#Where is your fuzzy robe Bitch?

[severalforraelee]

The Girls Part 15: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Photo credit to Mario Renzi / Formula 1 / Getty Images

Word count: 3,167

Written by raelee / Posted Nov 3

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“That lady at table seven is being a downright bitch,” I mumble to Kylie while putting a pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

“What has gotten into you today?” She questions.

“What do you mean?”

“You said that the man at table two’s rude behavior is a defense mechanism for his micropenis. You’re never this negative, Y/N, what’s going on?” 

I take a deep breath, mentally debating whether I want to tell her or not. But the urge to tell someone how I’m feeling outweighs my desire for privacy.

“Okay, you can’t tell anyone,” I begin.

She leans in closer at the words, an inquisitive look on her face.

“Charles and I sort of kissed this weekend.”

She gasps and I pause, thinking. “Well, kissed twice.”

She gasps louder this time, causing a nearby chef to look at us. I smile at him and he smiles back, returning to his current task.

“Tell me everything,” she grabs my hands in excitement.

“The first kiss was at the girls’ birthday party when we were cleaning up and it was totally an accident. And then the second kiss was in the hotel room after putting the girls to bed, and that one was on purpose,” I explain.

“And then?” She grins.

“And then what?”

“Are you guys dating now?”

“Uh… no? Yes? I don’t know,” I admit.

“How do you not know?”

“We didn’t exactly get the chance to talk about it.” She gives me a look and I immediately go into defense mode. “Lucy woke up crying as we were kissing, so I comforted her while Charles took a shower and then when he was done I was already asleep!”

“What about in the morning?” She asks.

“He had to go to Italy immediately and we had to catch our flight home,” I share, “And he’s been so busy at work he hasn’t been able to text me and I don’t want to text him first because I have no clue what’s going on. Plus, he’s much better at this emotion stuff than I am.”

I run a hand through my hair and Kylie’s face drops at the obvious stress that I’m feeling.

“I’m sure that he’s just busy,” she tries to reassure me.

“I know, I just don’t want it to be like when we slept together after he came back into our lives and it turned into a big argument,” I sigh.

“I’m sorry, what?” Her eyes widen. “When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”

I grin, realizing that I never told Kylie about that. Truthfully, I didn’t tell anyone because I was so embarrassed and confused of how it all went down.

“It happened a while ago. Forget that I said anything.”

“Um, after admitting that you slept with your daughters’ father again? I will not forget that.”

I roll my eyes, grabbing the tray of food that was just completed for my table before leaving the kitchen.

“Where are you going? I need to hear everything,” she calls after me.

~

“Thank you for staying late, Cheyenne,” I say to the young girl as I pull off my coat and hang it on the coat rack.

“Oh, it’s no problem, Y/N. By the way, this package came in the mail for you,” she points to the big cardboard box sitting on the kitchen table.

“Thank you. Have a nice night, text me when you get home.” She smiles, closing the door behind her and I lock it.

The scissors cut open the top of the cardboard box and I open the flaps, finding several items inside. I pull out a small, heart-shaped red box, opening it to find red roses neatly packed inside. A smile appears on my face as I set it off to the side, grabbing three, fuzzy red robes, my name, Ada’s name, and Lucy’s name embroidered on separate ones. Three chocolate bars are the next items to exit the box.

A small note is the last thing to come out of the box. I open it, immediately recognizing Charles’ handwriting.

Mon amour,

I’m sorry that we couldn’t talk about what happened before we both had to leave. I sent you some beautiful roses, chocolate, and robes so that you and the girls could pamper yourselves together. See you soon.

XO,

Charles

I clutch the note close to my chest, a smile pulling at my lips. He’s so sweet.

~

“Both Frozens?” Ada asks curiously as I load up the TV with the first Frozen movie.

I look at the clock, debating whether we have enough time tonight to watch both Frozen 1 and 2 and get the girls to bed at a decent enough hour where they won’t be cranky tomorrow.

“Let’s see what time it is when we’re done with the first movie,” I suggest. There’s the sound of the key in the front door and I look over, initially in worry then in excitement once I realize who it has to be.

It’s been a while since I’ve lived with another adult. I’m not used to having another person come and go whenever they want- but to be honest, I don’t really have to worry about that with Charles because he likes to spend as much time with the girls as possible and usually where they are, I am too.

“Why don’t you pick out your nail polish color, girls?” I say, pointing towards the box in front of them as I step closer to the front door.

The front door opens to reveal Charles, glasses on his face and a matching sweatsuit on his body. Once he looks up from his suitcase and closes the door, spotting me directly in front of him, his face breaks out into a smile.

“I didn’t know that you would be coming back so soon,” I admit to him, a smile of my own on my face.

“I couldn’t be away for a second longer.” He steps closer, leaving the suitcase behind and pulling me into an embrace. My arms raise up to press against his back as his hands slide down to my lower back, pushing against the plush fabric to press me as close to him as possible.

I step out of the hug, watching as he looks my figure up and down, swallowing at the sight of the red robe.

“What?” I ask, confused and nervous by his reaction.

I can’t tell if it’s a turned on swallow or a realization of a mistake swallow.

“Nothing. I just didn’t realize that these robes were going to be so short,” he confesses, eyes stuck on my legs.

I smile slyly at the comment, turning around and walking back towards the living room. “Come say hi to the girls.”

“Daddy, I’m painting my nails pink,” Ada shoves the nail polish bottle in his face after jumping all over him.

“I’m doing blue,” Lucy shoves her bottle in his face now.

“What? No Ferrari red?” He teases, grabbing their little hands and placing kisses on the back of them.

“Sorry, daddy.” Ada gives him an apologetic look while Lucy just shrugs.

He laughs at that, taking the bottles from their hands and shaking them.

“Can you put your hands on the table for me? I’ll paint your nails,” he says.

I sit back on the couch, watching the scene silently. Charles paints Ada’s nails with the pink polish, then Lucy’s with the blue. He goes back to do another coat, the three chatting quietly while half-heartedly watching Frozen.

I can’t believe I ever doubted that this man would be a good father. It makes me embarrassed that I ever thought that way. Seeing him now, his gentleness with the girls, and the ability to do things that they like with them, matching their excitement, shows me that he was a man that was made to be a father.

No, he was made to be a dad. And a damn good one at that.

“Oh no, mommy,” Lucy looks over at me with wide eyes, then expectantly looking back at the screen.

Frozen has ended.

“Second movie? Please?” Ada begs.

I’m a sucker for my girls when they pout, which they already know, but with Charles joining in it’s hard to deny them much of anything.

“Yes, we can watch Frozen 2,” I agree, grabbing the remote to turn it on. Secretly, I’m excited to watch it as well, and I already know that with the busy day they’ve had at daycare they’re going to fall asleep soon anyways.

“It gives me time to do mommy’s nails,” Charles smiles at me, which I return. I slide onto the floor, selecting a red nail polish bottle out of the box and passing it to Charles.

“Ferrari red, for you.”

By the time he’s done painting my nails, the girls are asleep on the couch, slumped against one another.

“Sorry that you didn’t win the championship,” I apologize quietly as Olaf breaks into a song.

“That’s okay. I have everything that I need already.”

I give him a questioning look.

“All that I need are my girls.”

I can’t hold myself responsible for my actions after that. That is one of the sweetest- if not, the sweetest- things that I’ve ever heard in my life.

I launch myself around the table at him, straddling his hips with my legs as my hands grip his cheeks, pulling his lips to mine. His hands immediately attach to my lower back.

It’s a kiss filled with passion and anticipation, both of us waiting for the other to make a move since he showed up here a couple of hours ago. Now with the girls asleep, we show each other just how much we were missing one another, and express words that were left unspoken from last weekend.

At the sound of shuffling on the couch, I pull back, whipping my head around to make sure that the girls didn’t wake up. They didn’t, just adjusting their position.

I turn back to Charles, resting my forehead against his. His hands run up and down my back.

“You’re so sweet,” I whisper to him.

“Anything for you, mon amour.”

~

Charles and I sit on the bench in the park, watching as the girls use their buckets and shovels to build snow sculptures.

“Lucy, don’t throw snow at her, please,” Charles calls out to the toddler.

“Okay, daddy,” she calls back. When she thinks that neither of us are looking, she throws a little bit of snow at Ada again.

I can’t help but chuckle and Charles shakes his head, a small smile slipping onto his face.

“She is so your daughter,” I comment.

“My daughter? Lando’s told me quite a few stories about you as a child,” he nudges my shoulder.

“Hey,” I giggle, “So are you and Lando okay now?”

“Yeah, I would say our relationship is almost back to normal.” I see him swallow out of the corner of my eye, looking at me nervously. “Actually, I know one thing that would probably get us back to normal.”

“What’s that?”

“So don’t kill me,” he starts, “But how would you feel going to visit your family for Christmas this year? We can rent a house, we can just go for a couple of hours, whatever you’re comfortable with. But Lando was telling me just how much your family regrets treating you the way that they have and how they really want to see the girls-””Stop,” I interrupt him. “You’ll be there?”

“Of course, I won’t leave your side,” he nods in agreement.

“You’d ditch Christmas with your mom and your brothers to be with my dysfunctional family?” I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Yes,” he responds instantly, “I’d do that for you, the girls, and Lando.”

“Fine. But if I want to leave, we have to leave as soon as we can,” I warn.

“I’ll go by your rules, mon amour.” He raises my hand connected to his up to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of it.

“Mommy, daddy, come play,” Lucy calls out.

Charles lets go of my hand, reaching down to pack the snow into a tight ball, throwing it lightly at Lucy. She squeals when it explodes on her.

“Snowball fight,” he announces, getting up to run over to the girls. I follow his lead, beaming at the squeals and laughter coming from my daughters as Charles and I play with them.

This is the moment that I’ve been dreaming about from the second that I found out that I was pregnant. Family time with just the four of us, playing together, laughing together, and just enjoying each other’s company. I’ve dreamed of just being able to spend time with all of us together, no tension or question marks getting in the way of our family bond.

And now I’m getting it.

~

Charles squeezes my hand as we stand on the front step of my parents’ house. My gaze remains focused on the white, wooden door, remembering all of the times I ran through it.

To the car of my boyfriend at the time. To the street to go on my daily jog. To the waiting arms of Lando, just returning from a race.

  To never return.

“Anytime you want to leave,” he reassures me quietly.

I nod, taking a deep breath and knocking. There’s no going back now.

Flo opens the door, pausing with wide eyes when she sees me.

“Am I not invited?” I ask with a slightly joking tone.

“No, of course you are,” she stutters, taking a step to the side. “We just weren’t expecting you to knock. Please, come in.”

I take a step inside, my heart skipping a beat at her words. We just weren’t expecting you to knock.

“You remember Charles,” I awkwardly gesture towards the man standing next to me.

“Nice to see you again, Charles,” she pulls him into a hug, obviously distracted by the two toddlers standing behind his legs.

“And you remember our daughters, Ada and Lucy,” I introduce the two. I hold my hand out and Lucy steps out from behind her father’s legs, gripping my hand in her own. Shy little Ada remains behind Charles.

“Hi girls, I’m Aunty Flo. I haven’t seen you two in forever,” she coos. Lucy gives her a toothy smile while Ada sucks on her thumb.

It’s true. I haven’t been out to the house, and no one in the family besides Lando, has been out to visit me since the girls were three months old. That was over a year ago. Kids grow fast, but when they’re babies they seem to grow even faster. They went from newborns that you could cradle in your arms to toddlers that can run.

“Come on, everyone else is in the dining room.”

We follow her to the dining room.

“Now remember to just behave yourselves and be kind. It took a lot to convince her to come here, so don’t do anything to scare her off,” the familiar voice of my brother says before we enter the room.

At our entrance, everyone turns to look at us.

“Uh, hi,” I give an uncomfortable wave. Lucky for me, the girls break the tense atmosphere.

“Uncle Lando,” Lucy cheers, running towards one of her favorite people. At her sister’s words, Ada darts from behind Charles’ legs, joining Lucy in jumping on Lando.

“Present?” Ada asks with wide eyes. Lando’s trained them that everytime they see each other, they get a toy or a treat from him.

“Ada, don’t ask Uncle Lando for presents,” I scold.

“It’s okay, I got you girls these,” Lando grins, reaching past them to grab new stacking cups off of the table, handing a stack to each girl.

I roll my eyes. Typical Uncle Lando.

“They’re so big,” a familiar voice whispers. I turn to see my mom standing beside the dining room table, a shocked expression on her face as she watches the girls play.

“Hi darling,” another voice whispers in front of me. My dad pulls me into his arms, and it’s surprisingly not uncomfortable.

I thought since the last two or three years have been so full of tension and avoidance of one another, this would be a much more anxious and strained meeting. But I can’t help but melt into my dad’s arms. Maybe it’s from seeing the father-daughter relationship that Charles has with Ada and Lucy that makes me want to better my relationship with my own father.

I can’t forget everything that he’s said to me. But I can forgive and hope for improvement.

“Hi, Charles.” My dad pulls Charles into a hug next. The driver seems taken aback, but accepts the embrace.

My mom pulls me into a wordless hug. It’s not as comfortable as the one with my dad, I can still hear her shouting ‘whore’ at me in the back of my mind, but I still wrap my arms around her. I greet my siblings before taking a seat next to Lando, Charles sitting in the chair next to me.

“Hi Ada, hi Lucy,” my mom greets my daughters, reaching out to brush her finger along Lucy’s arm. Lucy doesn't react. “I’m your nana.”

Charles and I exchange glances at her word choice. We didn’t discuss how we want Ada and Lucy to refer to my family going into this, but we both know that we aren’t comfortable with my parents being referred to as nana and grandpa after the way they treated me and the girls when they were infants.

“Let’s just stick to Cisca for now, mom,” I state firmly.

She opens her mouth, about to respond, before Oliver nudges her. He nods towards Ada and Lucy, as if to remind her that this is about improving the relationship with her and her granddaughters and her and me. And that starts with respecting my boundaries.

“Okay.”

~

“Thank you for having us over,” I tell my mom as we stand in the front entrance.

“Oh, anytime. It was great to see you two and the girls again,” she smiles between me and Charles. “I’ll go check on the girls, Cisca and Oliver will help bring them down.”

Charles and I wait for our daughters to be brought down from their naps, tired out from playing with their family members and new presents. I zip up my winter coat in the meantime and Charles finishes pulling on his shoes.

“Hey look, mistletoe,” he points up at the plant.

I giggle, leaning in to give him a peck on his lips.

“Come on, you have to give me more than that.”

A loud laugh escapes me, and I lean forward to give him a much more passionate, longer kiss.

“You know what would be the only thing that would make this Christmas better?” He murmurs against my lips.

“What?”

“If you became my girlfriend.”

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Charles.”

Story completed.

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[paristheonewhoreads]

Little Bunny | Raider!Joel x F!reader

warnings: 18+ only, Dark!joel, dom!joel, age gap (Joel is 46, reader is 19), non-con, daddy kink, virgin!reader, sub!reader, innocents kink, oral sex (f!receiving), just the tip fucking?, thigh fucking??, indirect creampie???, somnophilia, pet names (sweetheart, bunny, peach, princess, etc.) toxic femininity, misogyny, groping, mentions of death, murder, slight gore and talks of needing to move a body. Joel is very talkative (calls us a bitch but idk if that’s a tw), and kinda filthy so be warned lol.

Synopsis: Your father leaves before you wake and in his place Joel is the man of the house. You try to get to know the mysterious stranger though he seems to want to do much more than just talk to you.

A/n: SMUT. (Finally huh?) Please if you are of any age younger than eighteen, DO NOT READ. Also, quick FYI this story takes place about ten years after the outbreak so things are relatively better than they would be if it were twenty years instead. That being said, enjoy!

P.s In my mind I’m writing about game Joel (because to me he’s just…better. No hate to Pedro I love him) having said that, it’s obviously up to you who you imagine when reading :)

Word count: 9.5k 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 (that was an accident)

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Chapter Two

The soft mellow breeze of spring flutters into your bedroom as you stir awake. Birds chirping outside welcoming you from your slumber. You sit up in bed with a yawn, and stretch your arms and back out after being curled up all night. It’s not as cold as it was during winter now that spring is here and the sun is a much more constant friend again, so sleeping with your window open is always a treat in the early mornings.

You push your soft pink floral bedsheets aside and slip your feet into your fuzzy slippers. The house is quiet. Strange, your father would be up by now either making breakfast or feeding the chickens out back. Either way, you make your way out of your room and into the kitchen. You stop before going in at your fathers door. Pressing your ear up against it to see if you hear him.

With no sound coming from the other side you decide to give a light knock on the wooden door, “Dad? Are you in there?” you ask just loud enough for him to have heard you on the other side.

There’s no response.

At this your brows furrow slightly, and you go to turn and open the bedroom door.

“He’s not here princess.” a honeyed voice calls behind you.

Turning back, you see Mr.Miller is standing at the end of the hallway, cup of coffee in hand.

“Hope you don’t mind, made myself a cup. Been a long time since I’ve had my morning fix.” he raises the mug up slightly.

You shake your head, “not at all, good morning.” you say anxiously. You don’t know why, but everytime-which haven’t been that many considering you’ve only interacted with him a handful of times, you body spikes in nervousness.

He makes you jittery. That being said it’s honestly a little silly, he doesn’t even speak or do much to make you feel this way. So you try to push that feeling deep down. Ignoring it.

With your hand off the doorknob, and being fully turned to him, you’re brought back to why your out in the hall in the first place.

“You said my fathers not here?” you recall, head tilting slightly, hands meeting at your front as they start to nervously fittle.

He doesn’t answer right away, just takes a look at you up and down. He takes in how you look in the mornings. Your hair is down, cascading down over your shoulders, not as neat as it had been last night, but not at all any less winsome. Your wearing a silk pink nightgown, white lace running along the neckline and helm. It had white bows too, two on either side of where the straps met the neckline and one right where the slit on your thigh began. A semi matching silk robe over it, given the slight chill in the morning air.

Your cute little fuzzy slippers on your feet. You look absolutely ravishing.

Fuck. And she’s only in her fucking pajamas? Joel thought to himself.

He clears his through and nods his head before taking a sip from his mug, “He and his men left at dawn, one of ‘em said they saw another group just west of here. I sent some of my men along with them too.” he explains.

You frown at this, pout prominent. He left? Without saying anything? That’s not like your father, he’d have woken you up or..maybe he left a-

“He wrote you a little something before he left.” Joel pipes up before making his way to you, he passes you by making his way into the living room and picking up a letter left on the coffe table.

He hands it to you, and you immediately feel yourself relax a little as you see his writing on the envelope.

A letter.

Is all it says, he’s never been one for writing. You carefully rip open the paper and pull out the letter, unfolding it.

Dear honey,

I’ll be gone by the time you wake up tomorrow and read this. I’ve been told that there is another group of men out west. Not as big as Joel’s, but they were seen with heavy arms and even a couple of horses. Not all of Joel’s men are in condition to go out there again, Joel included. So he and the ones who can’t will be staying behind to keep an eye on things here. Make sure he feels as welcome as he can. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Might take a couple of days, no more than a week. Take care of yourself and remember to feed the chickens when you wake up.

I’ll love you always,

dad.

You both ease up and tense as you read your thatchers words. His explanation for why he’s left is brief, but still you understand. His final farewell at the end of his note has you smile slightly. You sigh as you finish, putting the letter back in the envelope.

Looking up, you find Joel is still there, eyeing you almost expectingly.

“He give a good reason for why I stayed back?” he surprises you with a sly smile, and a light chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. As if he was the one who was nervous.

You blink at him for a moment, not saying anything before you snap back into it, “he said you were in no condition to go and help.” The sentence, although not intentionally, comes out with a sharp tone.

Joel’s gaze hardens for a moment, jaw clenching, his hands curl into fists at his side. A look of spite flashes across his face, however, as quickly as it appears it vanishes.

“That how you talk to all your guests?” he nags.

Your eyes drop to the floor at his tone. He sounds as if he was your father scolding you. Looking down at the letter in your hands you recall what your father had told you.

“…Make sure he feels as welcome as he can…”

With a defeated sigh, your shoulders slump slightly.

Once again you meet his gaze with your own, “I’m sorry Mr.Miller, I guess I’m just…he’s never left so often in such little time before. And,well, he’s not exactly at his prime anymore…” you trail off.

Why would you even tell him that? He doesn’t care. Much less need to know why you’re being so rude.

His eyes softened at that, “I’m sure your old man will be just fine sweetheart.”

Him calling you sweetheart makes the nest of butterflies in your stomach flutter slightly.

You clear your throat, and that seems to relieve the tension and awkwardness in the room, “Have you had breakfast yet?” you mellow, slippers flip-flopping with each step you take as you make your way to the kitchen, Joel hot on your trail.

“No.” He says as he leans on the opposite side of the counter, just looking at you, “Not much of a breakfast person. Cup of coffee’s all I really need.”

Trying to be a good hostess you try to persuade him into eating, “well just coffee is no good. Especially since…“ you pause.

Why had Joel stayed behind? He seems perfectly fine. He walks okay, no limp. Doesn’t look bruised or beaten at all. Even looks rather energized from the nights rest he’d gotten.

The unsettling feeling you’d pushed down earlier rises and settles back in you gut as you see he really is in the condition to go out there again.

He gives you a quizzical look, lifting a brow at you. If he had taken it

“um, since you’re not well. My father said you’re not in a good condition.” you try not to let your suspicions glances be obvious as you turn around to rummage through the pantry.

You decide you’ll make eggs with potatoes and sausage. Last harvest the whole town had been quite overwhelmed with how many potatoes were had. So you figured you’d just have to try and sneak them into your meals until the hefty supply in potatoes went down.

“Well I’m starving.” you chirp, trying to change the subject again. Given the ugly look he’d given you in the living room, you didn’t want to grill him for answers just yet.

“How’s about I make us breakfast. Nothing too fancy, but definitely yummy.” You say placing all the ingredients on the counter.

He watches you move around the kitchen pulling out seasonings, pans, plates, all so smoothly. You work your way around, and in Les than thirty minutes you’ve got eggs and sausage cooked and plated. Potatoes still cooking on a pan, the sound of them frying filling the house along with the smell of the sausage.

You place a plate in front of him, handing him a fork and a glass of water.

You yourself sip on a green juice you drink every morning as you stir the potatoes once more.

Joel doesn’t dig in just yet, just observes you as if what you’re doing is so enchanting. Staring at your ass everytime you turn your back to him. He feels himself stiffen in the worn sweats your father had lended him. Trying to distract himself he looks at the clear glass in your hand, “what’s that your drinking?” He asks.

You look from the pan to him, and then to the glass half full in your hand. “Oh, um, this is a green juice I drink in the mornings. It’s supposed to help with digestion and make my skin look healthier.” as you say it, it sounds a little weird.

You’d always taken yourself very seriously in regards to your health. Always making sure you have enough protein and vitamins. Always drinking plenty of water. You suppose it’s because of how you’d lost your mother. She’d given her life to give light to you. Why shouldn’t you take care of yourself?

Maybe a bit dramatic, sure, but really there wasn’t at all anything bad with it. You wouldn’t call yourself high maintenance for your looks, more just your wellbeing.

“Um, you wanna try it?” you ask him after a beat of silence. Offering him the glass he looks at it for a moment, seemingly not really interested in it, but curiosity gets the better of him as he takes the cup from you.

His fingers brush against yours for a split second. You don’t seem to take much notice in it, but fuck if doesn’t feel the spark on his skin when in contact with yours.

You’re just that sweet, aren’t you bunny?

You give him a nod of encouragement to take a sip from the drink. To him you’d just nodded to the question he’d asked you in his head. Christ, if he didn’t want to just pounce on you.

He takes a sip of your mysterious green beverage, it’s not the most delightful think he’s tasted, but also not the most horrible.

“And you say you drink this every..?” he asks you even though he knows what you’d said before. Anything to hear you talk to him.

“Every morning.” You answer with a smile. He takes another sip, tasting it again, before shaking his head, “not for me. Don’t know how you drink that.” He exaggerates.

