They aren’t trained, polished, quick in the way the soldiers are, they aren’t used to Silas the same. This will be embarrassing for them.

Wren looks up at Silas with huge, wet eyes and the way the relief crests across his face would probably make Silas cry if he were capable of it.

“What the hell is that thing?” The recruits are shouting. “Who are you? Back up! Back the fuck up!”

Silas barely hears them. To Wren, he says, “I’m sorry I’m late.”

Wren tips his head back as he sobs.

The redhead looks down at him quickly as he hisses, “what the fuck is that?”

He folds an arm over his face and his chest hitches as he cries into the grime.

The recruit tries to grab him, to pry his arm from his face, hisses something else like “look at me when I’m talking to you. What the fuck is going on?”, but Silas is across the camp in a second and he takes his ginger head in both hands. The recruit flails, pulls away from Wren, and as soon as he does Silas turns, trying to shield his Wren from the splatter with his bulk. He crushes the redhead’s skull between his hands.

The noise it makes is like a crack of lightning.

The sort of silence that’s close behind unrecoverable trauma settles over the camp and Silas grins so widely something clicks in his jaw. He’s merciful — the recruits won’t have to live with this for long.

“What are you?” The blond asks, and his voice is thin.

Silas cracks his neck. “Does it matter?”

A different recruit swallows so thickly that Silas can hear it. But he’s trying to be brave, so he says, “back up, freak.”

Silas does not, in fact, back up. The blond is standing close and he doesn’t react quick enough when Silas grabs him by the collar — he panics, flailing as Silas lifts him clean off the ground. It kind of wakes up the recruits, who lift guns and take aim, but what’s the worst they can do to him? Really?

It’s one of the worst things about these men, about this place. It’s one of the reasons Silas hates them so viscerally it’s become interwoven into his DNA. Silas, in a way, gets off easy — Silas just gets shot, and he can take a fuckin’ bullet. It’s the least he can do. Wren isn’t so lucky. They aren’t afraid of Wren. He’s small and he can’t fight back the way Silas can. What’s the worst thing they can do to a fuckin’ machine? They’ll shut him down, and he’ll begin again. Wren is vulnerable.

He pries a handgun from the blond’s flailing grip hands and forces the barrel down the back of his throat. He grabs at Silas’ wrist, frantic, and Silas grins at him as he pulls the trigger.

He bursts into blood and viscera and the other recruits explode into shouting and panic. “Get back!” The brave one shouts, and he makes the grievous mistake of getting too close. Not within reaching distance, but still too close. “Get the fuck back!”

“What are you gonna do?” Silas asks, raising his eyebrows. “Shoot me?” The recruit lifts his gun, a threat, and Silas grins at him. “Tell you what. Let me do you one better,” and he points the gun down, firing a round into his own foot. It crackles with a pain that the simmering rage quickly dissolves.

The soldier gapes, hesitating, and he only hesitates for half a moment but it’s a full moment too long. Silas raises the gun again. “Now it’s your turn,” he says, and unloads three rounds between his eyes.

He drops to the dirt and another recruit steps over him quickly, into Silas’ personal space.

Silas doesn’t take kindly to that.

He takes him by the jaw and wrenches his mouth open. As he tries to scream around Silas’ hands, Silas hooks his fingers behind each row of his teeth and rips his face in half through the middle. His throat is still working as Silas pushes his body out of the way with the side of his foot.

“What the fuck?” A recruit cries, standing too close, splattered with blood that isn’t his own. Silas reaches out to him with his free hand and tears out his windpipe with bloody fingers. As he chokes, Silas breaks his nose back into his brain with the base of his gun. His eyes are rolled back into his head when he dies.

There are four surviving recruits, and they try to scatter. Silas lets them try, because he enjoys the panic, but he doesn’t let them get very far. Eight rounds, one for each knee. There are cries of pain and noises of impact and Silas laughs loudly.

He weaves his way across the camp slowly, tauntingly, and he kills them one at a time. He crushes both hands and the throat of the first recruit; he removes both hands and the throat from the second. The third is decapitated, and not quickly or cleanly; Silas removes his head with force, and the way his skin splits is like wet paper.

The last recruit had pissed in Wren’s hair.

Silas approaches him with the unhurried stalk of a predator. The recruit trembles, trying to scramble away from Silas, but he’d been shot in both knees and he’d fallen hard, the bones of his calf poking out from his flesh in opposite directions.

“That’s gotta hurt,” Silas says.

“Please,” he’s begging, and his voice is trembling, “please, please, don’t — don’t —“

Silas brings his foot down on his fractured leg as hard as he can. Puts all of his brawn and bulk into it.

The recruit tips his head back against the dirt and screams at the concrete sky.

Silas lets him scream. Who gives a fuck? He crouches next to him and takes his left arm by the elbow. The soldier screams again, tries to pull out of his grip, and Silas rips his arm out from the socket of his shoulder.

He shrieks at a pitch that Silas finds kind of irritating and he reaches across the recruit to grab his other arm and pull him over onto his stomach, face down in the dirt. He breaks his right arm off at the elbow.

He screams again and he’s screaming still when Silas stands to toe him back onto his back. As the recruit screams, Silas shoves down the waistband of his joggers, pulls out his dick, and pisses in his mouth. It’s only fair.

He flails with what’s left of his right arm and chokes in panic. It makes Silas grin. When he snaps his waistband back into place the recruit stares up at him with a look that Silas has come to recognize as resigned hatred. It never gets old. Weak and wet, he drawls, “they told us we didn’t have to worry about her dog.”

Silas raises his eyebrows. “They lied.”

The recruit chokes out a sound that would probably be a laugh if all the blood in his body weren’t seeping into the earth beneath him. “C’mon, man,” he tries. “Don’t — don’t. Please. Come on.”

Silas lifts the gun.

The recruit inhales quickly. “Please. Come on. Please.”

“Eat shit,” Silas tells him sincerely, and he empties the gun into his face.

[propertyofkylar]

kinktober day 14: being forced to beg (m!wren x gn!pc)

word count: 897

tags/warnings: begging, criminal activity mentioned, blowjob, kinda not what the prompt is at all actually but idc

You groaned as you crouched on the ground. Another fucking empty box. Tonight’s attempts at looting the docks was basically a failure. Where the hell had all the good stuff gone?

“Well, what do we have here?” A voice from behind made your blood run cold. You quickly weighed your options and were about to run away when a hand met your shoulder. 

In fear, you turned around, only to come face-to-face with Wren. You let out a sigh, half relieved, half annoyed. “Oh, it’s just you,” you rolled your eyes and stood up, tugging down your face mask now that you knew you were safe. 

“Just me,” Wren echoed, eyes searching over your body. “Someone having a difficult night? Bummer.” He held up a nondescript bag and shook it slightly. Your eyes widened as you jumped towards him.

“The hell?” You tried to reach for the bag, but he pulled it away. “I worked all day to memorize what was where. How the fuck did you beat me to it?”

He shrugged casually, holding the bag away from you. “I have my sources too, you know.”

“Whatever,” you grumbled, turning on your heel. Might as well just leave. But instead, Wren called your name.

“Hey,” he said, and you turned back, feeling more annoyed than ever. He had a devious look in his eyes. “I’m not evil. I’m willing to share, since you worked so hard. But…there’s a price.”

You thought it over. You didn’t want to owe Wren anything. But money was tight right now, and you knew right now you didn’t have enough to pay Bailey, and it was due in less than two days. So you relented. “Alright, I’ll bite. What do you want?”

Wren smirked. “You have to beg for it.”

