#after a long fucking sunday its here

[dirtbra1n]

Seigi Sunday the second—please don’t look at what day it is

(BELATEDLY LINKING THE FIRST ONE READ MY POSTS BOY)

okay so it’s Seigi saturday last-Sunday monday tuesday wednesday thursday I even slept in today can we be nice to me,

discontinuing that bit. Seriously just don't look at what day it is. it was technically a sunday when I finished it. My request for today is to acquire a phoenixheadinhands image and have it on hand as we move forward. 30 image cap beat my ass There were intense budget cuts.

but anyway white text this time :) where we start:

PESSIMIST!!! 🫵🫵🫵

a comment from jeweler richard enthusiast kiri @aranarumei and more seigi under the cut

The shop's owner was one Mr. Richard Ranasinghe de Vulpian, a man so elegant he looked like he could have stepped right out of a BBC historical drama, with an impeccable command of the Japanese language. And I had no clue what he was thinking. As much as I figured it wouldn't be long before he looked at the books and decided to close up shop, I diligently did my job cleaning the place and boiling milk with tea in it. And honestly, it didn't really matter what was going on with the shop. I had to work to get paid. I was still working twice a week at the TV station, too. But in two weeks' time, my pessimistic predictions were proved very wrong.

look he also realized what a pessimist he is. this won't come back to shoot me again ever. thats a promise. I would never lie to you about this.

Now, I knew I was just a part-timer who hadn't seen the store's books or knew what the rent was, so this was just a hunch—but I really didn't think this weekend jewelry café in Ginza was Richard's main job. I was sure he had customers like Ms. Miyashita in Kobe all over Japan, if not the entire world. He probably spent the week going from house to house showing off gems and selling them. With the profit from those sales, it wouldn't really matter if this shop was here or not.

It would be a long way off before we were on comfortable enough terms for me to ask him how the business was doing. "So, what's the deal with carats? I was really shocked when I learned about it last week. It's a just a unit for measuring weight. One carat is 0.2 grams." "Indeed, it is. And what exactly is it that troubles you about this fact?" "I guess I don't get why you need another unit. Couldn't you use grams?" "...It'll make more sense to you later." Richard's attitude seemed to suggest that if I wasn't actually interested in it, there was no reason to force myself to learn about gemstones. But he would still answer my questions, and he got mad at me when I told him I'd been keeping the pink sapphire ring in my fridge because the box might get moldy, and gave me a new box and cloth for it. He must really love gemstones. [...]

[if theres space for it, :phoenixheadinhands: if not, leave this in. Who give a shit] [:phoenixheadinhands:]

It was a woman with long black hair, fair skin, and narrow eyes. She was beautiful, in her late twenties, wearing a pencil skirt and a white blouse. She must've come straight from work. She made me feel a little nervous. "Um, this is a jeweler's. The rental office is on the first floor." "...Yes, there is a sign out front. Or, what, do you only accept customers by appointment?" "Welcome. You've made no mistake. We would be happy to accept your business." She seemed momentarily overwhelmed by hearing a blond-haired, blue-eyed man speak such fluent Japanese but quickly regained her composure. Typically, women reacted in one of two ways when they met Richard for the first time. They either got this indiscreet smile on their faces, like they were about to dig into a delicious meal, or they got very quiet in an attempt to hide their embarrassment. This woman didn't fit into either category. She seemed utterly unmoved by him. Or rather, she seemed utterly devoid of any emotion at all. Like an empty husk of a human being. She seemed pretty thin, and on closer inspection, I could tell that the shoulders of her shirt didn't fit quite right. Her voice was steady but her gait wasn't. I had to wonder if she was okay. At any rate, I showed her to the seating area and started making tea. I added extra sugar in hopes of making her feel a bit better. The tea snack of the day was leaf-shaped pies that I'd picked up in the basement of department store.

SEIGI.............. big heart aside What I'm choosing to take from this is that women are wolves. watch out richard. awoooo

Heat treatment. I'd never heard of it before. Richard pulled out documents for the identification report process, explaining the costs and time involved. Ms. Akashi immediately filled out the required forms and then got up. "All right, it's in your hands now. I work during the day, so I'd appreciate it if you only contacted me after 6 p.m. I'm sorry, but I'm pressed for time, so I'll be going now. Thanks." Before I could even offer her some tea, Ms. Akashi had already left. I'd studied on how to handle a situation where a customer tried to run off with a product they hadn't paid for, but this was basically the opposite. She left something and ran off. "...Is this a new kind of scam or something? Like she'll come back and insist that we stole from her and have some scary people beat us up?"

seigi don't be cute. why's this cute. Shut up. you would literally be fine in a fight don't be CUTE. all this coming from the guy who replied But we're not total strangers and posited What if I were a swindler like Seigi can we be serious. you of all people can not talk on this

I took a closer look at the item she left behind. It was a brooch arranged around a central, pure red, oblong ruby. The metal was a polished silver. When I counted, I found there were twelve diamond-encrusted ribbons emanating from the central red stone. There were at least ten small diamonds on each ribbon. The design was elegant. "I know I'm a total amateur when it comes to this stuff, but... this is a really high-quality piece, isn't it?" "Indeed it is." It was hard to believe. Was this really the kind of thing someone would just casually drop off their first time in the shop? What would she do if she came back and it was gone? "She should take better care of it." "I don't think leaving gems in the refrigerator is a particularly good idea, either. But for better or worse, gems reflect the feelings of their owners. So perhaps it's no wonder that those sentiments come out in how they're handled." I ignored his little jab at me and drank the milk tea the customer hadn't even touched.

have I told you two already that you can't have normal fucking conversations. You are not normal

"Richard, I think this is the first time I've ever seen a ruby in person." He said he didn't mind, so I didn't hesitate to gaze at the brooch. The thing that really caught my eye was the red stone in the middle. It was probably more than twice the size of my pink sapphire. It had been about a month since I started working at Étranger—though I'd only actually worked five days so far—but in that time, numerous gems, the names of which I'd never even heard of before, had crossed my eyes. But a ruby had thus far never appeared in the box of treasures. "It really is red... Like when you find a spot of blood in raw chicken." "Was that some sort of joke? Or do you actually understand what you're saying?" "Huh? I'm not sure I follow." "Pigeon blood," Richard enunciated every last syllable. I still didn't follow. "It's a term used to describe the finest of rubies. Just as exquisitely blue sapphires are called 'cornflower blue," the vivid red of the most highly prized rubies is compared to the blood of pigeons. For you to come up with that analogy completely unawares, well, bravo."

richard is impressed because he would not have come up with the analogy himself, and he would not have come up with the analogy himself because . He really really really can't fucking cook. first bravo though :)

Bravo? That's a good thing, right? My mother, Hiromi, didn't have much time to cook, and my grandmother didn't exactly have the most sophisticated palate, so as far as I ever knew, cooking was just a survival skill. But sometimes it was more than that. Like when I'd remove the tendons from chicken thighs to make fried chicken. The real trick was to fry them at a high temperature. Which reminded me— "What's this heat treatment thing you were talking about earlier? Why would you heat up a stone?" "In the case of rubies and sapphires, heating them makes their color more vivid." "Wow! So it must be a chemical reaction, huh? Do you think the first person who thought of trying it was scared? Seems like a pretty big gamble, right? Or do the gems not get burned if you mess up?" "The process is conducted under extremely high temperatures. So if the stone can't handle the heat, it's less that you'll end up with a scorched stone and more that you'd end up with nothing at all."

"It depends on the artisan and the specific stone being worked on, but it's typically around a thousand degrees for anywhere from a few tens of seconds to several minutes. Of course, this isn't the sort of thing that can just be repeated indefinitely. Whether a piece of corundum has been heat treated or not has a significant effect on its value. Padparadscha, like in that ring of yours, is typically a name given to natural—that is, untreated—pink sapphires." "Corundum? Natural pink? Wait, I'm confused." A storm of question marks filled my head. Richard sighed and pulled out Gemstones: An Illustrated Guide. He opened it to the page on rubies. The opposite page was about sapphires. "Let's start from the basics. Do you know the difference between rubies and sapphires?" "...One's red and the other's blue?" "Indeed. That is essentially the only difference." "What?" "You could think of these two stones like siblings. Corundum is the general name for the mineral. Red corundum is called ruby, and all other colors of corundum are called sapphire." So it really was just a difference in color. But then why did they need different names? Why was pink sapphire, "sapphire" and not pink ruby?

categorically refuse to drag you all into my pit trap without making you understand that you will learn things. Please come learn things with me

actually looking back on it now given seigi's usual fare Beauty reigned supreme is subtle for real. good job seigi. You're winning

Richard slid his finger over two squares to the right, pointing to a picture of a stone that was more purple than red and not particularly clear. "If it were between this ruby, ruby A, which has not undergone heat treatment, and ruby B, a stone of a much higher grade that has, which do you think would be considered more valuable?" "Uh... Hm..." Which one would it be? The natural stone? No, it couldn't be that easy. "I think someone would prefer to wear the redder one, and a layperson wouldn't know anything about heat treatment, so I guess ruby B, the higher-grade stone that's been heat treated." "Correct again." "Ooh!"

I was going to put phoenixheadinhands here for seigi's Ooh! because I think hes cute but I need to save image slots for later and also I think you might think phoenixheadinhands is overreaction to seigi Ooh! and you're probably right. chronicling it anyway because I Like To Be Level With You .

"...What do you think her angle is? Maybe it was a gift?" "I'm generalizing here, but people typically want to know the value of something when numbers are important than feelings." Meaning when people wanted to let go of something and turn it into cash. But would someone just looking for quick cash really go out of their way to visit a jewelry shop in Ginza? Judging from her behavior when she was in here, she didn't seem very concerned about money. The more I thought about it, the more mysterious it became. Richard snapped the lid of the jewelry box shut. The very standard black box still looked brand new. "So this is your first ruby, huh? You should consider yourself lucky. You're one of the few people to ever lay eyes on a ruby of such high quality."*

*look I'm not gonna say anything. Also not going to say anything about the everythingelse Look this is a big fucking gun. it's a really big gun. just walk with me.

Richard ended the conversation by declaring it would be a fruitless endeavor. I actually liked how uncompromising he could be. Maybe he was so resolute in his opinions because he worked in an industry that involved dealing with people from all over the world, who might not share the same ideas of what constituted "common sense." It was such a simple, yet valiant attitude. He was so unreasonable that he wouldn't drink anything but water out of a plastic bottle, and he was very particular about cleaning, but he was a good guy at heart. Well, I was pretty sure he was, at least. No other customers came by after that. After we closed up shop at five and I said goodbye to Richard, I wandered around Ginza on my way home. If I were being honest, I'd never really thought much about my criteria for selecting a romantic partner. There were just two callous options: You either have a girlfriend, or you don't. And I'd never had one. Though, truthfully, I was always so busy I never really felt all that desperate to start dating. But as of this moment, I already knew where my happiness lay.

thinking about volume two gripping my head and groaning in agony. Moving on.

As a student enrolled in the economics department of Kasaba University, I couldn't help being excited for Mondays. I had my compulsory English class on Monday. The professor was brutal, especially when it came to attendance, and to make matters worse, it was in building 15—the one without an elevator. The class was harsh enough that you might even be forced to retake an exam if you didn't score high enough.

Shouko Tanimoto. She was the same age as me and a second year in the education department: a delicate, raven-haired angel with soft curls styled into a bob. I was pretty sure her favorite color was white, since I frequently saw her wearing skirts and blouses in that color. I thought it looked very good on her.

TANIMOTO-SAAAANNNNNNNNNN hi pretty girl :)

We'd first met last month, after an information session about the different departments at the university. The crosswalk across the main street near campus was always incredibly crowded during breaks—I was pretty sure only Shibuya and Shinjuku station had crosswalks to rival it. At any rate, I was at the crosswalk when I saw a little old man walking toward me. He looked unsteady on his feet, like he could fall at any moment. That was when a short girl who'd been walking in front of me turned as she passed him, offered him her arm and asked if he was all right. She supported him as he walked, even though her bag was heavy with textbooks and she was heading in the opposite direction. I'd initially meant to just pretend I hadn't seen anything and keep walking, but I slipped over to the other side of the road, grabbed the old man by the arm, and threatened him. "Sir, I don't know how many times I've seen you cross this road today, but it's been more than a few. And you're always clinging to a different girl." The old man let out a little squeak and took off so fast in the opposite direction that it was hard to imagine he was the same person. The area was too crowded to go after him. After I'd crossed to the side I was originally headed for, I regretted what I'd done. If I hadn't said anything, the girl would have been none the wiser and wouldn't have to feel gross about the whole incident. I bowed my head and apologized, and her eyes went wide. "Why are you apologizing? You helped me. I should be thanking you." Her carefree smile made me worry, so I ended up sticking my nose in somebody else's business again. "Even if people look like they're in need of help, there are good ones and bad ones out there.* So you should be more careful." She tilted her head as she walked and smiled again. It was strange. Every time she smiled, I felt like the world got a little brighter. "You're not wrong. But I can't tell a bad person apart from someone who really does need help just by looking at them, so I'd rather help regardless. I wonder if there's a better way to go about it..." The moment she got this bashful look on her face was the moment I fell for her. It even made my own encounter with that old man on the way to class, when I'd offered to walk him to his destination and he scrambled for an excuse and ran off, seem like a sign from the universe or something. I got her name and what department she was in, and the moment I found out we had one class in common, I knew it was fate. She came in first thing in the morning, and I wanted to talk to her, so I came in early on Mondays. Tanimoto spoke slowly. There was always this gentle air about her, and only her. Her friends would tease her, calling her an airhead, but that didn’t seem to bother her at all. If Richard was a crystal clear gemstone slumbering at the bottom of a lake, Tanimoto was a powdered sugar fairy living in the ceiling of a bakery. I felt I could smell the sweets just sitting next to her. From what I could hear from the other girls, it didn't sound like she was dating anyone, either. I wanted to date her so badly. If only I could. I desperately wanted to ask her out. I wanted to walk down the street with her, holding hands. I wanted to go places with her—to the beach or the mountains, anywhere. I couldn't shake the feeling that if I brought it up out of the blue, she'd shut me down in two seconds flat. For as hot as the fire of love was burning in my heart, I had no way to put it out either.

*belatedly realized this is anotherfucking gun Anywa

"Seigi, what's that?" "Huh?" She was pointing at the reference book on minerals I had sitting next to my textbook. I'd borrowed it from the university's main library on my way in, but it was all chemical formulas and stuff—a futile effort for a liberal arts student like myself.

he's just like meee.....

"Seigi, do you like rocks?" "Huh?" Tanimoto flashed me a smile in my confusion. The way she was looking at me made it seem like she was hoping for something. Maybe, just maybe... ...Tanimoto likes gemstones? "I'm researching heat treatment right now!" I began to babble. Tanimoto's chunky bangs swayed softly as she tilted her head to listen. She squinted at me, like someone wearing glasses that weren't the right prescription. Maybe I was being too forward. Maybe I'd made the wrong call. Why the hell did I bring up heat treatment, of all things? Is that really what you talk to a girl about when you're all alone together in a classroom? I screwed up. This is it. I've messed it all up. While I was panicking, Tanimoto turned her head again and said, "Heat treatment for what kind of stone? Or are you just researching it in general?" "Huh?"

seigi how many Huh?s is that now. thats three Huh?s seigi. in so many sentences. lets regroup. do it for your angel tanimoto-san.

"Heat treatment is pretty typical in the world of gemstones. Beryl, quartz, and corundum are the obvious ones, but there are plenty of other stones that change their properties when they're heated." I was so surprised I felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room for a few seconds. Then, I was overcome with intense joy. It was like finally seeing the light break at the other end if a very long tunnel. That was the level of emotion I was at. I'd gotten through to her. The bits and pieces of things I'd picked up at my part-time job since this spring helped me get through to her. I wished for just that day—that moment—that I could be Richard. Face included.

you didn't need to bring him up... seigi....

"Yeah, I was looking into the heat treatment of rubies!" "So corundum, then. That's the scientific name for ruby and sapphire." "Right, I've heard that before! I stumbled on the term 'pigeon blood' recently, too." "...Seigi, you know that term means something very special." Tanimoto said with an impenetrable expression and smile on her face, turning into a completely different person than the one I'd known. "Pigeon blood rubies are extremely valuable. They're only found in a particular mine in Myanmar. Rubies are found elsewhere, like Thailand, Sri Lanka, and other parts of Asia, as well as Mozambique in Africa, but the highest quality rubies have always come from Myanmar." She continued, saying that due to geopolitical and supply instability, the prices of the highest quality specimens had skyrocketed. With a smile, she added that even the most beautiful of lights still cast shadows. Her tone wasn't one of half-hearted small talk—it was the tone of someone with strong opinions. So was her expression. "Did you know that rubies and sapphires are technically the same mineral, Seigi?" "I-I did, but... I still don't understand why they're different colors." "To put it simply, they have different impurities in the stone. Corundum is a kind of aluminum oxide, but if a stone has trace amounts of chromium in it, it'll be red, while iron and titanium will produce blue and purple stones. Which means there are techniques for manipulating color, too." "Wow...!" The more she talked, the faster she spoke. Her expression was stern and her voice low—there was a vague atmosphere of solemn dignity about her. She hunched over, crossed her legs, and tensed her eyes so much that it almost looked like someone had drawn a straight line in permanent marker under each of them. This was no bakery fairy standing in front of me but something else. Something more— "Oh, I'm so sorry!" Before I could put my finger on just what she reminded me of, Tanimoto stomped on the brakes. I was so startled I actually gasped. She giggled bashfully, and her face momentarily returned to her usual fairy-like state, though traces of the stern wrinkles about her eyes remained. "I, uh, just really love stones is all. Once I get going, I just can't stop. I'm really sorry."

difficult and even a bit of a narcissist Seigi hes gonna get you back for this. he will get you back. also tanimoto-san I Love You

every time seigi says something lame and econ major-like I cheer

"Good point. My boss said the same thing." "Hmm." Tanimoto let out a listless sigh, and her eyelid twitched. "...Seigi, lemme ask you something. Do you think of gemstones as assets? Or accessories?" "I think they're a little of both, but they can be more than that, too." "Why?" Why? Because I wouldn't consider my grandmother's ring an "asset" or an "accessory." But how was I supposed to explain that? I'm just a part-timer who doesn't know the first thing about gemstones. Tanimoto giggled as I got flustered. She was so cute. So damn cute. "Sorry, I guess I kinda brought the conversation to a weird place. But stones really aren't that complicated. I mean, you're not gonna die without precious gems after all, and I can't think of anyone who really hates them, you know? I think stones have a kinda, like inherit goodness to them." "Yes! Exactly! I think so, too. They might be accessories, or useful ways to bank value, but they're so much more than that... I think they have the power to connect people. And I think that's what I like about them... yeah." I didn't think my explanation was elegant enough to justify even an extremely generous comparison to Richard, but I'd said what I wanted to say. I figured as long as I got the idea across, that was good enough. While I was thinking, Tanimoto tensed her eyes up again and leaned forward—the "other" her was back. "Now I don't want you to think of this as the opinion of an amateur geologist but just as a personal, touchy-feely opinion." "Sure..." After repeating her lengthy preamble again, Tanimoto began, "Stones that are considered 'good' as assets or accessories are usually especially beautiful or rare ones. Like pigeon blood rubies. And that's why we developed the technology to find and reproduce stones of the highest standard of beauty. But there's something kind of cold and sad about chasing beauty defined only by numbers and standards." "You think it's sad?"

"Why? I wanna hear more! I wanna learn more about stones, but I have no idea where to even start. Honestly, I'm so happy right now that I don’t even know how to say it." "...You mean it?" I told her "thank you," and she flashed me a divinely sweet smile. Then she told me that she was the president of her high school geology club, and for some reason they'd given her the nickname "Golgo Tanimoto." I spent class with my head in the clouds, but afterward, we exchanged numbers. I finally, finally did it. And the cherry on top was that she invited me to join her for lunch. Campus was like an alternate dimension when we walked together. I was almost too happy. I had a hard time believing it was real. I felt like someone might throw water in my face at any moment to wake me up and tell me it was all a dream. Unfortunately, reality really did come knocking. "Excuse me, are you Mr. Seigi Nakata?" A man I'd never seen before stopped me just as we stepped out of the gate. He must've been about thirty. He had bright, childlike eyes* and wore an expensive suit. His clothes seemed suited to a more mundane job than Richard's. And, of course, I'd never met him before.

*for the sake of image count it’s not here but I annotated this ?? okay

"I am, but who are you?" "I'm sorry for dropping in on you like this, but I only need a moment of your time. It won't take long." "How did you know my name?" "I can explain, but let's go somewhere a little more private. If you don't mind." "Um, Seigi, maybe I should bow out here." "It's about the jewelry shop in Ginza. If you don't mind." The man didn't seem to pay any attention to how upset I looked. Clearly this guy didn't know what the phrase "If you don't mind," meant. Maybe Richard should give him a Japanese lesson. Painful as it was, I watched Tanimoto leave and followed the man into a local coffee shop. He ordered two coffees. Why am I here with a strange man and not Tanimoto? "...So, what do you want from me? Who are you?" "My name is Takashi Homura. I'm sorry for approaching you out of the blue like that." He handed me the second business card I'd ever received in my life. The first was, of course, Richard's. The company listed on the card was Homura Trading and the address was in Marunouchi—a business district with rents to rival Ginza's. I didn't ask, but he told me that he worked for his family business. Apparently, he was training to become assistant manager. I couldn't have cared less. He pulled a file from his leather bag and showed me a photo. It was a picture of him and a woman with long black hair. They stood in front of a fountain surrounded by tulips, awkwardly linking arms. The woman's face was familiar. She was Ms. Akashi, the woman who brought the ruby in for appraisal. "She's my fiancée. She came by the shop you work at part-time, right?" "...How do you know where I work?" "It's a long story, but I had someone investigate her recent activities. I'm sorry for scaring you." "You had 'someone' investigate her? You mean a private investigator, right? If one of my friends was dating someone like you, I'd tell her to break up with you because she could find someone better." "I can explain. You don't have to stay long, but please hear me out." He bowed deeply and began to explain. He'd met Ms. Akashi almost exactly a year ago. He fell in love with her when she started working for Homura Trading last spring, they got to know each other and eventually became engaged. The parents were on board, and they were on the verge of getting married. "But it's just not working out. She said yes, but she's been dragging her feet, and we're not getting anywhere on making arrangements. I was so excited for the ceremony, and we decided to hold it in August of this year, but there's no way it's happening at this rate. I think it's been going on way too long for it to just be anxiety about the wedding. It's driving my mother crazy... I told her she could just talk to me about it if there was some reason for all this, but she won't tell me anything. I didn't know what else to do." "Why are you coming to me about this? Your behavior is bizarre." "I'm not doing it anymore, but I had her followed for a month." "More like stalked." "During that month, the one thing she did that was different from her usual routine was visit the jewelry shop you work at." "So you decided to follow me to school?" "I'm so sorry. I'll get right to the point. If you have any idea why she was there, could you please tell me, if you don't mind? I just need some kind of clue, however small."