This makes you laugh, your giggle filling the kitchen. At the sound of your laughter Joel feels his hand twitch. The urge to calm his stuffing cock in his pants. God he needs you. If he doesn’t get his hands on you soon he’ll have to just take you whichever way it fits best.

You move back to the pan, potatoes ready now after one final stir, oblivious of the man across from you’s thoughts. You pick it up and move over to where he’s sitting, giving him two big spoonfuls on his plate before serving yourself some.

“It’s not that bad. Besides they pay off don’t they?” You joke as you gesture to your face, moving your head side to side in order to show off your glowing skin.

Joel admires you as you do so, and even when you go to fork at your food he still doesn’t break his gaze from looking at you.

“Yeah, guess they do.” is all he responds with before he’s digging into his own plate.

Breakfast goes by quickly as you both eat in silence. Once finished Joel excuses himself and wander to his room. You wash up before heading to your bedroom as well. After a nice shower, you change into a white lace babydoll top, some old light wash jean shorts, and your old white converses.You let your hair down so that it can air dry, and put on your gold heart locket.

After almost forgetting to feed the chickens, you go out into the backyard, grabbing a scoop full of dried corn you pour it into a small woven basket. Placing it on your hip, you begin to toss some of it on the ground, the chicks and their mothers rushing to you to get as much as they can.

Once they’ve been fed, you decide to stay outside and enjoy the warm breeze now that it’s noon. You head inside to get a something to read from the book shelf in the living room. You pick a random one you don’t believe you’ve read yet, and as you’re walking back you notice your fathers letter on the coffe table.

You swiftly pick it up and take it to your room. You’ve just finished stuffing it into your other small stack of journals and papers you’ve saved, when you hear a knock on the front door.

Knowing that it couldn’t have been your dad because of the knock itself, you wonder who it could be. Your halfway to the door when there’s another insistant knock.

You open the door to find another man you’ve never met before.

He’s got a raven mane on top his head, with a just as equally dark mustache and thick scuff growing along his jaw. Beauty marks pepper his face, and as you meet his dark eyes, he’s looking back at you with a gaze so deep you could get lost in them.

“Um,” you look around and behind him but he seems to be alone, “Can I help you…” you trail off.

“Tommy. Tommy Miller, a pleasure.” He introduces himself and extends a hand for you to shake. Tommy Miller?

Miller?

“You’re Joel’s..” you wait for him to answer you as you shake his hand. Unlike the other Miller he doesn’t squeeze as hard.

“Brother. I actually came here to speak to him. He in by any chance?” His heavy accent rings.

“Oh, um, yes. Yes he is. Come inside and I’ll go get him.” You push the front door open wider as the miller brother passes you and walks into the living room.

You don’t even need to go and get Joel because he’s already walking down the hall to the two of you. He’s changed into a dark green flannel and some worn jeans, boots heavy on his feet.

“Tommy.” He greets his brother.

You look between the two men, both of whom stand taller than yourself. You do see the similarities, their height, their eyes, thick southern accents, but other than that they’re both completely different from one another.

“Joel.” Tommy nods, “Came to talk to you ‘bout something.” he says with a look you can’t quite place your finger on.

Joel seems to know what it is, shakes his head

then looks to you, “mind given us a moment here princess?” he gestures between him and his brother.

At the pet name Tommy smirks, raising a brow at you. That makes your cheeks flare up, and your skin becomes warm. Joel notices, but his expression doesn’t change.

At the attention on both millers you become flustered, “Um,y-yeah. Sure.” You stammer, as you go to pick up your book. With a small smile you give Tommy in goodbye, you make your way out into the backyard again. You walk over to the swing chair that hangs from the big tree out back. It covers you in shade and you swing slightly on it as you read.

You’re only able to focus on your book for so long. Your mind wandering over to the two men inside. His brother just happened to stay too? I’d of thought he’d had sent him too. Tommy didn’t look mal for wear. If enything it seems the two brother would’ve been in perfect shape to go help your father.

Did Joel even answer my question on why he’d stayed?

Joel was a..peculiar man. The first interaction with him had been weird. Borderline creepy. How he’d squeezed your hand. He hasn’t said anything then. It took him until dinner when you were alone to finally talk to you.

You’re rarely put in situations where you need to be introduced yourself in your small town, but surely you’re supposed to say something. Not just stand there with a stoney look on your face.

After a couple moments you try to shake of your thoughts. You wouldn’t need to deal with him alone for long. Dad would be home by dinner tonight and once they’re settled in, he’ll find Joel and his men somewhere else to sleep and he’ll be out of your house. At a distance.

Thirty minutes later, and you’re so engrossed into the book your reading that you don’t notice when Joel steps outside, eyes squinting slightly from the brightness of the suns warmth. He spots you a little ways away and walks on over.

Once at the tree he leans against it, facing you, “Book good?” he asks.

You look up at him, giving him a small smile, “yeah it’s not bad. I’ve never read it before but it’s actually pretty good.” you explain.

“Yeah bet you know plenty about pretty things don’t you? Pretty girl.”

You heat up suddenly at his pet name for you, eyesight immediately moving down to the book in your hands as you become shy, “I-i guess so.” You talk to the book more rather than him.

“Why do you always do that?” his tone serious now.

Oh?

Looking back up at him, you give him a look, and he straightens up again, his features softening as well as his voice, he shrugs his shoulders, “ I’m just saying. Usually you’d at least say thank you when someone compliments you.” he all but scolds.

Panicked,your eyes widen, “oh- I’m sorry. I didn’t-I don’t-.” you scold yourself in your head.

Was that rude of me?

Taking breath, “I just don’t,” you start,”it’s not often I get told things like that.”

I don’t get told things like this by men like you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. Thank you. It’s very sweet of you.” you say sheepishly with a tight lipped smile.

It’s embarrassing really, him having to tell you it wasn’t polite to not say thank you.

He makes a noise of understanding, nodding his head, “Well now, when I compliment you it’d be nice to here that from you. Let me know you like it.”

Do you like it?

A warmth settles into your tummy, “okay. I will from now on Mr.Miller. I didn't mean to be rude,” you try to reason “I guess I just don’t really talk to any new people really.”

“Well people say things like that all the time,” he pushes himself off the tree and steps in front of you. You crank your neck up to be able to see him, “especially to pretty girls like you.” his hand reaches out to run the back of his fingers down your cheek until he can hold your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

He smiles at you, but there’s something else behind it you just don’t-

Stop it. He’s being kind. He’s trying to be nice.

“Thank you.” you say blink up at him, voice meek, butterflies fluttering in your stomach again as you try to push away the unsettling feeling you’ve been getting since his arrival.

He caresses your jaw lightly with his thumb and takes a step back, letting go, “You’re welcome, princess.”

The encounter with Joel doesn’t leave your mind as the rest of the day goes by. All you can do is replay the scene over and over and over again in your head. Analyzing everything about it.

From the way he spoke to you once you’d said thank you.

“…Princess…”

Princess.

You feel yourself blush and you bit your lip in order to suppress the stupid smile that wants to plaster itself on your face, that insufferable feeling of something bubbling in your stomach intensifying.

To the way he’d touched you. His hands had felt rough when you’d shook them upon your first interaction. You never knew they could be so soft however. When it came to caressing your face they’d been so gentle.

Could a man like Joel miller be gentle?

They had been. So gentle. You couldn’t get over how his eyes had scanned your face as you’d looked up at him. His eyes lingering on your lips.

Did he like your lips? Were they as pretty as he’d said you were?

Would he have kissed you?

You shake your head as you dismiss the thought.

No that’s stupid.

Was it stupid though? So stupid that you’re currently trying to put more effort into your looks for dinner?

You sit at your vanity, starring at the girl looking back at you through the mirror. You’ve done up your hair is half up half down. You’d put in some old hair rollers that had given your hair some soft curls as they cascaded down your back. You’d added some lipstick to your cheeks as blush.

Not having much to work with in terms of makeup seen as most of it was over ten years old and more than likely long since experienced. All you can really do is just add some color to your cheeks,lips, and a little bit to the lid of your eyes.

You’d picked out another dress similar to yesterdays, a white knee length dress. It sits nicely on your body, or so the women of the town had said, whatever that may mean. It feels comfortable, so you go with it.

Dinner wouldn’t be much, just some vegetables, rice and some roasted rabbit your dad had in the slaughterhouse out back. You never went in there. Ever. When you’d been six your father had been working on the garden and you’d been playing and wondered into it.

Never again.

You’d screamed so loud people nearby had run up the hill to your home to see what was wrong.

You shiver and wiggle your body at the thought. Gross.

Joel had gone in there per your request. When you’d explained why you just couldn’t go in there he’d laughed at you.

You’d shoved him slightly with your shoulder, “hey it’s not funny! It was really scared. Left me traumatized even.” you smile as he chuckles.

“Don’t worry pretty girl, don’t gotta go in there anytime soon.” he’d said as he passed you after patting your head.

That’s another reason for you putting more effort into yourself tonight. You’d cooked the rice and chopped up the vegetables already. All that was left was the rabbit but you’d but that to cook about thirsty minutes ago so it’d be done in about fifteen more.

A once over as you fix your hair has you overthinking.

Is it too much? This is stupid. One compliment and your getting ready for…what? Him?

Before you can make up your mind on wether just taking this dress off along with the makeup there’s a knock on your door.

You stumble slightly on your bare feet, as you bad towards the door nervously, cracking it open so that only your head pops out.

Joel stands there still dressed in his same jeans he’d worn earlier only thing that’s different is he’s also bearfoot, and he’s wearing a white t-shirt that looks comfy. It hugs his upper body so…well.

You can see his broad shoulders, toned chest, even the muscles of his arms, which seem to be just about bursting through the seams.

At seeing you poke you’re head out of the door he raises a brow, “Dinners ready. Made sure it was cooked.” He says

“Oh you didn’t have to do that, I was just about to go and check on it.” You frown

“Well then how’s ‘bout you come on out of there then darlin’.”

“Well I would-I mean I will just-um.” you try to make something up to stay in a little longer. “just,I’ll be out in a second.” shutting the door softly you press your forehead to the door, eyes squeezing shut as you take a breath. You hear Joel start walking down the hall, footsteps heavy.

You’re already dressed you might as well just go out. No point in taking it off now that’s it’s on.

After a moment you force yourself to yank the door open and walk to the kitchen, you see Joel there, serving up two portions, table set.

He’s cutting up some of the rabbit. The dim lights in the kitchen cascading him in a low glow. He looks so..nice. Yeah, he looks nice. This is nice. Your nerves start to simmer down.

He looks up once he hears your soft steps along the hardwood floor, faltering once he takes you in.

Christ.

You’re standing there, looking like an absolute doll. Your hair is done up, he can see there’s more defined coils in your locks as they fall over your shoulders, framing your face.

Your dress isn’t necessarily anything special, but fuck if you don’t look gorgeous. It meets just above your knees, feet bare. You’re beautiful, look more..flushed. You have a tint to your cheeks and lips. He stares more at your lips. He can tell you put more effort in your appearance than you usually do.

You fiddle with your hands as you feel him take you in.

Did he like it?

Did he like you?

He sets the carving knife and meat fork down, not taking his eyes off you as he goes around the counter until he’s standing right infront of you again.

Neither of your gazes leave one another as he approaches you, “Look at you, princess. All dolled up.” He reaches out for you placing a hand on the curve of your waist, pulling you to fun slightly

His other hand goes to cup your face, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“This all for me?” he tilts his head.

You feel yourself becoming warm and bubbly again, giving him a shy nod and small smile, “I thought maybe you’d, um,” you shrug, feeling embarrassed at admitting why you’d tried harder tonight.

“Don’t shy away now baby, tell me.” Joel urges you, hand on your waist sliding back and down to your lower back.

“I thought, maybe you’d..like it. Call me pretty again.” The words make you feel so much more embarrassed it’s practically mortifying.

“I don’t know it was dumb. I know you said I was, and-but I didn’t-“ your nervous rambling is cut short as Joel presses the hand on your lower back, hauling you forward until your pressed up against him.

You hand fly up to his strong chest, ruffling up the white shirt slightly. His touch alone making you feel dizzy.

“Of course I like it darling. I love it. You getting all dressed up for me. You look stunning n’ your lil’ white dress.” He cups your face, giving you a reassuring smile.

He loves it?

You look stunning.

He likes it.

You mirror his smile, feeling like you’d done a good job at making yourself look your best for him.

“I’m glad you like it Mr. Miller.” you giggle.

Joel hum, his yes looking over the features of your face until they land on your lips.

Oh god..

You bit your bottom lip and look up at him, his eyes snapping back to yours as they glimmer in the soft dim lighting of the kitchen.

He moves his face closer to yours, nose brushing against your own as he nudges you head to the side and up.

He’s going to kiss me. You thing dreamily.

He’s going to kiss me. You realize.

Eyes widening in a panic, you pull back, your hand pressing against his chest to halt him.

Joel’s eyebrows knit in confusion, but his hands tighten around you harder as he looks at you.

Frustratingly, his look of concern starts to simmer into one of annoyance and anger, “What’s wrong sweetheart? Thought you said you liked me. Ain’t this why you got all pretty for me?”

Your panic spikes more at his tone, he sounds a bit offended that you didn’t accept his kiss. Like he’d just given you a prize and you’d rejected it.

I didn’t mean to.

“I’ve never kissed anybody.” your nerves have you blurting out, cheeks flaring up.

There’s a beat of silence, but that only makes you feel more ashamed. You’d always felt a sort of shame at your own inexperience with these kind of..things. Although it’d never really matter to you enough to pursue anyone or do anything like kiss someone. It would feel embarrassing when all the older women in town would tease you.

“At this rate you’ll never find yourself a nice man to settle down with.”

“Men don’t take much a liking to girls as shy as you honey.”

“Can’t believe a young girl like you hasn’t been whisked away yet.”

“At your age I was already at least engaged.”

“Now how are you going to get yourself a husband like that, hm?”

That’s all the women would ever agree on when it came to you. They’d all agree when it came to your looks, and polite manners, but god forbid you not have a man yet. You’d tried, once. Really tried, but the boy you’d been talking to just wasn’t very pleasant to be around.

You didn’t exactly know why he hadn’t appealed to you. He was funny, not bad looking, just a year and a half older than you. Perhaps it was the way he’d been too touchy at first, or how he’d make ‘jokes’ about you and your body. Saying all the vulgar things he’d liked to do to you. It’d completely driven you away from ever interacting with anyone like that again.

And now you’ve denied a kiss from the only man besides your father that you’d wanted one from.

You sigh, eyes closing shut, your head drooping forward in shame, as you rest your forehead on his right peck. The urge to apologize for your lack of knowledge is strong. However the weight of embarrassment is stronger as it pulls down on your resolve to say anything.

Joel remains silent, and that only eats at you more. You feel like a complete and utter idiot.

Why did you even put on this stupid dress on for? A dumb compliment?

You’re a joke.

He untangles himself from you, stepping back, “Sit. I’ll serve you dinner.” is all he grunts out. Moving back to where he’d been cutting up the meat.

You feel yourself deflate, shoulders drooping. Not saying anything, you do what you’re told. Sitting there looking at nothing in particular.

Joel comes back with two plates in hand, along with a glass of water. He sets down a plate and the glass of water in front of you, and surprises you when he sits in what would typically be your fathers place.

He doesn’t look at you as he begins to pick food up with his fork, but all you can do is look at him. Silently pleading him to say something.

Did he not like you now that he knows you haven’t even kissed anyone yet?

He probably thinks you’re pathetic. Just like the women said.

You stare at him for a moment more, before deciding you’d rather just get dinner over with and lock yourself in your bedroom. Not really feeling hungry anymore, you just drink your water.

About fall glass in Joel speaks up, “I think it’s cute you haven’t kissed anyone before.” between a mouthful of food.

You bring the glass down from your mouth, setting it down on the table, “you think it’s..cute?” you say, baffled.

He just nods again, “You’re a special girl. A special girl needs her special first.” is all he says, still not looking up from his plate.

“When do you know who’s the special first?” you ask, hoping for an answer to the age long question.

Why can’t i seem to just find someone?

Joel stops chewing, meeting you eyes with his, “y’just do. Start getting all flushed. Your body is first to know. Then your head. Makes you want to talk to them, get to know em’. Then your body starts to get all hot, itching to touch.” He sees you look back down at your plate at that, and smirks.

You don’t look up from the food you’ve barely touched. It feels as if you took into his eyes again after what he’d just said, that he’ll know. He’ll know you feel that way about him.

So you don’t look up, even as he continues, “start to ache between your legs. Getting all tingly, you’re body knows what you want even if your brain doesn’t.”

Is that why you’ve been feeling that way?

Does your body know it wants him?

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, s’just natural. We all react the same way, our bodies..in a sense.” He chuckles the last works.

Nothing is spoken the rest of dinner, it doesn’t even last more than thirty minutes because you suddenly begin to feel your head pounding, mouth dry. You raise you hand up to your forehead to try and somehow calm the ache.

Joel sees this, “y’alright there sugar?” his voice sounds far away.

“Y-yeah. I-i just- need to, go to bed.” is all you can utter. You go to stand up, only for your legs to wobble before they give out beneath you.

Arms grasp yours for support, your vision becoming blurry, sounds muffled.

“J-Joel?” your say, before you go limp, world going dark.

He’d thought the pills would’ve taken more than a damn half hour to kick in.

You’d practically guzzled the whole glass.

He can’t blame you, poor thing. Nervous beyond belief, all fidgety. You never were very still, always moving, always doing something. He'd had a fantasy about taking you in your bed, in your bedroom, when he’d first glanced into it as your father had taken him to his room.

Walls a light pink, all white furniture that had surprisingly been kept in remarkable condition given the circumstances of the world. Warm pink sheets, white fluffy pillows, white curtains that didn’t do much to obscure the view of inside from the other side of the window.

You had some stuffed animals on your bed too, an old small stuffed bunny.

That’d been how he got your nickname.

His little bunny.

Your bedroom had been the embodiment of you.

He steps into your room, the soft light from your bedside table lamp illuminates the space, fairy lights around the archway of your closet, does the rest. Your vanity still has some of the things you’d used to get yourself ready scattered on top.

Walking to your bed, he lays you down, your hair splaying out around you like a halo.

You’re out cold. Don’t even move as the bed dips, with the weight of his body on it. Joel can’t stop looking at you, more specifically your tits.

He was always more of a tits man over an ass. Though he could appreciate the presence of both.

They’ve been pushing up against the low neckline of the dress all evening. Not bursting out, but definitely needing to be left out. Spreading your legs, he runs his calloused hands from the sides of your knees up your thighs, dress becoming bunched up as they slip under the fabric.

Shit, your so fucking soft everywhere. Your hands, your face, your voice, legs, body, all of you. It makes him want to squeeze you so tight he’s worried he’d break you.

Maybe he will, but certainly not yet. No. He’d have his fun with you. Break you down bit by bit till you yourself collapse with no other option but to have him build you back up.

His hands reach your panties, he feels at them, the texture seeming to be lace, as he imagines the intricate details, they toy with the band, and he pulls at it, stretching it out till it can’t anymore.

He lets it go, and it snaps back into place. Smacking your skin as it does. He glances up at your face, you don’t even flinch.

“Worked like a fuckin charm didn’t they baby?” he coos at you.

As if you’d answer.

He thinks to himself. Grinning like it’s funny. He moves his hand once again, this time up the sides of your stomach up your ribs. Feeling the goosebumps he leaves in the wake of his touch. They stop once they feel the wire of your bra, letting only his thumb feel the smooth material of it, over where your nipples would be.

Sliding them behind you, he expertly unclasps the hooks behind your back, seeing your breasts lose the support of it as they settle naturally on your chest.

“God your so fucking pretty, bunny. Such a good girl, hm? Getting all pretty for me just to catch my attention.” he doesn’t care that you won’t respond, might even prefer it.

Pulling his hands back from under your dress, he gropes your breasts, feeling them up as they fill his palms. Squeezing till he can see, your skin pale at the pressure, then releasing to see the imprints of his fingers begin to redden. His cock strains, begs, to be let out as it presses against his jeans, but he pursues.

Tracing the neckline of your dress up to the thin straps he pulls them down along with your bra, slipping them through your arms and throwing the bra aside on the bed as he pulls the dress completely off of down and off your body.

He could bust in his pants just by looking at you.

Tits bare, in nothing more than some white lace panties, with matching bows. If he had his fucking phone, he’d take so many pictures of you, save them for later use when he needs to blow one and you’re not there.

He relishes in the view. Committing every detail of you to memory. The way your chest rises and falls with each instinctual breath, the way your hair framed your peaceful angelic face. He can’t take it any longer, as he immediately falls on top of you, hands flying to your breasts as he needs them, mouth kissing and sucking lightly at the pillowy flesh.

Can’t mark you just yet baby.

“Have to wait.” He mumbles against your breast, beard a rough, striking, contrast from your softness. Just like him. His mouth connects with your hard nipple, sucking and licking at it like he’d actually get something to come out.

The sounds of him are obscene as the echo through the room. He’s sure your father could hear it from his room if he was still alive to be here.

Joel switches from one nipple to the other, basking in the warmth of your skin. This continues for a while, swirling his touch around your nubs before he’s skimming one hand down the length of your torso, until they meet the fabric of your panties again.

Not wasting any time he slips a hand in, running a finger down to your clit, rubbing lazy circles softly.

This, you do stir at. Your head falling to the side, as your legs twitch inward slightly, breathing patter changing, “feels good doesn’t it sweetheart? Yeah, it does. Pretty pussy hasn’t been touched the way it deserves has it?”

Slipping a finger through your fold he groans against your skin, “fuck your a mess. Little bitch, I haven’t even touched you yet, baby.”. Once he gets his fill from your breasts, he kisses down past the curve of your boob, onto your stomach until his face reaches your panties.

Kneeling in between your legs Joel doesn’t even think twice before he buries his face into your clothed pussy, inhaling your musky sent. You smell perfect, he’s practically itching to rip your underwear off.

He resists however, wanting this to last a little longer before he takes what he wants from you. He won’t fuck you tonight, no. He wants to hear all the noises you’ll make once he’s balls deep in you, tearing you in half as you try to accommodate him in you. Wants to feel you scratch and claw at his back from how hard he’s pounding into your tight hole.

This time when his cock twitches he listens to it, practically ripping his belt off, and pulling at the zipper on his crotch. He gets harder as the cool spring air make contact with his skin.

Leaning back on his knees he spreads your legs more, until he has a perfect view of the wet spot that’s soaked through the thin material of your underwear.

“Need to taste you first bunny.” he grumbles, and hurries to hook his fingers onto the waistband of them before sliding them down your legs, carefully placing them next to you.

Laying down now as he comes to settle between your thighs, hands feeling the skin there too.

“You don’t understand how badly I’ve wanted to touch you like this, bunny. From the moment I saw you I wanted you just like this.” He kisses up the inside of your thigh, alternating between your two legs until he places a single kiss onto your folds, nose nudging your clit.

He languidly flattens his tongue, the puffy walls of your pussy opening up to let him skim your slit with it. He looks up at you for any reaction, all he gets is your eyebrows furrowing and a whimper that doesn’t quite make it out as you once again turn your head to the opposite side.

Joel smiles into your pussy, and dives in completely. He licks at your slit before he’s latched onto your clit. Swirling his tongue round-around and then flattening it again. Trying to get even deeper, he shakes his head as he presses into you.

“Fuck you taste so sweet princess.” He whispers into you, one hand going up to group your left tit while he continues to eat you out. Horrendously filthy noises filling your pretty pink bedroom as he abuses your cunt.

His other hand comes to rub the sensitive nub between your legs as he slips his tounge into you, fucking you with it. It doesn’t take long before your pussy is nice and puffy. Shades of red and pink glistening with your wetness and his saliva.

He feels you clench on his finger and hums, “yeah baby? You like that? Like when daddy fucks you’re tight little hole him?”

You’ve started to whimper in your drug induced sleep, hands subconsciously tightening and bunching up your pillow and sheets. Legs threatening to close around Joel’s head so much he has to use the hand on your breast to keep you open for him.