Begging? Begging Wren in particular didn’t sound fun. Though, in the grand scheme of things, maybe it wasn’t too bad. Even a fragment of the loot would be enough to pay Bailey this week. Then it could give you some time to figure out a better plan for infiltrating the docks so you wouldn’t go through this again.

“Yeah, okay,” you sighed. Wren grinned.

“Ah, come on, you could show a little more enthusiasm!”

Rolling your eyes, you clasped your hands together. “Oh, pretty please, Wren, share with me?” You said sarcastically.

“Mm, nope,” Wren said. He tugged you to the side where you were hidden from view. “Try harder.”

You got down onto your knees and looked up at Wren through your eyelashes. “Please, Wren. I need your help.”

That one must’ve worked better, because Wren faltered momentarily before regaining his composure. “Better.”

You inhaled deeply, gearing yourself up for what could end up being some of your best work. “Please. I don’t know what to do. I need your help, Wren. I can’t do it without you,” you even managed to get some crocodile tears forming. “Please. I’ll do anything.”

That caught Wren’s attention. “Anything?”

“Yes,” you whispered, trailing your hands up his legs. “Anything.” 

Wren sucked in a breath, placing a hand on your head. “Show me how bad you want my help.”

With nimble fingers, you unzipped Wren’s pants, pulling them down slightly. You ghosted your fingertips across his lower belly before pulling his underwear down too, revealing his still mostly-soft cock. You gently took his shaft into your hands and began stroking.

“You’re so kind and helpful, Wren,” you said, feeling his cock growing harder in your hands. “You’re always there when I need you. Won’t you help me out, even just this once? It would make me so happy.”

“Fuck,” Wren mumbled, his fingers threading through your hair. “Keep going.”

You kept begging as your hands worked his cock to full hardness. “Please, please. I’ll do anything for you. Anything you want. Just please help me out.”

He looked down at you, eyes dark. You put on the most innocent-looking face you could muster, and then swirled your tongue around his tip, gathering precum in your mouth. Wren hissed.

You smiled at him as you kept pumping his cock. “You’re the best, Wren. Such a great guy for helping someone like me. A poor little orphan. Please help me.”

With that, Wren shoved his cock into your mouth, fucking your face as your braced yourself with your hands on his hips. You hummed around his thick shaft, swirling your tongue around and around as he kept fucking you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, balls slapping against your chin as you took in his full length. “You’re just so fucking–” his words were cut off by his own moan.

As you choked on Wren’s cock, you kept looking up at him innocently, keeping your eyes wide and channeling your begging through them, since you obviously were unable to speak. “God, your mouth feels so good,” Wren gasped.

You smiled and kept at it, sucking hard. You could feel his dick twitching in your mouth and you suddenly pulled off, replacing your lips with your hand. “So nice,” you cooed. Wren’s face was beet red and he was breathing heavily.

You closed your eyes and stroked his cock until you felt his hot, sticky cum splatter on your face. Then, licking your lips and opening your eyes, you offered Wren a sweet smile. You could feel the cum dripping down your face.

“So, was that begging enough for you?”

[slafkovskys]

is there any moment when luke and angel arent together that they end up seeing one another all alone in one room? like i imagine the entire hughes family tries their best for that to not happen when theyre not there with her but … it kind of is inevitable, isnt it?

she can’t deny the pit that forms in her stomach when she sees his car parked in the driveway. she shakes away the feeling, killing the engine and grabbing her bag from the passenger seat before making her way towards the front door because surely he wasn’t- he couldn’t be.

she twists the door knob, staring down at a picture that quinn had sent of drew and jim chilling in a golf cart captioned caddies as she waltzes through like she owned the place. the house was abnormally quiet, ellen’s usual shuffling around absent which causes her to look up and she stops in the middle of the hallway at the sight of him.

they stare at each other for a moment frozen in place. the last time that she had seen luke was from a distance at the cup parade two months before and he looked so different. his hair was a little longer, he had some attempt at facial hair sprouting along his jaw, and his eyes were a little brighter than they had been for the last year. he looked, well, he looked good.

he blinks, the confusion evident on his face as he utters the words, “are you okay?”

“why wouldn’t i be?” she says before realizing that to him at least, she had walked into the house without any warning. it was something that she had grown used to doing over the years, even after their falling out when it was an unspoken rule that whenever she was there, luke would miraculously always have plans. she shakes her head, “no, i- i’m sorry. ellen and i, we were going to go grab some lunch today and i was supposed to meet her here.”

“are you sure that it was today? she just left for some meeting like twenty minutes ago,” luke raises his eyebrows and her face falls. he watches as she pulls out her phone and closes her eyes, letting out a soft fuck. he sends her a soft grin, “let me guess, the plans are for thursday and not today?”

“i’m sorry. i really thought it said tuesday,” she stares at the screen for a second longer as if willing the word to change and when it doesn’t, she looks at the boy again. she lets out a quiet chuckle, “guess i have a free day now. q and j took the babies to the golf course-”

“with my dad?” luke finishes for her. he doesn’t seem bitter, but she could see the flicker of sadness in his eyes. he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, “i figured when i saw him shoving two mini sets of clubs into the back of his car before he left. they’re the only babies he knows- well, the only babies he knows that he spoils like that.”

the two share a laugh at the mere thought of jim trying to coax a golf club into one of the nine month old’s hands. she had already gotten a slew of pictures from the boys, one of wren wearing a glove that was basically the length of her arm and another of drew being balanced by quinn in one arm while he seemed to be teeing up with his free hand to which she immediately called the man and had to be reassured that drew was safely in the golf cart before quinn had even pushed his tee into the ground.

she shifts her weight from foot to foot before clearing her throat, “um, i guess i’ll get going, then. seriously, i’m sorry about this.”

“not as sorry as i am.”

“luke,” she mumbles, eyes shifting to stare at a picture of all three boys when they were kids so she wouldn’t have to look at him, “please-”

“i know, i just wanted you to hear me say it,” he pauses, “you don’t have to forgive me and i don’t expect you to, but if i could just have a chance to explain why i did it-”

“you have a good reason for leaving me during the scariest time of my life and then basically ghosting me?” she questions and she turns her attention back to luke, watching as he visibly deflates. she stares at him, the tension between the two so thick not even a chainsaw could cut through, before she shakes her head, “i’ll never forgive you for what you did to me, to us.”

luke can only nod, letting his eyes drift to the floor.

“come by the house tomorrow afternoon. the boys are done training at one, don’t come before then. the twins usually nap around three so if you want to meet them, get there before then. this is going to be the only time that i even consider hearing what you have to say,” she says and he hangs onto every word, nodding along, “don’t mess it up.”

“i won’t.”

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 8th

Breeding, Papa Nihil x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: Breeding; power imbalance; dubcon; Nihil is a selfish lover tbh; no after care; dirty talk; degradation; manipulation; this is actually really creepy and dark, please don’t read this if older men manipulating younger women for sex triggers you; use of scissors to cut off clothes; no foreplay; unprotected sex; piv sex; minor restraint; praise kink;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask (if you want to be added to the list please let me know!)

The following fic contains scenes and elements that some may find disturbing. I have highlighted particular content warnings above that may be particularly triggering to some. If you are in any way in a place where this fic could trigger you, please do not read ahead. Your mental health is more important than a work of fiction.

I do not condone the actions taken in this fic. Please remember that it is a work of fiction, and meant for entertainment purposes only.

Thank you.

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this is dark fiction, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my rating. Thank you.