This was probably going to be my lunch. I really should have ordered some pasta so I wouldn't be distracted during my afternoon classes, but I didn't want to eat in front of this guy. He was so stressed I couldn't help feeling bad for him.

‘instantly’ is so funny to me seigi we were celebrating Top 20 #BITCH Moments hit after hit after hit after you were dragged away from tanimoto but NOW you ‘instantly’ feel bad. bleeding heart. bleeding heart who is also a bitch. silly guy Don’t kid yourself. also what’s the count on seigi mentioning richard apropos of anywhere from very little to literally nothing. it’s a lot right

"I don't expect you to understand. I know full well how selfish I'm being, but this was the only lead I had." "...Do you have any idea what your fiancée might have been doing in a jewelry shop?" "Last winter, I gave her a ruby. A brooch with diamond accents. She really liked it... or at least I thought she did when I gave it to her. Maybe I was wrong, though..." He trailed off. I thought so. She hadn't bought that brooch for herself. That's why she wanted to know if the stone had been heat treated and why she didn't know what it had cost. Maybe she really did intend to sell it. "Please. Not knowing is the worst thing in the world. I can't bear the thought of losing her." "Look, I'm sure Ms. Akashi has her reasons. Why can't you just accept that?" "Ms. Akashi?" Huh? The two of us referenced the photo again, and I pointed at Ms. Akashi. She did look a little less gaunt than she was when I saw her at Richard's shop, but her smile was identical—kind of stiff. "Isn't her name Mami Akashi?" "No, it's Mami Sasu." "Sasu?" The two of us exchanged confused looks. He definitely didn't look like he was lying, and he didn't have any reason to lie either. Which meant she'd used a fake name. "I wonder where she got the name 'Akashi' from. There's no one at the company with that name." "Maybe it's a relative's name?" "No, no one related to her is named that, either. Or... at least no one she introduced me to." Suddenly, he looked like an elementary schooler who'd been given the homework for someone in junior high. Funny, considering I thought he was a deplorable villain just moments ago. I thought back to Ms. Akashi storming in and out of the jewelry store. “...Sorry, I have to go. I've got class." I bowed and got up. I knew I couldn't stay there any longer. I'd probably already said something I shouldn't have. I hate this. I really hate it. I'd never shop at a place with an employee who'd sell out customers. I heard Mr. Homura say "thank you" as I left. If I were him, I wouldn't wanna thank the person secretly reporting on a person I loved. I didn't even know who the bad guy was in this situation: the man who hired a private detective to follow his girlfriend around, the woman who used a fake name to get a gemstone she was given as a gift appraised in secret, or the part-timer with loose lips? I left the coffee shop and noticed I'd gotten a text from Tanimoto. It was short, "Everything go okay? We should talk again sometime!" I was so, so happy. Too happy. I realized that if we did start dating and she started acting weird, I could see myself hiring a private investigator, too. I guessed the more you liked someone, the more it could go to your head. After I finished my afternoon classes, I made up my mind: The next time Ms. Akashi aka Ms. Sasu came to the shop, the first thing I would do was tell her what happened today and apologize. She would probably be mad, and I was sure Richard would fire me, but it was the right thing to do.

I’d never shop at a place with an employee who’d sell out customers This is a massive massive gun to me. just horribly massive gun. give it like uhhh six or seven novels? don’t remember Just trust me. anyway refer to phoenixheadinhands Anyway anyway this one was marked in place by richard-gets-slammed.png

"Hold on, Seigi." My eyes went wide at Richard's response, and the person in the leather jacket glared at me. They had on skinny jeans and combat boots. I went back down the stairs, taking a ready stance on the white cobblestone. As the assailant slowly made their way down the stairs onto the sunlight walkway, I realized why I thought my ears were playing tricks on me when they spoke—the attacker was a woman. She was much smaller than Richard, too. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail. It was blonde fading to purple at the ends. She wore bright red lipstick and had sharp eyes. “‘This your shop? Which one of you is the dirty, woman-stealing bastard?” She must've been in her twenties, and she really looked like she belonged more in Harajuku than Ginza. Why on earth was someone like that attacking Richard? Richard fixed his shirt and came downstairs. The suitcase he was never seen without was fine. It didn't seem like the assailant had been trying to steal the gems. “...Lover's quarrel?” "Don't be foolish, I've never met this woman before."

You two are sick.

Apparently, she'd come at him just as he was about to enter the shop. Bizarre. The strange woman glared at me beneath the dull shine of the overcast sky. "You wanna go? This is gonna be fun. Come at me. Underestimate me and you'll regret it." "I'm opposed to using violence against women. Please state your business.["]

💥💥💥

- another gun

["]Who is this 'woman-stealing bastard' you're so concerned about? And just who are you?" "Tatsuki Akashi. Twenty-seven years old. I'm a bassist working as a studio musician in Shibuya." Akashi? This Tatsuki Akashi opened her wallet and took out a photo to show us. It was a picture of two women, having fun in what looked like a bar. "Do you know this woman? Tell me everything you know, I don't care how minor. I've got a situation I'm dealing with." The photo was of Tatsuki Akashi, wearing a Japanese national football team uniform, with a big smile on her face and an arm around none other than Mami Sasu. Just as I was getting over the shock of that revelation, I heard someone drop something on the path behind me. It was a brown shoulder bag. And a long-haired woman was standing there. Mami Sasu. Tatsuki reacted first. Mami tried to run, but Tatsuki chased after her and grabbed her hand. "Mami! I finally found you!" "Let go of me! I don't want anything to do with you anymore!" "Do you have any idea how worried I was?! How dare you just up and disappear like that!" The two women began to grapple in the middle of the street. This was not good. Not good at all—but just as that thought crossed my mind, a black taxi pulled up in front of the building. Takashi got out, clearly panicked. "What is wrong with you?! Get away from Mami!" "Oh, are you the woman-stealing bastard? Finally, we meet. You better clench your damn teeth!" "Don't! He's my fiancé!" Mami shouted.

okay did you guys know that the very first episode of La rosa de Guadalupe is rated a 4.8/10 on imdb. I never did watch it as a kid. I’ll tell you what though if I’m remembering faces right a telenovela I DID watch as a kid before or maybe overlapping with the ncisification of our household television time was Por ella soy Eva which I’m sure had no subconscious effects on me and who I am as a person now. Anyway. mess like this would net a way higher score than 4.8/10 on imdb. this was a visual gag before but you gotta understand I'm really stretching that 30 photo maximum

There was only one location in the area that could qualify as a café and was completely free. The owner of the devastatingly handsome face shot the three quarreling adults an ice-cold glare. "I will allow you to use my shop to settle this dispute on the condition that you do not damage anything inside. Understood?" The three of them all looked in different directions and nodded.

always so beautiful to see seigi in my minds eye standing just far enough away from the epicenter of mess. so beautiful for it to not be his fault for once

[…] I hastily prepared four glasses of barley tea from our stock. I didn't really feel like they needed to be served tea like they were customers, but I figured having drinks on the table might keep things a little more in check. Admittedly, that was just for my own peace of mind. Tatsuki and Takashi were seated across from each other in the four-piece lounge set. Richard had taken off his jacket and sat down next to Tatsuki, and across from him was Mami Sasu. I didn't have a chair, so I just stood by the table. I had a good view of everyone's faces from that position. Mami's hands and face looked almost uncannily pale as she sat in the chair, staring intently at her hands clenched in her lap. "Mami and I have been seeing each other for seven years. We were even living together until the winter of the year before last." ...Why did you have to mention that now?" "Because you up and left without telling me!" "Keep your voices down. This is my place of business, not a prison visitation room." Tatsuki hung her head a bit, ashamed, before continuing. She explained that in winter of the year before last, Mami, who she'd been living with up until that point, suddenly disappeared from their apartment. Her phone number had been disconnected and all her contact information had changed, and she'd gotten rid of all her things. Tatsuki frantically searched for her, to no avail. Just as she'd concluded that she must have left the city, a colleague of hers mentioned that they'd spotted a long-haired woman who resembled Mami in Ginza. Tatsuki couldn't contain herself and rushed over. This all happened to line up today. The worst of all possible days for such a coincidence. Tatsuki said they'd been "seeing each other" for seven years. You wouldn't phrase it like that to your friend's fiancé if you were just friends and roommates. More than anything, the vibe between them definitely didn't seem to be just friendship. So it was probably exactly what it sounded like.

refer to phoenixheadinhands.

"I'm sorry for tryin' to beat your ass earlier. All the info I had to go on was that there was an 'unbelievably hot man running a strange store' and that they'd 'seen Mami go into it.' The blood just went straight to my head. You really are unbelievably hot, but there's nothing strange about this store." "I'm flattered that you think so, but I would suggest trying to use your words before you grab someone by the collar next time."

Okay richard do you wanna take this time to maybe reflect on why seigi called you narcissistic earlier

"Um, Ms. Akashi, was it? Just what are you to Mami?" Takashi threw a straight ball, though I got the sense that he probably didn't even know how to throw a curve ball. He seemed the calmest next to Richard, even if that was ultimately just a front. Tatsuki stared at him intently. "Would you be asking the same question if I were a man?" Takashi flushed and hung his head, embarrassed, as she threw a straight ball right back at him. Before she could press the topic further, Mami mumbled, "I fell in love with a man. That's why I broke up with you." An icy chill hung over the shop.

Sorry everyone but can we please stop doing this. it’s killing the vibe. is anybody even drinking seigi’s tea

Richard and I exchanged silent glances and remained focused on Tatsuki's behavior. I really wasn't in the mood to have to kick someone out for causing trouble. ...What are you talking about? You were just going to toss me aside like I mean nothing to you to be with him? Bullshit!" "I was trying to be realistic about my future." "You always did mistake pessimism for realism. You're just a coward. Or is the old, 'normal is better' Mami back again? I certainly haven't missed that side of you." "We couldn't keep living together like we were going to be young forever. I'd just found a new job and everything. It was perfect. You don't mean anything to me anymore. I want to start over. Just forget about us and move on with your life." "Let me stop you there," Richard interrupted. The more Mami spoke, the sicker she looked, and she never so much as glanced at Tatsuki through the whole thing. With wide-open eyes and through gritted teeth, Tatsuki let out a little, "I see how it is. ...So, I don't mean anything to you, huh? Fine. But you listen here, Mami, that's not even what I'm mad about. We were dating. Dating. Remember? For seven years. Why couldn't you have said one word—just one word—to me before you up and vanished? I thought you might be dead. I thought maybe you got mixed up in something crazy and were lying dead in a ditch somewhere. I went to the police. I talked to all your old friends. Awful thoughts kept me up at night. I was driving myself crazy asking myself if it was my fault." "Well, that's all on you." "Just calm down, both of you. Please." I tried to mediate in a low tone, but really, I was thinking about something entirely different. Part of Tatsuki's story didn't seem to add up. Mami met Takashi in the spring of last year. If that was also when they started dating, then Mami would have left Tatsuki's apartment the previous winter before she met Takashi. But then, why did she come into the shop using "Akashi" instead of "Sasu"? Richard must've noticed this as well but politely held his tongue. If I was going to make up for the mistake I made when Takashi caught me at school, this was my only chance. But the moment the thought crossed my mind— "Mami, why did you use the name 'Akashi' when you came here?" Takashi beat me to it.

man would it kill you to just sit quiet for once. once in your damn life.

Mami had a look of abject despair on her face. She'd gone from white as a sheet to the color of death. She glanced at Richard and then at me, grimacing. There was no way she couldn't know whose fault that was. There was probably nothing I could possibly do to earn her forgiveness at that point. Tatsuki was baffled. "What? Akashi? What's he talking about, Mami?" I couldn't say that Mami looked like she was enjoying herself in Takashi's photo from that spring, even if I was trying to be generous. But in Tatsuk's photo of her, she looked happy and healthy—almost like a different person entirely. "This situation seems to be more complicated than I thought, so let me explain my side. She and I have been engaged for a year, and the wedding is set for August. But I have a proposal." "Oh, shut up. Just get married or whatever." "Mami, I don't mind if you cheat on me," Takashi said. For a moment, I thought Takashi had lost his mind. Tatsuki seemed to have the same reaction, and the two of us just sat there in a state of wordless shock. Mami looked up, her face expressionless. Takashi smiled, like a young father trying to reassure his small child. It was a forced smile though. You could see it in his eyes. "I do feel a bit sad that you never talked to me about your past, but I know you had your reasons. But I have a suggestion: Couldn't you think of love and marriage as separate things? I love you, and that'll never change, no matter what happens. You can just marry me and keep going out with Ms. Akashi if you like. Then everything can proceed as planned." His smile sent a chill down my spine. He's proposing that his fiancée date someone else? What does marrying Mami Sasu actually mean to this man? What does he even like about her?

refer to phoenixheadinhands.

Tatsuki clicked her tongue, breaking the silence. "Who the hell is this little rich boy anyway? Gimme a damn break, do you even hear what you're saying?" "I do. I can simply think of an affair with another woman as her having a 'very good friend' rather than romance. It won't bother me." "Well, I'm sayin' it'll bother me!" "I believe Mami already said that you don't mean anything to her anymore." Tatsuki snapped. Richard intervened after Takashi took a punch to the jaw. He was about to get into it with her, and if we let him, the situation would have devolved into complete chaos from there. I got him in an armlock when he stood up, but he still fought me. Before I knew it, Mami had stood up and grabbed her bag. "Mami! Wait!" She glared at me in response and ran down the stairs. While the cat and mouse were fighting, the cheese ran away. I felt like I'd seen a cartoon like that when I was a kid.

jesus. how could this get worse, I hear you asking. Ha ha ha ha ha

"I have some idea. I'm sure I could track her down." "Please do. Let me help." "Seigi," Richard softly scolded me. My one saving grace was the fact that we had no other appointments that day. Though it was beyond too late, I confessed that I'd told Takashi her name when he ambushed me as I was leaving campus. I thought Tatsuki might hit me, too, but she was just flabbergasted. "Richard, I'm so sorry. I know you put your trust in me. Take it out of my wages for today or fire me, whatever you think is appropriate. I'll do whatever's necessary to apologize to Mami."

Tatsuki and I rushed out of the shop at the same time. When we got downstairs, she tossed a card at me. It had the logo of a bass clef on it, along with her contact information. "I'll search Shibuya. Check any place you wouldn't think twice about a young woman being alone! If Mami dies, I'm gonna kill you, that Homura guy, and your boss!" Tatsuki slipped into the parking lot behind the building and reappeared in front of the store on a motorcycle, racing down the street. I looked up at Richard's jewelry shop, brought my hands together, and bowed my head before running toward the subway station.

[BOMB] [BOMB] [GUNFIRE] [EXPLOSIONS] [WILHELM SCREAM] also étranger treated as a place to pray to Seigi I’m gonna fucking get you. I’m gonna get you.

[マヨらサーティンreference.png] <- keeping that marker in actually

There’s just something about knowing the person you like believes in you that gives you strength.

If I hadn't said anything to Takashi back then, things wouldn't have gotten this bad. I knew regretting it now wouldn't change anything, but I did desperately want a chance to make it right.

I asked people if they'd seen a woman with long black hair who seemed kind of unwell but came up empty-handed. Just as I was trying to figure out what to do next, I got a text. It was from Tatsuki.

"Asakusa Shrine. We'd go there every year for the first shrine visit of the year. If you're close, take a look around there, please. There was an accident in Sangenjaya, so the line's stopped. I won't be able to leave for a while."

Asakusa. I could get there on the Ginza Line. Takashi must've had his hands full searching Tokyo Station. I replied that I'd take the express line from Ueno and hurried down into the subway.

Asakusa was crowded with tourists going to see the Skytree on a Saturday afternoon. I slipped under the massive paper lantern. The stalls were so crowded that it looked like a theme park. Kimono shops, Ningyo-yaki stalls, candied fruit sellers.

I made it back to the main hall of Senso-ji. Immediately to its right was Asakusa Shrine.

The grounds of the shrine were so peaceful and quiet, it was hard to imagine the hustle and bustle of the shopping arcade was just a few hundred feet away. The guardian lion-dog statues seemed to be almost lounging atop the white sand—and there was a woman with long black hair sitting on a bench. She was holding something that looked like a milk carton, with her legs splayed out comfortably. She waved when she noticed me. I let out a weird sound.

"Mami!"

My feet sank into the white sand as I ran across the grounds. I couldn't even laugh about it. I sat down next to her, and Mami set the carton she'd been drinking at her feet. It had "sake" written on it and was mostly empty.

"Did Tatsuki send you here? You guys really don't know how to respect a person's privacy."

"Sorry. I mean it, I'm really sorry. This is all my fault. Richard had nothing to do with it."

"I know. I don't really care anymore." She laughed.

She looked desperate. She probably didn't want Tatsuki or Takashi to see her like that.

"This reminds me of the first shrine visit of the year. This place is always full of people. Tatsuki's family makes kimono, so every year, we'd get dressed up for our visit. People would always tell us we looked so pretty or ask if we were sisters, which would make Tatsuki a little mad, of course. She can be so funny... You know about otakiage events, right? People would bring the talismans they kept in their homes for the past year to this place to be burned and honored in a memorial service. There's always a huge pile of charms and talismans to burn…"

"I'm going to call both of them. Tatsuki and Takashi are both very worried about you."

"Just let me talk a little more. You can call them after. It doesn't really matter."

"Yes, it does matter! They're both frantically searching for you!"

"Every time I would see that pile, I'd find myself wishing someone would burn me up, too."

Mami coughed. I was about to call them when she reached out for my phone to stop me.

I knew she didn't really want to talk to me alone. She didn't really want to talk to anyone.

"...So are you just gonna sit here drinking forever?"

"That wasn't the plan at least. I wanted to finally make a decision."

She stared off into space with a dreamy look on her face as she continued. She wasn't even looking at me, "I thought I could make it work, but I guess I was wrong. In my head, I knew what I needed to do, but I couldn't make my body cooperate. I couldn't sleep. I tried to eat, but it'd all just come right back up. I started losing weight to the point that it was just disgusting. Takashi is such a nice man, too... I guess I was just never going to be capable of marrying a man. I hate myself."

"What's the big deal? You don't have to force yourself to get married! Plus, utilitarian relationships are the furthest thing in the world from romance—that's what my boss thinks at least."

"Do you think I don't know that? It doesn't matter what anyone else says, though. I don't like myself, and I'll never be happy with the way I am. I always wanted to be a normal woman who got married to a man she loves and lived happily ever after, and I've always despised myself for not being that person."

"It doesn't matter, Tatsuki..."

Mami let out another weird cough mid-sentence. She seemed unsteady.

“…I'm sorry for causing you all this trouble. This had nothing to do with you, but I didn't see any other way."

"Any other way?"

Just as I asked that, she collapsed onto the white sand. The empty paper carton toppled over without a sound, and a plastic bag full of empty pill packages fell out of her brown shoulder bag. Alcohol and pills. This was her plan from the start.

"Mami!"

I shouted at her and smacked her cheeks, but she wouldn't wake up. I don't know what to do. Make her throw it up? But how? I had no idea. Hospital. I have to get her to a hospital. Ambulance.

I started running as I called for an ambulance on my phone. I didn't see anyone in the nearby shrine office. I ran to the closest food stall, looking for help, and they told me there was a hospital in the back. The back? The back where? There were plenty of elements here designed to mourn the dead—Kaminarimon, the garden, the pagoda, the temple, the shrine. This wasn't a joke. Where the hell is the hospital?

The back wheels of the vehicle rolled up onto the white sand as the metal steed abruptly changed course.

okay richard who’s the knight in shining armor NOW?

She arrived precisely on time for her appointment: Saturday at eleven 'o clock. The royal milk tea was just the right temperature.

"We've been expecting you. Please have a seat."

Mami had cut her long hair to just below her ears.

She looked much healthier than when I first met her, but that wasn't the only reason she seemed more cheerful than before. She looked me right in the eye and smiled.

"It's been ages. Have you been well? You know, I nearly died in Asakusa last month."

"I'm well aware. That isn't very funny.["]

well to be honest with you it’s pretty funny to me. Sorry

"The stone is 3.05 carats, AAA grade, originating from Mogok in Myanmar. It has not been heat treated. Ten million yen would be a conservative valuation."

I almost dropped the tray of tea. Ten million. Ten million. The stone she so casually dumped at the shop was worth ten million yen.

Mami seemed only a little shocked by the value. She let out a half-hearted "I see," and looked at the brooch that had finally been returned to her. She looked as though she were staring in a mirror.

[…]

Her hand under the jewelry box shifted, making the pigeon blood stone glimmer in the light.

"I also read that because we've only had heat treating technology for a few decades, no one knows what will happen to the stones in a century or so. Is that true?"

"If we're talking about modern heat treatment technology, it's conceivable someone may have said that. However, rubies have undergone heat treatment for over three hundred years. The process has a long history."

"The history of the pursuit of beauty, you could say."

Mami forced an awkward smile, went silent for a moment, and then began to mutter.

"I didn't regret my decision. I always wanted to be that girl. I didn't think what I was doing was wrong. But... as the wedding got closer, I started to feel afraid of my choice for the first time. And that's why I wanted to have the ruby checked."

She explained that if the ruby turned out to be heat treated, she would go through with the wedding. But if it wasn't, she'd rethink what she was doing. I guess that's what she meant by using it to tell her fortune. What on earth?

"Don't you have that backwards? I mean, a beautiful, untreated stone is way more valuable."

"All the more reason I shouldn't marry someone who would give me something like that. If only he'd given me some cheap trinket instead..."

I was so confused, my eyebrows started to twitch. Richard didn't say a word. Mami seemed to misunderstand the reason I was frowning.

"He's not a bad person. Sure, I was surprised he hired a private investigator, but it came from a good place. He might lose his cool sometimes, but... he really is a kind person."

I still wasn't sure exactly what sort of guy Takashi was. There were plenty of things about his behavior I wasn't crazy about, but he didn't seem irredeemably horrible, either. But that was probably why she considered marrying him.

don’t worry seigi look me in my eyes. You’ll never have to think about homura-san eeeever again after this. never ever.

"You must be tired from all that talking. Please, have some tea."

Mami took a sip of the tea at Richard's behest, and her eyes went wide. She stared at me.

"This is really good. Thank you."

"I learned how to make it from my boss," I said triumphantly.

Mami forced a smile and turned to Richard, "I believe you told him something to the effect of, 'utilitarian relationships aren't love.' That's a pretty powerful sentiment."

Richard shrugged, "You actually remembered that?"

I made an awkward expression, and Mami said to me with a smile, "Thank you for saving my life. It feels strange to be able to say that now, when I've wanted to die for such a long time."

She said it again. I had to wonder if she was really all right.

refer to phoenixheadinhands.