The one rubbing your clit moves down to your slit, lightly prodding at your hole, “gonna have to be a big girl and take it baby” is all the warning he gives you, before he begins to slip his finger inside.

You’re whole body twitches, he can see your stomach tighten at the intrusion, your breath is heavy now, you’re practically panting. None of that matters however, because you suck in his digit in until he’s knuckle deep.

“Thaats it baby, fuck. Look at you, taking it so well sweetheart.” he begins to move his finger in and out, the mixture of wetness making it slip through with ease.

His mouth latches back onto your clit, and something in him snaps with his desire for you that he bites down on it. Not too hard, but just enough to where you’re moaning out loud in your sleep. Legs kicking lightly as you squirm to try and get away. His free hand holds you in place, once again running his tounch over to soothe the pain.

It doesn’t take long before another finger is joining the first. He feels more resistance than he did with the first one, your walls a bit harder to push by, but he makes it fit. He’s pumping them into you roughly and faster now.

Feels you begin to tighten more and more the longer he goes on, “that’s right bunny, come for me. Come for daddy, baby. That’s it, fuck, that’s it baby yeahh.” you mewl in response to your bodies release as you cream around Joel’s fingers. Legs instinctively clamping shut, squeezing his hand I between.

He lets you ride it out as you feverishly hump up into his hand. Slowly dragging them out, he doesn’t waste time as he sucks at them, savoring the taste of your essence, then dives back into the main source, drinking it up like it’s the sweetest nectar there is.

Once he’s got you all cleaned up, pussy stretched and looking absolutely ready to be fucked, he takes his cock in hand. Using your wetness to lube himself up as he jerks himself a couple of times.

“Maybe we could just put the tip in hm baby? Would you like that? Get a taste of daddy’s cock in your pussy? Yeah, I think you’d like that you little whore.” He grunts out.

He scoots closer to you knees meeting the curve of your as, thighs prest against the back of yours as he lines himself up, “juust the tip honey. Just a little bit.” he reassures himself.

He meets resistance as his engorged, angrily red tip tries to squeeze in, “shit your so fucking tight. Won’t even let me in without having to hurt you sugar. Bet you like it like this, like it to hurt. Dirty girl.”

He hunches forward, using one arm to hold himself up so that he doesn’t crush you, applying more pressure until he pops right in, your pussy squelching.

He groans loudly you can hear it from anywhere in the house, “fuck! That’s it you little bitch, take what I fucking give you baby. Shit you feel so good.”

You moan loudly as he groans, legs once again trying to close, only to be met with his torso between them. Joel only fucks you for a small while, savoring being inside you, before he’s pulling out.

He hears you whimper at the lost of contact and chuckles, “yeah? You miss it baby? Little slut hasn’t even had the whole thing and she wants more. We’ll get there honey don’t you worry.” His cock lays on your pulsing pussy, slapping it on your wet folds.

“Shit I can feel your heart beat from here, I promise I’ll give you more soon baby. S’long as you don’t make it too hard for me.” Even asleep you look so beautiful. A thin layer of sweat sheens your body, making you shine as the light from your bedroom reflects of you.

“Blissfully fucked out already,” he laughs, “and I haven’t even fucked you yet.” He says as he takes both your legs, cock nestled between your thighs.

“How’s ’bout we finish this and go to sleep huh baby? Old man starting to smell over there in the other room. Gonna have to get rid of him once I’m done with you.”. Then he’s fucking your thighs like there is no tomorrow.

The sound of skin on skin fills the room, your bed creaking with each thrust, his balls slapping against your ass, “FUCK! I can’t wait to fuck you, can’t wait to feel your warm pussy squeeze me till I cum in ‘ya. Get you nice and full of me till your dripping.”

Your tits bounce up and down as his manic thrusts don’t stop, the sounds of your slick making his dick slide between your thighs.

It doesn’t take long for Joel to feel his own release creeping up on him, “Fuck I’m gonna come baby, gonna paint you all white and pretty. SHIT! Ohh fuckfuck FUCK! that’s right you bitch take it. Fucking-take it.” His balls tighten as he begins to come, shot after shot landing on your stomach, so much that it fills your belly button up.

Joel allows himself to collapse onto you, breath heavily and hot against your ear as he pants like a damn dog.

He stays like that with you for a little while.

“Y’did so well for me sweetheart. So good for your daddy.” he whispers into your ear, placing a kiss just under it goodbye as he lifts himself back up.

“Can’t have none of it going to waste now can we?” He asks you scooping his cum off your belly with his finger and sliding it down, pushing it into your pussy. He repeats this until he’s got most of himself in you. Smearing the rest onto your puffy outer lips.

Satisfied and sated he tucks his softened cock back into his pants, zipping himself back up. He pats your pussy, before he’s putting your panties back on, along with your dress, not caring much about the bra.

He tucks you into your bed, giving you a kiss on the forehead.

He’d wait until you were awake to give you a real kiss.

Shutting the door behind him, he goes to the front door of the house. He pulls it open and outside by the tree near the fence that surrounds your home, Tommy stands there, smoking cigarettes as he leans against the tall wood.

Once he sees Joel he makes his way over, “The hell did you get that?” Joel asks, snatching it from his brothers lips.

“Ay, now. Watch it, I got it from one of the old hags husband, had a whole drawer full of ‘em.” Tommy tries to snatch it back.

Joel keeps it out of reach, before bringing it to his lips and taking a couple puffs, then dropping it.

Tommy sighs, stepping on it for him “so, heard you having some fun with the little lady. She as good as you’d wanted her to be?” he smirks.

“Ain’t none of your business now ain’t it little brother.” Joel turns back into the house, Tommy stepping in behind him.

“Just want to know my big brother can still get it up. Y’a Old dog.” he says, chuckling.

Said older brother doesn’t answer, just keeps on walking through the house, down the hall until he reaches your fathers bedroom door.

“Y’know, it’s pretty sick how you can go on and fuck the man’s daughter while he’s rotting not even 20 feet away.” the younger miller says, noticing the small pink flowers painted on the door across the one he’s about to go into

“She in there? Mind if I take a look see?” Hinting towards your door.

“Y’help me move the old fucker outta here and maybe I’ll grace you with a peek. And I ain’t fuck her yet.” Joel opens the door.

Tommy doesn’t get a chance to ask more as the reeking stench of death and decay wafts into his face.

The younger man’s nose wrinkles at the grim smell, “well shit, the fact you can’t smell him from outside is just about any godsend you get these days.” he gets to work on wrapping the body up in the worn quilt it lay on.

Your father had been a foolish man. Gullible. It didn’t take much to have the old man take pity on Joel and his men when he’d found them. Even when the rest of your fathers men were reluctant to help.

He’d invited them into your town, gave Joel of all people a place to stay at his own home. Old man was too trusting for his own good. Now he’d paid the price.

His face hadn’t changed from when Joel had last seen him. It had been the night of Joel’s arrival, after you’d gone to sleep that the two men had talked about leading a party of men out seeing as there had been ‘another group’ spotted.

No doubt the rest of Joel’s crew. Joel had suggested they leave at dawn, before you’d wake up. Then given your father a lame ass excuse on why he couldn’t accompany them but reassured your father he would tell some of his boys to go with them.

Your father had written you the letter and placed it on the living room coffe table. It was only then that Joel struck, swinging the metal baseball bat he’d found tucked away in the closet of his own bedroom.

The grotesque sound of his skull cracking, accompanied by the splat of blood that came from the old man’s head as his body fell face first on his bed was all there was to be heard.

Surprisingly the old fucker hadn’t died, only started moving once Joel had moved his limp body to lay completely on the bed, “y’know I’d really hoped that you’d have made this easier.” as he grabbed the pillow from beside the bleeding man’s head.

He pressed it into his face, and naturally the body beneath him started to thrash and kick. His hands clawing at anything they could grab, trying to fight for the a breath of air as the weight on top of him only increased. Joel suffocated the life out of him, eventually going still.

It didn’t pain Joel to do this, he’d done worst. He will do worst if he needs to.

He’d snuck into your room that night too. Just moments after killing your father in the room right across from yours. You were sound asleep, not a clue in the world that you’d just lost everything.

He’d smiled down at you as he ran his fingers down your cheek, “little bunny, you’ll forgive me one day baby. I promise.” he’d whispered, giving you a small kiss on the corner of your lip.

Now standing here, twenty-four hours later, your father is starting to smell. Opening the window to both your and his room had only done so much. It was time to move the bastard out of the house, dump him a couple miles into the woods.

Both millers carried him out through the front door, down into an old bin, “I’ll make sure to go and drop him off at dawn.” Tommy said.

Nodding, “You do that, little brother.” Joel says. Patting the other on the shoulder, turning back towards the house.

Turning back, to you.

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day. Welcome to Throwback Thursday!

Many thanks to everyone that contributed to WEDNESDAY WORDS. Thanks to those that read and leave a ‘like’ or ‘love’. As you can see, some contributions really resonate with people. Yesterday’s winner was Jay Ben-Lew with, “The struggle is very real. Give yourself some credit because it aint pretty out there. Know that you are not alone and someone somewhere is proud of you.” Again, this quote is not attributed to anyone specific, it is just ‘internet wisdom’, but I suspect we all feel it. The struggle is very real. Painfully real. The question is: why is life such a struggle? And, who made it such a struggle? Was it a person? Or an economic philosophy? Or do we over-think things and sabotage our own lives?

On this page, ‘Throwback Thursday’ is all about memories. So, what do you remember? If I was to say the word WORK what immediately comes to mind?

I was thinking about work the other day. Being self-employed totally alters the concept of work. When you’re employed, you have a set salary and set work hours. If you put in extra hours, it’s unlikely to be noticed and it won’t affect your salary. Only very progressive companies reward effort and attitude. Most companies reward people that cause the least fuss and toe the company line a.k.a. the arse-lickers. Most employees clock-watch and take every possible opportunity to get out of doing any work at all. Most companies would not look out of place in the Victorian era. It’s a dysfunctional work force in a dysfunctional world. Of course, when you’re working for yourself, you have no work hours. If you don’t work, no money is earned and no bills get paid. The more you put in, the more you get out. You end-up working 10 and 12-hour (from 7.00 – 7.00) and it seems quite normal. Sometimes, my work day will stretch from 7.00 a.m. until 11.00 p.m. with lunch and dinner breaks thrown in. Sometimes, my son will ask on Friday, “Is your work day over?” because he wants me to order, pay and pick up the Chinese. In truth, my work day is NEVER over! NEVER! There are always tasks that need doing. These days, I work until I feel that fuzzy, can’t- concentrate feeling; I reach this point where I know there’s no point trying to do anything meaningful. And, at that point, I don’t watch TV, I just say to The Trouble, “I’ll see you upstairs. I’m going to bed.” I get into bed and fall straight to sleep. I always obey my body.

So, on this Throwback Thursday, what kind of memories, thoughts or emotions does the word WORK conjure up for you?

Yesterday was a very enjoyable day. Got most of my work finished by 4.00, which allowed me to go out for a walk. Shock horror! At 4.00 pm, the sun had gone down but it was still very warm. We all pay huge council tax bills and bitch about it but, yesterday, I enjoyed and appreciated my council tax bill. It gave me great pleasure to provide young, local families with a day’s worth of free entertainment. As most of you know, occupying the kids during the summer holiday is exhausting and expensive. In a cool, multi-purpose place like Roundwood Park, the kids can play in the playground, run, jump, ride their bikes, scream and shout to their heart’s content, and the mums can sit on a blanket, eat homemade food and spend the whole day laughing and chatting, while keeping a mindful eye on the kids. Perfect! On such days, I am proud to be a tax payer because I am contributing to so much happiness. No, my bank account is not in some offshore account so I don’t have to pay any tax. I work hard and I’m happy to pay tax because (sometimes) it's put to good use.

Have a throbbing and thrusting Thursday (with hopefully a few thrills through your thoroughfare?) I love you all.

[iriel3000]

HAWKEYE SPOILERS -Thoughts on ep 5

I have so many positive things to say about episode 5 but can we focus on THE scene please??

Not only did we get this amazingly powerful moment, but time was spent on it too. The previous short episodes were very jumpy IMO.

I like to think Clint took out his hearing aids because he believes that Natasha will talk back one day. As for how choked up he got.....I can't yet. I know I've bitched a lot about them only telling us things but....damn.

Trying not to get my hopes up but I NEED A CONVERSATION BETWEEN CLINT AND YELENA ABOUT NATASHA...and only them.

Maya finally got show some real emotions instead of cookie cutter revenge motivation. I don't understand Kazi's involvement, if true, and I hope it's not. I want him around longer and a good guy.

Yay Grills!....and Lucky.

Sooo many shot for shot comparisons to 1st avengers(Clint kneeling down by charger like he did with CA and BW in 1st movie, opening in ep 1, etc) throughout all the episodes so far. I can't wait for the side by sides.

Yelena being the cutest badass.

Poor fucking Jack. I like that dork.

Christmas in Hollis - That's right, recognize a real classic.

NOW FOR MY ISSUES, IT'S MOSTLY WITH THE INCONSISTENT WRITING

1. Yelena. - How the hell does she 'know' what happened? She knows what Clint meant to Nat. Why wouldn't she want to talk first?? THE WORLD CAN ONLY KNOW WHAT CLINT TOLD THEM!

Even Val getting in her ear makes NO SENSE at all to want to kill Clint before finding out what happened from the only witness to your sister's death. UGH

2. Way too much time on 'fun' girl night talk, Kate's realization moments(over 30 seconds), etc, time that could be used more efficiently and effectively to move the many plot lines needed to wrap up next week. OR, I don't know, CLINT'S ORIGIN STORY.

3. Kate Ex Machina - No way Clint, and his fast reflexes they have clearly shown, was going to lose to Maya in that moment.

4. Don't get me started (like in BW) how many times a 120lb woman can take a hit or kick to the chest from a man twice their size, or fall DIRECTLY on their backs from a tall height and jump right up and only get a cute scratch on the forehead. Kate has been written more believable than most lately but come on...watch the rooftop scene again...and again, no way Clint is losing there either.

5. AND THE EXPOSITION SCENE WHERE YELENA RETURNED, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?? Worst ever. Is that how you would talk to someone who had been blipped for five years? Boast and ramble about your life and how you got married and things are so wonderful?? While they are freaking out about losing time? REALLY???

6. I'm going to withhold any comments on a certain nameless character. I really thought Kate was going to be the Mary Sue but she's not. Kate's likable and relatable(the 400 messages, I was dying). I can't relate to a character that doesn't get stressed or upset with their partner occasionally among many other 'perfect' flaws and over confidence they have that don't fit that character either.

[ramp-it-up]

The One

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warmings:  18+, Minors DNI. Curate your own experience. Cursing, drinking, running, a raging argument in an established relationship, name calling, taunting, drunken raging, Twitter. SMUT, explicit, rough sex, fingering, tit slapping, orgasm denial, spitting, oral sex (mostly female receiving). Also, I’m sleepy. 😴

A/N: Not proofread. Also, I know very little about Chris and Jenny, and have no real opinion about their relationship. I made up the scenario about what happened there for the purposes of the story. THANKS FOR 400 FOLLOWERS TONIGHT! 🥳🎉🎊🍾👏🏽🎈

This fic is based on the following ask:

Anonymous asked:

Imagine idea :

Chris is drunk after a fight with the reader. He was On Twitter and saw some pics with Jenny and when the reader comes in he screams at her and says that Jenny was the one and not the reader. The reader get sad because she was always kind of insecure about the age gap with Chris. The day after he didn’t know what he says and she don’t say anything because she got the feeling that he was right. But one thing both didn’t noticed that Chris was drunk calling Scott and he knows everything Chris says and drive to Chris to give him a good clamp ahahhaha Chris was drunk and Just mentioned her name because he saw a post with Jenny.

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

It had been the perfect day.

You slept in, then had a late brunch at home. 

You saw a message from Chris’ former co-star, Heidi, light up his phone that he’d plugged in on the kitchen counter when you two were tidying up.

You wondered why he was texting the bitch even after you told him that she wanted him. And after he agreed to cut off contact out of respect for you.

Heated, you didn’t even look around before you picked it up, put in his code and read a string of friendly, if not borderline flirty, texts.

Chris walked in the kitchen, caught you, and yelled at you for being in his phone. 

“What the hell is going on?”

“Exactly! What is going on, Chris. I thought we talked about this?” 

Chris rolled his eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh, it’s a big fucking deal.”

You threw his phone on the marble countertop, which caused Chris to pick it up to see if it was cracked. Your temper was too much.

“We’re just friends! She knows we’re together, y/n!” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“And I know women, Chris. That doesn’t fucking matter to her. Sometimes you’re so oblivious. Or act like you are.” You huffed and rolled your eyes.

“I know you want to leave me for someone more glamorous and beautiful. Someone who will put up with your shit, everyone the media says you’re fucking. Go ahead and just do it!”

Chris’s temper was really rising now. You could tell as the red creeped up his chest to his neck. 

“Stop fucking saying that!” Chris was screaming now. “Is that what you want? To end it? Because you don’t have to make me do it. If you want to leave, just leave.”

You said shit like that a lot. And it scared and angered him. He wanted to know if you were trying to make him break up with you so you would be free.

“Why are you being such a fucking…” Chris stopped himself. He knew better than to call you out of your name.

Your head almost spun around. You smiled evilly. 

“Go ahead, say what you wanna say, Chris. Or are you scared?”

Chris exploded. “A fucking BITCH.”  He was shaking because you went there.

“How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not fucking anyone else!”

Chris lost it and punched the wall, making a hole in the drywall and definitely injuring his hand.

You just stood there with your mouth open and in silence. You went toward him to look at his hand, and he just put both of them up, backing away from you and going to the liquor cabinet.

He retreated to the deck with a bottle of Jameson’s. He wanted to dull the pain, in his hand, and in his heart. He hated when you hurt each other.

You understood that you both crossed the line, so you let him be. You went upstairs to change into your running clothes to get out and clear your head.

Chris settled on a deck lounger, started drinking from the bottle and got online, which is never a good thing, but he needed something to distract him. He started reading tweets about himself, and following a thread of Chris + Jenny stans.

The more he drank, the more he started reminiscing.

There were good times. He was happy. Mostly. He thought she was the one. Sometimes. But she broke his heart. He was just a rebound. 

Her handsome arm candy.

Then he thought of you. His heart melted; you really loved him. He was sure of it. But loving him was hard. He realized that you felt the same way about him that he felt about Jenny. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Insecure. 

And you had good reason to be. Everything you’d said about women coming after him was true. But what you didn’t realize is that since he’d met you other women didn’t matter to him. 

You were the one, not Jenny.

Chris began to get melancholy. He’d fucked up. You were nothing but good to him and you just asked him to respect you and listen to your feelings. He’d ignored that. 

Shit, why did he yell at you like that?  

He went to erase Heidi’s contact and block her number. He was confident that you were never going to throw him away like Jenny did. She was the one who’d hurt him. Not you. Never you. He recognized that you wouldn’t ever hurt him on purpose.

His mind was racing with how to apologize when you came back. He was an idiot. The pain in his heart was replaced with regret and his hand had slowed to a dull throb.

But then 30 minutes turned to 3 hours, and by the time you got back, the bottle was empty and Chris’s eyes were red with rage and worry. 

Maybe you were just like Jenny after all.

--------

You ran, and then went to get some coffee. You ran into Shelby at the cafe and distracted yourself with mindless chatter, then walked back. You were ready to apologize by the time you opened the door.

When he heard the door, Chris picked up his phone and met you in the living room. He was obviously shitfaced.

“WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN!?” 

Chris’s voice boomed throughout the house and you jumped. Then you just stood there, shocked at his outburst. 

“The hell are you talking to me like that?” 

He was unsteady on his feet. He leaned toward you, and you could tell that someone was spinning the room for him.

“I don’t want it to be you!” 

He had to let you know that he knew that you wouldn’t be the one to hurt him. Chris pointed his phone at you. 

“You’re not the one. Jenny’s the only one. Not you! Not ever you!”

You couldn’t believe your ears. But then again you could. It was what you were afraid of. You were head over heels. And Chris could find someone on his level. Like Jenny.

“Well, Fuck You very much, Chris.” 

You brushed your tears away and ran past him up the stairs to the bedroom, locking the door and crying your eyes out. You got out your suitcase.

----

Chris started up after you, calling your name, and then suddenly needed to duck in the downstairs bathroom to throw up. 

He tried to make it up the stairs and had to sit down on the floor near the bottom. Then, he needed to lay down just for a minute.

The next thing Chris knew, it was morning, and he woke up to a pounding on the door and in his head. He rolled over on the floor, and something stabbed him in the side.

Groaning, he reached down and saw your keys to his house, his cars, and his life, all on the Tiffany heart keychain he’d given them to you. He was staring at them, confused, when Scott opened the door with his key.

“There he is. My brother. The fuck up.”

Chris groaned again, sat up on the bottom stair and held his head. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Nevermind me. It’s not often I get to say that, only when you publish your dick pic to the internet or you RUN OFF THE BEST THING THAT’S EVER HAPPENED TO YOU!”

Chris winced when Scott yelled, his head a pounding mass of meat wrapped in fuzzy cotton. 

He didn’t understand why he was being tortured and he didn’t understand why his hand hurt.  He looked at it, all bruised up, and the keys inside it.

“Just tell me, Scott. Why are you here?”

Scott leaned up against the door. 

“Did you know you drunk dialed me last night?” 

Chris looked up at Scott, and his face was a sight as his brother told him what he’d said to you.

“Fuuuuuck me!” He put his head in his hands again. 

“I don’t know if she ever will again,” Scott joked, but Chris didn’t laugh. 

“I called her after you apparently passed out and wouldn't pick up your phone.  She was ready to catch an early morning flight, but I convinced her to sleep in today and leave tomorrow.”

Chris moved his hands down from his eyes and stared out the patio doors, trying to think.

“I put her up in the Four Seasons, on your dime of course.  Room 6145. Penthouse. Could be pretty romantic. If she were in that kind of mood.”

Chris looked up at Scott, smiled weakly, jumped up and hugged him, then made for the door. Scott jumped in front of him.

“Trust me, you’ll want to get some water and coffee in you, and shower and brush your teeth. You look and smell like shit.”

“Right.” Chris nodded, flexing his hand. He could still move it. He was glad it wasn’t broken. “Thanks, bro.”

“No problem.” Scott walked into the bathroom as Chris went to the kitchen, groaning when he saw the hole in the wall. He’d have to ask Scott to get it fixed before you saw it again. 

If he could convince you to come back.

----

It was 11 am, and Scott had verified that you were still in the room. Chris just stood there, nervous and terrified that you were just going to be done with him.

Room service came and headed toward your door. Chris waved them down and when they saw his face, they stopped in their tracks, shocked.

“Hey, can you do me a favor?”

----

You climbed out of the wonderful deep jetted tub, having soaked until the water got cold and your fingers were wrinkled. You pulled on the plush Four Seasons terry cloth robe that was provided with the suite.

You felt calmer than last night, and after some sleep and relaxation, you realized that you’d been a fool to think that Chris would want you forever like you thought.

It was for the best that you leave and start over, to focus on your consulting business and yourself for a while.

You opened the door with a smile on your face for the attendant, and you let them into the room, your back turned to the door while they brought the cart in. You turned back around and there was Chris.

You grew heated, and your heart began to race while the attendant scurried out. Chris’s face was a welcome sight, but you were still angry.

There you were, looking so beautiful, curls tied up in your favorite silk scarf, cocoa skin radiant in a white fluffy robe.  You should have been comfortable, but your eyes were wide and scared.

He’d done this to you.

“Fuck, y/n… I…”

You interrupted him. 

“You’ve got some mutha fuckin nerve. How dare you just run up in here, using that fucking face,” you flung your hand up, “using who you are to get into my room. How did you even know where…?”  

Your mouth dropped open at the realization of what Scott had done. You turned on your heel to get your things. You didn’t care that you were naked under your robe. You didn’t care that you still loved Chris. You were out. This second.