You were merely a young sister in the Satanic Church when you met him. You’d barely taken your vows, just out of your teenage years and not even making a name for yourself in the Ministry when you assigned your first job. Papa Nihil, the founder of the Ghost Project and head of the Satanic Church, was spending the early 60s touring multiple countries, attempting to topple governments and recruit new members to the church. It was your job, while on tour, to make sure Nihil got everything he needed and that he was comfortable. His son, Primo, who was the same age as you, had been left behind to run things in his father’s absence and take care of his two infant brothers. His father got to gallivant and do what or whom he liked.

Nihil enjoyed the fame and success the Ghost Project brought him and the church, and while it wasn’t considered “righteous” to fornicate with others out of wedlock, it still didn’t sit correctly in most people’s moral codes. He enjoyed strings of girls, each one a different variety to the other. Nihil wasn’t picky, and that was perhaps the only good thing about him. If you had a vulva he wanted you, end of story. But this was his biggest problem, as he was already promised to a different sister, a future Prime Mover - and it wasn’t his favourite Ministry squeeze, Sister Imperator.

But this was how you found yourself sat on your 45-year-old Papa’s sofa, his hand grasping harshly at your thigh and his painted lips attached to your neck. That very same hand moved up towards your core and began to rub you through your tights and panties. You weren’t entirely comfortable with this situation. You wanted to give Nihil what he asked for, and in fact your body was craving it, but your mind constantly thought of his future Prime Mover and his lover, who was only in the next room. You told him this, said that you could go and get Sister Imperator for him. But it was no good. Papa Nihil wanted you. “You wouldn’t deny your Papa, would you?” He murmured into your neck. His fingers were swiping just right on your clit and had you gasping out. “More importantly, you wouldn’t deny your Dark Father, would you? He loves the gifts you give him. Will you, scricciolina? Will you give Him what He asks for?” Little Wren. He liked calling you that because you were as sweet and soft as one, a fitting name for someone so cute and pliant.

You nodded. “Y-yes, Papa.” You replied, your hips beginning to buck to meet his hands.

“Brava ragazza. Stendersi. Spread yourself open for me.”

You lay on your back on the couch, Nihil pulling himself away from you just long enough to let it happen. It didn’t matter that you were still fully clothed, Nihil always preferred it when you were while in public spaces. Not that he’d stop fucking you if he got caught. He always said it was to preserve your modesty, but there was always a darker look in his eye when he grabbed the scissors from their location and sliced through your tights. He’d slice your panties too if he were impatient enough, which, today, he was.

You heard the familiar rip of your tights before you felt the coldness of the blade against your labia. One horizontal snip later, your panties were now destroyed and your sweet, delectable cunt exposed to Nihil’s predatory gaze. He palmed himself through his trousers at the sight of you, but it didn’t take long before his cock was out and lined up to your entrance. You were wet enough to welcome him without pain, but not so wet as for the stretch to be completely comfortable or pleasurable. But even so, he pushed all the way in not even considering your own state. The groan he released was somewhat primal, and just the feeling of your unprepared hole was enough to get the man going.

He braced himself on top of you, letting his whole weight on your body and pressing you down into the sofa. He began babbling incoherently in your ear as he fucked you for his own pleasure. “Ecco, take it like a good girl. Take your Papa’s cock.”

You felt completely degraded but there was a huge part of you that was thrilled by this. Knowing that Nihil didn’t care for you, knowing that he was just using you to get what he wanted excited you to the point where you should be concerned. But the more he thrust in and out of you, the wetter you became. The closer he got to cumming inside you, the tighter you squeezed without realising you were doing it.

What if he came inside you? What if he got you pregnant? The thought of it should disgust you. This man was old enough to be your father, and barbaric enough to enjoy this because he thought you were sweet and innocent. But you were losing yourself to the pleasure, to the idea that he would release his white, sticky cum inside you and put you at risk for pregnancy. If you were pregnant, then everyone would know. Everyone would see that Papa Nihil had laid claim to the newest sister. You were part of his harem, at his beck and call. Free to use whenever he liked.

“Talk to Papa,” he said, “t-tell me what you’re thinking.”

You moaned. “Papa!”

“Your… your cunt is so tight, scricciolina. Why?”

“I - mmm fuck! Papa! I want your c-cum!”

Nihil chuckled above you. “You want to receive your Papa’s cum, hm? Want - merda - Nihil to knock you up? Fill up this tight cunt and fuck a baby into you? Is that it?”

“Yes!”

“Want to be round and full with my spawn? Such a good. Fucking. Girl.” Each word was punctuated with a thrust.

You had heard rumours from the other sisters who had been in your position that Nihil’s biggest kink was spreading his seed around. Because of your words, he seemed to lose a little more control than he had previously. His mind began to wander and his mouth let slip every single thought. “Cunt so good, might make you my Prime Mover. Might fuck you until you’re pregnant with the antichrist.” Your stomach dropped at the thought, especially since your previous worries had returned at the mention of ‘Prime Mover’ but your mouth released a moan so loud, it bordered on pornographic. The coming of the antichrist was a big deal for the church, and an honour for the woman who bore him. You hadn’t considered it before, but now you had, there was no turning back.

Your legs wrapped around Nihil’s waist and kept him trapped between them, only allowing him to pull back a certain amount. “Fill up my c-cunt, Papa! I want your cum so badly.” You were practically wailing now, your nails running down his clothed back. “Get me pregnant, sh-show the Ministry who I belong to. Please, Papa!”

That seemed to do the trick. With one final and brutal thrust, reaching all the way to the back of your pussy almost painfully, Nihil stilled. His cum spilled out of him while his mouth released a groan so low, it was practically a growl. “Th-that’s it.” He stammered. “T-take my seed.”

When he pulled out of you, you felt his cum leaking from your abused hole. He noticed it too, and spent a little while watching it ooze from you before standing up and dressing himself. “You should head back to your room.” He told you, not even looking in your direction. “You have an early morning, don’t you?”

You adjusted your own clothes, feeling his cum running down your thighs as you stood. “Yes, Papa.”

And with that, you left.

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

[wildemaven]

Sweet Creature: Epilogue

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

WC: 1609

Warnings: 18+ Blog: p in v, established relationship, fluff, Dieter in distress, mentions of sobriety

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist

Previous

The morning light filters through the sheer curtains, a harsh reminder of how time is of the essence. 

A sheen of sweat drapes over your bodies, a give and take shared effort, bedsheets lost in the shuffle of positions and tangled limbs. 

“Yes, Dieter— Don’t stop! Please!” You whine. 

Your fingers digging into the bulge of his biceps, his arms flexed and teasing you, delicious eye candy from where you're situated below him. 

“Fuck! Poppy, I’m close— shit! You gotta help me out here babe, I’m gettin’ a fuckin’ cramp in my ass cheek.” His hips begin their signature staggering thrusts, signaling his climax is imminent. 

You snake your hand between your bodies, bypassing your tiny bundle of nerves, your fingers sliding through your spread folds, feeling the way his cock sinks into your pulsing cunt repeatedly. 

“Dammit, Poppy! Quit fucking around— fuckfuckfuck! I fucking love that you want to enjoy this, but I n-need you to come with m-me— ah!” His neck tensing as he tries to stave off his mind-blowing finale. 

It doesn’t take much, your fingers nimbly work in circles over your sensitive clit, triggering your cunt to seize up, building up a network of arousing tingles across your spine. 

The room is filled with a blend of explicits and desperate moans— both of you slingshotting over the edge in euphoric unison. 

His head rests on your chest, your rapid heart beat punching up against his ear as you try to regulate your breathing. 

Your fingers scratch at his scalp in a casual manner, his locks damp and clinging to your skin. 

“Happy 6 years sober babe!” You manage to breathe out. 