Richard pulled out the identification report and pointed to the "client" field. Mami's eyes went wide. It said "Mami Akashi."

"Could I trouble you to correct this? I do have to ask though, why did you use a false name?"

"...I'm so sorry. I don't even know, myself. I would use that name for fun when I was living with Tatsuki. Not that I've even said it at all recently..."

Mami took another sip of the royal milk tea I'd made. I couldn't say she was completely happy and free of worry, but she did look relieved. But what do I know, really?

"Um, so I don't mind if you don't want to answer this question, but why did you think it would be a good idea to force yourself to get married to a man?"

seigi loves to start an incredibly personal question like あのう…

"Why? Because that is what's considered 'normal' to most people in the world."

I looked confused. Mami continued.

"Do any of your friends live with their same-sex partner? Probably not, right? I'm not even talking about discrimination or harassment but the constant exhaustion of knowing you're not 'normal.' It's like trying to grow vegetables in the middle of the desert. I always wondered why I had to go through all this hardship that other people didn't, but maybe that's ultimately a grass-is-always-greener kind of thing."

"I mean, there are plenty of people who never get married, too."

"I know."

Mami told us about how she was raised. Don't cause other people trouble. Don't stand out too much. Live a normal life. Go to a normal school. Get married and have kids like a normal person. Raise them like normal. Grow old like normal. She was taught that this was the most comfortable, least remarkable, most trouble-free way to live. For example, she was taught to keep herself at a standard retail size when it came to clothing. Medium. The size that most people wear.

When she was on a school trip in junior high, a massive typhoon hit. Her home was destroyed, and her entire family died. News all over the country covered it as an unfortunate incident.

"That made me stand out a lot," she said, smiling while hardly moving the rest of her face. "Tatsuki and I are polar opposites. She hates 'normal.' She's the kind of person who makes her own clothes. I found it charming when we met, but when we lived together, we were so poor. I couldn't see a future for us, so I couldn't help thinking that maybe 'normal' really was better. I wanted to have an easier life. That's why I went back to full-time work, too."

"But it wasn't easier at all, was it?"

"Sure wasn't. Deathly so."

Mami laughed. Her laugh sounded so much brighter than her desperate voice back at the shrine, but I couldn't help still feeling worried for her.

"I don't think you should try that again. There are people who might die of grief if something were to happen to you. You'll be doing them a favor by valuing yourself more. This is starting to sound like a lecture, but I really mean it. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"You're probably right, but you know, it's still pretty hard to believe. It's weird, isn't it? I'm a total stranger with no family to speak of, but there are people I hurt just by treating myself like garbage."

"It is pretty weird. But when you love someone from the bottom of your heart, it changes you. I think that's only natural. I mean, maybe that's just what love is, right?"

But there was just something about her in that moment, like she felt unbearably sad, guilty, and heartrendingly happy all at the same time.

Mami wiped her eyes and looked at me like a displeased queen. "You don't look that much younger than me. Has anyone ever told you how presumptuous you are?"

"Sounds like somebody's just being a little childish to me."

"You know, you really are insufferable. Even if you did save my life."

I smirked, and Mami let out a slightly bashful laugh. That was the first time I felt like I could understand how the people who spent that day running around Tokyo and crying over her felt.* She really was charmingly awkward.

*- guy who spent that day running around tokyo over her. seeeiiiiigiiiiiii........

My boss, who had been silently listening the whole time, nodded, took a sip of his tea, and set the cup down.

"Ms. Sasu, do you know what a carat is?"

"You mean like how this ruby is 3.05 carats?" Mami confirmed.

"Exactly," Richard nodded. Then he looked at me, "Seigi, do you still remember what carats measure?"

“...They're a unit of measure for the weight of gemstones. One carat is 0.2 grams."

He replied with a "bravo." The question made me remember the time I'd asked him why they used carats and not grams. It was the day Mami showed up in the store for the first time.

"It's said that jewelers in ancient Greece used carob seeds to measure the weight of stones. Each of those seeds weighed around 0.2 grams. In Greek, the word for carob seed is 'kerátion,' which eventually became the word carat as we know it today."

One seed. One carat. I imagined someone with curly hair and dressed in a toga, placing seeds on a scale against a gemstone. I guessed seeds and gemstones were pretty similar in scale in terms of size and weight.

"In short, the carat is a unit of measurement created by jewelers specifically for gemstones and used exclusively for gemstones. It may not have the broad utility of centimeters and kilograms, but it's still useful for weighing gems. Of course, you could convert it to grams, but personally I find a world with a variety of diverse units of measurement much more comfortable, beautiful, and rich for it."

Mami giggled, like she understood something.

"Despite your cool and collected demeanor, you're quite passionate, aren't you? Well, I hope to be someone who makes the world a richer place, too."

:)

"Everyone has their own universe, but the main difference is whether they turn their back on it or embrace it to cultivate it into a deep, bountiful sea. You mentioned using the stone to tell your fortune earlier, but the thing is, gemstones are mirrors that reflect their owners. You would have never received an answer that you didn't already desire."

“......"

"Ms. Sasu, I believe you already had your answer the moment you set foot in this shop."

“…I guess I'm the only one who didn't know that."

Richard flashed her a gentle smile that reminded me of a calm sea. I was kind of shocked to learn he could make an expression like that. Mami smiled meekly. She was a pretty impressive person to be able to ignore that face of his.

then here comes gayboy interrupting a tender moment of connection anyway #LESBIAN

"So, about the charge for the identification report. How much was it again?"

[…]

"It's on the house. I believe what you need right now isn't fine jewelry but to turn your gaze inward to your own sparkling beauty. Should the day come that you desire a gemstone that matches your own inner luster, please contact me. I promise I'll find you the perfect piece."

"Thank you. You've really gone above and beyond for me."

Mami bowed deeply, put the brooch away in her shoulder bag, and left the shop.

I was still a little worried, so after a moment, I poked my head out to watch her leave. I was greeted by the rev of a motorcycle engine as a bike with two people on it sped past.

“...You know, I've thought this ever since we were coming back from Kobe on the Shinkansen, but you really are a bleeding heart, aren't you? You care more about your customers' well-being than profit. Or are you thinking about how you sometimes have to take a loss to profit in the long run?"

"I'm not sure you'd call this a loss. I made a connection with Mr. Homura."

"With Takashi?"

"I met with him once more after the incident. His family are avid jewelry collectors. We already have plans for me to show them several pieces when next we meet."

I shouldn't have expected anything less from a globe-trotting salesman. If someone had a stone that incredible to begin with, landing them as a customer would probably be profitable in the end. He did sound a little embarrassed about it, though.

"What'd Takashi say?"

"Just that if I had any good stones, he wanted to see them. That's all."

“...Huh."

- words that won’t be of any consequence several novels from now

He was a pretty baffling person, too. I still couldn't believe he told someone he was really in love with that he didn't care if she cheated on him. Though at the same time, if you were really, painfully in love with someone who was truly hopeless... I could see how you might come to the conclusion that it didn't matter if you weren't number one in their heart, as long as you could be by their side. No matter what form that took, or how much you had to give up. I felt like I could understand that a little, at least.

But only just a little. I wasn't saying I understood pain so bad that it made you want to die.

"Prejudice isn't a question of preference but one of whether you are offering other human beings the bare minimum courtesy of treating them as human."

Richard cleared his throat when I said that was what I loved about him.

everybody do me a favor and look up 'hayao miyazaki smoking stressed'. thanks. Seigi I kind of hope you die

Richard looked at me like he was waiting for something, and I just smiled at him. "You know, you really are shockingly handsome, even when you frown."

The implication being, "test me all you like." I had reflected on my actions after that incident, after all.

STOP! ❌ ✋ 🛑 🙅 🚫 ALTO! SEIGI ヤメロ

Suddenly the displeased look left Richard's face and was replaced with a smile—like flipping a switch. It was strange, though, like a doll made of ice smiling. So beautiful it was terrifying.

"Thank you very much. I think I have a thorough understanding of where you're coming from."

"D-do you now? Well, good. You know, you're kinda… scary right now."

"We've run out of our stock of sweets. Would you run out and buy some more?"

dumb stupid idiot’s Last Ever Task. how the fuck am I gonna fit all these photos. Oh well

"This is too much. I can't buy all this. What are you thinking?"

Just as I fired off that text, another one came in. It wasn't from Richard. My heart skipped a beat the moment I saw the name "Tanimoto."

"Hi, Seigi! Is it true that you were in a sports car in Asakusa? My friend who works at a shop near the temple said the driving was incredible! Sounds like it was a really interesting game of hide-and-seek!"

What a misunderstanding. What a massive misunderstanding. And it was already being embellished in the telling.

I didn't even want to look at it. I didn't even notice that I was on a different message chain when I fired off a reply.

"Is that sports car yours, Seigi? Show it to me sometime!"

I'd sent my "got it!" in reply to Tanimoto's message.

The phrase "just deserts" came to mind.

it really should be ‘just desserts’ given our circumstances

I bought everything on the list and returned to the shop where Richard greeted me like everything was normal. He hadn't done anything wrong. Really, he hadn't.

(he had.)

It was all my own fault.

(it was.)

I'd understood the point he made but failed to put it into practice.

boy did you.

and that concludes this edition of Seigi Sunday on “The Ruby of Truth”. on this [punctual] [Sunday].

[phantomrose96]

Okay I have a story.

So my birthday is this Sunday (May 26th). My mom ordered some presents for me but one of them (an Etsy purchase) was seemingly stuck in transit and might not make it on time. I tell my mom all good, no worries. She gets in contact with the seller. After a long delay in response they get back with "Right we'll fix it!" It ships, tracking label and everything, good to go! ETA May 22nd (yesterday.)

During the work day I check the tracking and it says it's been delivered in/at mailbox! I double check with my mom "hey, is it mailbox size?" because if not, I don't want it sitting at the front door where anyone walking by could snag it.

She says "it's definitely NOT mailbox size." Okay. I text my neighbors in the building "Anyone seen a package delivered? It's a birthday gift from my mom and I wanna make sure it gets inside!" Success! Floor 2 David (not to be confused with Floor 1 David) had brought it inside. Inform my mom. All good!

I stop by home briefly around 4pm, because yesterday was hot-hot and I just installed my window A/C that morning in the living room, and according to my cat cam my stupid cat hasn't spent a single second in the climate controlled living room and is, instead, voluntarily baking herself elsewhere so I'm like "great" and hop on my bike to go home (10 minute ride) to check on her.

I get in the building door. Patches is crying from the top floor because she heard me. I maneuver my bike in the front hall. The ugliest fucking 6-foot-tall cat tree(?)/totem(?)/statue(?) I've seen in my entire life is just. Standing there.

My first thought is "What the fuck is that." My second thought is "Oh fuck that is for me." I look around at the floor in case there's perhaps anything else that might, in fact, be the gift.

No. Me and Cat Pole.

It's taller than me. I turn it around to face me and its face is painted and this is, in fact, uglier than it looked from the back.

Um.

Patches is crying. So I just haul it up to my level. MAYBE it was supposed to come with twine that I wrap around it (and hide its face from the world) for Patches to scratch. Maybe this is a prank. Maybe this is an inside joke, because when my mom moved into her current house the neighborhood gifted her some ugly-as-hell totem that apparently, by tradition, each newest-comer to the neighborhood is required to have and display in their window so maybe this is a very good riff on that.

Patches rubs against it. She's not afraid of this horrid facsimile of her kind.

Great.

Meanwhile SHE'S fine and the condo is a little toasty but totally liveable so I'm like "Good, cool, you're not baking. You're having a good time. Enjoy your new sister, I guess, I'll see you later."

I go back to work because this is a problem for later me.

After work, after my run, after whatever, I get home and it's like 8:00pm and Patches is so happy to see me and the totem pole is still just. There.

I text my friends like "so a bday gift is here from my mom and it's the Biggest Ugliest cat pole I've seen in my life. Is this a bit? Did my mom go 'that's so ugly haha! send!' Maybe she genuinely found it cute. How do I navigate this." My friend Sarah has the good advice to maybe text my mom neutrally like "Got the cat pole!" and feel the waters whether my mom is like "Isn't it ugly? 😂" or "Hope Patches likes it! 🥰"

My mom goes to bed early so I don't do any of that yet. Problem for tomorrow me.

This morning, Patches wakes me up for breakfast. I get her situated and I'm staring at the fucking Cat Pole again. I wonder if my Mom's been wondering all night what I thought of it.

I take a picture. I text her.

Okay.

I get on call with my mom. I ask for clarity that the ungodly horrid thing is NOT my birthday gift and is in fact a mix-up from the seller who sent me this instead of my actual gift. She's wheezing between words. She thinks I'm being too charitable for the amount of Absolute Fucking Ugly this is. I have to gently talk her out of using the word "monstrosity" while messaging the seller asking what the hell happened here.

I tell her I need to apologize for harming her dignity with Floor 2 David, who thinks this fucking thing is my mom's idea of a great birthday gift for her to-be-28-year-old daughter.

My heart goes out to the poor soul who did actually order this cat totem and is lacking it on this lovely day.

[scholarhect]

hey guys it’s finally getting nice out you know what that means

we regret to inform you that buying stuff from urban outfitters is back

[anghimalaaynasapuso]

HORNY PRIEST JOHN PRICE

breeding kink, sacrilege (?)

john joined the church after leaving the military, though he never spoke much about what led him there. some men left war and found peace in quiet towns, in family, in distance. john, meanwhile, found himself in the shadow of the cross, searching for something he couldn't name.

he knelt, prayed, studied scripture— not because he'd had a sudden divine vision, but because he’d needed something to tether himself to.

he's never been one to talk about faith in absolutes. the young priests, fresh out of seminary, speak with a certainty that makes him envious. they talk of god’s mercy like it’s a thing they’ve held in their hands, like they’ve never doubted it for a second.

john doesn’t have that luxury. his hands have held a rifle, pressed down on wounds, ended lives.

what right does he have to stand in the confessional and tell a man his sins are forgiven when his own are still heavy in his chest?

he doesn’t let it show. not when he stands before his congregation, not when he delivers the homily, and not even when he listens to the confessions of those who kneel before him.

the words come easy. “god is love. god is mercy.” he says them with the confidence of a man who believes them. perhaps if he says them enough, one day it'll drive home.

he's decently well-respected in his parish. john speaks in measured tones, and listens with the kind of patience that makes people trust him. he’s rarely if ever unkind, never raising his voice even when the children at sunday school test his patience or when the older priests debate doctrine with a stubbornness he doesn’t bother entertaining.

the congregation admires him for it.

he keeps a well-worn rosary in his pocket, fingers brushing over the beads when he’s deep in thought. it’s an old habit, one he never lost even when he stopped saying the prayers as often as he should. late at night, when he can’t sleep, he walks the empty church, the only light coming from the red glow of the tabernacle lamp.

he runs his fingers over the smooth wood of the pews, listens to the creak of the floorboards beneath his boots, and exhales smoke into the dim air. it feels like a kind of penance, staying here long after everyone else has gone, keeping watch over something he’s still not sure he belongs to.

the first time you meet, it’s in the courtyard after sunday mass.

you’re new to the church. new to the neighborhood. moved in just a month ago, so he’s heard. he hadn't taken much notice at first— he rarely does. parishioners come and go, faces blending into one another over time.

but then he sees you. all wide eyes and bright smiles, the late-morning sun catching the warmth in your hair, laugh spilling out like a song. you shake hands with mrs. calloway, nod attentively as she chatters on about her garden, and there’s something about the way you tilt your head, the way your lips part in quiet amusement, that makes something ugly and raw twist in his gut.

john shouldn’t be looking. he knows he shouldn’t be looking.

and yet.

you catch sight of him, and your smile brightens, something open and eager in your face as you step forward. “father price.”

your voice is softer than he expects. sweeter. a fact not good for his health.

he nods. “you’ve settled in well, i see.”

“i have. everyone’s been so kind.” your hands clasp in front of you, fingers tangling. “i wanted to introduce myself properly. i should have done it sooner, but-” you shake your head, sheepish. “i guess i was nervous.”

nervous? of who— him?

he watches the way you glance down, the way your teeth catch the plump of your lower lip, the slight shift of your weight from foot to foot, and something slow and molten pools in his stomach.

and then, unbidden—

i want to fuck her mouth.

the thought slams into him. his fingers curl, blunt nails pressing into his palm. john's throat tightens, heat crawling up the back of his neck, shame dragging its claws down his spine.

he schools his expression, keeps his voice level. “there’s nothing to be nervous about.” a beat. his gaze lingers on your lips a second too long. “i hope you find what you’re looking for here.”

your eyes meets his then. for a moment, he swears you see it. the crack in his composure, the way his restraint stretches thin around you like fraying rope.

but then you just smile again— so fucking gentle— and bid him a polite goodbye before slipping back into the crowd.

he exhales, tries to control his breathing, before turning on his heel and heading inside.

it doesn’t get better after that.

oh no. in fact, it only gets worse.

because you linger. you stay. you join the congregation, sit near the front every sunday, your hands folded neatly in your lap, your lips parted slightly in quiet reverence as you listen to the sermon. you bite your lip when you concentrate, tuck your hair behind your ear absentmindedly, shift in your seat just enough to make his mind wander places it has absolutely no right to go.

and it haunts him.

creeps into his thoughts when he thinks he's already run far away from it. slips into his head when he least expects it. a slow, insidious thing, winding around his ribs, sinking its teeth into the softest parts of him.

john finds himself getting lost in his imaginations more and more as the weeks pass by. it starts with something simple. something small.

you, in his kitchen.

the space is yours as much as it is his now— he hardly steps foot in it unless you usher him in, your hands on his arms, guiding him to sit, to rest. the scent of warm bread and roasted meat fills the house, seeping into the wooden beams, the stone walls. the windows are cracked open just enough to let the breeze in, carrying with it the scent of the fields, the distant bells of the church.

you hum as you work, a quiet little tune under your breath, flour dusting your fingers, smudging along the curve of your cheek. you’re barefoot, the hem of your dress skimming your ankles, your apron tied neatly at the back. domestic. wifely. His.

"you’re spoiling me, love."

you laugh, glancing over your shoulder at him where he sits at the table, his elbows braced against the wood, his chin resting on his hand. john hasn’t even touched the sermon notes laid out before him, hasn’t even opened the book he’d planned to read. no, his attention has been on you— watching you move, watching the light catch on your hair, watching the way you fit so perfectly in his home.

"you work too hard," you murmur, turning back to the stove. "someone has to take care of you."

the words sink into him, low and warm, wrapping around something deep in his chest.

you do take care of him.

you set a plate before him, still warm from your hands, and press a kiss to the top of his head, your lips soft against his hair.

you fold his robes neatly after they’ve dried in the sun, pressing your hands over the fabric like a prayer. you pluck a stray thread from his collar before mass, your fingers deft and careful, your brow furrowing in quiet concentration.

you brush his hair back from his forehead when he sits too long at his desk, rubbing slow circles at his temple, your fingers easing away the weight of his work.

and in the evenings, after the dishes have been washed and the fire burns low, you climb into his lap with a soft sigh, tucking yourself against his chest.

"long day?" you ask, your fingers smoothing over the front of his shirt.

"mm." john presses a kiss to your hair, lets his hands settle at your waist, palms warm through the thin fabric of your nightdress. "better now."

and it is better, with you here, with your warmth seeping into his, your breath brushing his throat.

he wants all of it. the soft, easy domesticity. the routine of waking to you curled beside him, of pressing sleepy kisses to your bare shoulder before dragging himself out of bed. of watching you move through his home with the comfort of a woman who belongs there.

and, god help him—

john wants to fuck you too.

until you leaked him, until his seed dripped down your thighs, making a mess of soft, perfect skin. wants to bend you over his desk, press your face into the worn wood, break you open on his cock until you sobbed for him, begged him to fill you. he’d grip your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

he wants to whisper filth into your ear, his breath hot— gonna fill you up, love. gonna fuck you so full of me you’ll be dripping for days. you want that, don’t you? want me to breed you like the needy little thing you are?

he wants to press his fingers into your mouth, make you suck them clean before shoving them between your legs, fucking them into the soft clutch of your pussy until you cried for him.

and when he finally sinks his swollen cock inside you— he’d make you feel it.

john wants to fuck you raw, grind his hips against yours, keep you pinned beneath his weight, stuffed full of his cock. he’d press a hand to your belly, feel himself inside you, make you watch as you take a cock too big for you.

and when he’d spill inside you he wouldn't stop. oh no— he’d fuck it deeper, press his fingers to your swollen clit, make you come with him, make your body take every last drop of his seed.

because he wouldn't just fill you. he’d breed you. over and over, until you couldn't keep yourself up, too boneless to thrust back into him, too full to take any more.

but he was a man of god.

and men of god did not shove their sweet, willing parishioners over their desks, did not drag their teeth down soft skin, did not slap needy little cunts until they were wet and dripping.

they did not fuck desperate little things in church pews, in quiet confessionals, did not fist their hands in soft hair and shove pretty mouths onto their cocks, did not whisper filth between gasped-out prayers.

they did not spend their nights with their heads buried between trembling thighs, devouring the taste of sin, holding squirming bodies still as they licked deep, sucked hard, forced sweet, innocent things to come against their tongues.

they did not rut into them like beasts, gripping soft wrists, pinning them down, owning them with every brutal thrust. they did not press their hands to swollen bellies, fill their women over and over until their bodies were wrecked, too full of come to take another drop.

men of god did not fuck.

but god forgive him, he would.

all those thoughts come to this moment, this night—

john finds himself alone under the dim glow of candlelight, sitting on the pews, head tilted to the cross.

his breathing is uneven, ragged in the dim hush of the empty church. each inhale scrapes against his ribs, sharp and burning, like penance for the filth curdling in his mind. his hands tremble as they move beneath his robes, fingers fumbling at the buckle of his belt. the metal clinks, far too loud in the sacred silence, but he doesn’t stop.

can’t.

his breathing is uneven, ragged in the dim hush of the empty church. each inhale feels like it scrapes against his ribs, sharp and burning, as though the very air is punishing him for the thoughts festering in his mind. his hands tremble as they move beneath his robes, fingers fumbling at the buckle of his belt. the metal clinks softly in the quiet, a sound far too loud in the sanctity of this space.

the leather gives way, and his cassock feels suffocating now, the fabric too heavy against skin flushed with heat. his fingers slip lower, dragging the waistband of his pants down his hips with shaky, desperate movements until he’s free— finally free— from the painful confines of his underwear.

his cock springs forward, already hard in his hand, flushed dark at the tip, the skin tight and aching. a bead of precum glistens there, catching in the flicker of candlelight like something obscene in the house of god. he wraps his hand around the base, his grip firm but not enough to ease the pressure coiled in his gut. the heat of his palm sends a shudder rolling down his spine, breath hitching as his thumb swipes over the sensitive head, smearing the slick wetness down the length.

his cock is long, veins pulsing along the shaft, the kind of thick that demands attention. his foreskin still covers the swollen head, slick with the evidence of his own arousal, precum smearing against the soft skin of his lower stomach. he hisses through his teeth as he wraps his hand around the base, fingers barely closing around the girth, feeling the steady throb of blood pulsing beneath his grip.

his balls hang full and tight, pulled close with need, the skin sensitive to the faintest brush of fabric. every movement is torment, the soft rub of his cassock against his bare thighs sending a shudder through him, making his hips jerk forward, seeking relief.

he strokes himself slowly, dragging his foreskin back to expose the flushed, leaking head, then rolling it forward again, savoring the sensitivity. his thumb swipes through the slick wetness pooling at the tip, smearing it down the length, adding just enough glide to make his fist slip easier over his cock.

his grip tightens, dragging the pleasure out like a prayer he’s too ashamed to speak aloud. the church is silent around him, the air thick with the scent of burning wax and old stone, but all he can think about is you.

on your knees before him.

john sees it so clearly, feels it like it’s already happened. the way you’d sink down, your eyes looking up at him through thick lashes, expectant. your soft lips parted just enough for your tongue to wet them before stretching around his cock. the thought makes his stomach clench, his fingers twitching as he strokes himself tighter, his foreskin gliding over the swollen head before he pulls it back again.

you wouldn’t be able to take all of him at once. he knows that much. He’s too thick, too long— your jaw would ache just trying, your tongue pressing firm against the heavy weight of him, struggling to make space. the first inch would be easy, maybe even the second. but when he pushes deeper, when his tip nudges the back of your throat and you gag, just a little, he knows he’d lose whatever control he has left.

he swears he can see it— your fingers curling against his thighs, the little choked noise you’d make when he holds you there, when his cock throbs against your tongue. your throat would flutter, swallowing around him, trying to adjust to the stretch. and oh, god, the way your lips would look wrapped around him, swollen with abuse and slick with spit and precum. john nearly loses himself at the image alone.

his hips jerk forward into his own grip, chasing the fantasy, breath coming through the vaulted ceilings of the church. he’d guide you through it, hand buried in your hair, tilting your head just the way he likes. gentle, at first. Letting you set the pace. But then when you get too comfortable, when you start to tease, pulling back just to trail soft kisses along his length— he’d snap.

he’d pull you down, bury himself deep in the hot sleeve of your mouth until your throat clenched around him and you whimpered against his balls. his other hand would cup your jaw, feeling the bulge of himself pressing against your cheek, watching as tears bead at the corners of your eyes, shuddering from the effort of taking him.

he wonders if you’d try to pull away, fingers gripping his thighs in a silent plea. would you struggle? would you whine? would you let him break you like this?

john groans, his grip tightening almost painfully. he pumps himself faster now, the obscene slap of skin against skin filling the empty church. his balls are drawn tight, aching with the need to spill, and in his mind, he’s not coming into his own palm.

he’s coming down your throat.

you’d swallow, wouldn’t you? just for him. he can see it— his cum thick on your tongue, your lips parting to show him before you close your mouth and swallow it down. maybe a little would escape, dripping down your chin, and he’d swipe his thumb through it, pressing it back to your lips.