Chris moved to block you from entering the bedroom of the suite. You tried to push past him, all 5’ 4” of you versus 6 feet of him.

“Move, Chris!” 

You glared up at him, your body responding to him in ways you weren’t prepared to admit. You were betrayed by your pussy.

“I just want you to listen to me.  Then you can leave, stay, do whatever you want. Just hear me out.”

You and him physically was always the shit. His arms across his chest did things to you  But you kept mean mugging him, making him hard for you. 

You stepped back and said, “Okay.  You have 10 minutes.  Then I’m out, Chris.”

You paced back to the couch in the living room of the suite, watching him warily.

Chris paced in front of you, making it inevitable that you follow his lean form back and forth across the carpet. You noticed that his hand was bandaged and that he kept flexing it. 

You hoped it wasn’t broken. No matter what, you cared what happened to him. You would always love him. Even if it was the end of your relationship.

“First of all, I’m sorry. My anger got the best of me, and I was violent and that is never acceptable.  Even though I didn’t touch you, it’s not ok, and I know it was intimidating. I take responsibility.”

He stopped and looked at you, you melted a little, but you didn’t give any outward sign. Being a business owner taught you a mean poker face. 

But the shirt he was wearing made his true blue eyes pop and you could see a hint of his chain around his neck under the fitted henley.

You suppressed a shiver at the memory of the things you did to have that chain and medallion wave in your face, to have it clenched between your teeth as Chris had his way with you, and you with him.

You focused on him, pointedly looking at your watch. Chris’ anxiety peaked when he saw that.

He stepped toward you and thought that he recognized the look in your eyes.  He was almost sure that you still wanted him, sure that you still cared.  He could only hope as he came closer.

“And then I started drinking. And while you were gone, I came across some posts about me and Jenny. And it took me back there.”

At those words, you crossed your arms and averted your eyes, defenses up. You didn’t want to hear about how much he loved Jenny.

Then, Chris swiftly moved to sit on his haunches, becoming eye level with you.  

“And I realized that she never really loved me. Not like you loved me.”  

Chris speaking about your love in the past tense made you a little angry and you stared him in the eyes. 

It was just the reaction he hoped for. Your attitude. He loved it. He hid a smirk so that he could continue, but you saw the glimmer in his eyes. And you rolled yours.

Chris then picked up the sash to your robe and started playing with it, your eyes drawn to his thick fingers. You didn’t know why that was getting you hot, but it was. You opened your mouth to breathe.

Chris’s voice cracked when he said. “And to me she was the mountaintop. Another, different kind of conquest. But I realized that I never really loved her. Not like I love you.”

Present tense.

Now you were looking into his eyes, about to fall into them. Shit. He had you hooked. But then you remembered, and drew back.

“Yeah, I know what I said, but what I was trying to express was that I know it could never be you to hurt me like Jenny did. That I didn’t want you to hurt me like she did. Not when I’ve thought about forever…” 

He moved even closer. “I mean forever, forever, with you.”

All of a sudden you couldn’t breathe. Chris got on his knees.

“I want to be in this position again with you one day. One day soon. But not like this. I don’t want it to be to try to get you back. I want us to be good.” 

He sighed, pensive. “I want you to be smiling and happy, and even have our families there.”

You don’t know how your face looked at that moment, but Chris started smiling at you. You were so beautiful to him right now.

“I was drunk, and I couldn’t use my words correctly. I yelled and I screamed and I punched the wall. I fucked up and may have lost you forever, but I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry.” 

You felt yourself get emotional, but you tried to calm down.

“I’m just so fucking scared that you will get tired of all the bullshit that comes with me and leave… and I absolutely wouldn’t blame you. But there’s no one else, y/n.  No one else can compare…”

“Chris…” 

You raised your hand to his face, eyes searching his. You could tell he was being honest.

Chris grabbed your hand and started kissing your palm.

“So.” He looked at you with those eyes. “Is this goodbye?…” His lips were giving you shivers. “Or hello again? Can we start over?”

Chris trailed his lips from your palm, to the pulse point at your wrists and lingered there, licking the delicate skin. Then he moved up your arm to the opening in the robe. 

He pushed his torso in between your legs and leaned into your neck, inhaling the lavender bath oil that was your favorite. And his, too. 

He moaned as you leaned your head to the side, giving him access. But he didn't just want the physical. He breathed into the shell of your ear. 

“Please come home, baby…”

You just moaned as he started sucking right below your ear, your spot. Desire took over for Chris when he heard your sounds.

“Fuck it. I can tell that you still want me. If this is goodbye, then I’m going to make it worth your time.”

Your back arched and Chris palmed your bounteous ass over the robe, pulling you flush to his crotch.  He smiled as he felt the warmth coming from you.

“You’re so fucking warm, babe. Are you wet, too?  Are you wet for me? Do you want my cock? I mean, do you want your thick, fat, cock to fuck you babe?” 

Chris was kissing down your neck into the cleavage that the robe was revealing with each sentence as you opened your legs. Your pussy was quivering for him, but you still didn’t answer him.

Chris looked up at you with those eyes and pulled on the robe sash. It fell open and he looked down and bit his lip, taking in your warm skin, lovely breasts, and elegant pussy, with the manicured triangle of hair kept like he preferred, and offered up for his taking. 

You still looked like his girl, and he smiled as he looked up into your eyes. But he had to be certain. He lowered his head, keeping eye contact and descended toward one small hard mountain peak, kissing it gently, tentatively, while watching you.

You were mesmerized as his tongue peeked out and licked it, then he opened his lips and enveloped it, moistening it with his pink lips. 

The look on your face compelled him, and he fully enveloped your nipple and started sucking roughly, still keeping eye contact. You were determined not to close your eyes, but it was difficult. You bit your lip to stay still.

Chris’s bandaged hand was dangerous, however, and it came up to pinch and roll your other nipple. You arched into his hand as he became rougher and rougher. 

He switched nipples and hands and his saliva made your breast that much more pliable and sensitive. He slapped it, and then rubbed it with the rough bandage, making you cry out and moan as his other hand trailed down your body to your cunt.

“This pussy will still be mine, even if you leave me.” He smiled cockily while looking down on it. 

He looked at you, before lifting his hand to his mouth, looking straight into your eyes and spitting on his fingers before bringing them down to your cunt.

“I think, that if even if you leave and  move back to Houston, and I come to town, that if I I call you, even if you’re with someone else, you would meet me in a parking lot and let me fuck you over the hood of my rental car.” 

He was faintly tracing your pussy lips and instantly your control was gone. You were sopping wet, because of his words and because of the knowledge that what he was saying was the truth.

“Oh,” was all you could say. You were adding to the wetness of the saliva on his fingers.

Chris smiled and tilted his head as his two thick digits breached your opening. He had his answer as you threw your head back and let him finger fuck you while he rolled and slapped and pinched your nipple.

His thumb was lightly brushing your clit and you wanted so much more.  Chris could sense that and he pressed down roughly on it, causing an electric jolt up your body, which you keened for, arching your body into his hand.

Chris moved his hand from your breast to your neck and applied the pressure that you wanted and needed and that he was expert at while he stuffed another finger inside you and circled your clit with his thumb. 

You floated among the clouds as you came like fireworks, and all over his hand.  

He watched you come undone, and come down, rubbing his hard cock through his pants with one hand while he sucked your juices off his fingers, releasing each with a loud pop.  When you opened your eyes, you smiled.

You pulled his hand and started licking yourself off him, flattening your tongue against his palm. 

“I forgive you Chris. I forgave you when you conned your way into my room, you ass.” 

You smiled against his hand as he groaned, relieved and desperate for you.

“But you still have some work to do.”

“What do you want? Anything.”  

Now Chris was breathless, anticipating payback.

“First, you need to take those damn clothes off.”

He quickly moved to take off his shirt, and then stood up to take off his pants.  You smirked as hs cock sprang up immediately when he peeled them down. He wasn’t wearing underwear.

Chris caught your look. 

“What? I wanted to be prepared.”  He chuckled softly while pumping his cock lightly, expecting to immediately fuck you.

He moved toward you. But you quickly moved off the couch and into the bedroom, forcing him to follow you, and his dick, into the other room.

You sat on the edge of the bed as he remained standing. 

“What do you need, babe?”

You reached for his cock and tugged it toward you, opening your mouth and deep throating it, wetting it from root to tip and then spit on it. Chris moaned as you started to stroke. Then you stopped.

“I need you to jack off for me.” 

“Ugh! You’re so fucking nasty. I love you.”

Chris instantly started where you left off. This didn’t seem like work.

You leaned back on your elbows, watching him, and licking your lips.

“And I need for you not to stop, and not to come. Until I tell you.” 

You looked him in the eye and that was when Chris knew he was doomed.  A chill ran down his spine as you reached down and started playing with your pussy.

“Fuck!”

You looked so damn good.  He licked his lips and stroked harder and faster, his balls drawing up already. 

“Shit, y/n.”

You watched his eyes, and got wetter at his blown pupils and glazed look. 

“You like that?”

“Fuck yeah.”  

His voice was broken and desperate. He fisted his cock, and held his balls, trying to stave off the inevitable. 

You turned around, got on your knees and reached back between your legs and ran your fingers up and down your slit.

“How about that?”

“Goddamnit!” 

Chris grunted as he tried to hold it in. You were a goddess. He licked his lips. Wanting to taste you. So he did. 

He dove in, tongue competing with your fingers to command your slit. You finally gave in to his expert mouth and he savored your salty goodness.

“Fuck, Chris, you better still be…”

“I am. Christ.” 

He was leaking in his hand, but he had it under control. Barely.

Chris stopped eating you out for a second, grabbed your ass cheek with one hand, stretched you open, spit on your tighter hole, and watched it slide down your satin lips to drip onto the bed. 

His warm saliva made your pussy quiver and he watched it lovingly. Then he dove in again.

He sped up his movements with his other hand and you could hear the smooth skin of his dick sliding on his palm while his tongue did forbidden things to you.

“Ffffffuuckkkkkkk! Chrisssss.” 

You came, burying your scream in the mattress, and even harder than before. You couldn’t believe that he’d turned the tables on you.

Chris ate you out through your orgasm, holding you down with one hand like it was nothing. 

He was god of war, love, and sex, all at once. 

Fuck Captain America.

You came again, almost immediately.

When he was done with his meal, he let you go, wiped his mouth with the back of his free hand and stepped back.

“Fuck, what do you want me to do? I can’t take it much longer…” Chris’s sexy growling voice got to you. 

“What do you wanna do, Chris? How do you want to take me, Daddy?”  Chris’s cock jumped in his hand, he slapped your ass, and watched it jiggle.

Chris entered your wet, wet pussy, and marvel how if felt like it was choking the life out of him.  He had to stop moving, or he would burst almost immediately.

“How the fuck are you so wet, but so tight.  It’s like a fucking vice grip, geeze.” 

You both waited and felt it jump inside you, then Chris reached down, grabbed you by the neck and pulled you upright and flush to his chest.  

One hand clutched your throat and the other arm hooked under your leg, allowing him to piston up into you upright while your other leg dangled, your big toe barely touching the ground.

Chris held you and fucked up into you, grunting each time the large mushroom cap head of his cock was stuffed into your pussy. 

“Ugh, gatdamn it, you were thinking of leaving, ugh, you wanted to leave this, mmmmmm, this dick that, ugh, that fucks you like this?” 

Chris’s mouth was near your ear, which was on his shoulder because your head had fallen back on his chest. He was using you like a sex toy as he fucked you senseless. 

His dick slicked in and out of you with obscene wetness, Chris somehow lifting you up and slipping completely out of you and pounding back into you with force.

“Chris!!!” 

You started shaking, your center of gravity being where you and he were connected.

He fucked you even harder and faster, chasing his release, but he maneuvered his hand to find your clit, refusing to come before you. 

“Fuck! You know you were going to miss this cock that your sweet cunt fits… like…  a …mutha …fuckin…  glove!” 

"Ahhhh!" 

You screamed as you fluttered around his cock. He could take only so much before he had to shut his eyes and bite down on your collarbone. Chris’s legs were trembling now.

"Take all of it!." He was hitting your spot.  "How does it feel?" 

Although the feeling was intense, you tried to speak. 

"L-l-l-like h-heav-v-v-ennnnn." 

The sound of your voice made his release start to build. 

With each of his thrusts, the sweet tightness began to build until you came, screaming and moaning in pleasure.

“Oh shiiiiitttttt!”  Chris exploded inside your tight wet cunt. He wanted to fill you up like never before. He wanted to put his baby in you and tie you forever to him. That made his balls empty.

He fell back on the bed, with you on top of him, slipping out of you and depositing you on the bed beside him.

Chris couldn't help but smile as you both came down.  He was made for this.

Chris put his hand on your cheek, brushing your beautiful lips with his thumb. You smiled under his attention into his sea blue eyes.

“I love you.” You grinned. 

“God, I love you.”  You sobered up, taking in the weight of his words.

“Is it weird that I want to get you pregnant before we’re married?”

You made a face.

“Who says I want to marry you?”

Chris scooped you in his arms and rolled you over on top of him.

“You don’t want to marry me? You’d say no if I asked?” 

You held in a giggle.

“Nah. I’m gonna move back to Houston and marry someone else so you can come in town and fuck me over the hood of your rental car. That sounds hot as fuck.”

Chris released an anxious breath.

You took his head in your hands.

“Easy now. Ask what you want to ask.” Chris started to speak. You put your finger over his mouth.  

“When you want to ask it.” You looked into his eyes again. “I won’t break your heart.”

Chris smiled at you and said, “I know.” He kissed you. 

And when you pulled away, breathless, he told you, “You’re the One.”

----------- Read Part Two: It Takes Two

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[lilhawkeye3]

wake up call

Alpha-17 x gender neutral Reader

Rating: E |||| Word count: 1.4K |||| AO3 Link |||| NSFW Masterlist

Summary: Alpha-17 ends up in the medbay after a difficult mission. You decide to give him a pleasant return to the waking world. 😏✌🏽

Warnings: somnophilia, blowjob, teasing, Alpha being a smug bitch

A/N: thanks to @ollovae3 for letting me plot this in her dms and also for the art!! ehehehehe if y’all like it I’ll do a part 2, so pls comment and reblog 🥺💕

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

Granted, you knew this was always a possibility after every mission Alpha-17 left on. In fact, you knew better than most, seeing as you were one of the lead medics on this Venator.

Still... the sight of Alpha lying motionless against the pristine white sheets of his medbay cot was something you’d never wanted to be faced with.

You’re angry: at Alpha for being injured, at yourself for not being on his mission to help, at the galaxy for forcing himself to fight in this damned war. You’d been managing your guilt by handling his postoperative care for the past cycle. Now there was nothing left to do except wait for Alpha to wake up.

It gives you time to think. The two of you had certainly started out as a simply casual fling, and when your interactions had begun to extend out of the bedroom, neither of you had discussed the change. But then yesterday, you hadn’t even hesitated to move to Alpha’s side when he was carried into the medbay. The ARC trooper had been in a combative state as the other medics fought to sedate him, and only your touch and quiet murmuring in his ear had finally settled him.

Watching him be wheeled away to operation, and sitting at his bedside now, you know it would be pointless to deny how deeply you’ve fallen for him.

Your eyes roam his still form again, drifting over his face relaxed in sleep. You’ve never seen him so calm outside of the twisted sheets of your private quarters, both of your chests heaving with the exertion of your amorous activities. His latest mission was obviously rough; you can’t even begin to imagine what he’s seen this time around.

An idea comes to mind. To counter the bad, you decide that Alpha should get to wake up to something really, really good.

No better way than to wake him up with an orgasm.

The setting was perfect for your plan. Because of Alpha’s behavior when he’d been brought in, the medics had set him up in a corner area curtained off from the rest of the medbay, just in case he woke up in the same mindset. The cot was also larger than average to support the Alpha-class clone, so you had plenty of room to lift the sheets and lie flat on your stomach between his spread legs.

Even luckier for you, Alpha was only clad in a set of hospital robes. All you had to do was push the fabric up around his waist, completely baring his thick cock to you.

He’s just… so big. You know from experience how well endowed he is, how it feels each time he thrusts into you and you savor the delicious stretch. But Alpha is a generous lover, and you’ve never had the chance to simply take your time with sucking his cock before.

He’s hot and heavy in your hand. Your mind goes fuzzy around the edges as you get lost in the action of sucking him off: simply enjoying being able to slowly lick him from base to tip. Following the thick outlines of the veins of his cock with the tip of your tongue. Wrapping your lips around his head and letting the precum collect in your mouth.

It’s so… nice. You let yourself lose track of time as you draw out his pleasure and your own.

It’s only when you’re nearing the end– you feel his balls drawing up and tightening, his cock twitching in your mouth– and you know he’s about to cum that the world becomes startlingly bright as the sheets are yanked off your head. You glance up dazedly to see Alpha staring blearily down at you.

The groggy trooper barely has time to groan out, “Mesh’la, fuck!” before he violently clenches the sheets beneath him in his fists and cums down your throat. Long, white bursts fill your mouth and you greedily swallow it down, letting the taste of him linger on your tongue as you hollow your cheeks to coax the last bits of cum from his cock.

You let it get messy when you pull away, long trails of your combined fluids stretching from your parted lips to Alpha’s sensitive flesh. A smug smile crosses your face as you wipe the evidence clean with the sheets, glad that you won’t be responsible for cleaning them.

“Hey there, soldier.”

Alpha visibly clenches his jaw. “You’re just asking for trouble with that smart mouth of yours.”

“Seems just now you liked my ‘smart mouth,’” you sass back. Still, you pull back and bring your knees up underneath you so you’re now kneeling between Alpha’s thighs. He watches you with guarded curiosity as you lean forward to trail your fingers over his scraped cheek. “I missed you.”

His hardened expression softens, and he turns into your touch to press his lips gently against your fingertips. “Y’have no idea how much I missed you,” he replies, allowing this moment of vulnerability between you before his playful aggression returns full force. “Now get up, or my medic vode are gonna see you like this.”

“And if I want them to?”

Alpha growls deep within his chest. “Up. Now.”

You must make enough noise while climbing back to your feet that a medic does indeed pop his head around the curtain.

“Oh, ori’vod! Nice to see you awake alread–”

He doesn’t get any further because he’s stopped by Alpha aggressively pointing a finger at him. “Vod, if you don’t get me a fresh set of blacks and discharge me right this karking minute, I’ll have you on graveyard shifts for the next year.” Alpha ignores the glare you shoot in his direction in favor of staring down the poor medic.

It’s no surprise then that you’re both shooed out of the medbay in record speed. The Alpha-class are the ori’vod of the rest of the clones, and Alpha-17 in particular has quite the reputation. The medics know when it’s not worth the fight to keep a patient.

Although, you aren’t prepared for Alpha to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder the moment you step out into the corridor.

Normally, you’d act bratty and try and squirm out of his hold, but now it is a reminder that he came back (relatively) in one piece. If Alpha is well enough to lift you like you weigh less than a pillow, you know he’ll be fine. Instead, you pull down the neckline of his new blacks and begin to kiss the revealed skin. As he strides through the Venator’s halls, your playful kisses soon turn into bites as you leave behind a trail of hickeys along his neck and jawline. From the way his fingers squeeze your ass in retaliation, you know it’s successfully riling him up.

It also means you miss when he passes by your private quarters and only notice the next time you come up for air. “Alpha, wasn’t the turn back there?”

“Nuh-uh, ad’ika,” he rumbles. “You were so keen on sucking my fat cock in semi-public that we’re gonna continue to put on a show.” He stops in front of a thick door, and your eyes widen the moment before it opens as you recognize that it’s the commander barracks.

Alpha feels you freeze like a tooka caught in headlights, and he smirks your way as he carries you into the room.

You’re been deployed with the 501st on the last few missions, so you recognize Captain Rex and his second-hand Appo where they sit on one of the nearest bunks, a deck of cards shared between them. They both look up with friendly expressions that quickly morph into varying levels of amusement and embarrassment.

“Uh…” Rex starts eloquently before he coughs into his fist and boldly continues on. “Nice to see you up and about, ori’vod–”

“You’re got five seconds to get lost or you boys or gonna have front row seats to the show,” Alpha cut him off flatly.

Both of you know Rex is too polite to stay, and he’s not about to let Appo remain behind alone, so you watch them both leave as fast as they can while maintaining some sense of normalcy.

Alpha huffs in satisfaction before moving over to the farthest bunk and dropping you down onto the thinly padded mattress. You let yourself fall limp as you stare up at him with wide eyes while he looks around the room, clocks in on a group of discarded packs, and returns with a set of magnetic cuffs dangling tauntingly from his fingers.

“Gotta keep you from squirming, don’t I?”

Stars, you’re so fucked.

[bruhstories]

Personal Demon

Summary: Because of a mistake, you're assigned a devil instead of an angel. Pairing: Demon!Eren Jaeger x Fem!Reader Warnings & Conent: oh boy, here we go - language, mentions of suicide, mentions of self harm, mentions of rape, fingering, unprotexted sex, alcohol consumption, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of reader in an asylum, sliiiiight dumbification of reader, slight corruption of reader, Eren's a little shit Word Count: 3.9 k

A/N: So I wrote this in, like, 3-4 days because I felt like it's pretty bad but not bad enough not to post it. I hope you still enjoy it, though!

You always felt it — breathing in your nape, moving in the corner of your room at night, whispering things you shouldn't dare think about. Your own personal demon. Most of the time you did a good job at ignoring it. Most of the time you abused substances to make it go away, at least for a minute. With the puff of weed or a bottle of alcohol, it stayed away, only watching from afar and never involving itself with you. Most of the time.

Keys clung in your hands, door shutting behind as you walked into your apartment, fingers wrapped around your grocery bags. Yet another night of drinking the voice away.

"Not today, Satan." You hummed, popping open a bottle of gin, nose scrunching at the bitter taste.

"I keep telling you, the easiest way to get rid of me would be to kill yourself." It spoke, this time outside of your head.

"And I keep telling you to stay the fuck away from me." You growled back.

"We both know that's not possible."

Another sip and you put the bottle down, hands digging inside the bag for a snack.

"You're gonna need something stronger than that."

There it was, the bar of chocolate you so eagerly starved for. The TV suddenly turned on. It was craving entertainment.

"Anything unusual happened today?"

No, it was craving attention and you were not about to give it any. You put the groceries inside the fridge and grabbed the bottle, plopping on the couch.

"How long are you going to pretend I'm not here?"

"As long as I need." You snapped back, eyes glued to the TV.

"Well, that didn't last long." It laughed. "Come on, Y/N, we've been together for, what, 24 years?"

"Can you just shut up? Disappear? Crawl back to Hell?"

"Nope. Waaaaait, I know why you've got your panties in a twist. It's because that Jean guy you like hooked up with Mikasa, right?"

It was impossible to deal with. Every single second, it was there. Since you've been born, it was there, always watching, always following you, always. You tried to go to a priest, a monk, anything, but nothing helped. The angel that was supposed to guide you happened to be a demon and there was nothing you could do about it. But you were not going to give it the satisfaction of ending your pathetic life, no matter how much you wanted to, because despite being a demon, it still had to keep you alive until your time came. It, however, did like to push you over the edge, push you until you grabbed a knife and slit your wrists, only for the knife to get shoved by some invisible force before you could finish the job. It tormented you and it loved it.

"I told you, not today, Satan."

"Ugh, my name's-"

"I don't care." Your head snapped into the direction of the voice, only to be met with a wall. "Let's face it, we shouldn't have been in this situation, so why don't you shut your mouth up and let me get on with my life?"

"What life?" It laughed and you could already picture the sneer on its face, flashing you fangs and a forked tongue. "That's not even what I look like."

"Get out of my head!" You screamed before grabbing the bottle and emptying half of its contents.

"Careful, Y/N, the neighbours might call the police and you don't want to end up like last time, do you?"

Last time... you were but a child, throwing plates at the wall only to make it stop talking when your parents admitted you to an asylum. You had to live with it for half a year before they let you out.