“Thank you.” Lifting his head, a kiss to your heart then a kiss to your awaiting lips. “I love you, Pops!”

“I love you, babe. What time is it?”

Dieter looks over to your side of the bed where your alarm clock sits on the nightstand. 

“It’s 7:35.”

“Shit! Oh fuck! Get up, I’m late!” You push his exhausted body, his softened cock slipping out of you as he rolls to his side, his cum dripping down your thighs as you scramble out of bed. 

Throwing open your closet door to grab clothes for the day, the clothes you had asked Dieter to throw into the dryer and put away are nowhere to be found. 

“Dieter— did you put those clothes in the dryer yesterday? I can’t find any of my clean work clothes.” Actively searching through every hanger and shelf, only spotting a few pairs of dirty slacks and blouses shoved into the laundry that didn’t make it into the wash. 

“Uh, no— definitely did not. Sorry, Wren and I got sidetracked making cookies and I must have forgotten.” He replies, still sprawled out and naked on the bed. 

“No— it’s fine. I’ll just wear casual clothes again, hopefully the ladies in the office keep their glaring to a minimum this time.” You give him a pointed look.

“What? You say that like this is a regular occurrence.” His hands shoot in defense. 

“That’s because it is, this is the fifth time just this month alone Dieter.” You say as you grab for the jeans and shirt that have been making a regular appearance over the last 5 years that you and Dieter have been together. 

“Well, I never hear you complaining in the moment.” He has a point. 

“Fuck! I don’t have time for a shower either, you're going to be dripping out of me all day!” Using a dirty shirt to wipe up Dieter’s spend that’s smeared between your legs. 

“Not gonna lie, that’s fucking hot—“ The shirt you had used to clean yourself flies across the room and hits him in the face. 

“They should do away with a teacher uniform all together, seems very not with the times to require adults to wear stuffy clothes when they’re dealing with kids all day. Bring that up at your next meeting.” He suggests, pulling the cum covered shirt away from his face, giving it a quick experimental sniff before tossing onto the pile of bedsheets on the floor.

“Yeah, I’ll make sure to bring that up at the next meeting.” You laugh, but you can’t help but agree with him. 

It’s a mad dash to pull yourself together, but you manage to look like you didn’t just get fucked to pieces. 

“Alright, I gotta go— I love you.” Crawling back on to the bed to give him a goodbye kiss. 

“Love you.” He moans as he tries to deepen the kiss. 

“Oh my god! You’re the worst Dieter! I’ve got to go.” 

“Wash your dick today, it was smelling a little musty earlier.” You yell back down the hall, before heading out the door. 

“Really?” Dieter says to himself, looking down at said dick laying flaccid over his thigh. 

*

As predicted, the glares were on display as you walked onto the school grounds, bypassing a stop at the teachers lounge for the comfort of your classroom— you decide the whispered snickers between the office ladies were not high up on your ‘things I want to deal with today.’

Despite your lateness, students must have sensed your off kilter presence and were on top of their responsibilities of reading and writing while you sifted through your daily lesson plans. 

To your surprise, you had managed to forget to make copies yesterday for 3 worksheets needed after the students were done with printing their weekly words. 

There’s a light knock on your open classroom door that grabs your attention. 

Standing in the doorway is Dieter, with two coffees in hand. 

“Hey! What are you doing here?” You ask, knowing at least one of the coffees he’s holding is for you. 

“Figured, since I was partly to blame for your tardiness, I thought I’d try and make it up to you.” Giving you his best puppy dog eyes, holding up both coffees in your direction. 

“Two?! Oh my god, I love you!” Grabbing for both of them, giving each cup a glance over to see his cute little notes perfectly placed on the sides of both—- setting them on your desk then returning to where he’s still standing by the door. 

“Are you busy?” You ask, looking over your shoulder to double check your students are still working on their assignments. 

“No, I’m free today. I’ve got the new girl running the gallery on her own, so far no calls of distress.”

Dieter’s hand reaches out taking hold of your fingers, his thumb running over the tops of your knuckles. He tilts his head forward to look at you over the frames of his sunglasses. 

“You need something from me?” His eyebrows waggling at you. 

“Actually, yes!”

His smile grows nearly ten times. 

“I need to make some copies, you think you can watch them for me?” 

Your idea of needing something was not what he had in mind, but he’s more than willing to help you out. 

“Yeah, I got them. Go do your teacher things, I’ve got this handled.” 

*

It takes you no longer than 5 minutes to head straight to the office and make your copies, avoiding every side-eyed glance shot in your direction. 

60 sheets of freshly printed worksheets, warm and neatly stacked in hand, you make your way back to Dieter and your students. 

You can hear Dieter’s boisterous voice as you walk closer to the classroom, taking a minute to watch from outside the door. 

All 20 kids seem less than entertained by him, deadpan stares and little to no excitement— it could be worse and they could be like last year's students who convinced him you let them go to break early, coming back to an empty classroom was heart attack inducing and thankfully no one picked up on the random man with a group of kids chasing each other in the soccer field. 

A hand in the back of the class gingerly raises. 

“Yes, kid in the back— you don’t happen to have a brother with a weird haircut, do you?” His eyes narrowed as he sees a slight resemblance in the hair department to a past student of yours. 

“I don’t have a brother.” 

“Huh, weird coincidence then. What’s your question?”

“Why do you wear your sunglasses inside if there’s no sun?” 

Your hand comes up to muffle you laugh, but Dieter catches the snort that emits from your nose. 

“That’s enough questions for the day.” He retorts quickly, then makes his way to where you’re still standing outside. 

“Okay class, go ahead and pull out a sharp pencil,  I’ll be there in a minute so we can do our math test.” 

You lean back against the wall, taking in Dieter’s defeated demeanor. 

“This class isn’t as fun as your previous ones, those kids in there are ruthless. They refused to call me Uncle Dude too— You need to get a new class stat.” He points in the direction of your students, completely flustered by the fact that not one of them found him fun. 

“If I remember correctly, didn’t you play a teacher once?” You sarcastically ask him. 

“That’s enough outta you.” He smirks, crowding you against the wall, giving you a less than appropriate kiss for school grounds— you welcome it fully.

A passing teacher clears their throat at the sight of Dieter and you, prompting him to pull away and rest his forehead on yours. 

“Thanks for watching them for me, and thanks for the coffee. I’ll see you later Uncle Dude.” 

Dieter leans in one last time, a kiss for the road. 

“I’ll see you at home, Mrs. Bravo.”

A/N: Thank you all for this amazing journey with Dieter and Poppy!! I’m going to miss them so so much!! But, I do have a few one shots already planned, and blind drabbles for them. I can’t thank @gnpwdrnwhiskey enough for diving into every chapter with me and being the most amazing beta to ensure everything was right for these two!! My ‘Asks’ are always open if you ever want to chat or scream about the series, Dieter and Poppy or anything else! Xx

[angrelysimpping]

Male love interests + wren + leighton reacting to their S/O deepthroating them?

Contents: AMAB LIs, Leighton, and Wren (he/him); GN Reader (you/your); oral, deep throating, reader giving; a bit of throat fucking and vomit talk

Words: ~144 words each

Alex

Surprised! When you kneeled down in front of him, he’d thought he was getting a blow job, yeah, but not this.

Has been deep-throated before but, still, he didn’t know this was going to happen! 

Not upset that it’s happening, but he can’t help himself, his hips bucking forward a little.

If you don’t stop him, he’s going to take it as permission to keep going, taking control of how fast he’s pumping into your throat. 

Just as vocal as he normally is during sex, though he swears a bit more under his breath. 