“messy thing,” he’d murmur. “but you took it so well.”

the thought sends him over the edge.

his hips stutter, cock jerking in his grip as his orgasm crashes over him, hot and sudden. cum spills over his knuckles, , dripping onto the cold stone beneath him. his breath comes in harsh, broken gasps, his thighs trembling as he rides out the aftershocks, his vision hazy with the force of his release.

and when it’s over— when he finally stills, his body spent, his mind heavy with guilt— he drags his gaze upward.

The cross looms above him, watching.

if this is damnation, he’ll sin again.

[oceantornadoo]

dubcon, objectification, forced (?) threesome, f!reader

they say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.

ghost finds you ten months after your divorce, nursing a drink in a shithole of a pub. he doesn’t consider himself a good man, licking the tears on your cheeks when he fucks you for the first time, ignoring your whines of how “it’s been a while” and you’re “too tight.” he doesn’t like to keep birds around longer than a night, but something about how you wrap your leg around him in the morning makes him stay a little longer.

he lets you call him simon after you whine that you “can’t fuck him without knowing his name.” it takes a bit, but you get used to sleeping with someone who isn’t your ex-husband. he calls you bird instead of sweetheart, love instead of darling and after a while, the word honey loses its significance. when simon tells you he’s military, you try to leave his bed, only for him to pull you by the thigh, apologizing with his tongue in your cunt. simon doesn’t date and you aren’t ready for it, content to stay in your respective apartments, living for his occasional half-smiles and usual gruff admonishments. its a bit new to simon - he’s used his camera app more in the past weeks than he has in years. always pictures of you: his cum on your tits, the bruises he leaves on your hips, a rare photo of you sleeping. he even lets you corral him into taking a cheesy mirror picture, his arms dwarfing your waist with his face tucked into your neck, your jawline exposed as you turn to kiss his cheek.

it’s two months later when you promise to cook him a meal for the first time, a sunday roast he hasn’t tasted in years. “better not take too long, bird, ‘m starvin’.” simon murmurs in your ear, hands squeezing your stomach and waist as you fumble with your keys. “i’ve had it slow cooking before i left for yours last night. it’ll put us in a food coma.” you finally put the key in the lock, turning it with force before simon decides to fuck you against the door. he dips to bite your neck, sending you into your apartment giggling, swatting him off you. the weight of your divorce is finally off your shoulders, happy butterflies fluttering in your stomach formed by simon’s continuous presence.

the butterflies die when you see a familiar pair of boots at your door.

“stay here.” you order simon, a change from your usual dynamic. you can’t focus on his reaction, set on edge by the sounds of pots clanging in your kitchen. there’s no point in creeping - he knows you’re here. you turn the corner and there he is - your ex husband. “you’re just in time, sweetheart. nice ‘f you to make a roast.”

john’s standing there like he owns the place, like he knows this kitchen he’s never been in. he’s boiling potatoes on the stove, keeping an eye on the slow cooker timer. he’s even poured himself a fucking drink, a scotch he had to have brought since all you have is wine and simon’s whiskey. all smug and entitled in his civvies, commanding the room like he pays your rent. he's still as handsome as ever, darker eye bags the only indication he's been losing sleep.

“what the fuck are you doing here, john?” john doesn’t answer immediately, instead using a fork to test the potatoes. satisfied, he takes them off the burner and turns to the sink, dumping them out in a prepared strainer. “‘s our anniversary, sweetheart. thought that’s why you made the food.” you can sense simon still in the doorway, his presence unknown to your ex. it gives you strength, a guard dog at your back, and comfort that he’s letting you run this on your own. “our anniversary ended when we signed the papers. i don’t know how you got in here, but you need to leave.” he frowns at you and it almost tugs at your heart strings. your brain conjures images of his coldness and constant distance, and you shut that down real fast. unfortunately, he doesn’t get the memo. john takes a step closer, hands up like he’s approaching a wild animal. “honey, i-“ and that’s when ghost steps out of the darkness.

there’s a long pause. it boosts your ego a bit, showing john you’ve moved on, until the silence is so long that you start to worry. you chance a look at simon’s face and find it confused, not at all the guard dog you thought he was. a glance at john’s reveals the same. you’re about to ask your question when they answer it for you. “captain.” “lieutenant.” “what?”

the transformation happens in an instant. both men straighten to their full heights, wiping any emotion off their faces. their brows furrow as they flex their hands to control their instincts. how could you not see it before? simon only mentioned he was military, but the stamp of the SAS is clear as day. it was in the harsh lines he carried, a companionship with death, not unlike the one john had.

john started first, of course, always having to take control of the situation. “you fuckin’ my lieutenant, sweetheart? miss me that much?” you rolled your eyes at his cruel words, inching closer to simon. “whatever we do doesn’t concern you.” you emphasized the “you”, spitting it out with venom. john hums low, making you nervous. you turn to simon, but he's quiet and calculating, communicating silently with his captain.

"didn't know you had a wife, sir." you answer before john can. "we divorced a year ago." john chimes in. "to the day, actually. she served me on our anniversary." simon looks down at you, the man you thought you knew now gone. his eyes are black pits, targeting you like you're prey. "that's cruel, bird." you sputter, backing into the kitchen cabinets. you walk until your back hits the sink, each man on either side of you. john has his arms crossed and head cocked to the side, like you're about to get chewed out by the school principal. simon looks...no longer human. unrestrained. whatever spark you two had has gone out, replaced by sheer loyalty to his captain. "show the captain what he's been missin', love. y've been starvin' him." he moves at lightning speed, picking you up and dropping you on the island counter, sunday roast long forgotten.

"simon?" he doesn't answer, scarred hands squeezing up and down your body as john watches from behind him, arms crossed and eyes searching. your mind is telling you one thing but your body wants another. some twisted part of your brain reminds you that john came to visit on your anniversary, even though you threw him out a year ago. simon's no better, coaxing your sweater off your torso, leaving you exposed in a lacy bra. your nipples harden and john sees, making a clicking noise with his tongue. "warm 'er up, lieutenant." simon obeys instantly, pulling down the cup of your bra to suck on your nipple. he's ravenous, no sunday roast in sight, and he's decided you're his meal instead. he sucks hard, a calloused hand reaching up to pull your other tit out so you're fully exposed to your two men. he squeezes it with reverence, rolling your nipple between his fingers as he sucks hard on the other one, not minding his own teeth.

it's dirty - watching john watch you. you hadn't fucked in the last months before the divorce. he was always too busy, on base or deployed, and you were so angry you couldn't let him near you. now, your ex-husband moves closer, taking in the sight of his lieutenant feasting. "miss me, sweetheart?" you shake your head on instinct. he sighs at your attitude. you're seated on the corner of the island, perfect for john to come up on your side, one large paw making its way towards your jaw, turning you towards him. "say it." you shake your head again. john sticks a thumb into your mouth, pushing against your teeth. you try to force him out, but simon bites your tit, making you gasp and let john in anyways. you suck his thumb defiantly, gazing at him with all the emotions you can't convey.

you look so pretty like this, john decides. laid out for his lieutenant, taking his orders as well as your emotions will allow. he decides to forgive you for your indiscretions with ghost - at least it was with one of his own men. they're practically an extension of himself. john hooks his thumb into the gap between your tongue and teeth and pulls, forcing you right into his space. "i reckon your cunt's nice an' wet, though. should i check? know she's missed me even if you won't admit it." your eyes go wide, giving him an answer he already knew. simon follows orders well, manhandling you into position by yanking off your jeans. there's a wet spot on the light fabric of your underwear. john can practically see your cunt clinging to it, begging for him to say hello.

"want ya to take 'em off y'self, bird." simon's finally speaking, the glaze in his eyes fading. he looks at you, then his captain, and it makes sense. how you're used to being led but refuse it all the same. how you're desperate for affection but won't date him because he's military. you're scarred from the chains of your marriage, so it only makes sense that he's the one you seek out - the opposite of husband material. more dog than human on his worst days. simon stares at you until you follow his command, meekly lifting up your hips as you take off your underwear. your cunt is sopping, in a way it only does when you’re ovulating, practically begging for it. your ex-husband whistles through his teeth like he’s praising a recruit. “knew she’d be happy to see me. hullo, darling.” you can’t find it in you to cringe. john starts running his fingers through your folds, inspecting, and all you can do is stare. stare at the veins in his forearm. stare at simon behind him, eyes trained on his captain’s movements. stare at the counter where your juices start to gather and wonder how the hell you got into this situation.

“pinch ‘er tit an’ watch ‘er flutter.” simon’s callous with his instructions but john follows them anyway, his unoccupied hand reaching up to pinch your nipple. you can’t help the gasp that escapes you, the way your cunt flutters around john’s fingers. he hums thoughtfully. john decides you’ve been good, if not a bit quiet, and presses his thumb against your clit as a reward. he starts rubbing in that pattern that would get you off without fail during your marriage. he fits one finger into you easily as you grip the counter hard, the sudden sensation overwhelming. simon peers over his shoulder like a fucking scientist. “‘f she gets bratty, i pull back the hood til she screams.” like your cunt’s a machine and they have the two pieces of its manual. john’s movements are making you desperate, hips starting to buck against his fingers. he chuckles and adds another, not hiding a smile when you sigh in relief. simon’s hands come to your waist, helping you fuck yourself on price’s fingers. it feels so wrong, having them barely listen to your pleas, and yet being under their watch is the most right you’ve ever felt in your life. that’s what brings your orgasm - not john’s thick fingers on your cunt, his rough thumb in your clit - but two sets of hungry eyes on you, like you’re their last meal. john fucks you through your orgasm, simon not letting you out of his grasp until tears start to form, the embarrassment of your own wetness coming to the front of your mind. john slowly removes his fingers and brings them to simon’s mouth to taste, not satisfied until his lieutenant hums in agreement. the two men turn to you, naked save for your disheveled bra around your waist, somehow making the scene more depraved.

“‘ow ‘bout that roast, love?” simon murmurs gruffly.

good thing john never signed the divorce papers.

[militaryapple]

MY BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER IS THE ONE FOR ME .ᐟ

synopsis. mc leaves to go to the store and youre left alone with her wildly hot "brother". so what if you both get tipsy? whats the harm in that? its not like she liked him anyways.

cw. fem!reader, you & mc are bff's, virginity loss, cunillingus, oral ( fem recieving ), p in v creamie, pet names, unprotected (PLEASE BE PROTECTED OMG), praise like a lot of it, fingering, use of term "babygirl", biting, teasing (omg i need this man bad.)

add ons. this came to me in a dream. sum like that.

wc. 2.6k

sundays were the best. why? because you spent the entire day with her. your best friend in the entire world, and you meant that. you couldn't do anything without her, not like she'd let you anyway. you'd both had always been with each other. you guys were practically holding hands in the womb. which could probably explain the same brain wave you both share.. nonetheless it doesn't wipe away that Sundays were the best. hanging out with your best friend, playing games and well..

eyeing her super-hot unrelated related brother. okay, fine, you go over her dorm on Sundays to oogle her so-called "brother". what's the harm in that? it's not like you're acting on your feelings. it was just a small crush you've had.. since forever. it's also not like he noticed you anyways, he's always had his eyes set out for her. you don't loathe them for that. its how things have always been. its fine you don't mind, as long as you get to keep your friendship its fine.

a loud slapping noise snapped you back into reality as you look down at the table, the red uno card with a number 6 on it scattered down. fuck. pick up 3. you groan as you watched how happily she hummed. for a hunter, she knows how to play uno really well. you sigh in defeat as you set down the uno cards.

"whatever" you mumble softly. "you probably cheated anyways! hey, actually lets do a rematch! I can win!" you slammed your soda down on the table as she shook her head in disapproval. "nuh-uh! you said if I won 3 times in a row you'd do it!" she slammed her cup down in resilience. you really need to stop making bets you cant win. you fall back on the bed to resign. "fine! I'm not going to the store with you though. that shits like an hour away for one and two I do NOT want to hear you rub in my face on how you won."

she hummed in approval as she eyed you down. "I can take that over not winning any day. you might miss out on some really good in and out though" she said sweetly, you thought about it before huffing out "a slushy and small fry." was all she needed to hear before getting up, and right on cue, he came in. caleb looked down at her, then at you. his face widens in a grin. "what bet did you win today pip-squeak?" he said patting her head and chuckling. she pointed towards you and embarrassment washed in. next thing you know she had taken caleb's key and waved goodbye to the both of you.

knowing her it would take 2 hours to get from the store and back, she gets side tracked too easily. sometimes you worry for your best friend. caleb slumped down on the couch, turning on the tv as he looked at you before calling out. "hey, get over here. you and I both know it'll be a while until she comes back. plus.. she has my keys and car. can't go anywhere now." he scooted over patting next to him on the side of the couch.

you got up and moved next to him, scooting towards the other end of the couch as you both watched the agonizingly boring movie that played. sometimes you didn't get these one on one moments with him. compared with her, he's more quiet around you. sometimes with the occasional flirty friendly banter, he seemed.. more comfortable. you two have known each other for a long time, so it wouldn't hurt to just make a simple conversation with him right? with that thought you scooted closer to him.. then after a while a little closer.. then just pushing your luck just a tad bit closer.

caleb looked down at you, he let out a small laugh before holding his arm out and shifting his position, he pulled you closer now wrapping his arm around you while you leaned on him. you could smell the faint scent of musk, like a woody pine tree. it wasn't a bad smell. "you thought I wouldn't notice?" he said gently. he looked down at you in amusement. he enjoyed this, and it was good for you to know that thankfully you didn't step over any boundaries you thought you two had established.

you huffed as you looked away. "I was just making this more comfortable for us." you waved your hand in his face. "we're stuck together, right?" you hummed looking up at him. his face shifting from calm to surprised, and then smug.

you swore you could see a glint in his eye.

"okay, take a shot if you don't want to answer, or you can answer. there was more to the game but uh, that's more for parties." he said sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. your face waved over with an emotion of shock, or was it amusement? whichever came into your mind first. "I didn't know mr. gentleman here was the party type. caleb we've been friends since we were kids, I want to play the actual game. not some remake you just made up." you snickered, your arms crossing as you leaned back on the couch, caleb sat across from you on the floor, yet he was still eye level with you.

"hey." he snapped back in a hurt tone, "Im not just a party guy. I only do it if you and her aren't here entertaining me or if you guys are done and I have some spare time. I cant always intrude on both of your adventures. and I still am a gentleman." he prided himself. it makes you think, how many times have you and your best friend left caleb while you both went on your little rendezvous? oh whatever, think later win now.

caleb started out first, he flipped the card over and handed It to you. you looked at it. you gave a quick glance at him before you read the card out loud. "okay, how many times have you got off this week.. and what to?" you said shyly, setting down the card gently. fuck that was a weird question. It's a drinking game but, jesus. caleb turned flushed, he coughed before looking away and pouring himself a shot.

"..."

that's okay, you wouldn't answer either, and skipping it would be more embarrassing, you picked up a card and slid it over to caleb. he almost choked. "are you sure-" he said in-between coughs, "you want to play this? I think I have the wrong deck-" he said quickly scrambling to grab the cards before you could stop him.

"its fine" you said happily "I want to play caleb, seriously." with that, he settled down, looking at the card you picked up once more and reading it out loud. "think of a person, and point out the feature you notice the most when you see them." he said, placing down the card. fuck.

you don't want to point out his obviously big dick that you look at everytime you see him, but you don't wanna get tipsy the first couple of rounds. you looked at your body and the clothes you had on, oh fuck it. lets go out with a bang. you slip off your black shirt, your pink bra flawlessly taking the spotlight. caleb couldn't help but stare at what seemed to be the prettiest bra in the entire world to him before he looked away. "great start." he mumbled.

caleb picked up a card and handed it to you, a grin forming on your face as you held the card, "biggest turn on?" you asked amused. staring at him as his face gave a wash of surprise, he let out a small chuckle. "ah, cliche to say pretty girls with pretty undergarments?" he said softly. your grin stiffening while you placed the card down. whatever, two can play that game.

you grabbed a card, moving in and leaning towards Caleb because all of a sudden he was just oh so far. handing him the card he could see just enough of your boobs, was that a part of your nip- no. Caleb shook it off as he looked at the card in his hand. "wildest sex dream you've had?" he asked, putting the card down and taking another shot. was it him or was the room warm?

you would tease him and say "my best friend's boyfriend and I on a couch fucking nastily" but you couldn't muster up the words. so instead you poured yourself a shot and down the hatch it went. you weren't a heavy drinker, and not much of a tolerance, which is why you chose to skip and strip instead of sink and drink. so much for not getting tipsy, let alone drunk.

he gulped, grabbing another card, before sliding it to you. he was nervous, had he ever been this nervous around you? like really really nervous? fuck fuck fuck. so many things were going through his mind. it was driving him nuts. you picked up the card and read it, snorting. "childhood crush?" oh. that was easy for him.

"you."

you looked up blinking, scanning his face for any sort of joke, any sort of shift to tell you "haha I'm joking" but there wasn't. he was serious. you grabbed the bottle of pink Whitney, downing as much as you could in a cup before setting it down. "you're fucking lying caleb. don't think I don't see how you look at her." you snapped at him, which only made him laugh. god you were cute.

"yeah," he nodded "but how do you think she'd feel if i was messing around with her best friend hm? how i think about you in ways I shouldn't, how I crave you." oh shit. he had a point. though you looked at your phone, you two still had some alone time. "caleb.." you whimpered softly.

"don't do that to me baby. please." he almost begged you. he got up moving to the couch and leaning over you. his eyes scanning over your body, then his gaze unwavering from your face. "I've always wanted you. ha, sometimes I go crazy thinking about how many guys have even attempted to touch you." his voice barely above a whisper. his breath tickling your face.

"caleb, please. I fucking need you."

the sounds of sloppy kisses and clothes unraveling filled the air, you both moving from the living room to your room. you knew this was bad, but all the guilt you felt seemed to be swept to the side. you could deal with the emotional luggage later, you didn't want it to ruin the perfectly good scenario playing out, the one you thought about ever since you were in high school.

caleb was gentle with you, his hands placed behind your back as he attempted to undo your bra, clearly lost, you took it off and held on to him. he was sweet but eager yet tender with you and patient.

"this is my first time," you say sheepishly. caleb's eyes lit up, a smile on his face while he planted a kiss on the crown of your forehead. "It's alright baby. It's my first time too, I'm especially happy because it's with you." his hands circled around your stomach before making its way down to your clit. he pressed softly against the fabric of your panties while you let out a small mewl.

you sounded better than he imagined. his fingers circling around your clit, and in response he got to hear your beautiful sounds. he was practically drunk off them. his fingers pushed over your panties, exposing your cunt. caleb got down. his hands spreading your legs wider as his lips pressed small kisses against your lower ones.

he was like a pro, his tongue hitting all of your spots as you grab his hair. the way the vibrations of his groans overstimulated you more and more. "you taste absolutely delicious. where has this pretty cunt been all my life?" he groaned, breaking away from your swollen cunt. he got up and leaned into you, bringing your head up.

"wanna know how you taste?"

he kissed you while undoing his pants. sweats dropping while he pushed you down the bed, bringing his cock out. and jesus was he huge. you pulled him down on the bed with you, pushing him against the wall as you sat up towards him. "'m gonna ride you, okay?" you dropped your head down, positioning yourself before selling down on his cock. he was huge, fuck did it hurt so good. caleb couldn't help but dip his head in the crook of your neck, grabbing your hips as he whined in approval.