"Please, please stay out of my head." Tears pooled at your eyes as you clutched the bottle at your chest.

"Now why would I stay out when it's just so much fun in you?"

"God, I hate you so much!"

"Me or beardy up there? I couldn't quite get it." It laughed again, laughing at your damn misery as you got up from the couch and left the apartment.

The alcohol already made its way to your brain when you reached the ground floor of the building. Rain poured outside but you didn't care, you just ran as far away from it as possible and for the first time in years, it didn't follow you. Grateful and content, you slowed down, admiring the beauty of the city which you ignored because of the voice inside of your head. The smell of rain, the colourful buildings, the empty streets, everything felt new and refreshing, and you took it all in. Time seemed to slow down without itconstantly nagging in the back of your mind and you realised you were pretty far away from your home, an area unknown to you. Still, you knew how to get back, you hoped, but when you turned around, a man pushed you into an alleyway.

"Satan?" You whispered, dizzy from the lingering gin and smell of rain. The man pinned you to a wall and finally you were beginning to realise what was happening.

"Call me whatever you want, baby, just keep that pretty voice down." His hand moved up your thigh and panic seeped through your veins. "We don't want to draw any attention, now, do we?" He kissed your neck and you froze on the spot, eyes widening in fear and body shivering.

"L-let go of me!" You managed, the alcohol numbing your arms, rendering you unable to push the stranger away.

"Shhh, don't fight it." The man squeezed your arms, his fingers bruising the soft skin. Anger, sadness and pain coiled together in your chest and you couldn't breathe anymore. Oh, how you wished you never left your flat, how you wished you stayed back and listened to itconstantly yapping, like a maggot crawling into your brain. "Aren't you a pretty one?" He cooed, his hand travelling lower, lower, to the point where tears started rolling down your cheeks, mixing with the snot and rain on your face.

And then it happened — in the blink of an eye, your assailant was thrown against the other wall by the too familiar invisible force as you sank to the ground, eyes puffy and red, legs trembling.

"The fuck? What are you?" The man hissed at you, his hands holding his abdomen.

"I'm the devil." It spoke, voice inhuman and perilous, and you could only sneer at him. For the first time you were happy it was there. Sick, twisted thoughts invaded your mind and you wanted to watch him suffer, and itknew. It knew, because the devil was always in your head.

"You crazy bitch!" The assailant, now helpless and overpowered, did not know about your own personal demon, and he tried to get up, tried to leap forward at you and strangle the last bit of air out of your lungs, but he couldn't. Somethingwas holding him back.

"You want him dead?" It asked, but you know the devil took more pleasure in inflicting pain rather than swiftly killing.

"No." You grinned, eyes dark and dangerous. "I want him to suffer."

"That's my girl."

Blood-curling screams echoed in the alleyway. You didn't know what it was doing to him, but you knew for a fact that you were enjoying the sounds that came out of your attacker. His wrists contorted in a way you didn't think was possible, and the melody of broken bones reminded you that what was happening was wrong. For a moment, your brain was rational, telling you that it should stop, that you should both just leave and forget this ever happened. But... it also felt good, it felt like you've just been reborn, discovering a deeply buried part of you that ached to be exposed. Then, his legs twisted and the man winced in pain, so much pain, and your heart fluttered in your chest.

"More?" It asked and you nodded.

"More."

His arms looped, like a deformed puppet loosely strung, and it made him dance in the rain until his body gave up from fatigue.

"Aw, I was really hoping he'd be a feisty one." It mused, and you also clicked your tongue in disappointment. Before you left, you gave your assailant a good kick in the stomach, your boot stomping on his face with so much anger and force that what remained was unrecognisable.

Wet clothes piled on the floor, you wrapped your naked body in a blanket to warm yourself up. What just happened? What did you do? Why did you allow it to happen and more importantly, why did you love every minute of it? The questions jogged in your fuzzy brain, as you slowly sobered up.

"Why did I enjoy it, Satan?" You asked, lips quivering.

"I told you, my name's not Satan, it's-"

"Eren, I know. I remember." You could feel it quirk a brow, surprised and impressed by its name rolling down your tongue so naturally. "Why did I enjoy it? It's wrong and disgusting."

"Do you remember what happens when you say my name?" It sounded almost concerned.

"You physically manifest, I know. Now answer my fuckingquestion."

"What do you want me to say?" Itasked, fragments of muscle, skin and silk pulling together from thin air. First, its legs. Then, its upper body, draped in a charcoal-black robe. "That you're as sadistic as I am? Maybe it wasn't a mistake that you have a demon, not an angel." And finally, its face materialised in front of you — long dark brown hair falling down his shoulders and eyes so green, it felt like a forest was in them. It looked almost human, the hooked nose, the elongated ears, the deeply sunken emeralds and jagged mouth betraying its true nature.

"I thought you'd have fangs." Was your only response at the scene unfolding in front of you, blanket clutched at your chest. Any normal person would shudder at the demonic sight of Eren appearing in front of them, but to you, it felt comforting to finally assign a face to the voice you so desperately tried to ignore.

"And I thought you wanted to get rid of me." It scoffed, its facial features changing, becoming softer and resembling a human man, but those eyes didn't change an ounce.

"I don't know what I want anymore. If it weren't for you, I would've been raped and dead, probably."

"Just embrace it, Y/N. Just let go of that annoying voice in your head that tells you it's wrong." He encouraged. "There's no such thing as good or bad, right or wrong. It's just surviving, adapting or dying."

Eren looked unbelievably human and incredibly handsome in the dim light of your living room lamp. Maybe it was the alcohol that hasn't left your body yet, or maybe it was the fact that he saved you, again, but the truth was that the devil in your house was making you feel something you couldn't even feel for Jean — and you thought you were in love with Jean.

"Alright, let's pretend for a moment that I give into temptation." Your eyes found his and you felt hypnotised, the rational part of your brain slowly overshadowed by your instincts and feelings. "What then? Do you leave me alone? Do you go back to hell? Do Igo to hell?"

"Oh, I wouldn't call it hell. More like a demonic paradise." He shrugged, eyes bored and blank, devout of any emotion. You leaned forward trying to search for something in his darkened orbs.

"Why are you being nice to me? You're supposed to save me from death, not rape."

He clicked his tongue, your question drilling into his brain, repeating itself over and over again. Why did he save you? It's not like he cared, he only did his job, right? Right?

Wrong.

The demon you grew up with, the demon who tormented you, the demon who tried so desperately to ruin your life did, in fact, give two shits about you and your pathetic existence. Just not in the way you thought.

"Let's just say no one gets to touch you but me." Eren closed the gap between you two, his nose almost grazing over yours. He was absolutely intoxicating and you always fought with the constant need to let him control you. After all, he was always with you, he saw you hit your lowest points, he saw the best of you, he saw your naked body, he saw everything, ergo you were his. Your head quickly turned to the side before you leaned back, exhaustion written all over your face as Eren clicked his tongue. The thing about demons was that they couldn't physically interfere without their human's consent, only using invisible force to stop you from dying and he was just so close.

"Ah, but you can't touch me, though." You trailed off, brow quirked at his narrowed eyes. You've done your homework, you knew what he needed, but still, that side of you tried to prevail over the side that craved his touch.

"Yet." Eren snapped back before your drifted to sleep.

Once again you dreamt of it him, his cock buried deep inside your needy cunt as you screamed his name over and over again while you came undone. When you jolted up from your sleep, he was there, watching you, like a predator stalking its prey. Normally he wouldn't be there, but since you called his name, Eren was glaring down at your helpless body, famished for something only you could give him.

"What's the time?" You groaned, fingers rubbing your eyelids.

"Three in the morning." He answered, eyes glued to you. "Bad dream?" The demon sneered. You knew he'd been in your head again, you knew those dreams existed for a reason.

"They wouldn't be bad if you'd just stay the fuck out of my mind." You hummed with a fake smile.

"Alright then, look me in the eye and tell me, reallytell me you want me to leave you alone." But you couldn't and he knew it. "Stop fighting it, Y/N. For two decades you kept trying. Maybe you should stop being stubborn and just give in." Eren shrugged, his voice tempting and you only wondered if that's how Eve felt when the snake tempted her. You weren't a Christian by any means, but you knew the story well enough to figure out the consequences.

"I have work tomorrow. Please let me sleep." You got up from the couch, blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

And that's when Eren reached his limits. He followed you into your bedroom, something knocking the wind out of you as you fell on the mattress. Somethingpulling the blanket off of you. Somethingtravelling down your arms, goosebumps dotting your skin as he stood in the doorway.

"I can't touch you, but I can do so many things to you." He inched closer, his figure imposing and dangerous and you could feel your core burning. "I can smell your arousal, Y/N. I know you want it. You just have to say it." Eren demanded and you hated that he was right. Slowly but surely, the battle in your heart and mind was coming to an end the more he got closer to the bed. "Say it."

You whined and writhed in pain and pleasure, and in the blink of an eye your life flashed before your eyes as you came to the conclusion that you've tried so hard to stay away from the demon, but either he was too persistent, or you were too weak. Or you just simply wanted him to ravage you and you were okay with that. Your hands stopped moving, your body stopped fighting.

"Do it..." You half-begged, judgement clouded, vision blurry. "Please, do it! Touch me, break me, fuck me, please! I need you, need to feel you..."

Like some sort of spell had just been lifted, Eren felt relieved. The sight of your sprawled body, combined with the lustful look in your lidded eyes only fed his hunger and he was famished. Calloused fingertips grazed over your knees, up your thighs, sending chills down your spine as you arched your back, pulling the demon closer to your face.

"Kiss me?" You asked, voice sweet and needy and he crushed his lips onto yours. They were surprisingly soft, tasting of whiskey and honey and the flavour lingered on your lips after he pulled away. Your body quivered under his touch, yearning for more, hands tugging at his silken robe to expose the chiselled chest. Eren pressed his forehead onto yours, hot breath tickling your cheeks.

"I'm going to ruin you, Y/N." He dug his teeth into your shoulder, the imprint burning into your skin, all the pent-up frustration slowly being released with each movement. He dragged one hand over your breasts before settling on one nipple, fingers pinching it to earn a reaction out of you. A whimper escaped from your lips as you pushed your chest upwards, wanting him closer than the laws of physics would allow. Your slender hands tangled in his locks as Eren left a trail of purple marks and bites all over your neck and shoulder.

"Fill me up, please..."

"Patience." He mused. "I've waited so many years for this, you can wait a few more minutes." Head buried between your tits, his hand travelled lower until it found your wet cunt. Fingers grazed over your folds before he drove his index into your soaked pussy and that's when you knew just how much you craved him. Your silken walls clenched around his curled-up finger and your neediness made him add another one, moans drilling through his eardrums, into his brain. "Fuck, you're so wet..." Eren hummed, vibrations tickling your skin. You couldn't form a coherent sentence even if your life counted on it. All you could think about was that if his fingers stretched you, his cock would tear your cunt apart — and you reallywanted to feel that. Fingernails dug into his back and he hissed, his tongue flicking your nipple and all the build-up was too much for you.

"Eren, please..." You mewled, your chest rising and falling with each breath, with each touch, each lick.

"You want me to fuck you? Want me to tear you apart?" The demon growled. His sudden change in tone only further added fuel to the fire inside your core and you eagerly nodded.

"Yes, God — yes! But Eren, I want to see you, not this pretty face you put on." You pleaded, eyes teary and demanding.

"No." He simply answered and that instantly made you jolt up, forcefully pushing him off of you.

"Are you trying to screw with my mind again? You've literally been with me for 24 years!" You shouted, and even Eren was slightly confused. "You tormented me for two decades, put me in an asylum, constantly stopped me from killing myself and now I can't even see the real you?" You threw your hands at him and he caught your wrists with ease. "You owe me at least that, Satan." Tears freely rolled down your face and you could feel his hot tongue lick the salty drops from your cheek. Your pain was his pleasure, he was a demon after all, the embodiment of all evil, but he decided you were corruptedenough to at least see his true colours, which you only managed to glance at.

"You're right, Y/N," Eren kissed your forehead and you couldn't even notice the manipulative hints in his voice, "you deserve at least this." He pulled back, and slowly his face distorted, allowing you to look at his disfigured mouth, elongated ears and abnormally long tongue.

"Thank you, thank you!" You beamed with bright eyes.

The woman who battled her demon? Gone.

In her place stood only a shell of a person, whose sole purpose was to get fucked by the demon in front of her. You feverishly parted his lips with your tongue, touch-starved and desperate, and Eren threw you onto the bed, robe pooled on the floor. And you were right, his cock wouldtear you apart by the looks of it. Before he could do anything, you spread your legs for him, like a good little slut, mouth agape and nothing but lust in your eyes. The sneer on his face was unlike anything you've seen before, and it both terrified and aroused you.

"Eager to please, aren't you?" He climbed onto the bed, the velvety tip of his cock barely touching your wet slit.

"I'm begging you, Eren, please fuck me!"

The demon scoffed at your pathetic words, but he couldn't deny how much he loved to hear your needy voice. You wouldn't have to know that, of course. He ever so slowly pushed the tip in between your folds, your cunt greedily taking it all in while you whimpered at the foreign sensation.

"Shhh," Eren cooed at you mockingly, "you love it, don't you?"

"Y-yes, please, d-deeper..."

Was it really you speaking or was this another one of his demonic tricks? And more importantly, did it even matter that he made you say those things when his cock felt just so good inside of you? Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to you as Eren thrusts became harder. Your tits bounced with every move, pleasure engulfing both of you and you never knew demons fucked so raw.

"Fuck, you're so tight." He hissed into your ear, the compliment only making you clench your walls around his impossibly hard cock. "Such a good girl." Eren praised you, knowing perfectly well how much you lacked appreciation from your parents, knowing perfectly well how your childhood traumas and frustration only aided him. He was your demon, after all. When your only response was to roll your eyes at the back of your head like a possessed woman, Eren picked up the pace, his abnormal tongue licking at your collarbone.

"D-do you l-like it?" You asked, concerned that he might not be satisfied with you. He wouldn't be fucking you so hard if he didn't, but you were so brainwashed that nothing made sense anymore.

"I do, doll, now be a good whore and rub that clit, will you?" The demon urged and with a shaky hand you complied, the friction mixed with his thrusts sending you into a frenzy. You were close and he knew it.

"Oh, f-fuck! Eren!"

His cock hit that sweet spot and you were done for, your legs loosened around his waist, falling onto the bed, but he kept on fucking you.

"My turn." Eren growled, his hands lifting your hips like you were some sort of ragdoll between his fingers. Your vision blurred, every word you tried to utter lost in your throat the more he buried himself into you, yet somehow you still managed to clench your walls. With one final thrust you felt him spill his hot seed, cum dripping out of your sore cunt as he pulled out.

Eren plopped next to you and you curled up in a ball, head on his chest. You were craving his attention, his care, but he responded by bringing his hands behind his head, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. He wanted to hold you tightly, he wanted to pet your head, but he couldn’t. And you were alright with that, because you knew that, no matter what, you would always have your own personal demon at your side.

[barnesbabee]

Like A Pornstar || C.S

Summary: Among all of the sex professionals, San takes a liking in you, the most unexperienced person in the room.

Pairing: Choi San x Reader

Words: Several I’d say

Genre: Smut

⚠ spanking, choking, sex worker!au, pornstar!au, dirty talking, teasing ⚠

A/N: Idc, San gives off pornstar vibes. Enjoy 💖

ᴄʀ: ʙᴀʀɴᴇꜱʙᴀʙᴇᴇ

Seonghwa ver. || Hongjoong ver. || Jongho ver.

  You watched as the man laid on the bed and guided the woman on top of him. His fingers were buried in the woman's waist and his eyes watched her movements carefully, beads of sweat falling from his forehead and small moans escaping his agape mouth.

    "Cut!"

    You had been so immersed in the action that the yell almost startled you.

  The way his pleasured expression immediately fell off his face and was replaced with an almost bored one was astonishing to you. Once the cameras stopped rolling the actor's face and body stance immediately changed into a more relaxed stance, as if he hadn’t just been inside a woman, fucking her relentlessly. He wrapped his body in a rope after the woman had gotten off of him and headed towards the director.

  "San that was perfect, we're going to try some shots with her on all fours and then we wrap it up with a facial."

  San brushed his sweaty hair back with his right hand whilst the other held the robe's furry belt, and he nodded at the instructions. The director gave the actor a pat in the back.

 "Take a break, we'll keep rolling in 30."

  San left the set and headed to the little room reserved for him.

  It was truly entertaining to watch that man work. It was like he turned into a whole different person when the cameras turned on, and the way he shut out the world around him when the lights flashed upon his skin was admirable. He was so embedded in the act that the entire crew surrounding him seemed to disappear... Mesmerizing.

  "Assistant!"

 "That would be me... " You whispered to yourself.

  You plopped off your chair and made your way over to the director who had called you. You didn't know men could be bitches until you met this old, horrendous man. You had to admit, you felt a little uncomfortable by the environment and people around you in the beginning, but then again, money doesn't grow on trees, and college doesn't pay for itself.

  "Y/N," The director started, once you'd made your way close to him "San requested some water and he just told me there is no water in his dressing room. Could you be any more useless!?"

 Had that been months ago, tears would've brimmed in your eyes and your voice would've become shaky, but at this point you were used to it.

 "My bad, I'll get that taken care of..."

 You walked away without another word and headed to the small warehouse under the building, which was the only place on earth where they stored dildos next to water bottles. You sighed and grabbed one of the packs which contained nine bottles of water, since you wanted to make sure you didn’t have to go through all of this trouble once more.

 You then made your way to the small room where the casted male pornstars would stay in, to rest and fix themselves. You knocked on the door softly, and when you heard a small ‘come in’ coming from the inside, you turned the handle and entered the room.

  “Here’s your water Mr. Choi.” You told him and put the waters down on the coffee table behind him.

 The male was sitting in his vanity, scrolling on his phone. He stopped what he was doing and looked at you. The smile on his face could trick anyone... He looked like a little kid that had just gotten a lollipop whenever he smiled. His eyes turned into two crescents and his dimples enticed anyone who laid eyes on them. Even you, who had seen every part of this man (literally) almost got fooled by those innocent eyes.

 “Miss Y/N I think anyone who has seen my dick up close can call me on a first-name basis.” He said and giggled.

 How did he do it? How could something like that just slip out of his lips while giggling? You chuckled at his silliness and shrugged.

 “I guess you’re right, but I haven’t seen it up close, I’ve seen it from afar.” You defended, victoriously crossing your arms in front of your chest.

 San licked his lips and stood up. He settled his phone on top of the vanity and stepped closer to you.

  “Well, would you like to?”

 You eyed him weirdly and pushed him away, with your index finger placed on his chest.

 “Don’t joke like that!” You whined, wearing a soft frown on your face.

 The smiley face that made anyone comfortable under its presence faded quickly, and was replaced with a serious look. The atmosphere in the room was suddenly much heavier, and you could hear his heavy breathing. His eyes, although almost fully hidden by his dark fringe, had a new feeling to them, and intimidating, almost scary one.

   He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close, so close that his hard-on began poking at you.

  “I’m not joking.”

  “But... Me? San, you have sex with professionals for a living surely they’re better than me...” 

 You weren’t insecure about your body nor about having sex, you were insecure, however, when the partner in question had a wide range of previous sex partners who were professionals in the matter.

  “But that’s exactly why... They’re professionals, they’re the same as me, we have fun but at the end of the day, there’s nothing new. But you...” His head dipped in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, and licking a long strip from the bottom of your neck to the spot below your earlobe “you’re so new. You look so innocent, so breakable. God, I wanna destroy you.” 

 He applied more pressure on the grip he had on your waist and you shivered at his dominant tone. The fact that you knew he was naked and hard under the robe didn’t help you calm down. You looked up at him with puppy dog eyes, not knowing what to respond.

 San chuckled and held your chin.

  “Don’t look at me like that... I don’t have much self-control baby, I’ll fuck you against this wall.” 

  The director called everyone on set, obliging San to pull away from you and make his way toward the door. As he turned the knob he looked at you over his shoulder.

 “You better be watching what I do, cause the whole time I’ll be imagining it’s you under me.”

 He winked and left the room. You stood there, frozen, still processing what had happened. It was almost inconceivable that such a man wanted to fuck you, yet his actions proved his intentions. Remembering his words, you turned on your heels and headed over to the set. 

 You watched each of his moves with twice as much willingness and attentiveness now, and not long after, both you and San were imagining the girl being taken by the man was you. You bit your lip and squeezed your thighs together, his sentences and his deep, sensual voice replaying over and over in your head. San stole a little glance at you, and you could tell he noticed your stiff body stance by the smirk that appeared on his lips. San gripped a handful os the poor girl’s hair and picked up the pace, as if telling you ‘be ready for later’.

   A warm, fuzzy feeling spread through your body and you could feel wetness spreading between your folds. You couldn’t help but envision what he could do to you, if only a couple of words and glances had gotten you like that, your body begging for his. 

 When the woman finally sunk to her knees on the floor and San came all over her face with a loud moan, the cameras stopped rolling and the lights were turned off.

 The director told everyone it was a wrap and gave the staff and the actors the green light to go home. You walked over to the back of the room to grab your purse, when you felt a big pair of hands grab your hips and pull you back. Your back hit what you assumed to be San’s chest and you blushed.

  “Wait for me outside, okay baby? We’ll have a good time today...” He whispered in your ear. 

 San teasingly bit your earlobe and left, presumably to get dressed.  Your legs trembled and your nubs hardened at the sudden neediness and craving for his touch.

 You did as he had told you, and once you had gathered all of your things you headed outside and waited for him by the door. Not long after you heard heavy footsteps behind you, and a cheeky hand slid into the back pocket of your jeans.

  “Hm, you waited for me like I told you? What a good girl...”

 The praise and the little squeeze he gave your ass almost forced a small whimper out of your mouth, but you contained yourself.

 San walked you to his car, and once you had settled in and he had started the car, you started feeling nervous.

  “Where are we going?”

  “My place, love. I don’t have a sex dungeon to fuck you in.” 

  Your cheeks flushed a little and you mentally slapped yourself for the idiotic question. San placed a hand on your thigh and squeezed reassuringly.

  “Don’t be nervous Y/N.”

 His loving smile was back, and you couldn’t help but ease a little at the sight of it.

 The ride was silent, with nothing but the faint background music playing, which was exactly what you needed to get your thoughts in place. When the car came to a halt, a new wave of nervousness and doubt hit you. 

 You stepped out of the car and followed him nonetheless.

 His house was not one bit less intimidating than him. It was a big, futuristic-looking house and as you paced your way inside it and looked around, you realized how much money a pornstar really must make.

 San caught a hold of your wrist and pulled you inside of one of the rooms, immediately shutting the door behind you.

  “Safeword is Purple, okay baby?” He told you, as he began unbuttoning his shirt.

 You nodded, as you stood in the middle of the room with your hands clasped behind your back. You were already scared, and the safe word ordeal did no good.

 His shirt fell to the floor and soon his jeans joined, and no matter how many times you had seen his naked body, every time you laid eyes on those broad shoulders, his protruding six-pack and his gorgeous thighs, your mouth would water.

 You allowed him to push you down onto the bed. His fingers played with the hem of your t-shirt as he looked at his own fingers playfully.

 His head lowered and he connected his lips to your neck. He left small kisses at first, but the innocence soon washed away and the soft pecks were replaced by rather harsh bites and some sucking. 

  San pulled your shirt off of your body, taking a second to appreciate the nice shape of your breasts. He cupped both of them in his hands and gave them a squeeze.

 His fingers experientially unhooked your bra and threw it somewhere. Before you could cover your breasts with your hands, San, who had seen that coming, grabbed your wrists and pinned each of them beside your head.

  “Don’t try that baby, your body is mine to take now.” He whispered in your ear.  Your body quivered under his touch and never before had you been so desperate. 

 San’s tongue danced along the curves of your right breast. He took his time teasing you, before taking your hardened nipple in his mouth, maintaining eye contact as he sucked on it. He left no piece of skin unattended, as he gave you a hickey in the skin between your breasts when his mouth made its way to your left nipple.