Likes if you gag, likes to make a mess of your face. 

Won’t request you to deep-throat him, but won’t turn it down either. Ever surprise him with deep-throating and he’ll end up fucking your face unless you stop him.  

Likes to cum on your face, on the ground, in your hand, on his stomach, in your mouth. Wherever, really. 

Avery

You knew what Avery wanted, and he knew what he was doing.

Had you lay over the bed, head dangling off the edge. 

Let him have all the control over how far and fast he fucks your throat, just what he adores.

Also another fan of gagging and making your face a mess. Might specifically request you put on makeup, mascara and lipstick, before you deep-throat him so he can ruin it. 

Ready to tell you exactly what to do to make it feel better for him.

Lots of murmured praise when at low rage, things like “you’re taking my cock so well, sunshine.” Doesn’t try to press you into taking him too far too fast. 

High rage Avery is less concerned with your comfort.  Doesn’t particularly care if he’s too rough, as long as you don’t vomit on his cock. Snarled insults.

Likely to pull out and cum across your face. 

Eden

RIP your throat, good god this man is hung.

Might actually let you have some control over how far he goes down your throat because he doesn’t want to rupture anything. He doesn’t want you in the hospital, after all. 

Also, would not appreciate you vomiting on his dick. 

A third one who likes to hear you gag on his cock and make a mess of your face. Loves pulling back to see your chin wet with drool.

You’ll have to use your hand as well, gripping the part of his shaft that you can’t fit in your throat and jerking him off in time to bobbing on his dick.

Always cums down the back of your throat. Would like the aesthetics of pulling back and spending himself across your face and chest but doesn’t like the cleanup. 

Kylar

The fact that your head is between his legs already had Kylar excited. You don’t even have to take them into your mouth. You could just stay like that, letting your breath caress their cock and stroking their thighs and Kylar would be happy.

They’d also cum on your face if you keep it up, so don’t draw out the foreplay or you’re going to spoil it for yourself.

Squeaks when you take him into your throat, hips bucking forward on instinct. Apologizes when at low hysteria, letting you set the pace. 

Might cum right away, honestly.

Kinda likes the sounds of your gagging but is also worried about hurting you. Doesn’t really like getting drool smeared on your face but does like ruined makeup if you wear it. 

Conflicted on if he wants to cum in your throat or on your face. He wants his seed inside you but the marking aspect of his cum on your face excites him.

If you’re going to give him a blow job, he’s going to ask you to deep-throat him. Loves that you’re taking him so far into your body.

Leighton

Oh, he has so much to teach you

Coos as he strokes your cheek with his thumb, telling you to relax your throat and take him deeper. 

Yet another who likes hearing you gag, though only when you’ve taken him down to his base. Also likes making a mess of you, making sure to leave his mark in a visible way.

Let's you set your own pace but always encourages you to go faster, take him deeper. 

That is, unless you've been a brat lately. Then brace yourself, and you better not throw up on his dick. 

Rather composed through it all, though he breathes heavier than normal. 

Expects you to deep-throat every time you give him a blow job after a few ‘training’ sessions.

Robin

So, Robin isn’t completely naive. He just really didn’t know what to expect. 

Nearly chokes the first time you take him down your throat. 

Regardless of confidence levels, Robin always lets you dictate how things go when you're deep-throating him. That said, if you tell him to take the lead, he will. Still, he goes slowly.

More vocal than he usually is.

Not one to request you deep-throat him often, honestly. 

Doesn’t like if you gag, often stopping to ask if you’re okay. Something about seeing your face a mess after deep-throating him does make him feel all fluttery, though. 

Doesn’t mind where he cums, though somewhat prefers cumming down your throat.

Sydney

Pure

Oh my god, he didn’t actually know what deep-throating was.

He knew about blow jobs in a very loose sense. 

Whines the first time he’s in your throat, hips twitching forward before he stops himself. 

Desperately wants to cum in your throat. Feels like that's the only place he should ever cum, really. 

Gets worried if you gag, not partial to making a mess.

Always lets you set the pace. 

Corrupt

Is aware of what deep-throating is and asks if you wanna try it out.

Also whines the first time you take him in your throat, but he’s also laughing a little, excited.

Wants to cum everywhere: down your throat, across your face, on your chest, in your hand. As long as it’s on or in you. 

Also gets worried if you gag, but likes the mess. Hopes he’s just as much of a mess as you with drool and cum on your chin.

Might lose himself and fuck your throat.

Whitney

Whitney is a big fan of blow jobs. He's made you deep-throat him before and he’ll do it again.

Doesn’t always want to be deep-throated, honestly. 

But, when he does, you’ll find out when he’s got your knows mashed against his pubic bone and his cock lodged snuggly in your throat.

Might actually take the time to throat train you, a lazy day away from all his friends where you spend your time kneeling on a soft pillow between his legs while he smokes and he mutters about having your slutty throat trained properly.

Otherwise, he just, doesn’t give a fuck for your comfort. Likes hearing you gag, loves your face covered in drool and cum. Adores if you cry, especially if you wear makeup. 

Just as loud and vulgar as always, with maybe the occasional ‘good slut’ murmured under his breath for only you to hear when at high love. 

Wren

Wren knows what deep-throating is. He knows. The thing is, he already becomes something of a mess when given head. Deep throat him? Yeah, he’s gone.

Breathless laughter and little whines, cheeks dusted a light pink. Rarely gets like that and definitely not in front of his friends. 

Likes the mess and the gagging, just so he knows he's not the only one affected by all this.

Usually lets you set your own pace but sometimes fucks into your throat without thinking. 

Cums where you dictate but he prefers to paint your face. Again, likes making a mess of you, especially when he’s falling to pieces in your mouth like this. 

Kisses you afterward. 

[eff4freddie]

After She Left | Ten

Words: 5k

After the dramatic expulsion of Steven and Wren, things settle down a little in Jackson. You've found a way to keep tutoring Ellie that keeps you out of Joel's orbit, and Joel is trying to adapt to his new situation at home. He'll fight hard not to feel things, but he'll always lose when it comes to his girls.

Chapter warnings: Angst, reader gets drunk but isn't out of control, reader is almost as bad at feelings at Joel is, lots of pining coupled with vague attempts to deny anything's wrong

A/N: Coming to the end of the second act now, which means things are going to ramp up again soon. Ya'll wanted emotionally tortured Joel doing penance for being a dick, and you got it!

Nine | Series Masterlist | Eleven

‘Ok, who can tell me what the capital of America is?’ you asked, nearly saying ‘was’ before you caught yourself. Almost all hands raised in the air.

‘Washington DC,’ Dina answered, confidently. You nodded.

‘Excellent, and why was it named Washington?’

‘It was named after George Washington!’ Mika nearly screamed, because he liked a competition.

‘And who was he?’ you prompted, trying not to laugh at the way he was practically bouncing up and down on his chair.

‘He was the first president!’ Mika yelled again, and you grinned.

‘Very good, but take a breath my man,’ you said. He slumped, sucking in the air around him like he’d run a marathon.  

‘How did he die?’ Ellie asked, suddenly. She’d been quiet all morning.

‘He got sick, umm…a throat thing,’ you said, trying to remember your eighth-grade history.

‘That’s it?’ she asked.

‘Was he infected?’ Mika asked, suddenly panicky, and Ellie rolled her eyes.

‘They didn’t have the fungus back then, dumbass,’ she hissed.

‘Ellie!’ you gasped, surprise on your face. ‘Apologise to Mika right now.’