"thaaats it babygirl. you got it, you're so sweet, just for me, yeah?" he praised you, planting soft kisses all over, his hands guiding your hips rocking you back and forth and around. you held on him as he held you still, his hips thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace. you were cock drunk.

his tip hit every spot, every curve, every corner and inner spot of yours. you were made for his dick. you couldn't help but praise him on how good he was hitting your sweet spots, "you flatter me baby" caleb moaned, biting down on his lower lip.

caleb collected your head pulling it back as he bit down on you, sucking you and licking you. leaving marks showing people that you were his. you were taken, and that would never change. in exchange, you dug your nails in him, and only you would know that they were there, that you were there to place them on him.

caleb flipped you over, pounding into you. one blow after the other. there was no stopping him as he rolled his head back in pure bliss. from this angle he could see all your pretty curves, how your back naturally arches for him. he had fucked you stupid.

caleb growled, "finish with me, please baby" he pleaded, "I wanna feel you cum over my cock again 'n again. you can do that right baby?" he coos. you could feel him reaching deeper in you, stretching you out as his balls slap against your abused cunt.

your body felt like it was on fire. electricity flowing through every vein as you shook your walls gummy and clamping down on him. you're shaking violently as Caleb can't help but get a last few thrusts in. you were squirting.

everywhere.

caleb pulls out and moves back, admiring you, like a piece of artwork. "messy girl" he clicked his tongue before scooping you up and fixing the pillows on your bed, lying you down on one side while he moved to other to lie right next to you. he was sweet. Caleb cuddled and coo'd you, telling you how much of a perfect girl you were, how good you took him and how beautiful you were.

he just stared at you, you looked at him before getting out a small laugh, "yes, I love you too caleb." you say sweetly and he was sure his heart skipped a beat. all he could give back was a smile, kissing the crown of your head.

it was a tender moment before you both were rudely awakened by the door slamming open and loud voice in the back. "what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

oh shit.

[hoseoksluna]

— VALENTINE'S DAY WIP ︵ᡣ𐭩 scheme | jjk

pairing: yandere!jungkook x strategy!oc

genre: smut

rating: 18+

about: jungkook thinks you're such a good girl, and for that reason he can't help but to fuck you with his fingers.

warnings: fingering, squirting, praise kink.

word count: 0.671

note: HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY TO MY BABIES. i couldn't NOT spoil you on this special day! this is a smut excerpt of the chapter that is coming out on sunday, and i'm so excited to show this to you and essentially give you this little gift on this day. may love surrounding all your life, not just on this day, and may you know that i love you with all my heart. MWAH. ENJOY READING.

︵ᡣ𐭩

taglist | join here: @jjk7k, @tkslovechild, @euphoricmyth, @cinmmongirl, @ririkookiemonster, 

@perfectiondazesworld, @https-mei, @bangtansonyeondanue, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, 

@hoseokkie-caeks, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk, @parkinglot-nights, @sadgirlroo

And like you tilted your pelvis, you tilt your chin and seize his bottom lip, kissing him with such tenderness that he moans and nearly gives you the entirety of his finger. It takes all of his willpower not to do so, concentrating instead on the sealing of the promise as he allows you to kiss him on your own terms. Soft pecks handled by the turning of heads with interludes in between, tasting each other while the time and the cosmos hold their breaths. How beautiful this is and how delicate, the act of not ripping each other’s clothes off but taking your shared time, standing in the way of the laws of this life. 

“Okay,” you whisper against his lips, and Jungkook grasps that you’ve been gathering courage all this time for a reason he longs to know. “Fuck me, please.” 

He hums in pleasure, pressing a rewarding kiss against your lips that lasts for only a second—interrupted by the force of his pleased grin. The fulfillment he feels grows, merging into a high-leveled gratification that buzzes throughout his whole body. He tries to kiss you again but fails, awkwardness seeping through that makes you daintily giggle. And once he hears his own, an oasis of serenity and sentimentality, perfumed by the sweetest tea of pomegranate leaves, transpires in his chest. 

“Good girl,” he praises, adding another finger, his vocal cords strained by his emotions. “Where do you want me? Tell me where.” 

Your breath hardens, wafting across his features, but you’re not shy, you’re not timid to tell him where you need him: “In my pussy, please.” 

His cheeks ache from his smile, but he can’t stop. He’s fucked, he loves you, and it completely massacres him. “That’s it. You learn so well.” 

Jungkook pulls out his fingers to his first knuckles, dropping his gaze to them just to see how much you coated them. Your essence glistens in the dimmed light and drips down his palm. Wanting you to see as well, he pulls them out entirely and shows you. The droplets plummet to your chest and you bite your lip, blushing, your eyes running all across his hand. Over and over again. 

“You’re so prettily wet,” he rasps, closing his lips over your cheek, and he doesn’t need you to respond to his comment before he plunges them back in and begins to fuck you with such a speed that you scream out, grabbing his forearm and sinking your nails into it. 

That doesn’t stop him either. The need to make you come for being such a good girl after that winter of emotional pain ferally takes control of him and he douses himself in its tide. 

He pistons his fingers into you, curling them at the front wall. Thumbing your clit, you roll your eyes back, your chest heaving and gasping for air. Your little nipples perk up for him against the fabric of your night dress, and the sight is so dazzling that he doesn’t blink as he watches you. He can’t wait to have you all bare for him—to see you in your full glory, your flesh bouncing and under his command. His cock leaks at that thought and his animalistic instincts take a hold of him, fucking you faster with his fingers until your whole body shakes—just like he wanted, and until your whole body comes for him. 

The fountain of your pleasure soaks you first before it soaks him, and Jungkook thinks it’s exactly what you deserved. You yelp, but the sound of horror soon turns into a sound of elation as you begin to sputter into a fit of giggles. One he consumes by kissing you nastily, all tongues and spit, while he massages your clit, taking you to the finish line until you can’t anymore. 

“Oh, Jungkook,” you moan into his mouth, barely able to kiss him back as the daze and dizziness of your orgasm seizes you, and Jungkook hums in response, knowing—knowing all about how you feel. 

© 2025 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

WIP masterlist | READ full chapter

[ghoulphile]

janey's dad | c.h./the ghoul | part 01

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 3.7k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; age gap, hair pulling, teasing, making out, mutual pining, lipstick kink, stockings, frottage, porn w/ feelings, porn w/ plot, mild angst w/ happy ending, divorced!coop, babysitter!reader, pre-war/bomb ➥ summary | “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --” ➥ notes | i'm so sorry this is later than it should be. i am unfortunately a corporate slave and this fic just did not want to cooperate 🫠 there are a lot more things planned and this fic is turning into a bit of a beast (20+ pages and counting rip lmao) so i've decided to split it into two parts to make it more manageable for myself mostly un-beta'd atm a special thanks to @corinthianism for all her lovely help ❤️!!

feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | masterlist

Divorce is hard, but being a divorcé is downright hellish.

One of the ugliest things in the world, if Cooper Howard has any say. At least when he was a Marine, they told him where to point his gun, where to aim; nameless threats vanishing with a quick squeeze of the trigger.

Here, these ‘enemies’ aren’t enemies — not really.

It’d be easier if they were.

Worse still, they have names he holds as dearly as his own. There’s Barb, whip smart and always so clever. Then Janey, the light of his life and so sweet his teeth ache.

Once upon a time, life was sweeter than apple pie on Sundays.

Then came the separation.

Afterwards, he finds it hard to look at what’s left of his family without losing breath like a horse kick to the chest. Their absence rips open a hole inside him ten miles wide, its edges jagged and wrong.

And when he can’t take the silence anymore, fingers of malt liquor help dull the ache, though it’ll never be enough to mend what’s broken.

See, war’s something he understands.

But these domestic battlefields where he sits across from his ex-wife while lawyers barter this weekend and that holiday?

How he struggles to meet his daughter’s eye every time she asks if he’s coming home?

When Barb keeps the house and the money while he keeps the scrapbooks and the dog?

He doesn’t — can't — refuses to comprehend.

Because in what world can you reconcile looking down the barrel of a smoking gun only to find the woman you love staring back, finger on the trigger? Left out to hang as Vault-Tec orchestrates his downfall.

The true depth of their involvement is unknown, but it’s no coincidence his bank accounts dried up faster than the Mojave in June. The ink still wet when the media snapped up the story of his failed marriage.

Thus, his reputation (rather what’s left of it) unraveled faster than a spool of thread.

Knocked on his ass and kept there by a boot heel crushing his windpipe. Whose? He hasn’t got a fucking clue.

But whoever they are, they’re making sure he stays a washed up nobody who struggles to land a call back, much less pay his monthly alimony on time.

See what we can do? You were America’s favorite gunslinger - now look at you. Mind your place.

Hell, millions used to scream his name.

Nowadays people whisper it behind their hands like a dirty secret, “Oh, did you hear? Cooper Howard…” as they dissect pieces of his life into bite-sized Before’s and After’s. “Hah! Serves him right. Y’know, I never liked him much.”

While he grits his teeth and swallows his bitterness with a smile, he hates how he can’t protect Janey from snide reporters and nosy strangers. Juggling actor-father-divorcé with fumbling hands.

It’s only been six months; a heartbeat, a lifetime, and already he’s scraped thin like butter over too much bread.

Something’s gotta give.

After all, he’s only one man.

But just when it's bleakest, the clouds part.

A young woman moves in next door, the first bright thing that’s come his way in a long, long while.

At first, he kept his distance.

Exchanged vague hello’s and how-are-you’s. Then Janey took a shine; always so friendly and eager to talk about her latest books.

Any reservations he might’ve had died when he saw how enamored you are with her.

Only made sense that over time small pleasantries turned into playdates. Then those playdates turned into sleepovers.

Before long, you’re watching her when a gig runs late.

Rustling up grub and tucking her into bed more often than not these days. And when he slinks in through the door, knees aching and stripped to the bone, there you are with a shy smile and a warm meal.

So what if he takes himself in hand after you leave, stroking his cock to the thought of you down on your knees in that pretty little sundress?

Imagines the wide stretch of your ruby lips as you swallow him down, lipstick smeared an awful mess?

Cums hard to the fantasy of your teary eyes and hiccupy breaths as you choke?

What you don’t know can’t hurt you.

After all, he’s a gentleman... he promises to keep his hands to himself.

“All right, Sugar Bomb, it’s bedtime.”

Bundled in navy bedding up to her nose, Janey’s wide brown eyes peer up at you from beneath a riot of frizzy curls. Roosevelt, her ever faithful companion, plasters himself to her side. The tip of his tail swishes once, twice before falling limp.

“Ah, c’mon guys. Don’t look at me like that.” You sigh with a fond shake of the head, hip popping out to rest against the doorframe. “I don’t make the rules, I just follow ‘em.”

A muffled response sounds from the lump of little girl, “Nmfhm.”

Squinting, you dip your head and tap the side of your ear, "Pardon?"

“Mnhfmmmm.”

“Ye—eah… Didn’t catch that, Mumbler.”

Janey tugs down the blanket, her mouth pursed in a moue of displeasure. “I said,” she crosses her arms with a huff, “not until Dad gets home.”

Shit.

“M’sorry, baby. He’s still gonna be a while.” Walking across the room, you stop beside the bed and motion your hand back and forth. “Scooch over.”

Gangly limbs fumble as Janey wiggles into the middle of the mattress, her feet tangling in the blankets. Roosevelt takes a toe to the nose during the transition, but flops across her knees all the same.

Together they settle with a bounce of springs.

In the open space, you slide in.

The bed sinks under your weight, a plume of rich cologne tickling your nose; mint-spiced citrus. Cooper. Your stomach swoops, and your heart trips.

“I didn’t see him at breakfast — or lunch!” A pout tugs at her mouth. “Not even dinner. I gotta go home tomorrow. So when am I gonna see him?”

“Oh, bug.” You sigh, propping yourself up on your elbow. “Your dad’s been real busy at work. And I know that’s been hard for you, but I promise to make sure he’s here for breakfast tomorrow.”

“D’you mean it?” Her cold nose digs into your skin. “Me and Roosevelt miss him so much.”

Cuddled into your chest, Janey tosses an arm around your back. Her fuzzy head rests in the crook of your arm, springy curls tickling your skin.

You squeeze her tight and trace your fingertips over her forehead.

“I can do you one better,�� you say, bopping the tip of her nose just to hear her giggle - a soft sound that sits warm and gooey in your chest. “I pinkie-promise.”

Her finger loops around yours, so small and fragile.

“I’ll even make pancakes. How’s that sound for a promise?”

“Oh, yes, please! I think Dad will like that,” a wide yawn cuts her off mid-sentence. “He’s sad, but he always smiles when you make food.”

Janey’s words — unexpected as they are sudden — cut so deep it steals the breath from your lungs. You flounder, your heart a throbbing bruise in your chest.

“... Then pancakes it is.”

As if nothing happened at all, she asks, “Do I have to go to bed now?”

“Afraid so, little miss.” Your responding chuckle sounds stilted even to your own ears. “Just you wait. When you wake up, Dad’ll be home.”

“Fi—ine, but I want extra pancakes.” Janey pauses, considers you with narrow eyes, then adds, “With syrup!”

“Whatever you want,” you say with an indulgent smile. “Now... time to sleep. It’s really past your bedtime.”

She gives you one last squeeze then lets you tuck her in nice and tight, blankets pulled up to her chin. You drop a kiss on her forehead while Roosevelt re-settles on the pillow beside her after a quick scratch behind the ears. 

Everything in order, you turn to go only for a little hand to stop you.

“Yes?” you reply, glancing at her from over your shoulder.

“... can you put on one of Dad's movies?”

The tremble in her voice - like she’s about to get scolded - breaks your heart clean down the middle. Stitching on a soft smile, you nod and walk to the darkened TV set in the room's corner.

After fiddling with the nobs, static flashes to life.

“The Man from Deadhorse okay?”

The holotape sliding into the track swallows the sound of her tiny “Yeah.” Starting up with a whirl of machinery, the second-hand Radiation King flickers to life in black-and-white.

A vast plain and bright sky stretches across the screen.

Then Sugarfoot creeps into frame with the one and only Cooper Howard sitting astride the noble steed. The sheriff’s badge on his chest glints in the sun.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, already half-way to sleep.

“Anything for you, baby. Sleep tight.”

Flicking off the lights, you leave the door cracked. Walk away pretending like hearing her whisper goodnight to the TV doesn’t lance through you like lightning.

The desire to whisk her into your arms and soothe all of her ails is almost impossible to ignore.

Somehow, you distract yourself by wiping up the table, then by fixing a plate of dinner for whenever Cooper rolls in. Though all the while, how brokenhearted Janey sounded sits in the back of your mind like a leaden weight.

When Cooper stumbles into the living room, it’s half past midnight.

You’d gotten up to greet him, curled as you were in an armchair reading, when something about the stern line of his mouth gave you pause.

Where the usual lighthearted greetings lingered, a pensive stillness trembled to life.

Tension crackles through the air; a held breath of agitation. By the faraway gaze and defeated slump of his broad shoulders, it’s plain to see the night didn’t go as intended. And no matter how much you long to soothe, you can’t.

After all, he’s not yours to touch.

Instead, you offer a sympathetic smile and ask, “Rough night, huh?”

Cooper ignores the prompt, squeezing past with a brief touch to your elbow as he makes a beeline for the dry bar. The heat of his body is there and gone in a flash, his cologne teasing your senses. He says, “Thought you’d be asleep by now.”

Your heart flutters in your throat. “Ah,” you lick your lips, “well, I was going to finish my chapter first.”

Humming, he turns his back to you and fiddles with high balls and decanters. The tink of crystal glassware fills the air as he speculates which alcohol goes best with his mood. 

“Thanks again for watching Janey.” He nods in approval and fixes his whiskey neat. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, Mr. Howard.” You shrug. “She’s a sweetheart.”

He shoots you a dry look from over his shoulder, stirring the dark amber of his drink with a forefinger. When he sucks his skin clean with a soft pop - a flash of a pink tongue taunting, teasing - your stomach swoops.

God, I wonder what else his mouth can do.

Flustered, you clear your throat and stare at a spot on the wall.

“How many times do I gotta tell you to call me Coop?” he says, digging through some drawers until he finds what he’s searching for: a lighter. “It must be a million and one by now.”

Flint sparks as flames jump, eating away at the end of a cigarette. Cooper inhales in short little puffs, pulling on the filter. His cheeks hollow, the shadows enhancing the cut of his jaw before the tip catches alight.

“Well,” he exhales, his gaze catching yours through a plume of smoke as he turns, brow raised. “Anything to say for yourself?”

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” you chuckle.

The corner of his mouth lifts in a lopsided smirk. “I’ll drink to that.” He knocks back the last finger of whiskey before refilling with gin.

Springs groan in protest when he drops to the couch, settling in with an outstretched arm and wide spread thighs.

“It’s been a long fucking day,” he rasps.

Gulping, you try to ignore the space at his feet.

The stirrings of desire provoked by the urge to sink to your knees and fill it with your body, to ease tension from those shoulders with your hands, your mouth, your cunt — if he’d let you.

“You heading home?” Nursing the fresh drink, he swallows a mouthful, only to hiss low through his teeth at the chemical burn. His throat bobs, framed by the open collar of his shirt. “Whew! Goddamn, that’s strong.”

“No, I can stay for a while.” A bird on a wire, you perch on the cushion beside him. “Got nothing else planned for tonight, anyhow.”

Cooper snorts. “I doubt that very much. A sweet young thing like you,” he motions towards you with his glass, “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of fellas calling, especially on a Friday night. Don’t waste your time with me.”

“That’s not why I--” you stop yourself short.

Save for the bustling LA avenue right outside the complex, the apartment itself is stone silent for several heartbeats. Words hover on the back of your tongue, catching in the bend of your throat molasses thick.

Meanwhile, Cooper continues to swirl the alcohol in his glass.

Maybe in a different life, you wouldn’t hesitate to express yourself.

But here — with him — you shouldn’t.

Christ sake, he’s a grieving divorcé, you chastise yourself. The last thing he needs is me trying to lay one on him.

When you speak, his name glides off your lips for the first time, clementine sweet, “... Cooper, I’m not wasting my time. I enjoy spending it with Janey - and you.”

“Well,” he husks, hooded eyes dragging down your visage in a slow once-over, “you’re the first one in a long while to feel that way, sweetheart.”

Dripping like honey whiskey from Cooper’s lips, the simple phrase burns its way down-down-down until it blooms like liquid fire in your belly. Warms you all the way to your toes as your heart pounds against your ribcage.

“I mean it.” Your knuckles twist in the pleats of your sundress, bolts of blue fabric bunched around your knees. “Everything I do is because I want to.”

The flash of red nails plucking at the sheer nylon of your stockings snaps up his attention, his gaze snagging - staying as he chases the curve of your exposed leg, hungry.

He wets his lips, and tenses his jaw when he spots how the soft fat of your thigh dimples in because of your garter. “That’s awful sweet of you to say.”

You tremble beneath the intensity of his attention.

Greedy.

Little kisses of awareness spark bright along the path his eyes carve like the caress of shy fingertips.

However, before you’re able to confront him about his interest, the heat leaches from his expression, grows mute and cold like a muzzled dog. 

Readjusting the waistband of his slacks with a tug, he says, “I know you got better things to do than keep an old man company.”

Irritation sparks. “Cooper--”

“If this is about paying you for tonight,” his lips quirk into a sheepish smile, “I won’t be able to yet.” He scrubs a hand through the stubble peppered along his jaw. “The gig tonight didn’t… Well, it doesn’t matter.”

“No, that’s not what I --”

He plows on, “Anyway, the one I’ve got tomorrow should be enough. How about I stop by around seven o’clock? I’ll treat you to dinner as an apology.”

Frustration bubbles beneath the surface of your skin, antagonism thrumming through your veins. Your hands shake almost as much as your voice. “Cooper!”

“I… uh, yes?” He blinks.

Your brows furrow. “You don’t get it,” you say. “I mean, you truly don’t know?”

“I’m afraid there’s a lot I don’t get. You’re gonna have to be more particular.”

Maybe not said in so many words (or at all) but actions speak far louder.

Otherwise, why else would you spend most of your time in his apartment, fill every spare moment with Janey, and reserve evenings for his company?

Hell, you even cook and clean!

Almost scream your interest from the rooftops, and it’s obvious to everyone but him, it seems.

Here you are thinking he was preserving your dignity whenever he ignored a passing comment or lingering touch when, in fact, he’d been oblivious to their existence to begin with.

How a man can be so obtuse when you’re throwing yourself at him is beyond you.

If he wasn’t so captivating…

“Are you kidding me,” you ask, mindful of your tone, “how could you not know?” You throw your hands in the air. “I’ve been — for months!”

“Well, I don’t have a goddamn clue what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he snarks, setting his glass on the table. “Care to enlighten me?”

Fine. If that’s how he wants to play, let’s play.

When he moves to take another drag from his cigarette, you strike, fingers locking around his wrist mid-lift. And although his glassy eyes narrow, he keeps his hand still.

Waiting to see what you'll do.

Tucking your knee under you for balance, you bend forward and watch his face from beneath your lashes. When your lips wrap around the filter, a dark hunger bleeds into his expression, his pulse a steady thud against the pad of your thumb.

Inhaling, the cherry lights up, a flashbang in the dim overhead light.

Cooper’s breath hitches, and then you’re pulling away with a lungful of smoke; the taste of ash heavy on your tongue.

He tracks your movements with greed, gaze flicking for the briefest of moments past your chin before refocusing on the ring of red lipstick staining white paper.

“If you wanted one,” he chokes, gripping the back of the couch with white knuckles, “all you had to do was ask.”

With a coquettish grin, you exhale to the side and stare at him with hooded eyes. “Is that so?” Plucking the cigarette out of his limp hold, you stub it out in the ashtray. “What if I wanted to ask for something else, Mr. Howard?”

The next moment finds you deposited in his lap, his hands shooting out to grab at your waist only to freeze before they make contact.

“Woah! I--”

“Tell me something.”

Your lips caress the shell of his ear, sharing breath - sharing space as you plaster yourself to his front, arms looped over his shoulders. He jolts, body trembling with restraint.

“Would you give me what I wanted if I said please?”

The distance between you snaps taut with anticipation. “C-Coop,” he stutters. “Call me Coop.”

You hum. “Well, Coop, would you?”

“That depends almost entirely on what you’re asking for, sweetheart.”

Red nails skate along the back of his neck, play in the downy soft hair of his nape just to feel him shiver. And then you’re leaning back with your hands braced on his knees, your legs falling open in invitation.

The hem of your dress bunches around your waist, exposing the soft cotton of your underwear, and the darkened patch of slick soaking through.

“I think you know exactly what I want,” you purr. “Because you want it too. Don’t you?”

He bites down on a strangled moan when your hips arch forward, rocking the soft plush of your ass against the heavy weight of his thickening cock. The zipper digs into your skin as he tents the front of his slacks.

Mouth dropping open, his tongue flicks out to wet his lips - a slick circle of temptation that makes you clench. “I, uh, I don’t…”

Reaching between your splayed thighs, you hook a finger beneath your panties and pull the fabric aside. He jerks forward, exhaling hard at the flash of your soaked cunt and twitching clit.

“C’mon, be honest.”

With a sigh, you gather your arousal on the tips of your fingers.