 He let go of your wrists, allowing you to tangle your fingers in his hair, while his own fingers traced a pattern down your body, making their way to your jean’s button.

   Every touch, every bite and every moan drove you crazy, and San slowly uncovered a new façade of yours.

 San undid said button along with the zipper. He pulled away from your breasts so he could hook his fingers on the waistband of the pants and pull them down your body, however, being the cheeky man he is, as San’s fingers caught your pants, he made sure they’d also get your panties, and so they disappeared somewhere in the room with the rest of your clothes.

 Suddenly you felt very exposed, and the feeling soon became bigger when San took the liberty to spread your legs for him.

 His fingers hovered over your womanhood for a second, before two of his fingers parted your folds. He hummed and bit his lower lip at the side.

  “You look so good baby...”

 You hissed at the contact, as his middle finger easily slipped inside of you.

  “I thought I was going to have to prepare you...” He pulled out his finger, glistening with your cum and held it in the air “But it seems you’re already wet enough.”

 Remembering how much your innocent, puppy eyes had affected him you decided to tease him. You looked him in the eye, with the exact same expression.

 “Does that mean you’re going to fuck me now?” You asked, purposely pulling the clueless card.

 San’s jawline tightened and he settled between your legs. He slapped your thigh and gripped it harshly, as his lips came down to meet yours in a rough kiss. It was a type of kiss you’d never experienced before, there was a mix of hunger, lust, and somehow desperation.

 His teeth took your bottom lip between them and bit it lightly. You moaned at the harshness, and he pulled away. San stripped from his boxers and let his tip hit your bare pussy, rubbing it between your folds teasingly.

  “San please... Don’t tease me...” You begged.

  His hand, that was placed on your hip, traveled up your body, and wrapped around your throat, squeezing it.

  “Oh, baby, whatever will I do to you. I’m going to wreck you...”

  He followed his sentence by entering you. His thrusts were strong and slow at first, but the pace soon picked up.

 You couldn’t help but wonder how he still had so much stamina after a shoot like that... But he sure spared no mercy. He pounded into you until your hands were gripping the sheets and the headboard hit the wall loudly.

  The sounds of your moans and his groans echoed in the room, however, your main focus was on the lewd sounds his dick made as it rammed inside your pussy.

  Suddenly he pulled out and stood up from the bed.

  “Turn around princess, ass up.”

  You did as you were told and quickly perked your ass up for him. San shuffled with something in the room for a second and then you felt the bed dip by your feet. His hand caressed one of your cheeks and squeezed it.

  “Good girl...” He praised you.

  You then felt a sharp pain in your ass and you yelped. By the sound of the buckle and shape of the item that had hit you, you assumed he had fetched the belt he previously wore.

  You felt another whip to your ass, this time on a different cheek and you yelped louder. You didn’t know this about yourself, but you enjoyed the way the pain turned into pleasure, and whip after whip, your yelps morphed into moans.

 San loved the pink tint on your ass, and he would’ve loved to spank you for as long as you could handle, but his cock was already twitching and he wanted to come either in you or on you.

 He knelt behind you and lined up his tip with your entrance, carelessly and violently pounding into you. He would often smack your ass, reminding you of how much you’d loved the belt.

  “Fuck San, you’re so good...” You moaned.

 San gripped some of your hair in his fist and tugged on it.

  “You like it, hm? You like being fucked like this?”

 You moaned a loud ‘yes’ in response, earning a groan from the male behind you.

  “Be a good girl for me and cum on my cock Y/N... Please.”

  A couple more spanks and thrusts and you happily obliged to his wishes. Your arms gave in and so would’ve your legs if San didn’t hold up your waist. Your head was buried in a pillow and your back was arched as you moaned San’s name.

  Your beautiful sounds and your tightness almost sent San over the edge. He pulled out of you and jacked himself off to the view of your ass, cumming all over it soon after accompanied by a loud moan.

 San collapsed behind you on the bed and chuckled at your fucked out state. The man sweetly played with your hair and kissed the top of your head, as if saying ‘you did well’.

  “So, did you enjoy being fucked like a pornstar?”

[missdawnandherdusk]

the lakes

Draco Malfoy X Reader

Request: @youareinllve​: Imagine spending summer break at the Malfoy manor and you realize that this is the first time in a while that draco seems like a kid again, with no pressure from his family or Voldemort or the death eaters, just draco, your draco again, just having fun in a lake. (also see the lakes)

A/N: So I think this is the softest thing that I’ve ever written in my life and that’s saying something (especially for those of you who have been around for a while). It also has brilliant cadence, so if you can, read it aloud: it’s that much more enchanting if you can. By no means will this always be how I write, because it is more poetic than prose, but I don’t mind doing it now and against especially with a muse like folklore. Let me know what you think! Seriously, I thrive on y’all feedback/comments/reblogs.

There were few days that I could call my own. The days when no one expected me to sit this way, talk that way, act perfectly. I could be young. I could be free. I could be loved. I could be with him.

There were few days that I could call him my own. The days when no one expected him to walk this way, speak that way, act like a Malfoy. He could be young. He could be free. He could be loved. He could be with me.

There were no tight-fitting robes. There were no school uniforms. There were no hours spent on hair and makeup. There was no time wasted in reflections. There were no side eye glances to steal.

There was the lightness of cotton. It was sundresses, cuffed trousers and flowy shirts. It was wide brimmed sun hats and bare feet. It was the softness of grass and the strength of the stones and comfort of earth.

It was his smile. The way it met his eyes. The way it called me in.

Into that cold water. That crystal-clear water. The water that matched the shade of his eyes.

 ~

Meet me at the lake,

Yours, Draco

~

That’s all it would take. That was when I knew the day was mine. When I knew he was. It was a trip to Windermere. To the wood skirting around his large suffocating manor. It was meeting him at the lake, where our days went to live and die.

“Took you long enough,” I’d tease as he passed the first few trees, his eyes scanning the foliage for me.

“Not all of us can apparate yet,” He’d jest back, taking my hand.

The warmth of his hand in mine matched the smile on his face. The sharp points of his cheekbones and jaw meeting the soft curves of his lips and eyelashes. The grass struggling to grow in the speckled light beckoned us forward. Our shoes, coats, and griefs left under a tree where our initials were carved. Sunlight filtered in golden and green through the trees lighting him softly.

Draco would take my hand and pull me close. His hands would rest on my waist as his nose nuzzled against mine in the calm lighting. Our breaths and the rustling of leaves were the only things heard. The only things that mattered to listen to. His lips would be soft and alluring on mine—just as his smile was.

The shock of the chilled water would elicit the most irresistible laughter and shouts of joy. The squishy earth beneath my toes would have me draped over Draco’s shoulders, just to avoid the prickling feeling. My dislike of the sensation would have him laughing yet again, and perhaps he’d roll his eyes at my ridiculousness. But he’d never complain. Instead he’d hold me or draw me deeper into the water.

The lake. The deep water. As soon as we could dive beneath it, our worries were gone. There was no war looming. There were no evil overlords. No heroes. No ransoms. There was no good versus bad. There was no sides. No houses. No prejudices.

There was me. 

There was Draco.

There was the hum of insects. There was the swaying of wisteria. His smile pressed against my skin.

“I love you,” He’d whisper. “More than anything,” 

“Never more than I love you,” I’d reply.

The enchanted water of that lake would take us to the banks. The outcropped rocks surrounded by flowers that were free to grow. That grew despite the adversity that it faced. The blanket would be soft under my touch as we carved a little square of the wildflowers to call our own.

Draco’s eyes would watch the distance, gazing upon the peaks of the mountains. Being with Draco seemed to make everything hurt less. No matter what it was, he had a way of soothing all of my worries and strife.

“How do I love thee?” He’d quote as I lay beside him watching the blueness of the heavens above.

“Let me count the ways,” I’d muse back, propping up on my arm so that I could catch a glimpse of the grey that his eyes held.

“I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach,” The words would tumble from his lips with practiced ease, with the same grace as the breeze persuading the grass to waver.

“I love thee to the level of every day's most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.” My words would barely be heard above the babbling of the lost brook as the sun would stretch out its last efforts of warmth and guidance.

Draco would sit up then, tucking my drying hair behind my ear in a feeble attempt to tame it against the will of the wind gods that accompanied us.

“I love thee freely, as men strive for right.” An air of melancholy would haunt his words as shades began to seep back into our Eden.

“I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.” The gentle reminder would ward off the ghosts of who we were supposed to be as a smile would be mirrored on his face as it was mine. Again, we were free.

“I love thee with the passion put to use in my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.” Draco would become theatrical at these lines, feigning distress and he draped over my lap. A laugh would fall from my lips and onto the perfection of his features.

“I love thee with a love I seemed to lose with my lost saints.” My fingers would dust over his cheek, drawing down his jaw, to trace the pink of his lips.

“I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears, of all my life,” His grey eyes would vow this to me. Each and every day that belonged to us he would declare these words.

“And, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.” I’d promise back.

As the sun gave into his sister for the night, there was no escaping the world that demanded us back. The world filled with grief and sorrow.

The truth was: Draco and I didn’t belong in that world. The world of heroes and villains. The world of happily ever after’s and storybook endings. We weren’t made for rumors and gossip. Our love didn’t fit in newspapers or hushed conversations.

We belonged to the poets. To the sad prose. We belonged to the orishas of that lake and the wood and the flowers and the earth. Thousands of nymphs and naiads for us to be in the comfort and care of. The fae that would welcome us and protect our love. Our love that grew deep roots and beautiful flowers with no one around to spoil it.

Those were the days that we’d set off without our beloved to the lakes.

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[malfoymanortings]

lavender and velvet //part three

SUMMARY: she had her fathers eyes, his aristocratic looks, her grandmothers spite, her mothers heart, but the one thing she didn't have was the love of her father that her god brother received. juliet black finally meets her father who has already decided who his child is.

PAIRINGS: to be decided.

WARNINGS: mentions of drug use.

enjoy!

Juliet coughed loudly, pressing a hand to her chest. She shook her head as George laughed, taking the bong from her.

“Looks like Juliet’s the little bitch tonight,” he teased, nudging her with his knee.

She flipped him off, still coughing from the large hit she had taken. Fred laughed, sprawled out on the bed.

“Come on now Georgie, let’s not tease our princess,” chuckled Fred, a teasing grin on his face. “Let’s just be grateful she prefers this over lines.”

“I’m versatile, Freddie.” joked Juliet, taking a gulp of her glass of water. 

The three continued passing around the bong, until their limbs were fuzzy and their eyes were red. Fred stayed on the bed, while George sat on the floor with Juliet, who was leaning against him. She had her eyes shut, relishing in the feeling she had missed. 

Remus wasn’t fond of her smoking, but he never strictly forbade it. She supposed that would be hypocritical of him, considering he partok in it himself. Only after a full moon, he would claim, but she could smell it from his bedroom just about every other day. Either way, he wasn’t here now to chastise her.

“All I’m saying is, we should explore space ourselves,” blurted out George, startling Juliet and Fred, as it had been quiet for some time. “Could you imagine the properties of moon dust? Bet we could find a use for it. I bet it would make for a killer sleep potion.”

“Why’s that Georgie?” Fred questioned, rolling over so his head was hanging over the edge of the bed, his long red hair tickling Juliet’s arm. “You just assume it would make for a sleeping remedy just because it’s the moon?”

Juliet laughed as George turned to glare at Fred, his eyes wide. “Freddie. It’s the moon.”

“So with that line of thinking, venus would make for a love potion, right?” questioned Juliet, adjusting herself so she was lying on the floor, her head in George’s lap. “Because Venus is a goddess of love?”

George snapped his fingers, looking down at Juliet with a dopey grin on his face. “Someone gets it!”

“If anyone can figure out how to get to the moon it’ll be the two of you,” Juliet murmured, shutting her eyes as George lazily ran his fingers through her hair. “The smartest idiots I’ve ever met.”

“I would love to disagree with you, but I feel that compliment was high enough to overshadow the insult.” mused George, as Fred laughed.

A knock was heard on the door then, and George quickly pushed the bong under the bed, while Fred swished his wand, the haze and smell disappearing. Juliet sat up slowly, her mind foggy from her high. George and Fred had very high tolerances, she did not.

Ron poked his head through the door, his eyes narrowing. “What are you lot up to?”

Juliet couldn’t stop her laugh from tumbling out, a grin spreading across her face. George wrapped his arm around her, tucking her head into his chest. She inhaled deeply, loving the smell of fresh linen and cinnamon that seemed to be embedded in his clothes.

“Just discussing our future endeavors,” Fred grinned at Ron. “Care to join us?”

Ron shook his head, stepping away from the door. “Mum’s got dinner ready. She’s going to be right mad when she sees you lot.”

“Mum, mad at us?” George questioned innocently.

“Why would she ever be mad at us?” Fred finished, the twins glancing at each other in fake innocence.

“Blimey,” Ron rolled his eyes. “Your eyes are bloodshot. She isn’t stupid.”

“Well, ickle Ronniekins, you best run along now,” George shooed his brother away, waving one hand.

“We have to look presentable, don’t we?” Fred stood from the bed, walking over and shutting the door in Ron’s face. 

“Molly’s made dinner?” questioned Juliet, suddenly ravenous. “I really hope there's mashed potatoes.”

“Your girlfriend’s going to blow our cover.” Fred muttered to George, smirking as he took a bite of a cream colored candy. 

“Not my girlfriend, Freddie.” George reminded his brother, pulling out the same candy, handing one to Juliet.

She swallowed it whole, nearly choking as she did. Her eyes tingled for a moment, and her mind became slightly less hazy. 

“You guys perfected your emergency chew?” Juliet asked as she stood, George giving her a hand.

“Had to, with the lack of privacy in our family.” Fred grinned, opening the door. “Ladies first, George.”

The three went down to dinner, which went fairly well. Ron, Hermione, and Harry kept giving the three of them funny looks, and Sirius also kept glancing at Juliet with an odd look as well. She found it bearable to get through dinner this time, ignoring how Sirius and Harry laughed with each other. 

After dinner, everyone dispersed, Fred and George to go work on ideas for their joke shop, Ginny and Hermione to help Molly clean the foyer, Sirius to feed Buckbeak, Ron and Harry to do something. Juliet hadn’t paid much attention. 

She found herself back in the Black family tree, sitting on the floor and writing a letter to Draco. It would be the first summer she hadn’t seen him or their friends, and she found herself missing them. Hopefully Draco was doing alright. 

As she wrote the last line, she felt someone staring at her. She glanced up, brushing her hair behind her ear, to see Harry standing in the doorway looking as if he had made a mistake.

“Can you leave?” scowled Juliet, raising a brow. 

“I wanted to talk to you,” Harry walked further in the room, glancing at the walls. “Are you still mad?”

“No,” Juliet scoffed, rolling her parchment up. “I just don’t want to talk to you.”

“You’re being dramatic.” Harry stated, crossing his arms as he looked down at her.

“Dramatic?” Juliet snapped, standing up from her spot on the floor.

“Yes,” insisted Harry. “Your dad loves you, he’s here, and you keep making this harder for him. For everyone.”

“Are you that much of a prat?” cried Juliet, throwing her arms out in frustration. “Do you even realize what you’ve done?”

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Juliet cut him off, stepping closer to him, invading his personal space.

“I’ve been waiting, years, for my dad to come back,” she breathed, her voice catching in her throat. “Turns out, he only came back for you. He isn’t yours! You are taking away the one thing I’ve ever wanted in my entire life. I used to dream about him coming back, and grew up on stories about him. Guess that wasn’t enough. He wanted you.”

“He wants you too!” Harry exclaimed, becoming heated. “I’m sorry it feels like I’m taking him from you. I never had a father. You had Remus, the Weasleys. Although I would never take your father from you, I’m not going to act like he isn’t there for me.”

“Get out,” Juliet said quietly, balling her fists up at her sides. “Get out!” 

Harry left quickly, striding down the halls. Juliet sank back down to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees. She rested her head on them, her long hair falling around her like a curtain. Tears burned her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. She kept them shut, sniffling quietly to herself.

“Hey kiddo.” 

She looked up to see Remus enter the room, his hands in his pockets as he walked over to her. He knelt down by her, sitting down with a grunt. He put an arm around her, rubbing her back.

Juliet lifted her head, wiping her eyes. She crossed her legs, leaning her head against Remus’ shoulder. He rested his head against hers for a second, before digging around in his pocket.

He handed her a chocolate frog, smiling when she laughed. “Chocolate makes everything better, eh?”

“According to you,” Juliet pointed out, unwrapping the frog and taking a bite. She got Dumbledore on her card as usual. “Thank you.”

“I know it’s hard,” Remus paused, taking the card and packaging from her, slipping it into his robes.. “And I’m not going to defend your father. However, I wanted to give you my thoughts on it, if that’s alright.”

Juliet nodded, chewing her chocolate.

“As I’ve told you many times before,” Remus began, ruffling her hair. “Sirius and James were best friends. Your father lived with him for quite awhile, when he ran away from here. He spent twelve years in Azkaban, reliving his worst memories over and over again. He finally got out, and Harry saved him. He owes a great deal to Harry for saving his life. I think, sometimes, it’s difficult for him to separate James from Harry.”

“So you think he’s mental?” Juliet looked at him, doubtful.

“He spent a long time alone,” Remus shrugged, glancing down at her. “Dementors were his only company. I think that’s enough to make anyone a bit touched. Just.. try not to be so hostile.”

“It’s part of my charm, dad,” Juliet murmured, shrugging her shoulders. Remus smiled at her, ruffling her hair again. “It’s my Slytherin sparkle.”

“Not this again,” Remus groaned, standing up and holding a hand out to her. “That same Slytherin sparkle that had you charm every room in the house green? That had you attempt to keep a pet snake? And dye my hair green and silver?”

“The silver highlights looked dashing against the green,” she defended herself, taking his hand and letting him pull her up. “Also, Cornflake didn’t last long. How was I supposed to know garden snakes shouldn’t be house pets?”

“Garden snake,” Remus grumbled, shaking his head. “Thing was nearly an anaconda.”

“That’s just your memory going.” clarified Juliet, placing her parchment into the pocket of her robes. 

Remus nudged her shoulder as they left the room, laughing. They walked into the living room, where the Weasley’s, Hermione, and Harry were busy attacking Doxies. Juliet raised an eyebrow at Fred when he slipped one into his pocket, slapping George’s hand.

“Brought you another helper, Molly,” Remus motioned towards Juliet, winking as she gave him a look. 

“Thanks,” she muttered under her breath, pressing her letter into his hand. “Can you send this to Draco for me?”

Remus nodded, ruffling her hair once more before saying his goodbyes. Juliet joined the cleaning task, spraying the doxies until there was none left. They began taking the bags of various dead creatures out of the room, everyone filing out until Juliet and Harry were left behind to grab the final three bags.

“Harry,” Juliet addressed him, nodding his way. He paused, and looked at her warily. “I don’t want to keep fighting with you. I understand it’s not your fault. It’s just hard for me to see my father prefer you over me.”

Harry looked as if he were going to say something, thought better of it, and nodded. “I’d like it if we could spend more than five minutes together without going at it.”

Juliet scoffed, giving him a small grin. “I wouldn’t go that far, Potter. Can’t lose my edge, now, can I? Draco would absolutely die if we became friendly.”

“Is that a downside?” Harry quipped back, smiling to soften his words.

“Potter has jokes?” Juliet mused, taking a bag of dead rats. “Keep that up around Draco, it’ll keep him on his toes.”

Harry laughed, and they left the room with the last two bags, leaving a clean room behind them. Harry kept their conversation going, surprising the Weasleys and Hermione, who had been expecting the two to tear each other's throats out.

Perhaps, Juliet thought, Harry wasn’t so bad.

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taglist: @person1839 @treblebeth @big-galaxy-chaos

just shoot me a message if you would like to be added to the taglist! xx

[kikiwhataboutthatbrendon]

Okay I will use proper grammar and punctuation if only for a brief moment. 

Head cannons, I've been thinking thoughts bitches. 

First one, origins of half the 'major' characters on the SMP. 

Philza and Kristen raised their three sons Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy in a seaside town that thrived off it's unconventional ways of farming and strong government. 

I'll get to Techno first. 

Techno is a hybrid. A boar pig human hybrid. He was not born this way. 

Techno is the firstborn of the three brothers. (I know everyone thinks this- I simply thought it was worth stating anyway.) He grew up farming alongside his parents and working at his father's construction business, but took a particular interest in sword fighting after viewing a public duel at a young age. This led to a fascination and slowly turned obsession with fighting. Every day spent not busy at school, working on his parents farm, working with his father, or spending time with his little brother, was spent halfway across town learning the brutal art of sword play. He's done a lot of things Phil and Kristen have never known about to date. Trained under several retired war generals, fought his way to the top of the cities underground fighting ring, run down several cartels in the city that threatened his family's safety. 

Let me retrace to Techno being a hybrid. I will not lie, this kinda turned into more of a very small fic than just stating my headcanon. But I figure you all wouldn't mind all that much, and it still covers all the points I'd thought of. 

Phil and Kristen only know half of what their eldest has been up to. They try not to question, so long as their son comes home at the end of the day they're fine with whatever life he decides to lead. 

Until the day he doesn't come home. 

He told them he'd be gone for three days. Not a week. A week passes and they start to worry. 

He left them with a sword and axe crossed over his back and a shield covering both weapons. He had something dark in his eyes as he said goodbye on the fastest horse he'd managed to breed. 

Phil hugged his son goodbye, apprehensive at the sight of two crossbows strapped to his arm. Kristen kissed his cheek and tried not to say anything about the glistening golden apples she saw in a bag on his horse's side. Wilbur didn't quite understand why his brother was leaving, but was scared when he noticed his brother had their father's armour carefully packed away with him. 

He left with a small smile and waved over his shoulder. 

Techno was missing for five months.

He came home a haggard and horrifying sight. A boar pig's skull covered his face. Dried blood flaked off the glowing bone, it wasn't Techno's. He wore a royal robe the color of crimson and a glittering golden crown atop his head. His ears were no longer something human, instead they were long and fuzzy and a pale pink, a near perfect match to that of a boar's. Several golden hoops were pierced into one, one of the holes looked ripped rather than pierced. Two long, sharp tusks grew from his bottom lip, seemingly completing the skull tied to his head. His hands were tightly curled around his horse's reins, long and unnatural nails digging into his palms, they looked more like hooves than nails. 

His horse was no longer living, every bone in the undead animal's non-existent body shone in the sunlight. A beautiful skeleton of a magnificent creature. 

He silently rode through his family's crop fields until he came upon the reliving sight of his home framed against a gorgeous ocean, there was someone sitting on the porch overlooking the fields. 

It was Philza. His head was in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. The picture of a defeated and grieving father. Something told him to look up. Eyes the color of the deepest oceans fell on the sight of his son ten feet from him. 

Techno's shoulders were heaving from forcing his horse to sprint the final distance to his father. 

Phil stared. 

His son was home. His son was breathing. His son looked terrifying. His son's hair was bubblegum pink. 

Techno couldn't stand the distance anymore. He scrambled off his horse then ran and hugged his dad. 

Phil immediately wrapped Techno into the tightest embrace he's ever givin his son. For all but a few seconds, Phil relives holding his firstborn for the first time. If you asked him, he'd tell you there wasn't a difference between the first time he held Techno and when he came home. 

Techno takes a shuddering breath then pushes the skull off his head, letting it clatter to the ground with his crown so he can bury his face in his father's shoulder. 

That's where Kristen finds her husband and son, one crying silent tears of relief, the other biting his lip to keep his howls of sorrow at bay. 

She doesn't say a word. Kristen rushes to them and holds them both close. 

Techno could recognize his mother's presence anywhere, and promptly let out a pitiful sob at her touch. 

She shushed him gently and smiled when Techno took an arm from around Phil so he could hug both of his parents. 

They stayed there for a long time. 

Techno tried to tell them why he went missing. Why he disappeared. Why he doesn't look like their son anymore. But he couldn't muster more than a soft 'I'm sorry' before bursting into tears again. 