She looked at you, just as surprised by your tone. A moment passed between you, a correction, you realised, of a dynamic that had started to creep. You were her teacher and her tutor and her friend, and also for a while you had been sort of seeing her Dad, but that wasn’t a thing anymore and now you had to discipline her, and Jackson was a really fucking small town but right now it felt like it could fit on the head of a pin.

You thought, for a moment, that she was going to fight you. But you watched her deflate, the anger seeping out of her bones.

‘M’sorry,’ she said. You hazarded a glance at Mika, who was now almost completely folded in on himself.

‘It’s OK,’ he said. It wasn’t.

You waited until the end of the day to pull Ellie aside.

‘Ok, what was that before?’ you asked, and she shrugged. She had been quiet again for the rest of the day, not willing to be drawn on questions you knew she had the answer to, and when it came to math in the afternoon she had just stared out the window and drew circles on her paper. You held in a sigh. ‘Mika looks up to you, y’know,’ trying the time-honoured tradition of guilt tripping to keep a teenager in line.

‘I know,’ she said, looking up at you, then, defiant and angry again. ‘I know he does but how is that my job?’

‘OK…’ you started, feeling already that you were getting tugged out to sea by her riptide. ‘I think maybe we need to reset…’

‘Like, did he even ask me if I wanted him to follow me around like a fuckin’ puppy? No. And I don’t want him to. I don’t want to hang out with some stupid fuckin’ kid. It’s embarrassing. What about what I want to do?’

It was a lot in a short period of time, and you were torn on how best to approach it. On the one hand you should probably cool her down, on the other she was finally speaking up about whatever it was that was bothering you. On a third hand she was swearing quite a fucking lot.

‘Ellie…’ you started, but you stopped when you realised her eyes were growing red. ‘Hey, kiddo…’

‘Don’t,’ she said, holding her hand up to you. ‘Not your kiddo.’

‘No, but…but I care about you…’

She bit her lip, obviously wanting to take it all back. You felt a compulsion to wrap her up in your arms and hug her tightly to you, but you knew she wasn’t the type for that. She tugged on her long sleeves. ‘Why do I feel like this isn’t really about Mika?’ you hazarded.

‘He’s moving her into the house,’ Ellie spat, the tears starting to roll down her cheeks. ‘He didn’t even ask me what I wanted.’

It had been weeks since you’d been over there, Ellie choosing to come to you for your sessions. You had thought, initially, that she was trying to spare you from having to deal with Joel, but suddenly you saw it in a different light. You were respite. You were a port in a storm.

You swallowed your own feelings down, a little kick in the gut that would have looked a lot like anguish if you decided to turn your gaze to it.

‘He said she could have the spare room, but then she just moved all her stuff straight into his.’

You weren’t going to think about it. Not about her asleep in his sheets, wrapped up in his arms, his lips pressing soft kisses to her forehead while she slept. None of it.

‘Oh, that’s…’ you started, but couldn’t think how to answer that question. Part of you was howling, while another part of you was working so hard to remind yourself you didn’t care anymore.

‘I’m gonna move out,’ she said, and your attention snapped back to her.

‘What? Ellie you can’t…’

‘There’s a studio out the back, its got proper insulation. Tommy checked in. It has electricity. I’m fuckin’ going out there.’

‘And Joel is OK with that?’ you asked, and she looked down at her shoes.

‘He seemed kind of relieved,’ she muttered. You put a hand on her shoulder.

‘That can’t have been it,’ you said. She looked up into your eyes, and you plastered what you hoped was a confident expression on your face. ‘Can’t have been,’ you repeated.

--

You were restless. It had been a few hours since your conversation with Ellie and you’d been turning it over in your head like a puzzle you could put together if you could just find the right piece. It was silly, but you wanted to know if Joel had ever felt anything for you, or for anyone in the past twenty years, or if it had been Shauna the whole time. If he’d just been waiting for her, hoping and pining, and you’d been a convenient way to spend his time until she appeared.

It just seemed so fast, that they were already together. You wondered if they had ever really, truly, been apart.

You paced in front of your doorway. The nights were getting cold again, and it was getting darker earlier, and so you didn’t really feel like going for a walk. You wanted to go and see Maria and Baby Robin, but you felt strange about it now, seeing her with Shauna as often as you did. You had the strange feeling of having been corrected and replaced, a new version of you with edits, out and about living the life you should have if you had been any good at it.

You’d already eaten. The little makeshift library would be closed. You thought about dropping in on Billy at the wall, but the wind was picking up and you weren’t sure when Joel’s next shift was. You hated that you still navigated by his bearings.

At your front porch, you let your legs walk you where they wanted to. As you listened to the crunch of your boots on the gravel you thought of life beyond the wall, tried to imagine all the horrors Shauna would have been dealing with out there. She travelled with two men, and you weren’t so naïve that you didn’t know what that would have cost her. You wondered if she’d spent time in a QZ, if she’d had a job there. She didn’t seem like the type to be enlisted; she probably would have been too old on outbreak day.

You had to believe it was unintentional, her finding Joel and Jackson. You couldn’t think of any way it couldn’t have been, and you tried. So, what was it then that she had found him, in a world almost totally wiped clear, other than a kind of kismet? Who were you to interfere in luck that strong? In something so fated as to be almost impossible. You weren’t a religious person, not spiritual in any real way, not after everything you’d seen and lost, but even you had to respect when the Universe was sending such an obvious message.

You stopped, looking up to discover your feet had marched you to the Bison. Fair enough. If you weren’t going to ignore clear and obvious and pretty fucking painful messages from the Universe, you better not start now.

--

Joel was irritated. More than irritated, more than frustrated. Shauna was in his place all the fuckin’ time now, and he wasn’t entirely sure how it got to be that way, and now Ellie was talking about movin’ out to the studio right as the weather was turning, right as the cold was going to set back in, and he was going to go knocking on her door one day and find her frozen fuckin’ solid under some thin little blanket Tommy has scrounged up for her instead of warm and safe under his roof.

He stood out the front of his porch, looking suspiciously at the potted plants Shauna had lined up against the railing. She said it was about being homely, about bringing in a little colour, but Joel couldn’t help but notice all of her womanly touched appeared at the front of the place. Visible from the street.

He paced. He’d done another shift on the wall and normally he’d be desperate to sit down, rest his knees and his back. Take some of the pressure off his aching bones. But now his house felt different, like it wasn’t fully his own. He’d lost something. Another something.

Ducking under the side windows he made it way around the back to the studio, careful to push the door open just enough to slip in unheard from the house. He didn’t turn the light on, didn’t want to draw any attention. He stood in the middle of it, staring at the bare window and the cold concrete floor.

He’d been grateful for the peace, for a while. With Steve and Wren excised from the community things settled in. Shauna was getting back on track with the council, seemed to have settled more into her role as Maria’s almost PA, as Tommy’s kind of but not quite assistant. She hummed when she cooked dinner, some kind of tuneless melody that might have been a song he could recognise before she mangled it. She was no better chef than she was twenty years ago.

It had just come on so quickly, his history clawing out of the depths and grabbing him by the middle. Fast enough he hadn’t noticed until he was pulled under.

He heard the door creak and he swung around, bracing.

‘Sorry, brother,’ Tommy said, arms up in surrender. ‘Didn’t realise you were in here.’

‘Keep your voice down,’ Joel muttered, pulling his brother in and easing the door closed.

‘You in hidin’ in here?’ Tommy asked, and Joel huffed out a frustrated sigh.

‘Just didn’t feel like…dealing with anything for a minute,’ he said. Tommy watched as his older brother grimaced, holding his hip.

‘You hurt?’ he asked.