Cooper’s gaze is a heavy weight pinning you in place as you pretend it’s him dragging his knuckles over the top of your mond. Him dragging calloused fingers up along sticky folds to play with your sensitive clit, ripping soft little mewls from your lips.

“Can’t you see what you do to me, Coop?” you say, pulling your hand away to show the webs of slick stretching between your fingers. “I’m so wet. Please, I’ve wanted you for so long…”

His hips rock against your ass in an aborted thrust. “Shit - shit!” Eyes slamming shut, he grits his teeth and digs his fingers into your sides hard enough to bruise. “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --”

“Why not?” Your hand brushes over his groin. “I can feel how hard you are.”

“It isn’t right, that’s why.” He stutters, stumbles over his words, “Besides, Janey…”

“I can be quiet,” you say, lips trembling. “I promise.”

“Goddamnit, you can’t say things like that and expect me not to --” Cutting himself off, strong fingers seize your chin and tilt until you’re met with Cooper’s severe expression, his scorching gaze. “You need to tell me now: are you sure this is what you want?”

There’s no hesitation, “Yes.”

In what world would you refuse?

The words barely pass your lips before Cooper’s bowing his dark head, mouth ravenous as it captures yours in a slick glide of bruising lips and hungry tongues.

He steals your breath, licks into your mouth and traces along the sensitive inside of your lip.

Pulse jump starting, your toes curl over the edge of the cushion and your thighs squeeze the barrel of his chest, kneecaps digging into his ribs.

“Oh,” a moan punches itself out of your throat - a breathy little thing swallowed up by his lips. “That’s--”

Anticipation swells, simmers between you like a band before it snaps. A strong forearm locks around your waist, tugging you into the cradle of his chest until you’re plastered from stem to stern.

Too hungry for tenderness as his free hand slips up to cup the back of your head, fingers catching in the briar of your hair and tugging at the roots.

You claw at his shoulders while sparks of pain ricochet down your neck, sufficing into a prickly flush that heats your blood. “Hnn, Cooper,” you gasp.

He murmurs your name through languid flicks of his tongue and sharp little nips of skin that leave your mouth tender and swollen. When he pulls away to survey his handiwork, his eyes are dark. Fathomless.

"I never thought I'd get the chance to kiss you like this," he says, wicking his thumb over the pillow of your bottom lip. "You taste as good as I imagined."

Dragging your nails across his scalp, you plead, “No more teasing - I can't take it.”

"Well," he grunts, fingers twisting up in your dress, “If that’s how you feel, then you better put those hips to good use and work for it, sweetheart."

part 2 dropping soon

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 38 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley works out plans for an anniversary trip, only stopping to enjoy some Halloween candy and a little milk. Everything is wonderful at home, but when you're at work, you notice Indigo in closer proximity that you'd prefer.

Warnings: Angst, adult language, DILF Roo, pregnancy, smut, lactation kink

Length: 3200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Bradley woke up on Sunday to his phone telling him that it was November. The month of his wedding anniversary. Almost two years married to you. He smiled as you continued to sleep soundly, sprawled halfway on top of him, drooling on his shoulder. This is how he wanted to wake up every day for the rest of his life.

Rose hadn't made a peep yet, and he wanted to let you sleep as long as possible after trick-or-treating last evening. The three, well really four, of you had traipsed all over the neighborhood, collecting candy which Bradley had eaten half of while rubbing your feet last night. His stomach was currently gurgling softly, but he wasn't going to move an inch until one of his girls woke up.

In the meantime, he used his free hand to continue his search for the perfect anniversary trip on his phone. He soon had it narrowed down to two options, but he wanted you to pick. He'd ask you when you woke up. He was just ordering a case of non-alcoholic pink champagne and some hot sauce when he felt your arm tighten around his waist.

"Roo," you moaned, arching your back before looking up at him. "What time is it?"

"Almost eight," he whispered, kissing the tip of your nose as you snuggled against him again. He tossed his phone aside in favor of letting his hand rest on your bump, desperate to feel his younger daughter.

"Rose isn't up yet?" you murmured, yawning.

"Not yet," he confirmed as you pulled up his old shirt you fell asleep in, giving him better access to your belly. "Is Nugget Part Deux moving around?"

You hummed softly as he caressed your skin, tracing a line down to your dainty rooster tattoo. "She's a little squirmy. She'll wake up more once I start moving." You yawned again. "Halloween must have wiped Rose out. She had a big night. But my boobs are starting to ache."

Bradley watched you continue to pull the shirt up over your body until your breasts were on full display. He bit his lip, whimpering softly at the sight of your milk beading on your nipple. "There was a question I wanted to ask you, but suddenly I can no longer think straight, Sweetheart," he panted.

You reached for his hand, guiding it up to your heavy breasts, eyes closing as his fingers met your milk. "Do you want to take the edge off for me?"

Bradley's cock was at attention, raring to go as he nodded. Dizzy with need, he watched you pull the shirt off and toss it to the floor before propping yourself on your elbows. "Jesus, fuck. I've never seen anything so perfect in my life."

You giggled, alerting him to the fact that he'd spoken out loud. "Come on, Daddy. Help me out here."

Milk dribbled down to the underside of your tit, and Bradley dragged his tongue through it. You made a delicious little sound as he wrapped his lips around your nipple and sucked. Heaven. It tasted like heaven on his tongue. He was leaning on his hand which was planted next to your hip, and his cock rested on your thigh. You didn't stop him when he pressed his hips forward.

"Roo," you whined, running your fingers through his hair, and then gripping him at the roots when he sucked harder. "Oh!" You held him in place as he lapped up his reward. That's what this was. This was his personal treat for getting you pregnant again. A seemingly endless supply of breastmilk to enjoy. He knew it was for the babies, but you knew he loved it, too.

"God," he grunted, switching sides, rubbing his cock on your leg. "I'm fucking obsessed." His voice was muffled as he took your perfectly pert nipple in his mouth. You were tugging on his hair and simultaneously holding him closer as he tried to make sure he didn't suck you dry. But it was so hard to stop, especially when his balls tightened up.

He swallowed and released your breast, dragging his lips to yours. "I'm so fucking close, and you barely even touched me." You laughed against his kisses. "I'm not even fucking kidding." Bradley knew he was in no position to give you an orgasm until he got his out of the way, and he was almost shaking. "Can I give you a pretty creampie?" he begged.

You nodded, wrapping your hand around his cock which was grinding against your hip. "It's not like I'm not already pregnant."

"Fuck," he groaned, letting you guide him to your pussy. Bradley thrust deep as you settled against your pillow, spreading your legs further for him. You looked the part of the perfect woman, belly already swollen from how he couldn't stop fucking you full of his cum, coaxing him closer with your smile.

He came hard by the fifth thrust, hands braced on either side of your head as he panted your name, his hips fucking his cum deeper as he bucked against you. When you sweetly pushed his hair back from his forehead, everything in the whole world made sense to him.

"Oh, I know what I was going to ask you, Baby Girl."

You wrapped your legs around his hips. "Hmm?"

"Mountains or lake?"

"What?" you whispered as Bradley sat back to observe the mess he made.

"For our anniversary," he rasped. "I'm planning our trip. I just need you to answer one question, and I'll take care of the rest. Mountains or lake?" The first drop of his cum slid down to your asshole, and Bradley's brain shut down again as he stared. "Beautiful," he murmured, rubbing his mess back up to your clit.

He worked his fingers, listening to you babble about your anniversary. He let his body hover above yours, being none too gentle with his fingers when he realized that's what you needed at the moment. Your lips parted, head tipping back into the pillow, gasping until your voice was hoarse. As you eventually came around his fingers, you screamed the word, "Mountains!"

"That's all I needed to know," Bradley whispered, kissing your neck as Rose started crying in her nursery. "I'll get cleaned up and play with Rosie until you're ready to feed her. Take your time."

You waved your hand in the air, nodding wordlessly as Bradley kissed your forehead and climbed out of bed with a smile on his face.

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

The weekend had been luxurious. There was no other way to describe it. Sex and Halloween candy and Bradley cooking dinner. A beach walk with Rose and Tramp. A FaceTime call with your parents. It was perfect. You slept so soundly on Sunday night, Bradley had to wake you as your alarm blared for work on Monday morning.

"Oh, God," you groaned, reaching for your glasses while the baby kicked and Rose fussed down the hallway. You almost wet yourself on the way to the bathroom while Bradley went to hold Rose until you were ready for her. Your belly was tender, and you couldn't control your bladder. It was amazing Bradley couldn't seem to get enough of you, but you believed him. Because he'd been showing you.

Once you got yourself mostly ready for the day, you hustled to the nursery to find your husband holding your daughter. Bradley was wearing his gray sweatpants, and his hair was an absolute mess. His voice was still a little raspy from sleep as he snuggled Rose to his chest and bounced her around the room while she whined.

"Mommy's coming, Nugget. Relax. I miss her, too, but she'll be here in a minute." When you walked in, Bradley bounced her over to the chair so you could feed her. "Here's Mommy." He kissed her fuzzy head of hair before handing her over.

When you sat back in the chair, Bradley groaned, easing himself down to the floor at your feet. "What are you doing?" you asked, his arm snaking around your calf as Rose latched onto you to eat.

He kissed your bare leg; your uniform was the last thing you needed before you were ready for work. "Just want to sit here with you for a minute." 

He went quiet with his cheek pressed to the side of your knee, and occasionally you ran your fingers through his hair. "I don't want to go to work," he mumbled. "This weekend was so nice."

"It was perfect," you agreed. "But your students need you there to instruct them."

Bradley shook his head, his mustache rough on your skin. "I don't know if I'm even doing a good job, Sweetheart. I don't think I am."

Oh, you hated Indigo. Hated the very thought of her. You hated that she wanted to sleep with Bradley. You hated that she made your husband feel this way. You hated that she was still lurking around North Island.

You held Rose to your chest and reached down to take Bradley's chin in your palm. His brown eyes were vulnerable. "You're a Top Gun pilot, Bradley. You're the best. Nobody else is going to be able to train younger pilots any better than you can. Now go make me breakfast and put your uniform on."

With another groan, Bradley stood, but he looked a little happier. "Whatever you say, Baby Girl," he whispered, kissing your forehead.

Now, you had your own conundrum to deal with. Normal looking yet uncomfortable uniform? Or comfy maternity tent? There was an obvious answer. You knew what it was. Your body was crying out for it. The tent was calling your name. But you couldn't. You just couldn't do it. Squeezing into your pants was a chore. So was tucking in your shirt. But you did it.

"I guess I'll just stand all day," you muttered to yourself as you ate the avocado toast and hot sauce Bradley left on the counter while he got Rose dressed. The waistband of the pants bit into your side when you tried to bend. This was probably the last day without the tent.

Somehow you managed to get into the passenger seat, and Bradley buckled you with extra care. "I'll drop Rose at the nursery," he said while he drove. "You can go ahead to your lab." He wanted an excuse to make this weekend last a little longer, so you let him leave you off at the door.

"I love you, Roo," you promised. "Love you, Rose," you told your daughter as she tried to chew on her foot. As soon as they pulled away to park, you saw Cam and Maria heading your way, so you waited.

"Oh my god, you're huge now," Cam gasped. "I haven't seen you in like a week, and you're enormous."

Maria shoved him as he reached out to touch your belly. "She is not!"

"Damn," he whispered. "What are you due? January?"

"April first!" you whined miserably, tipping your head back. "I know I'm huge."

"You aren't!" Maria argued. "You look adorable!"

"Your tits look phenomenal," Cam added, and you glared at him until he held the door open for you. "What? Lieutenant Commander Mustache is all over that shit. I just know it."

"Okay, you're probably right about that," Maria said.

Your entire body warmed as your friends reminded you of what you should have never forgotten. They didn't know about Indigo, and now wasn't the time to have a discussion.

"Let's grab lunch one day this week," Cam said as the three of you rode up the elevator.

"Sounds good," you promised, waving goodbye to them when you turned right to head to your office. But when your door came into view, you froze. Even from behind, you knew it was her, pacing back and forth like she was waiting for you.

This was insane. You had nothing to be afraid of. She couldn't hurt you. Bradley didn't want her. She'd been grounded. But you turned on your heel and rushed to your lab instead.

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

Bradley had been having a wonderful day. He felt good about his class, and he got to see you at lunch. When you had to pop the button on your pants in order to sit comfortably, he threatened to hide your uniform if you didn't wear maternity khakis tomorrow. But other than that, it was smooth sailing. Until the end of the day when he stopped in the deserted rec room for some stale coffee. 

With his cup in hand, Bradley walked past the couches just as the door swung open. Indigo strolled in like she was on a mission, and his stomach lurched as his steps came to a stop.

"Can I help you?" he asked. A slightly terrifying little smile appeared on her lips.

"I don't know, can you?" she asked, voice dripping with innocence. "Or are you still too scared to be alone with me?"

Truthfully, he kind of was, but he'd never admit that. Besides, you had no reason to doubt him now, so he simply stood there and sipped his coffee before clearing his throat. "Lieutenant Jeffries, it's not my responsibility to help you find ways to entertain yourself while you're grounded," he told her smoothly, and her bright blue eyes narrowed. 

"I'll just sit in here for the rest of the afternoon. Lieutenants Trace and Seresin kicked me out earlier, claiming I shouldn't have access to the aviators' rec room if I'm not currently flying." Bradley had to fight hard not to laugh, but she kept going. "But both of their jets are in the air now, so nobody is going to stop me."

"Maybe you should listen to what your superior officers tell you," Bradley said, breezing past her toward the door.

Her sharp laughter cut into him. "Maybe you'll heed your own words when Maverick gets back and immediately ends my grounding."

Bradley hated how it always felt like she was gaining the upper hand. "Maybe you should call him Captain Mitchell," he tossed over his shoulder. "Call signs are for aviators to use, Lieutenant Jeffries."

The sound of disgust she made boosted his mood as he plowed through the door. He didn't want to linger in her presence for longer than was absolutely necessary. His quiet office was calling his name anyway. So was the mound of paperwork he needed to complete.

The hallways in his building were nearly deserted, so it came as a surprise when you were waiting by his door. "Sweetheart," he called out, jogging as quickly as he could with his coffee. He'd just been with you less than three hours ago. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you promised, tilting your perfect face up to look at him. "You missed me earlier this morning, and now I was missing you."

Bradley unlocked his door and led you inside. He spent the last forty-five minutes of his work day with you snuggled against him on his lap. His lips occasionally brushed your hair while he got through his paperwork with your arms wrapped around him.

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

You bumped into Indigo randomly all week long. With nothing better to do, it seemed as though she made it her new mission to follow you around base more often than not. You'd taken to walking with Cat when you could, and one day Jake accompanied you to lunch. Honestly, you were a little surprised Indigo hadn't simply moved on to another hot officer older than her. Jake would have been a good candidate, which would have been hilarious. Cat would shred Indigo to bits without a second thought.

Cat was busy conducting her aircraft investigation and collecting data from Indigo's Super Hornet which left you conveniently in the lab most of the time. But when Bickel asked you to meet with a mechanic to talk about a new installation technique for a communications component, you found yourself in the busy hangar in your maternity tent.

If the mechanic thought you looked ridiculous, he didn't say a word about it. You'd decided that being comfortable was better than having marks on your sides from your regular pants when you got undressed after work. Now you had no problem breezing through your conversation and leaving the engine parts in the very capable hands of the Top Gun mechanic crew.

You headed back out onto the tarmac, glancing at the tower and Bradley's building. The November sun was glorious. It was hard to miss the east coast on a day like this when the weather in San Diego was pure perfection. But pausing to close your eyes and turn your face to the sky was a mistake.

"Hello, Lieutenant Commander." That voice gave you a chill before you even opened your eyes to see Indigo heading your way. Her face was expressionless, but her tone was cold as she stomped to a stop in front of you. "I would say it's nice to see you, but that would be a lie."

You pressed your lips together, swallowing hard as her blue eyes flashed with something that made your skin crawl. She was so beautiful and so angry, and you hated her so much. "For someone who doesn't want to see me, you sure have been following me around a lot this week," you bit back before considering your words.

"Don't flatter yourself," she replied smoothly. "The last thing I want to look at is your ridiculous uniform."

You loathed her. But now you could translate her words to their true meaning. She was devastatingly jealous of you. A smile curled along your lips as you cradled your belly. Goading her wasn't your best move, but you couldn't stop yourself. "I think I'll just go hang out in the aviators' rec room with my husband and the others. Isn't it funny that I've never piloted an aircraft, but I've also never been kicked out of their lounge?"

She ground her teeth together as you tried not to smile. When Jake told you what he and Nat had done, you'd been in stitches.

"I know you think you're hot shit around here," she snarled, prompting you to take a step back. And that's when she pounced. "But you don't have the power to ground me indefinitely."

"Actually, I do," you replied loudly, fingers curling into fists. "Your aircraft is under my jurisdiction. I'm in charge of the quality of the comms network and components. I am in control of things no matter how much you want to be. And the same goes for my husband."

You were immediately met with silence as her cheeks burned red, clashing with the color of her eyes. You couldn't remember the last time someone looked like they wanted to hit you. As long as she went for your face and not your belly, you'd welcome it. Anything to get her the fuck away from you and your friends and your family.

"As soon as Maverick comes back, you'll be history," she threatened, bumping your shoulder as she stormed away.

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

Roo loves milk with his candy. And Indigo has a lot of nerve talking to BG that way. Mav is practically family! Maybe I'll let Indigo find out exactly what happens when Mav gets back.

PART 39

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[written-and-readen]

The Odd Are Slim But Never Zero Part 3

Moze, Phainon, Sampo x fem!reader

Part 1 (Dan Heng, Luka, Blade), Part 2 (Jing Yuan, Sunday, Gallagher)

Summary: Someone walks in on you

Warnings: nsfw (18+), penetrative sex (Moze), cumming inside, semi-public (Moze, Phainon, Sampo), marking (Sampo), getting caught

a/n: With Amphoreus comes more men to write for. I would've posted this much later if it hadn't come out. Lord help me when Anaxa shows up.

Moze

You thought Moze was supposed to be stealthy. Him coming out of invisibility scares you on the daily. Him fucking you in a random Yaoqing alley in broad daylight is a hard contradiction to that.

Your back is pinned against a wall as his cock pistons in and out of your folds. Your pants and underwear have been long discarded on a nearby crate. His gloved hand is wrapped around your thigh to part your legs, giving it a squeeze occasionally. Not only is he more bold by making a move on you out here, but he’s tougher than usual. Your pussy clenches, trying to get a grip just like you are. You don’t want to admit that some of the best sex you’ve had happened in an alley, but that may be the case because you also really don’t want him to stop.

“Are you okay?” You say as you fight back a flood of moans unsuccessfully. Something must be up to bring about this.

“Failed again,” He growls in your ear. He must be talking about another one of his attempts to assassinate Feixiao. The Shadow Guard keeps trying despite not being successful yet, but it’s only natural he’d be frustrated over it once in a while. Maybe he just wants to feel like he’s doing a good job.

“Moze!” You whine when he hits a particularly sweet spot in your pussy, a reminder of how good of a job he’s currently doing. It’s embarrassing how quiet he is while you can barely keep your noises from spilling into his ears. You try to muffle them in his shoulder as your legs quiver beneath you.

“Where do you think he went?” A familiar woman’s voice comes from nearby. A mere glance in its direction leads your eyes to connect with Feixiao’s piercing blue ones. It’s only a moment before you’re averting your gaze, face now burning. Did she recognize you in those few seconds? Oh, who are you kidding? If she didn’t, she’d at least recognize her own assassin.

You’re quickly reminded of the position you’re in with another swift thrust of Moze’s hips. You wonder if he noticed the general, but he seems pretty unphased. With his keen senses, it’s more believable that he’s just acting like he didn’t notice. You’ll think it over later sometime when you’re not being railed against a wall. For now, you just let the impending orgasm ripple through your body as Moze fills you up with the product of his own.

“You okay?” Moze helps steady you after the fact, hands on your waist.

“Yeah. You should probably get back to Feixiao,” You reply, still wondering about that brief moment of eye contact.

“It’s fine,” Moze replies. Once you’re dressed again, he picks you up bridal style so you don’t have to stand on unsteady legs. “She’ll understand me taking care of you after that. I think she could tell how much it was for you.”

Shit. You hide your flushed face in Moze’s chest. It’s going to be a while before you want to face the general again.

Phainon

You wish you could say the goosebumps on your skin were due to the cool water of the bath, but it’s definitely a result of a certain Chrysos Heir’s gaze. You can practically feel how Phainon’s blue irises trail across your body as you sit in his lap. The water only just comes up to your hips, leaving plenty of you for him to admire.

You’ve only seen each other naked a few times before and just briefly, so you can’t say you don’t feel the same. His muscular frame draws your eyes as well, slowly but surely leading them downward until you hit the water’s surface.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?” You hope switching the subject will take your mind off the tension. “I thought this bath was only for the Chrysos Heirs.”

“Well, you’re the guest of a Chrysos Heir. I’m sure that’s enough.” It seems like a weak argument to you, but his hands slowly running up your sides has you gasping instead of protesting. Previously resting on your thighs under the surface of the bath, his hands are still cool as they roam your skin, leaving water droplets in their wake.

“Phainon…” He’s just moments away from reaching your breasts but stops upon hearing you murmur his name.

"Is something wrong? Do you want me to stop?" His eyes meet yours as his motions cease. You pause and find yourself shaking your head.

"It's just...new." You avert your gaze, but a hand on your jaw brings you right back to Phainon.

"I'll take it slow, okay?" The way his eyes soften reveals the truth behind his words.

"Okay." You nod before he brings you into a kiss.

The warmth of his lips moving against yours has you melting into him. The water ripples as you lean closer. Your arms go to rest on his shoulders, hands brushing through the snow white hair on the back of his neck. Simultaneously, you feel his touch dance around your collarbone, twirling patterns making their way lower and lower. Finally, he lands on the curve of your breast. At the same time you gasp and break the kiss, he smiles, eyes flickering to watch your reaction. The light pinch he gives your nipple shoots pleasure straight to your core.

As you process the new sensations, Phainon presses kiss along the same path his hand traveled. Down your neck, over your collarbone, ending right between your breasts. Your brain hardly registers it all with the way his hands also move lower. Sliding down your waist, running across your hips, crossing your thighs, and moving inward until—

"Phainon." Both of you look to see the Goldweaver herself. Instinctively, your arms cross over your chest before remembering that Aglaea sees through her web of golden threads. Oh.... embarassment burns through your body at the realization she probably saw everything that just occurred in the bath before even stepping foot here.

"You better not be sullying the water." Aglaea warns in that usual silky tone.

"Well then, I guess we better go somewhere more private." Phainon stands up, taking you with him as his hands hook under your butt to support you. Looking over his shoulder as he carries you away, you swear the faintest sly smile forms on Aglaea’s lips.