And that's the end of that. Well not really. I actually got inspired by this, and by demand of my family, I will be making a fic! I've decided that it's going to be released in chapters on AO3. I'll make an announcement with the tag #Kingdom Come to state it's release. :)

Well, that's everything my brain has been fixed on! I hope it was to all your satisfaction or enjoyment. Have a wonderful day/night!

@yeeted-into-the-multiverse

Here you go my new friendo! Thank you for beta reading for me. <3

@ichornsoot

Here you are Emrys, enjoy you lovely being. <3<3

[therollingstonys]

Love Me Tender, Love Me Sweet

Tw: cancer, discussions of death, cancer treatment, sadness

Steph sits and stares out the window of the cabin, watching as it rains, the gloomy darkness of a fall evening making her shiver. She really shouldn’t be sitting with the windows open, she’s going to catch a cold for sure, but there’s something about the sound of rain and the scent of damp dying leaves that sends a shudder over her twisted spine.

Her hands move idly, pressing charcoal to paper to capture the way Antonia had looked earlier, reclining on the small loveseat in the studio with a book propped against her thin chest and a smile on her lips as she’d napped.

She’d looked so at peace it had nearly broken Steph’s already damaged and weak heart to have to wake her up for dinner.

She smudges some shadows under Antonia’s eyes and swallows hard against the urge to cry. She’s so tired these days—the chemo and radiation have sapped that vitality and brightness from all her smiles that had made Steph fall in love with her and Steph wishes there was something she could do, but this is their life.

Steph herself isn’t a paragon of health—asthma, congenital heart defect, scoliosis—but still, she’d give every ounce of life and health from her body if it would help Antonia.

Gentle fingers brush against her short golden locks and she shivers, turning a little to find Antonia behind her, fuzzy robe pulled tight around her too thin frame. Despite the smile on her lips she looks exhausted—deep down to her bones. Steph captures her fingers and brushes kisses across the pads, smiling faintly.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asks, already knowing the answer.

Antonia nods and then comes around the chair to seat herself gently into Steph’s lap, curling up so her head can rest against Steph’s shoulder. She’s light as a feather—the chemo and radiation have stolen her appetite and her curves and left behind easily bruised skin that’s thin and papery.

Steph rubs lotion into Antonia’s skin every night, artists fingers gentle as she rubs it in to the surgery scars. Antonia is always quiet when she does, eyes closed as Steph touches the places where she’s been cut open and hollowed out.

Antonia had sobbed after the mastectomy surgery, apologized profusely to Steph for the radical change to her body as though it was her fault that the same cancer that had killed Maria was now doing its best to steal another bright light from the world.

Antonia had even tried to convince her to leave—

“I’m not the same woman you fell in love with Steph. Everything that made me a woman is gone.”

“Bullshit. Your organs don’t make you woman, you decide who and what you are, and I’m never leaving you so don’t you dare try to make me go. I love you goddamnit, as you were, as you are and as you will be.”

Steph trails her fingers up Antonia’s spine to her neck and shoulders and massages gently, smiling sadly when Antonia makes a weak sound and nuzzles her cold nose into Steph’s throat. The soft silk of her turban is cool against Steph’s skin, yet another reminder of all Antonia has lost.

When her hair had begun falling out she’d bought a set of clippers and given Steph a steely eyed look and said, “Shave it all off.”

And she had.

They’d wept together through so many stages—the diagnosis, the initial treatments, the surgery. They’d fought and yelled and cried together, angry at the world, at the fickle bitch of genetics, at everything it seemed sometimes.

Steph rubs Antonia’s back until the tension in her thin fram eases. “Let’s go to bed,” she murmurs, shifting so she can press Antonia to her side as she rises to her feet. They walk slowly, each step painstaking until they’re back in the bedroom. Antonia’s breathing is labored and her skin is clammy so Steph situates her in bed gently and then hurries to get a warm wet cloth to wipe her down with.

Antonia’s eyes are closed, brow furrowed with pain and humiliation. She hates being weak—she’d screamed at the sky when she’d been diagnosed, “I’m Antonia Fucking Stark this doesn’t happen to me!”, and Steph had been there to catch her when the strength had left her legs, both of them sinking to the muddy ground, sobbing at the injustice of the world.

Steph carefully dresses Antonia in a T-shirt and sweats—the hot flashes at night sometimes have her sweating through her clothes and the sheets, but by now they’ve figured out how to keep her comfortable. When she’s done, she slides into bed alongside her wife and holds her close, listening to her soft raspy breathing as she slowly relaxes and begins to fall asleep.

“I love you.”

The words make something catch in Steph’s throat, now and every other time they’ve said them. She kisses Antonia’s cool brow and blinks back tears, “I love you too darling,” she chokes out, tears slipping down her face despite her best effort to hold them back.

She thinks that maybe the end is coming—Antonia is so weak, so fragile. She stays up most nights listening to her breathe, her own chest stuttering when it falters or gasps. She thinks that when it does come, it will ruin her.

Antonia has been her love, her home, her family, and without her, Steph doesn’t know how she’ll go on. She’ll be hollowed out and left as half a person, and god, god she hopes the end doesn’t come soon. She doesn’t want Antonia to suffer, never that, but the thought of losing her is nearly too much to bear. It’s perhaps a selfish hope, but one Steph keeps in the deepest darkest recesses of her heart.

Please don’t go yet, she thinks as she listens to Antonia’s soft breathing. I need you.

There’s a clinical trial in Monaco, a sliver of hope, and Steph knows she shouldn’t cling to it, but she does anyway. All they have left now is hope and love and perhaps a little time.

Steph kisses Antonia’s brow again and watches her sleep.

For however long they have left, she’s going to treasure each moment with Antonia, paint her the splendor of sunsets and sunrises, hold her hand and kiss her lips and make sure that she knows she is loved, now and always.

[snarktheater]

Ready Player Two — Opening Cutscene & Chapter 0

Hello again.

It’s been a while. I haven’t been active on this blog since, fittingly enough, Ready Player One. I was going to do this sooner—even had an alarm set up and everything—but then, it turns out, I’m feeling so much negativity about the world in general that a book just pales in comparison.

Seriously, I had to scrap this post’s entire intro because it’s not even 2020 anymore as I write this. And you know, maybe that’s for the best. I’m not really in the mood for doom and gloom and bitching anymore. I uninstalled Twitter from my phone a while back, I’ve been doing good at my daily writing sprints, my biggest fanfic project concluded on a positive note from people I didn’t even realize had been following it for years.

So I don’t know what this is going to be like. My commentary, I mean; I’ve heard echoes of what the book is like, so I’m not expecting a surprise there.

The book opens right after the end of Ready Player One, in a “Cutscene” where Wade recounts to us what happened after he won Halliday’s contest. It also assumes you remember exactly who the main characters of the book are, which is a bold move for a sequel that came out almost a decade after the original.

Technically, I could just look up the details I’m fuzzy about. But also, I think it’s more authentic if I don’t. I trust my memory enough that if I’m wrong, it’ll be in subtle enough ways that it’ll almost be a private jokes between all of us. An “if you know, you know” sort of error system. And I don’t think there’s anything more true to the spirit of this book than that.

Shoto had flown back home to Japan to take over operations at GSS’s Hokkaido division.

So Wade starts his tenure with nepotism. Wasn’t Shoto really young? Why is he qualified to run anything?

Aech was enjoying an extended vacation in Senegal, a country she’d dreamed of visiting her whole life, because her ancestors had come from there.

You know what, I’m not touching “send the token black character back to Africa.” This isn’t my lane.

And Samantha had flown back to Vancouver to pack up her belongings and say goodbye to her grandmother, Evelyn.

Why is she saying goodbye? Why, she’s moving to Columbus to be with Wade, of course! It’s not like there was anything else in her life. Was there? And why isn’t she referred to as Art3mis? I’m pretty sure Wade found out all of their offline names in the last book, and the inconsistency mildly bothers me.

These three sentences are back to back, by the way. Someone—I forget who—once described Ready Player One as a book that’s fun to write a wiki about, because it’s got fun concepts to summarize about until you realize that all the emotional connective tissue you need to turn a list of things into a story is missing, and that’s roughly how this first page feels.

Hell, the first line of the book is Wade telling us he remained offline for nine whole days after winning the contest, but by the end of the second paragraph we’re already to him logging back into the OASIS to "distract himself from [his and Samantha’s] reunion.

I’ll give Ernest Cline one thing: it feels like he wrote this opening nine days after the first book and did about as much maturing as a teenage boy would do between the two books.

Way more time is spent describing Wade’s OASIS rig, or the in-game planet where the climax of the last book happened, than anything else in this introduction. He is immediately greeted by a crowd of adoring fans who have been waiting over a week for him to come back in the game, because they’re all grateful that our protagonist and his friends restored their avatars after they were annihilated by the Sixers.

You’d think the adoring fans would serve some kind of purpose, or that something would happen, but no. Wade immediately goes “ew, people” and teleports away, since he essentially has ultimate powers within the game. With a caveat: the powers are actually coming from the Robes of Anorak he’s wearing, and I’m mentioning that in the hopes that it will pay off sometime in the book’s future, assuming Cline at least learned to do that. But still, let’s not skip too fast the fact that we introduced that crowd of adoring fans for no other purpose than to tell us they’re out there, because it fits right in with the last book’s attempts at saying as little as humanly possible in as many words as possible.

Anyway, Wade went back into Anorak’s study, where he arbitrarily checks out the Easter Egg he got at the end of the last book, and finds an inscription on it. I was dreading another riddle, but no, it’s just straight-up instructions to a vault in the GSS archives, so Wade logs off and goes to check it out.

Of course Halliday had put [the archives] [on the 13th floor]. In one of his favorite TV shows, Max Headroom, Network 23’s hidden research-and-development lab was located on the thirteenth floor. And The Thirteenth Floor was also the title of an old sci-fi film about virtual reality, released in 1999, right on the heels of both The Matrix and eXistenZ.

I’m equally shocked that it took two whole pages (on my ereader) to get to the first slew of references, and that one of these references is from 1999. I didn’t know we were allowed to think of anything that isn’t the 80s. Speaking of which, I’ll spare you the whole paragraph, but the book does feel the need to explain why it’s vault 42.

Inside the vault, there’s another egg containing a super-fancy and advanced OASIS headset. The egg also has a video monitor that plays a video message from James Halliday shortly before his death.

But despite his condition, he hadn’t used his OASIS avatar to record this message like he had with Anorak’s Invitation. For some reason, he’d chosen to appear in the flesh this time, under the brutal, unforgiving light of reality.

That oh-so-important message? An infodump about the headset’s working. He called it an OASIS Neural Interface, ONI for short. It basically lets you experience the OASIS through all your senses with sensory input just like the real thing, you know, that thing Wade had to get a fancy suit and massive rig to do in the first book. And yes, Wade does spend a paragraph or two comparing it to other works of science fiction. Of course he does.

More importantly, it also records all the sensory input into a separate file, which can then be replayed over to re-experience said sensations, or live someone else’s experiences. Halliday tries to frame it as a tool to generate communication and empathy, seemingly all without acknowledging the potential creepiness of that. But hey. Who knows. Maybe that’s because this is the setup stage, and it’ll pay off eventually.

I also wondered about the name Halliday had chosen for his invention. I’d seen enough anime to know that oni was also a Japanese word for a giant horned demon from the pits of hell.

Add “reducing Japan to anime” to the list of things the book has failed to improve upon. By the way, the narration insisted on spelling out ONI letter by letter earlier, so it’s weird to make that link now. It’s also just kind of inelegant to just tell us “this is the symbolism behind the name”, but that’s just the sort of thing I’ve come to expect from this book.

Anyway, the reason Halliday kept this for his successor to find is he wants Wade to test out the technology and decide if humanity is ready for it. Why Halliday thinks the most glorified pop culture trivia / video game competition qualifies you for such a decision should be a problem, but sadly, a lot of billionaires have said and done a lot of dumb and eerily similar things in the past few years since I read Ready Player One, so actually, I can’t fault the book for that one. Tragically, our fates really are in the hands of people who should rightfully be cartoon villains.

To his credit, Wade does question Halliday’s motives in keeping this under wraps at all rather than releasing it himself. So hey, maybe it really is setting something up.

Wade goes back to his office with the ONI, and we’re treated with this lovely piece of narration:

I was grateful that Samantha wasn’t there. I didn’t want to give her the opportunity to talk me out of testing the ONI. Because I was worried she might try to, and if she did, she would’ve succeeded. (I’d recently discovered that when you’re madly in love with someone they can persuade you to do pretty much anything.)

There’s a lot to unpack about the implications this has for their relationship, but it’s way too early in the book for me to editorialize when one character hasn’t even been on the page yet. So I’ll just leave it here for the record. Hopefully you see the problem without me needing to point it out anyway. If not, feel free to hit my inbox.

So Wade, confident in the fact that Halliday would have warned him if there were any risks to using the ONI, decides to try it out. Even though he immediately follows up that statement with this:

According to the ONI documentation, forcibly removing the headset while it was in operation could severely damage the wearer’s brain and/or leave them in a permanent coma. So the titanium-reinforced safety bands made certain this couldn’t happen. I found this little detail comforting instead of unsettling. Riding in an automobile was risky, too, if you didn’t wear your seatbelt…

Wade. My dude. What the fuck is this simile. And why don’t you see that maybe a machine where you’re forcibly trapping yourself inside a virtual reality might be dangerous? Hell, when I said this was setting something up, I was expecting something vaguely interesting about the potential breach of privacy, or how you don’t need to literally walk in someone’s shoes to feel empathy for them, or anything substantial, but now I’m worried it’ll just end up as “man, sometimes science fiction machines will scramble your brain, isn’t that weird”?

Like, I don’t know, to me “it will put you in a coma” sounds like a good reason for Halliday not to release the ONI. Maybe we can still make it into a commentary on how corporations will sell stuff they know is directly harmful if it can make them a profit. Who knows.

The book waffles on about more risks, and the mechanics of how the ONI activates, and the warning disclaimer when it does turn on. Specifically, there’s a time limit of twelve consecutive hours, after which you’ll be automatically logged out, because yes, using the thing for too long can also cause brain damage.

Gregarious Simulation Systems will not be held responsible for any injuries caused by improper use of the OASIS Neural Interface.

See, now there’s the sort of thing that could be a source for commentary, but no, instead it’s thrown in there like it’s nothing and Wade glosses over the entire warning, and instead keep wondering why Halliday didn’t just release the ONI if even the safety disclaimers were in place.

By the way: this whole system has apparently gone through several independent human trials already, so I’m finding it hard to imagine that it’s actually a secret Halliday took to the grave as Wade says. Unless he also had everyone involved in those trials killed afterwards. Or maybe they all ended up with brain damage which rendered them incapable of talking about it.

And before you think I’m being unfair and maybe we’re supposed to understand that ourselves even if the protagonist doesn’t, I’ll remind you that the book didn’t trust its reader to know what the number 42 is a reference to, or what an oni is, even though I don’t think anyone in the target audience wouldn’t know about these two things.

There’s also the fact that, since this book came out, a video game did release with a scene intentionally designed to cause seizures, and it had countless fans flocking to defend it over that fact. So you’ll have to excuse me if I’m not assuming this book’s stance on whether your video game console causes brain damage and possibly coma is actually a bad thing, or just an acceptable risk.

Wade certainly seems to think so, since he agrees to the terms of service.

As the timestamp faded away, it was replaced by a short message, just three words long—the last thing I would see before I left the real world and entered the virtual one. But they weren’t the three words I was used to seeing. I—like every other ONI user to come—was greeted by a new message Halliday had created, to welcome those visitors who had adopted his new technology: READY PLAYER TWO

Well now that’s just silly.

And that’s our opening cutscene. And while this post is already long enough, I feel like I have to go on to chapter 0, because it feels like barely anything has happened so far. We didn’t even introduce any new character motivation or conflict, or a mystery to set the plot into motion, unless I’m supposed to think “why didn’t Halliday release this?” counts.

So Wade is back into the OASIS, and tells us about how much more real it all feels thanks to the ONI. I especially have to question how he can smell or taste anything—both of which he tells us he can. Like, who coded that? Did Halliday implement every single smell and taste himself, without anyone noticing? I hope you don’t need me to tell you that’s not typically how features are added to a large-scale video game.

If it feels like I’m nitpicking at the logic of the book, even though I always say I’m not very interested in that and would rather talk themes, it’s because I am, because there isn’t much else to discuss so far. Wade is happy about tasting virtual fruit. That’s the scene.

He tests out if he can feel pain, but no, the ONI reduces pain (a gunshot is translated as “a hard pinch”). On one hand, good, it would be a nightmare otherwise. On the other hand, I sort of hope there’s a setting for that in there, because otherwise, you just lost an entire clientele of kinksters.

This was it—the final, inevitable step in the evolution of videogames and virtual reality. The simulation had now become indistinguishable from real life.

Ah, now we have some juicy themes. Because if you think this is the inevitable final step in the evolution of video games, I invite you to look at literally any other art form, and what happened to them once hyperrealism became easy. Hint: they didn’t stop evolving, because it turns out realism isn’t the only goal one can achieve with art.

The realism discussion is not a new one in video games, mind you. In case you’re out of the loop: most of the big-budget blockbuster games (“AAA” as they’re known) are aiming for hyperrealism nowadays, and it results in development teams being forced to work in horrible conditions (known with the equally horrible euphemism of “crunch”). And, because it turns out that 1) humans working themselves to the bones isn’t healthy and 2) racing for realism with little to no vision besides it makes for poor creativity, a lot of these games come out as disappointments. Oh, there are hordes of Gamers™ who will defend them to the bitter end, but inevitably, in the months following release, the defense cools off while the criticism keeps on going, because the defense was a knee-jerk reaction born of a mix of people hyping themselves up for a game they hadn’t seen that much of yet, then attaching a part of their identity to liking that thing.

Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that this throwaway line feels like it comes from someone who is so out of touch as to accidentally support a world view that has in fact resulted in the biggest part of the industry stagnating artistically while growing more toxic for the people working in it. All the while, more and more independent games come out every year, proving that that realism is nowhere near the most important thing to making a game good, and that you can achieve much better results with a small team.

What I’m trying to say is: watch Jim Sterling’s channel, they’ve been bleeding out subscribers since they came out as nonbinary and make much better commentary on this topic than I could, and play Hades.

Back to the book, which sadly hasn’t become any more interesting since I decided to go on a tangent. Wade tests the ONI functions some more, all the while musing on how he knows Samantha would disapprove but that he doesn’t care, because what loving relationship doesn’t consist of that?

Among the functions, he tries the ONI files, the aforementioned recordings of someone else’s experiences. Specifically, a woman, which Wade tells us by telling us he suddenly has breasts, I suppose because Ernest Cline saw that subreddit about men writing women and went “I want a piece of that”. Oh, and also, those sample files were recorded from real people, in the real world. And yes, this goes exactly where you think it does.

SEX-M-F.oni, SEX-F-F.oni, and SEX-Nonbinary.oni

Look, I actually started writing a complaint about the boobs thing, and I deleted it, but now Cline is doing it on purpose. So, here goes: I saw a quote from this book on Twitter that looked like Cline attempting to make up for Wade’s casual transphobia in the first book. It wasn’t good, but it at least sounded like he was trying. So to immediately get this is…a lot? Let’s go for a lot.

I can almost excuse the use of “M” and “F”. You gotta name your files and you could excuse a non-exhaustive list. But…nonbinary? On one hand, I want to know what Cline means. On the other hand, I don’t think he can come up with an answer I’ll find satisfactory.

We are thankfully spared from finding out because Wade has just lost his virginity to Samantha a few days ago and he’s 1) not ready for this and 2) pretty sure this counts as cheating. You could make a case that this is more like porn, but I can see that this is more of a personal distinction anyway, and I can respect that one. Plus, you know. I don’t want to find out.

Wade logs off, and he can’t tell the difference between the OASIS with the ONI, and decides this will change the world. And then it’s back to the “how did he do it and keep it a secret”, even though Wade now finds out in the documentation that this had been in development for twenty-five years, basically since the OASIS launched. So it’s not really that it’s a secret, so much as there are a lot of people under very strict NDAs out there. Or, again, they’re all dead and/or otherwise incapacitated.

The ONI is the product of the Accessibility Research Lab, and Wade tells us about other stuff that the lab has produced using similar technology, mostly for medical purposes.

GSS patented each of the Accessibility Research Lab’s inventions, but Halliday never made any effort to profit from them. Instead, he set up a program to give these neuroprosthetic implants away, to any OASIS users who could benefit from them. GSS even subsidized the cost of their implant surgery.

Look, it’s nice that you want Halliday to be the good guy through and through, but it’s kind of hard to take any social commentary seriously when you think this is how a billionaire is made. Hell, even when he shut down the lab and fired its entire staff, he gave them a big enough severance package to set them for life. You know. Capitalism!

Hey, remember when Samantha said she was going to end world hunger if she won the contest, a thing billionaires right now could be doing, but aren’t, and she is now the co-owner of GSS? Yeah, I kind of hope the book remembers that too.

Speaking of the co-owners, the book just completely skips over the debate that our four main characters have over whether or not to release the ONI to the world. All we know is that they voted, and the vote goes in favor of releasing it. I mean, why have characters who could have opinions and feelings that could create a discussion? That might make us care about them! And who wants to care about characters in a story?

We put them on sale at the lowest possible price, to make sure as many people as possible could experience the OASIS Neural Interface for themselves.

What exactly is “the lowest possible price” here? Your company literally owns money. Like, OASIS money is real money. There is literally nothing stopping you from giving them away, especially because what you’re giving away is access to the platform you’re already running for a profit.

It’s almost like, even trying to make “good billionaires” out of its protagonists, the book can’t stop and actually make them significantly good.

Oh, I should mention. If you thought my Ready Player One review was angry at capitalism, wait until you see what the past couple years have done to me.

Anyway, once they his 7,777,777 simultaneous ONI users, a new riddle shows up on Halliday’s website. Because yep: our plot is apparently not about the implications of releasing the ONI, or any of the potential ideological discussions associated with that, it’s another riddle. Oh boy, do I wish I’d known that.

Seek the Seven Shards of the Siren’s Soul On the seven worlds where the Siren once played a role For each fragment my heir must pay a toll To once again make the Siren whole

I cannot wait to have the book give me just not enough information to solve the riddle until it’s solved by the book itself. That was so much fun the other…what was it, five times? Six times? Something like that. Wade already tells us the Siren might be Kira Morrow, because her alias was named after one of the sirens of Greek myth, so I can’t wait for that plot point to stick around. It was so fun to hear all about this man pining for another man’s wife the first time!

So this is the “Shard Riddle”. People are apparently convinced it was made by Wade and his crew as a publicity stunt, but of course, they know that that isn’t the case, and they also don’t know what that riddle is supposed to lead to. So, that’s great. We have a puzzle, and we also don’t know what the stakes are. All we know is that Wade wants to solve the puzzle essentially because it’s a challenge.

We skip over a year, and Wade tells us about how IOI collapses and gets absorbed by GSS because of the ONI’s launch. Remember IOI? They were the bad guys, so I guess we have to cheer?

GSS absorbed IOI and all of its assets, transforming us into an unstoppable megacorporation with a global monopoly on the world’s most popular entertainment, education, and communications platform.To celebrate, we released all of IOI’s indentured servants and forgave their outstanding debts.

On one hand: good for the slave. On the other hand: not gonna cheer for a monopoly, you guys.

Another year’s skip, and now 99% of the OASIS users are using the ONI, and yes, that includes trading their experiences with one another too. And I guess we’re still hand-waving any possible problems associated with that technology, because the technology is made so that all recordings must be shared and played through the OASIS.

This allowed us to weed out unsavory or illegal recordings before they could be shared with other users.

How? Do you know any of the problems associated with content moderations on the current platforms? I don’t know if I want to point to Youtube’s extremely faulty algorithm, Twitter’s complete apathy towards its Nazis, or Facebook doing moderation by making underpaid staff watch all potentially problematic content, which resulted in serious psychological damage to said staff.