‘Nah,’ Joel dismissed, waving the brotherly concern away. ‘Just been on the couch the last few weeks, ain’t sure it ever had springs worth a damn but twenty years ain’t helped it none.’

‘On the couch, huh?’ Tommy asked, surprised by this little glimpse into Joels’ home life.

‘I ain’t with Shauna,’ Joel said, because he could read his brother’s mind, being so similar to his own.

Tommy nodded, walking to the wall of the room and leaning against it, one leg bent at the knee as he rested his foot behind him.

‘So what’s goin’ on there, brother?’ he asked, and watched as Joel turned away.

‘She just…she’s just suddenly everywhere,’ Joel said, after a while.

‘When you moved her out of ours, I thought…’

‘She said it was too damp, that it was makin’ her stuffed up. I dunno. She used to get real sneezy in the Spring.’

Tommy nodded at this. He’d been happy to have his garage back, but he considered now he might have been a little too keen to push her out.

‘How did I lose it again?’ Joel asked, almost to himself.

‘What do you…’

‘She was under m’roof, now she’s movin’ out here to the cold. We were a family, for a second, we were safe. There was a kind of…’

‘Peace,’ Tommy supplied, and Joel nodded.

‘I failed her again, Tommy,’ he said, voice thick enough that Tommy faltered. ‘Both of ‘em,’ he said.

Tommy didn’t need to ask who. He’d seen the change in his brother when Ellie started tutoring, had seen the way he was fighting happiness like he couldn’t quite believe it, like he knew all too well what it was like to have it ripped out from under him, to have it bleed in his arms. Knew his brother and that he was a fast learner, that he wasn’t often fooled twice.

‘You didn’t believe it,’ Tommy said, after a while. Joel nodded, fighting hard to keep tamping down whatever was currently trying to crawl up and out of his sternum.

‘Every time I look at Shauna…’ he said, stopping for a second to catch his breath. ‘She has her eyes, Tommy.’

Tommy smiled warmly at this, having noticed the same. It might have been why he offered Shauna the garage in the first place, so sure he was watching Sarah stare back at her uncle through her mother’s eyes. It had made it impossible to say no, and he hadn’t wanted to.

‘No…’ Joel was saying, ‘you don’t unnerstand.’ Tommy realised there were tears threatening to spill down Joel’s cheeks. ‘She’s there every time I look at Shauna, but she’s not there, not in the right now. Every time I look at Shauna I think about m’little girl. I think about all the love for her, cuz it’s still right there, Tommy.’ Joel rubbed at his chest, thumping over his heart. ‘And…I think about losin’ her. I think about those eyes going hazy starin’ up at me in that damn field.’

Joel felt his stomach roll, worried for a moment the memory was so strong he would conjure it in front of himself. He could smell her blood again, mixed in with the dirt and the long grass.

‘Shauna’s here all the damn time, and now it’s like it was all yesterday again. I see m’little girl’s face gone all pale, I feel her in my arms…’

Joel stopped. He didn’t have the words anymore, couldn’t trust that he would be able to speak them out loud. He realised he was shaking, that he was close to toppling over when he took a step back and had to steady himself on the bench. In moments he was wrapped in his brother’s arms, holding on nearly as tight as the moment they’d been reunited the first time Joel made it to Jackson.

‘I know, brother, I see it too,’ Tommy said, feeling his own tears tracking down his cheeks.

‘Shauna’s costin’ me everything. Teach, maybe Ellie… I can’t stand it, but I can’t… I want her near, Tommy. I gotta look after her, cuz there’s my little girl in those eyes, and I can’t fuckin’ fail her again.’

Tommy nodded, his words too caught up in his throat. All he could do was nod, clap his brother on the back a few times. After a minute he let go, rearranging his jacket and clearing his throat as Joel composed himself a few paces away.

‘When Ellie said she wanted to come out here I was almost…it almost felt like a good thing. I dunno…some kind of, separation maybe? From history and…whatever the fuck this is now.’

Tommy didn’t really understand, probably would never, but he agreed with his big brother just the same.

‘We can make it real nice in here, Joel. We can make it warm, make sure its dry. I’m already thinkin’ about rugs, Maria reckons she can sew up some curtains.’

Joel appraised the room. He had seen his brother repair worse.

‘She’s a teenager, would have wanted her own space one day anyhow,’ he rationalised, and Tommy agreed.

‘It might be good for you both, especially with…’ Tommy nodded to the house. ‘You really want an angry teenager in your house 24/7?’

‘Dealt with you OK,’ Joel said, and he was smiling again, if a little tentatively.

‘Ahh, I was a fuckin’ angel compared to you, brother,’ Tommy said. He slapped his brother on the back again as if he could push the shrivelled little kernel of loss out, shoot it out of his chest and onto the floor beside them, let it rattle around unnoticed, roll under a cabinet and gather dust.

--

You’d found a seat at the bar, the booths mostly taken out by groups or couples. You hadn’t considered that you would be so obviously alone when you first walked in, and you scanned around you to see if anyone was looking. To your relief, none of them were.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t spent hours of your life drinking at the Bison. But usually with Billy, or Maria before Tommy came along, and then eventually Tommy, too. But this felt different. You ordered a whiskey from Paulie on the bar, and willed your fingers to still.

It took twenty minutes for you to relax, exchanging glances with Paulie and feeling the hairs on the back of your neck tingle each time you thought someone was looking your way. A second whiskey in you found yourself caring less, the warmth running down your throat and into your chest. It was starting to feel more and more like a very good idea to come in here.

You heard laughter to your left, and turned to see Guillaume and Jonah chuckling to each other. You caught their eye, not able to look back fast enough, and they clocked you watching. They nodded to you, raising their glass. Embarrassed, you did the same.

It took a few minutes before Guillaume pealed away, leaving Jonah on his own. You swallowed, watching out of your peripheral vision as he slid off his stool and came to stand within striking distance of you.

‘Hi,’ he said, when you insisted on still pretending you didn’t know he was there. You felt your shoulders tighten as you turned to him.

‘Hi there,’ you said, trying to sound bright and easy but your tongue suddenly sluggish under all that booze. He was smiling, though, his face open as he moved to perch beside you.

‘Drinking alone?’ he asked, and you shrugged.

‘It’s after 5,’ you reminded him, and he grinned.

‘That’s true,’ he said, raising his hands in mock apology. ‘You go about your business.’

The way he said it reminded you of so many of the FEDRA soldiers you had worked besides, and sometimes opposite. Go about your business, uttered to the gathering crowd while a rifle wavered in the face of a thirteen-year-old kid caught stealing from the breadline. You blinked, those memories almost ten years old and still enough to jolt you right down to the bone.

‘You’ve been abandoned,’ you observed, your voice oddly strained.

‘Nah, I asked Guillaume to take a hike,’ Jonah said, shrugging.

‘You did? Why?’ you asked, and he put his head on his side to observe you properly as he grinned.

‘Wanted to talk to you.’

Oh, you thought. Fuck. Flirting. What was that again? You felt your face arrange itself into a look of surprise, without your instruction. Jonah’s grin faltered.

‘Unless you don’t want me to talk to you…I mean, if you want to be alone of course I’ll leave you…’

It was just so different. He was just telling you what he was thinking, and he was considering your feelings, and he was smiling warmly at you without giving the impression that it cost him something to do it.

‘No, keep me company. If you leave it’ll really look like I have a drinking problem.’