Sampo

"We should not be doing this here," You say through gritted teeth as your back hits the cold stone of a wall in Backwater Pass. Despite the way you hate how Sampo's always trying to get in your pants, there's also something you equally love about it. His emerald eyes go wide as he pleads with you to let him eat you out in the alley or whatever other scheme he's had on his mind. He's lucky desperation is a good look on him.

"Stop me at any time," He purrs against the skin of your neck with the confidence of knowing you won't. It seems you've folded one too many times. You're getting predictable. At the feeling of his teeth grazing across your skin before choosing a place to strike, you can't find it in yourself to care though. Your head lolls to the side, letting him do as he pleases.

As Sampo marks up your skin, his hands deftly undo the buttons of your shirt. He lifts your bra up to see how Belobog's chilly air has your nipples perking up. There's no hesitation in the way he takes a breast in each hand, squeezing the flesh as his mouth gets back to work.

“Sampo…” You moan right in his ear.

“Feels good, pretty girl?” Another moan falling from your lips is all he needs as response before taking it further. His thigh slots itself between your legs, and you eagerly grind down against it. From the stimulation on your neck, chest, and clit, it’s somehow too much yet not enough. The desire to have his cock filling you up slowly clouds your brain, but all a sudden it all stops.

“Sampo?” You whine, trying to regain your bearings to see why he stopped. Your brain starts to register voices, and when you look in their direction, you’re met with the Captain of the Silvermane Guards rounding the corner.

You can’t imagine what you look like right now. Clothes messily pushed out of the way so your chest is on full display and hickeys running down your neck. There’s little time to react before Sampo’s grabbing your hand and sprinting in the opposite direction with you in tow. You try your best to get your clothes somewhat back in order with your free hand as you run.

“We’re never doing this again!” You shout, hearing footsteps on your trail.

“That’s what you said last time, sweetheart.” Sampo gives you a knowing smirk. You hate that he’s right. And you hate that Gepard’s wide-eyed reaction to stumbling upon you maybe turned you on a little bit.

[dilf-docs]

Saturday But in Your Sunday Best

bfd!joel miller x younger fem!reader

summary: joel has a co-worker's wedding in las vegas. everything that can go wrong, does.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., creampie, oral (f. and m. receiving), breast play, fingering, dacryphilia, degradation kink, ANGST (as in i've suffered so will my characters. this wasn't at all what i had envisioned at first for this part), hurt/comfort, a bit of fluff (that's new), pls be nice this writer's block shot me in the foot

word count: 11,121 words

side note: sorry this took so long. between movie watching for the oscars, my other works, midterms, pedro pascal horny hours, my wattpad fic, the max fic you citizens let flop (ĉüřşę ÿoụ āĺļ), the brat taming fic that made numbers among my oomfs on twitter, a very shitty date (the situational irony of letting a man ruin my women's day) a ptwt fic gc in twitter (love u frens), and uni again, i let the ttdik series collect dust, my bad. as compensation, take this girthy chapter altho it makes me kinda insecure IDK. this is why i don't do series okay!! i'm my worst enemy and i fear procrastination is a chronical disease of mine atp

part: prev | masterlist | next

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas

His foot taps anxiously against the marble floor, sound drowned by the bustling crowd.

People come and go. Some hug, others cry. And Joel? Well, he's just waiting for you to come.

He checks his watch, the one Sarah gifted him, and sighs. Should've known better.

It's been two months since the pregnancy scare, and ever since then, you have put a bit of a distance between yourselves.

It was slow, gradual: first the excuses then nights were you wouldn't stay or ask him to. And, even if your affair was that, just an affair, he missed sleeping in the warmth of your embrace. He also missed the way your nose would crinkle when you laughed. You didn't laugh that often anymore, and if you did, it sounded like you were holding in: as if you were afraid to let loose and let him see through you. And to be honest, it was killing him.

So when he reached out to you for this, he should've expected for you to say no. That you wouldn't show up after that I'll see if I'm free text: no, Joel Miller simply shouldn't have harbored that much hope for his daughter's bestfriend he happened to be banging.

If he hadn't confirmed his invitation, he'd probably gone home and layed down. Watch some garbage TV with Sarah and some beer in hand, but here he was, like a lonely loser, luggage in hand.

(Sarah helped him pack. He didn't even know what to wear to a wedding, and then she showed up with his old suit-- that still fit, somehow, albeit a bit more tight, from the dry cleaning. Joel would be lost without her)

The speaker announces his flight is about to leave. Joel gets up, trying not to be dissappointed about the whole thing. He's got no right to, after all.

"Joel?"

He'd end up breaking his neck by how fast he turned.

There you are, and it's like the weight he wasn't aware of, settling on his chest, had been removed.

"You made it" is the first thing that makes it out of his lips.

You softly laugh, "Hello, Joel"

He gets closer to you, slowly, like if he where to do it faster, he'd scare you off. Or you'd be gone, as if a dream.

(It'd be a nightmare, though, because you wouldn't be here)

"Sorry. I-" he cuts off, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. There's some tension lingering in the air, the same when you left his house a week ago. Joel had been too much of a coward to invite you then, rather hiding behind a screen.

But now you were here.

"I didn't think you'd come" he says after a beat of silence.

You tilt your head to the side, eyebrow up as if you hadn't been acting weird at all.

"Why wouldn't I?"

(Because it seems like being in the same room as me tires you. That your eyes don't shine anymore, and the starry sky looks like a storm when you dare search my gaze as we fuck. Every time you breath, its like breathing the same air as me burns)

He rather not press, so instead, he says:

"I'm jus' glad ya' came. 'S all"

You nod, not adding anything at all. Then, both you walk to your gate, side by side in silence, the same that had seemed to seep inside your romance for the past weeks.

Well, romance was definitely a stretch. An affair seemed more like it.

Of course, you're aware the change it's on you. It would've been dumb of you to think Joel wouldn't notice your withdrawal, or how more often than not you'd be stuck in your head. But still, he didn't comment on it, and like you, danced around the subject, afraid for different reasons as yours. Or the same. Yet, you'll never know. No, you're aware you both are too stubborn, and that whatever it started on that day, had settled in between like a burning flame.

(Had you been engulfed by the fire yet?)

You try not to think about it. After all, you had the option not to come. But a weekend away in Las Vegas after midterms? Too tempting to let go.

(And it's not like images of a stood up Joel in the airport, looking miserable, had made you restless the last couple of days after his text)

"Ya' can take the window" he says, even if it's his seat.

He knows you're nervous about flying, a little detail that came up during a post-sex small talk.

(What're you're dreams? Joel asked. You had answered that you'd love to travel the world after graduating, but that you had a fear for flying, despite having only done it once. It may have been because the first time you did, it was to fly for your grandma's funeral. Perhaps it was by association then, that the bad feelings about boarding a plane could be related to that)

"Thanks" you mumble, sitting down. You're avoiding his gaze, but know he's looking at you.

"What?" a little harsher than intended.

He looks taken back, looking at his lap as he let's out a soft whisper, sheepishly:

"Nothin'. Jus' thinkin' you look pretty today"

A light blush creeps up your cheeks as you huff out a Whatever.

Joel let's a breath of relief out his tight chest and allows himself to smile.

(At least, he's still got an effect on you)

The wedding Joel was supposed to attend is in the Ángel De La Guarda cathedral. You'd be staying nearby, at a hotel room Joel's coworker had paid for, the same where the reception would take place.

Being in the same room as Joel one night should be the least of your worries, but then the space is even smaller than it was supposed to (given by Joel's cursing as he paced around, anxiously), and the strain of your relationship settles in the air, physically so, tight around your throat.

Then, it's the bed issue: there's only one. It's not like you haven't slept in the same bed before, obviously, but there's a certain dread deep in your stomach about sharing the enclosed space when you're at your most vulnerable. He moves around a lot during night, and something tells you you'd wake up to his strong arms and hot breath fanning over your neck, hairs rising at the proximity, making it harded to calm your heart.

"You okay?" he's asking, dropping the bags in a corner.

"At what time is the wedding?" you ask.

He checks his watch. "In about seven hours"

The glass bounces a ray right into your face, and you have to close your eyes at yet nother reminder of why this is all so wrong.

Sarah.

"We should rest..." he says, plopping on the bed. His plaid t-shirt rises up at the same time the color of your cheeks does, when the glimpse of soft tanned skin reveals itself. He looks up to your stiff standing figure, bulk arms behind his neck as he rests his head on his biceps. "Don't 'cha think?"

Lay with me. Not outloud.

"No" you say, hastily so, not missing the way a flicker of dull akin to the pain of rejection finds its way to his brown eyes. "I..." your voice softens. "I'd rather take a tour of the place, you know? It's not like I'll come every weekend here"

He's about to raise up. I'm coming with you, again not out loud, in case you'd reject his offering again.

Which you do.

"I'm fine" you say, grabbing your purse. "Just... I need a moment"

Away from you.

"Suit yourself" but there's a sharp edge on his apparent kindness.

Closing the door behind you, it takes all of you to not turn around and see his face one last time.

You wander off through the bright lights and noisy hallways, walking until the sun of the outdoors filters a ray over the carpet through the glass doors. Strides take you to the pool area, kids giggling, parents sunbathing and youngsters chilling.

You sigh, dipping your feet in the pool, chlorine up your nose and water baterly grazing your sundress.

But you're drowning.

Drowning on his presence, every room he's in now smaller. Walls of the room collapsing, as the ones of your lungs, every breath tight if your nose catches a whiff of his scent lingering in the air. You'd wash the sheets almost immediately, crying when your head hit the pillow and it smelled like lavender and not Joel.

It was the only right choice: to erase him out of your life, because with every new kiss and thrust, he'd take another part of you with him, and you don't know how much more you can give of yourself without dying. A part of you dies every time he walks out the door, anxious heart pondering when will he walk out for good. When he'll realize the thrill is gone, that your escapades were all but a product of his crisis, and what started as a mutual use of bodies, ends in the waste of your heart.

Joel has become a drug for you: knowing it's destructive, but the high so addictive, you don't mind the crash. It's unevitable, and a small treacherous voice in the back of your head says you're just postponing a foretold death.

Yet Joel Miller makes you feel alive. Alive as a spring, grassbed full of blooming flowers. As sun carressing your skin: if you stay too long, the warm becoming burning.

A kid walks up to your sad lonely pensive corner, splashing water onto you.

"Hey!" but he's gone, and it's Vegas, so his parents are three mojitos down from the open bar, asleep under the sun. You curse, getting up and back to your room to change.

When you get to your room, is eerily quiet. And dark, the curtains closed.

You rumage through your suitcase, pulling out a change. The dress slips off, falling to the carpet with a pathetic drowned sound. You're about to change into the t-shirt when the lights flicker.

"You back?"

You scream, trying to cover yourself.

"Woah!" Joel covers his eyes, both your reactions ironically funny. Your cheeks burn as you finish dressing yourself up, and if he takes a small peak between his fingers, well, you'll never know. "Jesus, doll. If ya' wanted it so bad, could've asked"

Something akin to anger and deception morph into a burning flame in the pit of your stomach. Even after all this months, after this imminent fight, Joel can't bring himself to ask, dancing around the fragile line that barely holds on with the clap of skin against skin and sweat, as to replace the tears that will never see the light of the day.

"Right, because that's all I want"

He raises an eyebrow at your tone. "S' a joke"

"Jokes are supposed to make people laugh"

He shoots you a look, before standing from the bed.

"What's gotten into ya'?"

He walks closer, yet you give him your back, tossing the sundress with too much force in your bag.

"Don't know what you're talking about" as nonchalant as you can muster.

"Look at me" you keep the harsh packing going on. Joel grows impatient at your confusing demeanor, not just from today, but days ago. He's had enough. He spins you around, losing his cool as he shouts. "Damn it, y/n, stop actin' like a brat!"

"Don't touch me!" you yell back, pulling away.

"So that's how's it now?" Joel lets out a scoff. "Y' get on ma' bed but the moment I put a finger in ya', y'act all coy and angry?"

"Right, 'cause I'm a slut. That's what sluts do: we get on lonely men's bed and fuck them"

He grabs the bridge of his nose, breathing heavily. His voice is laced with frustration, and you know it's your fault.

"Never said that"

Why not talk it like adults? No. Too much of a coward to do that.

"Jus' tell me, doll. What's goin' on?"

I think I love you, and I'm fucking scared.

His voice is soft, pleading. In your lifetime, you never thought you'd see Joel Miller beg. You did once, but it wasn't like this. Please, he'd say. Now, here he is, standing before you like the smallest man who ever lived and not the unstoppable force you made him out to be.

It should be easy. But words never come easy. Not to you. Neither love, so foreign it makes you shiver with fear. So natural, one day you opened your eyes to him laying next to you, Sarah staying in another city for a soccer tournament, and decided that was what you wanted. All his mornings. His bed voice, thick from sleep. His droopy eyes and tired smile, facil hair tickling your face as he says Good mornin', Southern drawl never more prominent, kisses in between. Let's get sum coffee after, because he always had to drink the bitter liquid out of his owl mug or wouldn't be able to make it through the day.

You want him to be the first thing you see when you open your eyes.

You want Joel Miller. Want. Want. Want.

"I hate you"

You have ruined me.

He probably expected anything but that, given his crestfallen face. Joel wishes for time to go back, at the beach. He'd say no, push you away. Fought a little harder. Never gotten into your bed.

The worst part is, he's a fucking liar: he'd probably still choose the same, even if the end is near.

"You ain't mean that" not knowing if he's trying to convince you or himself. "Jus' wanna hurt me"

You don't humor him with an answer.

"I shouldn't have come" is what you say instead, the bitter taste of defeat and hurt etched in your voice.

Would've been easier to stop when we should've.

His words run through the tense air like a bullet.

"I agree"

Weddings had always made you cry.

You weren't even a romantic, but the whole thing-- the promise of forever, it seemed to move your heart a bit.

So, if your eyes shimmer when the bride makes her entrance and the groom, Joel's co-worker, tears up, you feel your chest tight and stomach drop. It clenches with something akin to dread and want, as if suddenly, all that mattered to you was love. A year ago, if you told yourself-- the one who got on her knees to suck Joel's dick at the beach that night, that you'd be here?

You would've laughed.

Falling for the grumpy old man who also happens to be your bestfriend's dad?

Right. Imagine that.

Except there is nothing to imagine. All of it is real.

From his quiet laughter, the sound foreign and not frequent by the way it rasps against his throat. But now the wrinkles around his eyes are more prominent, forbidden laughs marking his blushing face. as he looks away, embarrassed. You can laugh, you had said, I won't tell anyone, yet he made you swore like the sight of Joel Miller laughing was the worst thing in the world. So had become the grey strands on his hair, more sprouting each time, as his damp curls twisted in your fingers.

It is also in the way his sweat that drops over your body as he tries hard to last longer, to his grunts that fill the room as he fills you to the brim with his warm cum. How his rough seems to meet every inch of your soft skin, like pieces of a puzzle.

Something clicks when you're with Joel, and you can't help but feel it's your fault this rift has been created, aggressively peeling the white off your nails as some form of anxious torture. But, he too, aside from his initial Just glad you came, hadn't said a word about it again. Even if he had noticed it all, before Vegas too. Nothing. And then Joel told you it was best if you didn't come. Fucking great.

You feel him tense next to you, body stiff when your arm accidentally brushes his when you stand up from the bench, making you roll your eyes.

The fallout had been awkward. The elevator ride took forever, and then the space on the cab felt too small. He took you to the back, on the benches near the exit, like he didn't want to be seen with you. It got you fuming: why bother to invite you at all?

In all truth, you could've picked up your bags and left after the fight, yet you stayed. You wonder who's more of a coward. In this weird dancing around you've got going on, walking in circles over the words Stay and Leave, like both are too delicate to say out loud. Even as the couple speak their vows, amid the claps and tears, your mind keeps drifting back to one question: Which would hurt less?

It's not until it ricochets on your arm that you realize the tears are also your own. You brush it fast, but by the corner of your eye, you know Joel notices. Still, he doesn't say anything, which contributes to your spite.

The ceremony is over, and just as you can feel the anticipation of the reception's drinks to buzz your nerves down, someone blocks you the exit. A couple, more like it.

Before fully registering their faces, Joel's hand flies to your back, pressed in a firm manner that oozes protectiveness. It makes your heart flutter, no matter how much you try to suffocate the treacherous butterflies in your stomach. You try not to think too much about it as you take them in: a man, looking in his middle forties, probably around the same age as Joel, so as the woman next to him, who smiles warmly. Not like the man, who seems unwelcoming.

"Joel" he pronounces his name, manners coming out cold. "It's nice to see you made it"

His grip on your back becomes more firm.

"Mark" he uses the same tone. "Well, when ya' confirm, y'gotta come"

"And who may this be?" Mark's wife asks, not thinking there's harm in her words. You swear you can hear him snicker next to her.

"She's-"

Joel stops midtrack. How is he supposed to even call you?

"I'm his girlfriend"

You don't know why you did that but you did. You also don't know why it causes you such satisfaction to see their wide eyes and Mark's disdain.

"Oh, I didn't know you had a girlfriend. How lovely!"

His cheeks go pink. "Thanks, Laura"

"Yes, Joel. Didn't think you'd move on" but his tone isn't like his wife's. "I just assumed that being with someone wasn't on your list anymore, you know, at your age. Especially one so... young"

Laura shots him a look.

Maybe it wasn't your place to get angry, not after how you've subjected Joel to your silent treatment this past months. Not after the fight you've just had hours ago. But he is also the same man who held your hand after you thought you were pregnant. He was the one who stayed. It is too how his shoulders slump, like he believes it to be true. You can't bear to see him sad, as contradictory as that may sound.

"Mark, right?"

The man nods, still sickly smiling.

"To me it sounds like you're jealous. Which is awful, because you've got a lovely wife" she looks away embarrassed while Mark fumes. "Also, when I turn around, try not to stare at my ass. I saw you when we arrived"

There's nothing left to say, so you walk past them.

"I think that was funny. Don't you?"

He avoids looking at you.

"I called a cab. Should take us back to the hotel"

No thanks. Nothing.

"Alright" your tone is dry. "Do as you please"

He opens the door for you, but his movements seem stiff and unnatural. Like he's second guessing every breath and step.

The car begins to move. You lean against the window, seeing the hues of neon through the glass. Joel's eyes burn holes on your head, a glimpse of brown in the reflection.

"I liked the wedding"

Joel looks at you properly for the first time since the fight. Your hair falls gracefully in cascades, hinting at an effort that tries to pass as a nonexistent one. Your makeup is soft, but your lips are in a shade he can't quite name, yet manage to make them even more fuller than usual. God, he thinks of it smeared on his clothes and mouth, feeling dumb all of the sudden. Then there's the dress. He doesn't have a favorite color, but as of now, it may be red: specially if its the red that hugs your curves, pushes your tits up and gives a little peak of your leg with its open cut, dangerously close to the start of your inner thigh. Not appropriate to wear at a church, maybe not a wedding either, but fuck didn't he care. He'd even rip it off, if it was such a problem.

"It was beautiful" he agrees, softly. "Never been to one. Maybe's why I think so"

You remove yourself from the window, now holding his gaze.

"What?" your mouth drops in surprise. "What about yours? Weren't you married?"

He smiles, but it appears to be sad. "Never got time for a wedding thought"

Joel has told you things. Things he'd never say outloud to anyone else. So whenever he opens up, letting you in, you let him, feeling that familiar pleasing ache in your chest at the thought of being enough: enough to be trusted with a piece of him. Of Joel Miller's heart.

The rest of the ride is silent, your mind still on Joel's hand on your back, on his words, and how the sting never goes.

In every thought of yours, he is.

"What'appened to your nails?"

The question catches you off guard. You're surprised he even noticed at all. But your hand lays in the space between his and your dish, stiff, as if waiting for him to hold it.

"Oh" you remove it from the table, placing it in your lap. "I chipped the polish off"

"Why?"

You turn to look at him, brown eyes examining you curiously, as if he didn't know you. Like he hadn't almost whisper those three words you had been tettering around as well.

"Why what Joel?" tone brash.

He scoffs at the change again, shoulders slumping a bit. Probably in annoyance, perhaps in defeat.

"Dunno" he goes back to his dish, cutting the steak with a bit too much force. I thought we were okay again. "S'rry I asked"

Your chest tightens, as it had been doing lately.

Was this the only thing you knew how to do now? Hurting Joel?

"No, I'm sorry"

It's his turn to get back at you. "Sorry for what?"

You swallow the lump that's formed in your throat, avoiding his gaze.

"I-"

Your eyes nervously dart across the room, trying to ignore the churn of your stomach and knot on your throat. You then catch the perfect distraction.

"I think Mark is staring at us again"

"What?" Joel asks in disbelief at your change of topic.

"Mark is staring" you sigh, getting up and dusting your dress off. "Wanna put on a show?"

"I didn't come to a wedding and wore this dress to be seated all night" you extend your hand. A quiet truce settles in between. "Let's dance"

At some point he gets up and takes your hand. It feels good. For a moment, be it childish or foolish, your mind thinks this is how it is: with no one around to know you, you're his and he's yours. It's just the two of you, dancing and laughing under the lights. He'd know the song that's playing, and when you'd ask, unfamiliar, Joel would joke: how could ya' know it, if you ain't even born yet?

For just a moment, it feels like it could be.

The music is soft. It's some sort of rendition of Lady, Lady, Lady by the band Jim hired to play at his wedding.

Joel's clammy hands slip against your cold palms as you walk to the dance floor.

"Nervous?" you ask, biting back a smile.

He squints his eyes at you. "I'm just outta practice, 's all"

You laugh. "I would've never guessed"

He shakes his head, but the ghost of a smirk hides in his lips.

"Cheeky baby. Now you actin' funny?"

Joel's hand finds its place in your waist, holding firmly as the first verses go by.

Dancing behind masks, just sort of pantomime.

But images reveal whatever lonely hearts can hide.

"Maybe I'm just tired" you reply, placing your head against his chest. His heart starts drumming faster, and you hear him gulp.

"It ain't even midnight yet"

You close your eyes, feeling every breath of his chest against your cheek.

"You know that's not what I'm talking about"

Lady, lady, lady, lady

I know it's in your heart to stay

"Y/n-"

Lady, lady, lady, lady

"I'm sorry" this time clearer.

His body rocks yours slowly to the tempo of the music, and for a brief moment, amongst the sea of guests and the voice of the singer, time stops, and it's just him and you.

"Don't"

He can't bear it. Not tonight.

When will I ever hear you say

I love you

Not when your body feels so well against his, your head resting on his chest like all those nights ago, where Joel held you close, the silent promise of never letting you go on his warm strong embrace. Not when just the thought of losing you is too unbearable to even think of. Not when today, he can let his mind drift away and heart beat, dreaming of things that'll make him the butt of the joke. For a moment, you're not wearing this red dress that's making him insane. You're all in white and there's a ring in your hand, just as there's one in his. You'd dance and say I'm yours, forever. A giggle. You can't get rid of me. And he'd smile and reply a Good, wasn't plannin' to.