You can’t just say that as if it solved everything. The chapter later says this is handled by an AI called “CenSoft”, and as an AI engineer myself, let me tell you: this is not going to work. Again: Youtube is the way it is for a reason.

It also let us maintain our monopoly on what was rapidly becoming the most popular form of entertainment in the history of the world.

And again, monopolies are totally a good thing as long as it’s in the right hands!

When I’m implying that the book does not care for any of these potential problems, I mean it. These enormous ethical issues are sidestepped in cold narratin, and we just keep going on introducing new slang that I hate, but have to quote so help you keep up.

“Sims” were recordings made inside the OASIS, and “Recs” were ONI recordings made in reality. Except that most kids no longer referred to it as “reality.” They called it “the Earl.” (A term derived from the initialism IRL.) And “Ito” was slang for “in the OASIS.” So Recs were recorded in the Earl, and Sims were created Ito.

There. You have been infodumped.

In the midst of all this (still extremely dry) exposition about how this changed media, we also get this tidbit:

You could take any drug, eat any kind of food, and have any kind of sex, without worrying about addiction, calories, or consequences.

Now, I was going to rant about this, but then, a page later, this happens and spares me the trouble:

I’d struggled with OASIS addiction before the ONI was released. Now logging on to the simulation was like mainlining some sort of chemically engineered superheroin.

So, you are aware that addiction isn’t just possible, but extremely facilitated by this. But sure, no worries! It’s perfectly safe! Because our protagonists are good.

Also, remember how the last book ended on a weak attempt at having a moral that maybe the real world is good, actually? Yeah, Wade tells us the ONI helps poor people live enjoyable lives in the OASIS. So. Fuck that message, I guess. It only applies if you’re the literal wealthiest man on Earth.

And me? All my dreams had come true. I’d gotten stupidly rich and absurdly famous. I’d fallen in love with my dream girl and she had fallen in love with me. Surely I was happy, right? Not so much, as this account will show.

Aside from the aforementioned returning OASIS affiction, there’s the Shard riddle that Wade is now obsessed with, to the point of offering a billion-dollar reward to anyone with information about the riddle’s answer.

I announced this reward with a stylized short film that I modeled after Anorak’s Invitation. I hoped it would seem like a lighthearted play on Halliday’s contest instead of a desperate cry for help. It seemed to work.

On one hand: good, Wade finally has a character flaw that the book actually acknowledges as a character flaw. I can work with that. On the other hand: this is all told to me in such a dispassionate that I am dreading how the book will handle this character flaw. Which is to say, I’m not expecting it to be very good.

(For a brief time, some of the younger, more idealistic shard hunters referred to themselves as “shunters” to differentiate themselves from their elder counterparts. But when everyone began to call them “sharters” instead, they changed their minds and started to call themselves gunters too. The moniker still fit. The Seven Shards were Easter eggs hidden by Halliday, and we were all hunting for them.)

Especially when this is something the narration feels is more important to tell me about.

Anyway, skip another year, and a gunter finally leads Wade to the First Shard. Solved that riddle, I guess. And wait, wasn’t part of why IOI was ~evil~ in the first book that they were paying people to find the Easter Egg for them? How is this any different, Wade?

And when I picked it up, I set in motion a series of events that would drastically alter the fate of the human race. As one of the only eyewitnesses to these historic events, I feel obligated to give my own written account of what occurred. So that future generations—if there are any—will have all the facts at their disposal when they decide how to judge my actions.

And that is the end of our chapter 0. And can I just say: what a mess already. I don’t think my snark can properly convey how utterly devoid of emotion this book’s writing is, and that alone is honestly more of a turn-off than anything else in the book so far. Even, knowing that I railed about it in the first book, I still feel newly unprepared for it. And it’s not like this double-prologue is making me hopeful that the book will show an ounce more critical thinking—or decent fucking humanity towards marginalized groups—as its predecessor.

So, that’s a lot to look forward to! For the sake of my sanity and schedule, don’t expect me to do such big posts every time. I’ll probably do one chapter a week from now on, if that. We’re in for a long ride, but I hope it’s worth it, at least.

[dew-itowo]

Baby Anakin part 1

@anakinandthecaptainrex

(So sorry this took so long.)

Fives and Echo were usually the source of Rex's headaches. Pranking people, getting others in trouble. You get it. They're maniacs.

So yes Rex was having a God damn stroke over this. His General is litterally a kriffing baby for Jango's sake!

On minute he's sassing the queen of hoodoo the next he's a little baby naked as day in his pile of robes. Honestly he deserved it. Karma was after all a bitch. But it didnt hinder any kind of hilarity to the Arcs.

Reaching down to the little General Echo giggled. "Aw, now look what you got into Jetti. Rex told you it was bad idea." Anakin's eyes watered and his lip quivered. As if Echo were his mother he held the back of his fuzzy head and pulling him close to his chest. "Oh hush now. I'm here. You're okay Jett'ika." Fives looked almost as shocked as Kix. Wide eyes like he hadn't expected a joke to go so far.

"Dont you comfort him" Talzan hisses, reaching to grab Echo's arm. Receiving a deep set, viscous glare from the Arc trooper.

"Watch your tone Witch, or I'll give you something to complain about when I knock your pretty teeth in."

If it weren't for Fives and Kix's shock with how protective Echo just got, Rex would've been in a corner rocking himself to insanity. "Turn him back now." Someone said over the low growl coming off of Echo. Everyone's eyes, including the tiny Generals, finding Rex. He hadn't even recognized his own voice. "Turn him back, or so help me Jango you'll never know pain like I'd give you Talzan." It was a thought at best.

"Bad little boys who threaten get punished Captain." Even Dogma cringed somewhere in the crowd of troopers aiming their rifles for the hag.

The tiny Generals hand flat against Echo's chest plate as he watched Rex. With tired, big, impossibly blue eyes. Rex found it hard not to love the adorable tiny Jedi. Though Kenobi would be on his death bed the moment he saw him like this.

"Turn. Him. Back." Fives growled having enough of this. Though so hypocritical.

"I can't." She yelled, setting Anakin to cling onto Echo and the peice of his robe hed been wrapped up in. Troopers instinctively moving closer to Echo and Anakin. Protecting the Ad.

Fives looked quite unamused. "Why?"

Talzan glare at the floor. "Because the moment He's like this the spell cannot be reversed." Rage boiled deep in Rex's core. Setting his nerves on fire.

"How long does the spell last." Echo whispered angrily. Trying to comfort Anakin.

"A week to a month depending on how it affects the person." A sigh on relief left Kix. As the acting mother of the 501st, or at least how he acts, Kix couldn't deal with the reality of raising up a once full grown himbo. It was just too much. And even Echo wasn't fit to take care of a baby let alone a force sensitive baby. Kenobi on the other hand knee kids, but has never cated for a baby. Maybe hed be more fit?

It was all so confusing when Rex found himself in his quarters with the tiny General in his lap, asleep like nothing had happened. He looked so peaceful like this. Holding onto Rex's index finger with his tiny hands.

Maybe once or twice he'd held a baby during campaigns. When mothers often came to thank them. Bringing their children along to see the soldiers. One time being quite memorable when a little blond human girl and her mother asked if any of the men were hungery. Of course Rex tried to decline by saying they had rebuilding to do. But the woman and her adorable daughter insisted heavy. So Rex and the others joined them for dinner. All sitting and eating, laughing, talking, telling stories to the young, listening to stories for the old, drinking, singing, dancing, living. Anakin looked so happy to see Rex and the others just let loose and have fun. To forget about the war, the death and the greif. To just live a little. Maybe that was why Anakin always pushed them to have fun on leave. Pulling Tex out of his office and dragging him to 79s where hed inevitably forget why he was there in the first place and go back laughing like it was normal. Drunk as a wine aunt at a family reunion. Holding onto Anakin and giggling the whole way there while the Jedi just laughed and talked with him more. Staying with him till he fell asleep, then moved Rex to his bed.

Anakin made a happy noise if Rex's arm as he slept. The Clone enjoying the peace the rarely came when around this jedi. Thanking Jango above for the one moment of breath before Kenobi lost his shit tomorrow over this.

"Gods Rex wont you let go of the General?" Jesse teased faux annoyed with his Captain. Pressing sass into his tone.

Rex chuckled looking down at Anakin on his hip. "No I dont think I will. And plus he enjoys being held." He sighs smiling softly. Kixs voice wasn't one to be ignored usually but his bantha shit was still bantha shit.

"I bet he thinks hes the Jett'ika's buir now." He laughs earning a glare from both Anakin and Rex.

"Can it Kix, you're one to talk." Someone oo'd. Perhaps Fives who watched with Echo from where they shoveled Food into their faces. The table going quiet as the Medic sputtered and finnaly gave up.

"Oh shut your shebs." He groaned letting Rex have the last word. Laughing at Kix's frustration while waiting for the boys to finish eating. Anakin watching the same. Eyeing Echos untouched ration bar carefully.

"I think Tinykin is hungery." Fives chuckled, nearly choking ofn his food. Anakin made a sound of anger at the nickname.

"Fives, dont call him that. You know he cant defend himself from your teasing." Echo scoffed.

"Suddenly you're a mother now."

The men laughed.

"Ha ha funny Echo. Like you didnt baby him on Dayhomir like a god damned wet nurse." Echo paused. Holding back a smile at the funny insult.

"What's a wet nurse?" Fives asked looking genuinely confused. Rex could see the internal conflict in Kix's eyes on whether he sound explain it to a dumbass or let Fives be an confussed dumbass. Either way both option were tempting.

"Kix can tell you later. Tight now I need you all to act like nothing wrong when Kenobi gets here and leave the sheb beating to me." They nodded. There was not a fate worse than death. If... You have met Kenobi. His lectures where fatal. Boring you so bad you die inside and then out like a disease. Eating your guilt up like apple sauce and topping it of with a punishment that had you bored out of your own sanity. It's why the 212th was always so well behaved. Because Kenobi was not merciful when it came to punishments.

"Good luck Rex." Jesse breathed almost looking concerned for his captain.

"Luck doesnt exsist Jesse boy." He whispered walking away toward the landing docks where Kenobi would be waiting now. Having stalled already for too long.

Gods have mercy...

[cutie1365]

Winchester Part 3/4

Pairing: Sherlock x Winchester!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: 18+, sexual content, dark and sexual themes, consent, language, violence. Please read at your own discretion.

A/N: Almost everyone voted for Winchester so here you go! Please don’t kill me.

Any and all feedback is welcome and encouraged :)

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After a shower, you stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, wearing only your bra and underwear to tend to your wounds. You didn’t bother to cover your tattoo, after all, Sherlock already knew it was there.

You groaned as you peeled back the bandages, soaked deep red on your side.

“Shit,” You whimpered, slamming your fist on the counter in pain. Your bottom few stitches had burst, allowing blood to slowly drizzle down your side.

The door flew open beside you. You turned to see Sherlock standing in the doorway.

“You alright?” He asked, before his eyes landed on your wound.

“I’m fine.” You said through gritted teeth, but he didn’t believe you.

He raised a brow and moved to grab the suture kit from behind the mirror. He knelt down in front of you to examine your incision. He worked silently, gently pulling out the ripped sutures and reclosing the bottom of the wound. He rebandaged it and rose to stand before you, his hands placed gently on your bare waist.

“Better?” He asked, and you nodded.

“Thanks.” You whispered.

You were still angry, but that didn’t mean you needed to take it out on him. Sherlock had done nothing wrong.

He grabbed his dressing gown from the hook on the door and wrapped it around your shoulders as you slipped your arms into the holes. He was being gentle with you.

He was more quiet than usual, most likely still trying to process exactly what he saw tonight.

“Lets go to bed, you’ve had a long day.” Sherlock takes your hand and pulls you from the bathroom to his bedroom.

You sat on the edge of the bed, your hands in your lap.

“I’m sorry I’ve been...I just.” You sighed and shook your head, trying to find the right words, ‘a bitch’ seemed fitting.

Sherlock stood before you and took your hands in his.

“I know.” He nodded, understanding. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

“I know you,” You shook your head, “You never would have believed me until you saw it with your own eyes.”

“But I should have trusted you anyway.” He said, bringing his lips down to yours.

Gently his fingers made their way into your hair as his other arm wrapped around your waist. He lifted you off the bed slightly, pushing you back until you were flat on the bed. His body hovered over yours, your lips still connected.

His lips moved down your body, first to your neck, then to your breasts as he ripped off your bra in one swift motion. A gasp escaped your lips.

“Sherlock” You breathed out heavily, a mix between a moan and a gasp. You hadn’t seen this side of him before. He only smirked in response as his mouth connected with your breast once more. You felt his teeth drag across your nipple.

He pulled the dressing gown off of you, and you’re left in just your underwear as he slips off his own shirt and pants.

He pulls your legs apart and quickly disposes of your panties as he crawls back on top of you.

His lips connected with yours once more as he lines up and thrusts into you, hard. His mouth muffles your scream of surprise as your hands fly to his back, your nails grasping onto him to steady yourself against his brutal pace.

One of his hands moves around your throat, the pressure slowly increasing.

“Sher-” You groan, wrapping your hand around his wrist to tell him that it was too tight, but that doesn’t stop him.

Instead, his other hand comes to wrap around your neck as well, by this point you can hardly breathe. Your eyes begin to water.

“Sher-” Is all you’re able to choke out, and although your lips move you’re not certain you even made a sound. Both of your hands wrapped around his wrists in an unsuccessful attempt to pull him off as he continues to thrust into you.

He lifted his head and his eyes met yours.

“I’ve always wanted to fuck a hunter,” He smirked.

What? You thought, furrowing your brows as your mouth couldn’t form the word.

Though your vision was beginning to go fuzzy, you knew what you saw. And it was enough to nearly stop your heart.

You blinked a few times, to make sure you weren’t dreaming or imagining things. But you were certain, the moment those words fell from Sherlock’s mouth... his eyes went pitch black.

His hands flew off your throat as a scream ripped through your body. One final smirk was all you saw as the demon left Sherlock’s body, disappearing into the night.

You scooted backwards until your back hit the cold wood of the headboard. Sherlock lay before you unconscious as you pulled the sheet over you, shaking, and trying desperately to steady your erratic breathing.

The door burst open as your brothers barged into the room, yelling your name with their weapons raised.

“What happened?” Sam asked, lowering his gun. He saw that you were shaking in fear, genuine fear. He knew that it took a lot to get you to that point.

“He was here, he” Tears streamed down your cheeks as your breath became more unsteady. You felt so violated.

You were frozen, unmoving, your mouth hanging open, still trying to comprehend what had just happened.

“The demon that escaped?” Dean asked with his brows furrowed, confused.

“Did he possess Sherlock?” Sam asked as you nodded, still crying and trying to control your breathing.

He took in the image before him - you tangled up in the sheets, Sherlock covered and unconscious, the clothes scattered around the floor- and immediately understood what must have happened. His eyes went wide.

“Y/N...” He muttered softly.

Dean moved to kneel beside you on the bed, cradling your head and looking for any injuries.

“Is he ok?” You asked quietly as your eyes met. He looked up to Sam, motioning for him to check.

“He’s unconscious. He may be weak for a few days. It’s a lot for a vessel to take, especially if he fought back.” Sam explained, but you could barely hear him over the ringing in your ears.

“Come on Y/N, you can stay with us tonight.” Dean said, the brothers looked at each other in understanding of what just happened to their little sister.

That was cold, even for a demon.

Dean handed you the dressing gown from the floor, and the boys turned for a second to let you change. They didn’t want to leave you alone. You wrapped the robe around yourself and tied the belt, wincing as it hit your wound.

You were still in shock as the boys led you from the room and down the stairs.

You sat on Dean’s bed, silently. He could now see the finger sized bruises beginning to form around your neck. The brothers shared a look and exited the room to talk.

“What do we do?” Sam whispered from outside the doorway.

“We kill the son of a bitch.” Dean growled.

“I know, but what do we do right now?” Sam asked, glancing back at you through the open door.

Dean thought for a minute before answering.

“Go get John, he can make sure Sherlock is ok, then he can come check out Y/N.” Dean instructed and Sam went off to do as he was told.

Dean returned to your side, but you stayed silent. You were still processing what had happened, and how you of all people didn’t know. This was supposed to be the man you love, and you couldn’t tell that he had been possessed.

A few minutes later John appeared in the doorway, he stopped and his eyes went wide at the sight of you. He approached the bed and knelt down next to you. He brushed your hair back gently to expose the deep purple bruising around your neck.

You winced as he dragged his fingers across your bruises, he whispered an apology as he made sure that your trachea wasn’t crushed.

He instructed you to breathe in a few times as he listened to your lungs and nodded to the boys to tell them you were ok.

“I just want to make sure you haven’t ripped any sutures, ok Y/N?” He asked, and you nodded before realizing you weren’t wearing any undergarments.

“I’m- I don’t have on any-” You began to speak, your voice coming out hoarse but Sam held up some sweatpants to you as he understood what you were trying to say.

You slipped them on as the boys turned around.

You laid back on the bed and lifted the dressing gown to expose your bandages. They were bright red, but you couldn’t feel any pain. You could hardly feel anything, everything was numb.

John peeled back the gauze as he examined the stitches.

“They haven’t burst, but they are bleeding a little. I’ll redress them, then give you something for the pain. You need to rest.” John instructed as you nodded.

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“Y/N!” Sherlock screamed in the middle of the night.

The boys shot up, both glancing at you before hopping out of bed. You didn’t even stir, still passed out from the pain medication John had given you.

“Stay with her.” Dean instructs Sam as he rushes up the stairs.

He finds John doing the same thing as they both run into Sherlock’s room.

They find Sherlock, struggling to stand up, still wrapped in the sheet. John pushes him back down onto the bed so he doesn’t fall and crack his head open.

“Where is she?” He asks frantically.

“She’s downstairs. I gave her something to help her sleep.” John explained calmly, hoping his demeanor would calm Sherlock as well.

Suddenly Sherlock was hit with water that Dean splashed on him, and he let out a sigh of relief when he didn’t react.

“What was that?” Sherlock asked, looking down to the water dripping down his chest.

“Holy water, just making sure.” Dean nodded, this wasn’t the demon, this was really Sherlock he was talking to.

“Is she alright? I tried to stop him- I tried but I couldn’t.” Sherlock tried to explain to John, he was still trying to comprehend what had happened. A day ago he didn’t even believe in the supernatural, now he’d gotten a first hand encounter. And it sure wasn’t pleasant. He got a glimpse into your world, into your past, and he understood why you left it and why you kept it a secret.

“Physically she’s ok.” John nodded, but that didn’t reassure Sherlock.

“God.” He dropped his head into his hand.

“This wasn’t your fault,” Dean spoke up, surprising both of them. “There’s nothing you could have done.”

“I shouldn’t have let it happen, but it was like I had no control over my own body.” Sherlock argued.

“You were possessed, that’s usually how it works. We’re gonna find him, and we’re gonna fucking kill him. We can’t undo what’s done, but we can send the bastard straight back to hell.” Dean explained, and Sherlock made a mental note to never get on his bad side... or yours for that matter.

“Sherlock, you need to rest. You’re weak and you’ll need your energy.” John handed Sherlock a glass of water and a mild sedative.

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The next morning you woke up craving Sherlock. You needed to see him, to talk to him, to make sure he’s alright.

You made your way up the staircase and found him sitting in his chair.

“Y/N” Sherlock almost gasped as he saw you, he rose quickly from his chair.

The moment you saw him tears began to stream down your cheeks, your feet moved completely on their own as you ran and jumped into Sherlock’s open arms.

“I’m so sorry,” Sherlock cried, holding you.

“Are you alright?” You asked him, looking into his eyes. This was your life, you were used to it, you’d been to hell and back, but he’d never experienced anything like this and you wanted to make sure he was as well as he could be.

“Am I alright? Y/N your neck.” He gasped, this was his first time seeing it. His memories were spotty from the night before, but he didn’t realize it was this bad. It was a miracle that you were even alive.

“It wasn’t you Sherlock, you didn’t do this.” You reassured him.

“Still.” He shook his head, pulling you closer. His hand moved to cradle your head as you buried it into his chest.

Sam and Dean observed from the kitchen with wide eyes. They’ve never seen you like this with anyone before. To be so worried about Sherlock after all you’d been through last night, to care so selflessly about someone else... for you that meant only one thing. You love Sherlock, clear as day. You’d do anything for him or die trying, and all they could do is pray it doesn’t come to that.

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Taglist in reblog

Any and all feedback is welcome and encouraged :)

[amwritesitall]

Sarah’s AHS Characters’ (+Alice, Tammy, and Harriet) Sleepwear

Masterlist

I’m sharing my thoughts on things y’all didn’t ask for

Billie Dean Howard

For some reason Billie Dean was the hardest?

She seems like she wouldn’t wear random sleep pants and a t-shirt

But I don’t see her as a silk nightie gal either?

A matching pajama set kind of gal

Silk pajamas

Occasionally a night gown but she strikes me as a pants or shorts lady

Lana Winters

Matching pajama sets

I’m picturing flannel button down pajamas with the matching pants

Has some silk ones too once she becomes a rich bitch

I feel like Lana would wake up with some serious bed head?

I’m picturing it and I’m not mad

It one of the cutest things

Cordelia Goode

Silk night gown

Or a silk pajama set

Matching robe

One of those thin silk ones

Cordelia is a classy bitch

Getting to see her in all her Supremely glory in her silk night attire is a whole experience

You swoon the first time you see it

I mean who wouldn’t???

Bette and Dot Tattler

A simple cotton night gown

They’re not much on fancy nightwear, finding it uncomfortable

They’d buy a silk night gown to surprise you some time though

When they reveal this to you, they are quite shy about it

You reassure them with tons of kisses that they are gorgeous

But you also love your girls in their simple nighttime attire

They love it when you help them get ready for bed

Especially when they’re exhausted after a show

Sally McKenna

I’m 97% sure ghosts don’t need to sleep

But Sally seems like the type of person who wouldn’t care what she’s wearing to bed

Passes out on the couch or in bed wearing the clothes she went out in

Throws on a random oversized t-shirt

Might consider putting shorts on

Most likely to sleep naked

Audrey Tindall

Silk nightie

The ones with lace trim

Lots of exposed skin

Which is in no way a bad thing

Audrey gets cold since she’s wearing practically nothing and uses this as an excuse to cuddle

Would put her cold feet on you

So be prepared for that

Ally Mayfair Richards

Ally is cold natured

She likes to stay warm and cozy

Wearing a sweatshirt and sleep pants

Fuzzy socks

In the winter she’d wear fuzzy pants

Would buy matching pajamas for the family to wear on Christmas morning

Wilhemina Venable

Silk night gown

Matching robe

Matching slippers

This bitch is put together even in the middle of the night

You cannot catch Ms. Wilhemina Venable slippin’

Not even at three in the damn morning

Alice Macray

60s babydoll night gowns

Or the longer flannel ones

Depends on the weather

Would have a set of pajamas she wears every year for Christmas

Cute little fuzzy slippers

Keeps a robe/housecoat near by because she’s a modest gal

Occasionally sleeping with her hair in curlers

Some nights you help her put her hair up and it’s very wholesome

Tammy

A random t-shirt and a random pair of sweatpants or sleep pants

Usually never matches

She’s a busy mom she doesn’t not have time to match her pajamas unless it’s a special occasion for the two of you

Pajama pants with patterns on them

Let’s her kids pick out some for her that have cartoon characters on them

Harriet Hayes

Sleep shorts and a t-shirt

Sometimes an oversized t-shirt

I don’t know where the hell I’m getting this, but Harriet is warm natured

She will not sleep in pants

Unless it is really fucking cold

Sometimes not even then

Harriet is stubborn and will not admit that she’s cold

But the way she moves even closer to you gives her away

Sarah Paulson

Hand braces

I couldn't not add this

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You might like:  Sarah and Sarah’s Characters’ Relationship Names (plus Sarah and Alice Macray) or  Sarah’s AHS Characters’ (+Alice and Tammy) Roles in Bed