As he ordered himself another beer and a lemonade for you, you studied his profile. He was younger than Joel, either in his late 30s or early 40s – it was hard to tell because the apocalypse tended to age a person – and you observed that he had deep lines around his eyes from when he smiled. He was clean-shaven, kept his hair short except for an unruly curly bit on the top that looked like it had a mind of its own. His nails were neatly trimmed. You didn’t know why that mattered to you, but for some reason it did. He was good looking, you realised. In a conventional kind of way. In the real world he would have done well for himself.

‘I’ve gotta say, I was kind of scared to talk to you,’ Jonah said, and you caught the way he was blushing even in the dim lights of the Bison.

‘Oh? Why’s that?’ you asked, and he grinned at you.

‘I mean, you’re the one up on that hill teachin’ all these kids to read, about history and stuff, how the world works.’

‘You intimidated by a smart woman?’ you asked, and his smile faltered, slightly.

‘Intimidated…’ he said, as if he was tasting the word for the first time. ‘Maybe a little. Maybe just kinda shy.’

You genuinely weren’t sure what to make of this revelation. You let it roll around in your head for a while to see if you could make sense of it.

‘You worried I’m going to correct your grammar?’ you asked, and you laughed a little to let him know you were kidding, mostly.

‘Just not used to being so outgunned,’ he said, and oh he was very fucking charming when he wanted to be, actually. You felt your own blush creep up your cheeks to match his.

--

He went in eventually, ate dinner at the table with Shauna while she prattled on about her day, but he was restless again by bedtime, the couch and the scratchy blankets not appealing even despite the long day.

‘You could always join me upstairs,’ Shauna said, and Joel exhaled long and slow.

‘Ain’t gonna do that, Shauna. Told you before.’

Shauna shrugged at him, climbing three steps before stopping and turning back to him.

‘We’ll see when it gets real cold, Miller,’ she said, and he wasn’t sure whether she meant it to sound so much like a threat.

He decided on a whiskey, just one, to ease his body into sleep. He had generally been sober, seeing as though he had no hope of pills nor inclination to raid the infirmary and take from the community that sheltered him and his girls, but he stared at the ceiling enough nights to know he didn’t have it in him now.

There was a chill in the air, he noticed, as he walked silently to the Bison. Shauna was right, it would get cold in the living room soon enough. He’d have to check to see if there were heavier blankets. Put in a special request to Gollum next time there was a patrol.

He felt a little better, having talked it out with Tommy. He’d been finding it hard to figure what was going on, why he was so mad all the time, why he was dreaming of her again. It made sense when he said it out loud. Felt like he’d lanced some kind of mental boil, maybe a little. Didn’t feel so tight in his chest. He hadn’t realised he’d been walking around with a fist clenched in his gut until this moment, when it had finally, and ever so slightly, eased its grip.

The Bison was quiet, only a handful of couples and groups left in the booths. He’d taken three steps when he heard your laugh, a sing-song little thing that he’d first heard twinkle out of you when Ellie was reciting some of her favourite jokes from that damn pun book. His body turned on instinct to the sound.

You had your hand on the arm of one of Gollum’s men, his new patrol partner. You were smiling so warm and pretty as he told you some stupid fuckin’ story that had you giggling, light radiating off your face. There were a couple of empty glasses between you, your cheeks rosy from the warmth of the booze in your blood.

You were happy and you were relaxed, he realised, and he hadn’t seen you like that in a long time. Not since Shauna. Not since he…just…not since him.

Joel realised the clenched fist in his gut had only lessened its grip so that it could wind up a punch, hard and radiating right up to his solar plexus. He looked away, shame burning hard on his cheeks.

He wanted to march over there, rip you off the barstool and throw you over his shoulder, spank you on your behind as he carried you back to your place and reminded you who you belonged to, who wanted you.

Wanted to wrestle the little patrolman prick to the ground, kick a boot into his side and make him spit blood for the simple crime of having tried to take you from him.

Wanted to run over there, pull you into his arms and beg for your forgiveness.

Wanted to run.

He turned, fast, on his heel, pushing the door open and hearing it swing back behind him with a crack. He was down the step and out onto the street too fast to find out if anyone was following him, couldn’t imagine that they would. He let his brain tease him for a second that you had seen him, that he’d hear your sweet soft voice callin’ for him out of the nighttime, your little siren song.

He wondered what he’d say to you. If he had the words to make it better, what those would be. He sighed, frustrated with himself, heading back to his house and to the couch and to the scratchy blanket.

So many nights on that thing, staring at the ceiling and practicing what he might say to you. Night after night and not a single sentence to show for it.

--

You heard the door slam, momentarily drawn from your conversation with Jonah to wonder if everything was OK. You waited for the room to stop spinning, realising you’d had way more than you’d intended. You felt warm and kind of slippery inside, and you couldn’t remember if it was a school night, but your skeleton had stopped trying to crawl its way out of your body, and that was good enough for now.

‘You wanna keeptha party goin’?’ Jonah asked, and you blinked at him, wondering for a second what he could possibly mean.

‘You mean go back to your place and have sex?’ you asked, because the alcohol was making you blunt, even for you. You watched as Jonah spluttered, choking a little on the glass of water Paulie had insisted you both have.

‘I mean…if you’re…’

‘No,’ you said, simply. Not angry, not sad, not anything really. Just, no. You didn’t feel like it, weren’t sure you’d enjoy it when you’d had this much to drink.

‘Can I walk y’home, at least?’ he asked, and you considered it.

‘You might be more drunk than me,’ you concluded, and Jonah, in turn, gave this some thought.

‘I’d say there’sapretty goo’ chance thassright,’ he said.

‘If anything I might have to walk you home,’ you said. You were smart when you were drunk, you thought. Maybe you should be drunk more often.

‘Can’t do that, I’d feel lessofaman,’ Jonah said.

You were standing now, and so was Jonah, although he appeared to be having more difficulty with it.

‘Y’know the way?’ you asked, and he looked puzzled for a moment.

‘I do,’ Paulie said, clear as a bell, from behind the bar. ‘I’m closing up now, I’ll take him home myself.’

You nodded at this development. Yes, good. That made perfect sense. Everything did, all of a sudden.

‘Well then, I bid you…umm…adieu,’ you finished, with a flourish. You also spoke French when you were drunk, apparently. You contained fucking multitudes.

Out on the street the cold sobered you, and you winced a little as the world came back into focus. You had liked it when everything was just a little soupy. It had felt uncomplicated with Jonah. It had felt…good.

You followed the tracks in frost up the street, not stopping to consider whose they might be. As you got to the corner of your street you noticed that they veered off to the left, towards Joel’s house. You wondered if his lights would be on, if he would be up reading in bed, or whittling on his porch. You considered how late it was, and that Shauna was in there with him now, and you felt your stomach turn sour. You turned, walked the untrodden path to your place.

--

In the morning, a little packet of two not-terribly-expired Tylenol and a bottle of water appeared on your doorstep. More hungover than you could ever remember being, you drank the water and the pills down without stopping to question it. You marvelled at how well Jonah could apparently handle his drink. You wondered why he didn’t knock, or want to come in, but then you looked down and realised you were still in your clothes from the night before, and it made a little more sense. Your mouth tasted like you’d deepthroated a urinal cake. You imagined. You might have still been a little drunk.

Joel stood on the corner, watching you appear at your door in a way that he hoped appeared less creepy than he felt. He hadn’t slept, not a wink, so was able to get down to the infirmary first thing.

It hadn’t been his intention, but he was relieved to see you were still in your clothes. It wasn’t like he was curious, but he supposed that meant you had gone home alone.

The sun in your eyes, you didn’t see him. You let the doorframe hold you up for a while, adjusting to the glare of the dawning Saturday. It was really kind of Jonah to get up this early to come care for you. When you were human again, you were definitely going to make it up to him.

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