But now he feels like he's going to lose you forever.

"I missed you" it's your way of trying, again.

His head is a whirlwind of emotions.

"Yeah?"

You lean closer, until his cologne burns in your nostrils.

"Yeah"

Time like silent stares, with no apology

"Joel"

Move towards the stars, and be my only one

This time, he finds it impossible to shut you up. Not when you've raised your head until your eyes meet his, and the constellations he very much loves are ever present in your stare.

Reach into the light, and feel love's gravity

"Yeah?"

You pull in closer, and he can feel the whiff of champagne coming out of your mouth. Your lips are parted, and a shaky whisper is all it takes for his head to spin, drunk in love.

"Please"

That pulls you to my side, where you should always be

Your lips are so inviting. All he has to do is cut the centimeters separating your mouths.

But it's a wall. One filled with doubts, fear and the quiet rage of rejection.

His voice wavers when he starts speaking.

"I think-"

He hasn't even finished his sentence, but your heart is already broken.

No wonder why you've always treated it like a burden: nothing is worst than a heavy heart.

Maybe he'd come to realize just how absurd this all was. Him, much older than you and Sarah's dad. How could he let his daughter's bestfriend go this far. That he was a forty something guy, dancing with a twenty two year old girl. That love comes in all shapes and sizes, but there's no name for this you have going on since last summer. Perhaps, there'll never be.

"Please" you hear yourself repeat.

It started as a plea for a kiss. You don't know what you're begging for anymore.

"No, baby-"

And Joel is the first to step back.

Lady, lady, lady, lady, I know it's in your heart to stay

The cold water of rejection hits you in the face, far from his warm embrace, the contour of his face, centimeters away, now meters.

"We can't"

An ocean away.

"Joel-" your throat tightens, panic bubbling in your chest.

"I think we should stop"

The whole world around you does as soon as those words leave his mouth.

Sorrow is quick to turn into anger, and all those months of guilt, rush, thrill, labored breaths, broken rules and promises you held to your heart as an oath, sweet whispered cons in your pillow that smelled like him. It all comes crashing down with force.

A dry laugh escapes past your lips. Joel winces at the sound.

"A bit too late for that, isn't it?"

"Baby-"

"Don't call me baby" you hiss, feeling your vision blurry. "Don't call me like you meant it"

"I do" the music has reduced to a buzz in the back of your head. His firm voice borders between desperate and pathetic. "Which is why am making 'tis"

"Fucking coward" you spit, feeling your skin on fire.

Don't give up. Please.

Fight for me. Fight for this.

For us.

"Coward?" it's Joel's turn to laugh. His dark chuckle sends shivers through your skin. "Y' shouldn't be talkin' 'bout that"

"Don't put all of this on me" you raise your shaky finger, accusing. "Don't you fucking dare"

"Thought Mark was watchin'. Or 's that 'nother one of y'r lies?" Joel seethes. "Or maybe ya' don't give a shit 'bout it. Jus' like you ain't give a shit 'bout us!"

"You think this is easy?" your voice raises. "You think I wanted this?"

You think I don't care? That I'm doing well? That I wanted to pull away from you? That I knew things would got as bad as they are?

You think I wanted to fall for you?

His eyes darken. "You started this"

Your heart stops beating. People laugh, the band is still playing and chatter bubbles like the champagne flutes waiters carry by.

But all you can hear is the moment your palm meets his face.

"I wish I never met you, Joel Miller"

And then you rush out the door, your heels burning as much as your eyes and chest. Far from the party, far from the world.

Far from him.

"We ain't done yet!"

You hear him bark behind you, yet your legs don't stop, despite the buzz in your ears and the slight stumble in your walk.

Your voice sounds like it doesn't belong to you when you hear yourself speak, without turning around.

"I think we are"

But Joel doesn't give up, making you feel trapped between wanting to hit him again and let yourself be held.

"Y/n!" he calls out just like he used to when you were a kid. Like you knew no better. Reckless. Berating. But now the taste of bitter mingles with his punishing demeanor.

You spin your heel, walking menacingly towards him.

"Don't call me that" you seethe, jabbing a finger to his chest.

"That's your fucken name!" he shouts.

Tears spring in the corner of your eyes. "You know what I mean"

"Enlighten me, doll" the nickname feels like a slap to your face, and for a moment, you wish he called you by your name again, instead of tainting the always sweet calling with his vitriol, as if the four letters meant something sacred he had profaned. "S'a matter of fact, why don't y'enlight me 'bout everythin' that's goin' on. 'Cause guess what? I'ont know what the fuck is happenin'!"

And it terrifies me.

His shout probably ran across the empty hallway. The music coming from inside sounds like a muffled heartbeat, mirroring your own.

To lose you. I might as well have.

"I don't know why you seem'a hate me now" quiet this time, like every word coming from his mouth take his voice little by little. "Why ya' get all sweet on me after weeks of leavin' me, pushin' me to the side... I'm old, doll. I ain't capable of takin' this anymore"

I'm not capable of surviving a broken heart.

The possibility of losing Joel, foever, had never crossed your mind, not even as you closed off, ignoring the way his brown sad eyes would search yours to try and find answers, maybe scraps of the... whatever it was you shared.

Now, it was real, and it shook you to the bone.

"Was fun while it lasted" closing off, trying to shut the doors he let you in, clawing back to that Joel Miller who couldn't be bent. The one Sarah deemed unbreakable. But it's the same that didn't know when to back down, now praying the price of his foolishness.

I don't regret it, but Joel doesn't have it in him to give you more of his heart for you to take. If he cuts it now, from the root, he'll spare his brain from saving more seconds of the image of you he'd have to get rid off: you, taking your coffee with two bags of sugar because you hated uneven numbers, and three seemed too much for your latte. You, standing on his room like you belonged there. You, on his car, the leather having absorbed some of the floral scent you seemed to carry with you. In your clothes, your skin, your hair. He'd have to go to bed knowing he'd never get to feel your strands in his fingers, tickling the remmanents of desolation he'd been carrying like a second skin ever since Sarah's mother walked away.

Your blood runs cold.

"Fun?" the words spill in a bitter incredulous tone, all the while you're trying to hold to him without raising your hand for him to take it, like just the thought of it would be enough to choose you. Words seem to fail you, and grasping at him feels like holding sand: it keeps falling from your fingers, a cruel reminder of your borrowed time. "Joel"

"Fun" he repeats the word, feeling sick. "As in, you'd marry someone who's worth for ya'. Probably choose Texas, maybe you'll stay away. 'Cause you're smart, and know what's good. But if ya' came back, livin' at the same neighbour, in the house across mine, you'd glance up and see my porch, thinkin' 'bout us, and this will become a joke with y'r husband, 'bout your rebel days. To your kids, summ cautionary tale. To you? An'scape of summ sorts of y'r other wise boring life"

Your shaking at this point, not knowing if it's anger, humilliation or sorrow.

I'm sorry. Please, don't give up on me. Stay.

"I'd be an experience. But to me? Doll" Joel chuckles, humorlessly. "You were everythin'"

A choked up sob bubbles from your chest.

"So that's what you think of me?" you laugh, a sound so hollow it makes his skin shiver. "That this is for the thrill? For the fucking anecdote?!"

"Trust me. I've lived long 'nough, kid. You'll understand later"

It's like all those months next to him meant nothing. Like pulling away from your lips was the easiest thing to do.

"Don't you fucking dare call me a kid!" you push him. "I'm not a kid"

"I know you ain't!" he roars back. "But you don't know shit!"

"Neither do you!" your quick to counter. "You think you've got me all figured out, huh? Bet you think that I'm some helpless naive idiot who doesn't know what I want. I don't know what I'm doing, that you're right. But I do know what I signed up for, the price I would pay" losing you or Sarah. Both. "I wanted it, and newsflash: so did you" you breath, running your hands through your hair, trying to comb some sense of normalcy to ground yourself while you try to recover your composture. His arms lay weakly by his sides, restraining himself from running to you and craddle you on his arms. "You chose this. You chose me, Joel Miller" each word pronounced with contempt. "I'm not a victim. Neither are you"

A dry chuckle escapes past his chapped lips. "What are we, then?"

(Two lonely souls who seek warmth. People who fell into the same bed. Shared time they shouldn't have. Selfish. Living on borrowed time. Always tettering around the edge, so easy to fall. History repeating itself. The dancing around. Dirty, like the Texan roads: and they all lead back to his bed)

"So do it" you shove him again, as if by doing so, you could push him away forever. From your mind, from your heart. From your life. "Say it"

He shakes his head, as if you'd insulted him.

"Sweetheart-"

"Say. It" you bark, tasting the venom on your tongue. "Say it!"

"I can't" looking so small, your resolve almost crumbles. Almost.

"Coward" you spit, repeatedly punching him feebly on the chest as tears stream down your cheeks. He tries to grab your hands, to stop you. "Don't touch me! Let me go"

"I can't" this time louder.

Tears sprout with more intensity at the desperate weight on his tone.

A single drop runs down when you say, defeated: "Quit me"

"I can't!" he shouts in your face, voice breaking slightly.

"Why?!"

"'Cause I fucking can't!" Joel breaks. He crumbles in your arms, body shaking as he buries himself in your reluctant embrace. He speaks again, this time softer, "I can't lose 'cha, baby. If that makes me sum goddamn coward, then so be it"

Something in you stirs. Like a lost boat, finding a lighthouse during a storm. Arriving to shore with gentle waves. Home, where it belongs.

"Joel-"

"I'm sorry for bein' selfish" between agitated and terrified, afraid of the silence and what you may say. "For noticin' your quiet and still carryin' on"

"Joel"

"Believe me, doll. I tried to stop. To leave ya'" he swallows, "but then I got invited and my mind went to ya'. Fast. You were the first person in my mind. Always are. I think that's when I knew. S'okay if you don't-"

"Joel!" you shout this time.

He raises his view from his little spot on your chest.

"It isn't just you" in a whisper that could easily pass as the wind that sweeps inside from the main door. Voice so fragile it hurts like glass. "I feel this too"

Just like that, he's both gone and back. His heart beats on his throat, voice raw when he searches for your eyes and asks:

"You do?"

The big unbreakable Joel Miller, looking at you not like a force to be reckoned with, but as a man, worn down by years of solitude and the weight of a secret.

You smile through the tears. "I've been many things, but a liar never"

He chuckles, softly. "Always was a bad one"

"See?" softly teasing, "you can attest to that"

"Twenty one years seem 'nough"

"Soon to be twenty two" pause. "And I would love it if you were there to see it"

A breath hitches somewhere in the middle of the new aphonia that's settled.

"You don't mean all'at. Think 'bout it-"

"I do" you interrupt him, firmly. You hold his gaze while cupping his face, the fright on his face mirroring your own. "You asked before, remember? There's your answer"

Joel is at loss for words. Was never good with them, less when it came to you: like your presence unsettled him in the same way tornadoes made him quiver when he was a child, rattling him to the bone. But there was a morbid fascination to them, in their destructive nature. Like beauty could be horror too, and he had learnt it thanks to your unforgiving winds that had swept him away from his feet.

He was flying. Fucking flying. Never quite landing. Afraid of the fall.

"I'm scared"

Joel leans in, forehead touching yours. His skin is warm, something about it soothing your nerves down.

"Me too"

You bite back a smile. "Big broody Miller, scared?"

"Y' know how'da disarm a man. I'll give ya' that"

You laugh, eyes crinkling while you swat his chest playfully. It's the same sound he missed so dearly. Joel can feel himself breath with relief.

"Now that's the story I'll tell my kids" could be our own. "The one where I won over Joel Miller"

A deep, rich rumble erupts from his chest as he pulls you even closer, this time, your head the one on his chest.

"I'll do you one better" he slowly moves his leg closer to the inner part of your thighs. "Wanna hear how it ends?"

"Jesus, Joel" laugh tense. Your heart pulses like his cock. Hard. "You sure are a mood killer"

He presses further. "But ya' want it, don't 'cha?"

You whimper, weakly. Truth is, you've been wet since you saw him dress on his rather tight suit. Now, after what you just confessed, you're not sure you can hold back any longer.

"Use y'r words, baby"

"Our room" the possesive adjective making his stomach rumble with need. "Now"

Stumbling feet. Whispered breaths oozing with drunk desire. Giggles. Buttons of an elevator pressed forcefully. A crammed space that felt even smaller. More giggles in a hallway full of doors that looked the same. Some mumbling, trying to remember the room. Grabbing the card from his pocket. You somehow make it to your room. Fumbling fingers. One swipe. Two. Try slower, but his voice is as urgent as strained. The door gives in. Finally, couldn't wait any longer. And he's chastising you, for being so impatient. Yet his eyes are all dark and sweet when looking it at you.

"We're here" and then the door closes with a loud thud. And Joel is yours again, just like he was that night, and forever was since.

You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him back fervently. You open your mouth and let his tongue get inside as you moan his name.

"Please" you whine.

"Please what?" Joel chuckles, enamoured at your hanging mouth and heaving chest. Fucking tease. "Use y'r words, doll"

"Please, Joel" and hearing your name fall out of your lips like it's the most sacred prayer brings him weak to his knees. "I need you"

(I need you, as in I need you here. With me. Now. To never let go and hold my hand, not only when we fuck, but also when we walk, side by side, hands brushing like a touch it's too much to bear. Because if we held hands, I'd never be able to pull back. I need you to look at me as you undress me, because I'm bearing all of me for you, scars, body and secrets, trembling like a scared child, because no one's ever had me. Not like you. Not like you)

"'S right, sweet thing" he drawls out in a husky whisper, like his slick tongue was coated in honey. He pulls your head back, nipping and sucking on your skin. "Say ma' name like 's the only thing you know"

And in a way, it is. Because you'd always call Joel, fingers itching at a number you've memorized until it's burned in your eyelids, like when you close your eyes, you can see him standing in front of you, Texan accent and heavy boots in your doorstep, later to be discarded and hidden beneath your bed.

He pulls back, making you involuntary whine at the loss of his lips and tongue on you.

"Tell me you want this" he's saying, and for a moment, past the fire and the need, you see Joel as not the man who can bring you to come two times in a row, but your bestfriend's dad, who's slept in a bed alone for the past two decades, who can't meet you in the eyes when he undresses himself, looking like the one who's got the more to lose when his lips press aginst yours in a soft manner, not out of tenderness but out of fear.

"I do" without hesitation, as if you would tattoo your promise and wear it like your heart on your sleeve. "I want you, Joel"

You want all of him: from his boring Sundays sprawled on the couch watching a rerun of some old sitcom to his greying hair, aching joints and creaking bones, that despite so, would still kneel and eat your pussy like a man starved, tongue sliding through your folds with a learned ache, pouring the same yearn, longing and hunger that he wears on his eyes when they land on you, no matter if his brown are miles away, because they'd always find your own, like a boat lost in translation and a sea of sorrow coming back home, as if you're the only important thing in the world. His anchor. The lighthouse of his vast ocean of forlorness.

"That's my girl" but no smirk adorns his face, rather a small smile that warms your chest, right as he pulls you back in. There's a shift in the aire as he kisses you know, as if not only his tongue is in your insides but his soul, without holding back this time, like all limits have blurred and melted into a pool of desire and affection.

Joel pushes you down onto the wide bed, climbing on top of you as he kisses your jawline, leaving wet kisses along your warm skin. You moan as every contact of his mouth sends shudders to your body, him taking his time as he works over your jaw, down to your chest.

"Such'a pretty doll. And's mine" his calloused fingers fiddle with your bra, unclasping the lingerie until it falls messily discarded next to the bed. "Got summ nice tits on you, baby" and Joel's eyes sparkle with excitement, lighting up like the neon lights of the Vegas sign, "don't 'cha think?"

Your back arches with his touches, mouth ghosting over your nipple, already pebbled at just Joel's breath.

"Fuck, Joel" you mewl his name, dragged with difficulty as he laps his tongue over your breasts greedily. You can feel Joel's cock pulse and throbb in your thigh as his body hovers over yours, lips still wrapped around your nipple as he suckles and nibbles at the tender flesh.

"'S sorry, doll" he's apologizing in a mocking manner as you whimper at the contact of him against you, suckling hard, tongue swirling and flicking over the sensitive bud as he drew it deeper into the wet heat of his mouth. "Ain't know you'd be so fucken responsive with just a lil' lick at y'r pretty tits"

As your body trembles and quakes, he speaks again.

"Open y'r mouth" you do so, because honestly, you'd never deny him a thing. "Want 'cha to suck on 'tis fingers, like the slut ya're. Get them wet so they feel good against 'tis greedy pussy"

You take the fingers as you'd take his cock, sucking on the skin that tastes like salt and gasoline, a slight bitter taste but you take them as deep as you can, until your lips brush his rough knuckles.

"Good greedy whore" he praises. "Now let me help ya' with that"

Joel gestures your damp panties, taking them off and putting them up his nose, inhaling like he did the first time you ever fucked, back at the beach house that summer that feels a life ago, seawaves crashing onto the shore as they drowned out your moans.

"Sweet" as if your arousal was his favorite dessert, gripping the sticky lingerine until his knuckles turn white. "Fucken wet and drippin', and s'all for me"

He feels your greedy hands fumble with his pants and belt, pulling him closer as the feeling of unfairness at his clothed figure dawns upon you.

"I like how you look in a suit, but right now-"

He laughs, a deep rich sound bubbling up from his chest.

"Ma' baby wants it that bad, huh?" you nod your head feverishly, a beg threatening past your lips.

"Please, Joel. I want to suck your cock" the dirty words come out as quick as a breath. "I missed it so so bad" not caring at all about how desperate you come across or the pitiful begging that's a plea away from drooling out of your mouth with an aching hunger.

"'S that what you want? Draggin' me out'a reception 'cause y'r greedy dirty mouth couldn't keep still? Bet you'd crawl on da' floor just to get a taste of this dick" every word makes you mewl. "Might have to see ya' beggin' for it"

"I'll do it" you beg, voice a wanton plea. "I'll do whatever, I just need to-"

"I see ya' really do"

He removes your hands from his body, chuckling as you pout and whine like a baby.

"Love hearin' ya' so eager fo'me" Joel says, tugging the pants finally down. Through the cloth of his underwear, it's impossible not to see the silhoutte of his hard throbbing dick.

The sight of him, hair disheveled, pupils blown wide, white button shirt now wrinkled and sticky with sweat, tie loose and that faint smell of champagne that clung to his mouth and scent like a second layer of his skin.

"Get on the floor. Now" he commands, and you're quick to obey. "Gonna fuck that dirty mouth of yours until my cum dribbles outta your cheek. S' now? Be obedient if ya' want a taste, slut"

You let out a small whimper as Joel frees his cock from his underwear.

"That's right, baby. Like what ya' see?" his cock is straddling your face in your current kneeling form. "Need that mouth to open wider"

You obey in an instant.

"Good girl"

Joel shoves his cock inside your mouth, giving you a few seconds to adjust before pushing a little further. You bob your head forward but the task proved to be hard when he was thrusting at the same time. His big hard dick hits the back of your throat, a gag dying past your busy lips. 

"'S it bad if I tell ya' I like watchin' you squirm and struggle with my cock? 'S fuckin' hot"

You narrow your eyes, struggling to keep your throat relaxed as he thrusts forward, fucking your mouth and throat. Your thighs clasp together, the slick pooling down your legs in the absence of underwear.

Joel's groans become raspier as his body begins to tense.

"'M gonna fuck y'r throat raw, doll. And then, I'm gonna cum. Down y'r greedy throat. 'S my girl okay with that" he can see the plea in your eyes as you choke on his cock once more. "S'alright then. Ya' know I love to spoil ma' girl"

As his body starts to edge closer, his tongue runs loose.

"Love watching you suck ma' dick" he looks down on you, eyes glossy, probably because he was drunk in alcohol and you. "Love how it feels. Love how you feel. Love- I love you"

(There's an involuntary gag somewhere)

Joel's body tenses and it doesn't take that much for you to feel the warmth of his cum go down your throat.

You choke again and he brings his dick out of your throat and let you swallow the rest. 

There's a beat of silence, as dense as his fluids down your throat. You avoid his gaze, heart drumming on your chest.

"Doll..." he whispers, the last bits of climax sweating off his skin; all that's left is shame. "C'mere"

(Say it back, he should plead. I know your eyes don't lie, but if I heard those three silly words out of your mouth, I could die happy tonight. A bigger man would beg, but he's never been good, even if he tried)

He helps you get up, wobbly legs not being of help when it comes to the shock of his confession.

I love you.

As much as a tender touch as a knife slitting your chest open in a clean cut.

(You're bleeding love)

Love.

Such a foreign word, one you've never felt before. Yet, what's scary is recognizing that latent warmth on every stolen glance; brush of a hand. The tingles provoked by getting the largest serving, even if his daughter sat at the same table. The flutter of your chest when he tried to be there for you when you thought you were pregnant, even if he was as scared as you. In every little thing he had done since you first started playing with fire, how you wore his heartbeat as an echo and his skin like a second layer to your own.

His lips are swollen when they take yours.

"'S fine" some kind of tiredness seeping through the cracks of his gruff exterior and composed rejected posture. "Ya' don't have to-"

"I love you" you croack out.

His voice comes out impossibly small as he whispers. "What...?"

A fireworks show explodes out somewhere in the background.

"I love you" you repeat, words dripping with an adoration only known to captain's going down with their sinking ships.

You're drowning, but the water doesn't burn your lungs anymore.

"Lemme help with that sore throat of yours" he's tugging down your bottom lip, fingers playing with your mouth to open it. He gazes at you with a look that tugs at your heartstrings. "Open, baby"

Your dry throat and warm mouth welcomes the spit he lands inside.

"There ya' go" and you swallow it, making him curse. "Fuck. 'S so hot seein' you do that, my lil' sweet slut"

"Joel" you whine, hands curled up in white fists as you grab him by the collar of his button shirt.

"Whoa, baby. What's goin' on?" he chuckles softly. "Use y'r words"

"Y-You made a mess-" you blabber, the wet slick between your thigh sticky. "I-It hurts, Joel"

"Hurt?" he cocks an eyebrow. "Care to show me where?"

You sit in the bed, parting your legs, finger pointing out the moist zone.

"Here"

His adam's apple bobs, and the gulp reverberates against the walls of the room.

"Fuck... I see" each word strained. "Don't worry, doll. I can help ya' with'at"

It's his turn to kneel, knees burying on the carpet.

He places one of his big hands on your knee, his calloused fingers tracing absent patterns over the skin. His other hand drums slighty against your trembling leg, so close yet so far. You're so impossibly eager, and a part of him, that fragile ego, is boosted to the roof at your (actual and very real) want for him.

All that glistening pussy was his work. Joel really disarmed you like that.

"If I do this, maybe it won't hurt anymore" his mustache and recently trimmed beard tickle against your sensitive folds as he presses a kiss to your core. You writhe, throwing your head back as your hands fly to his hair, gripping the greying loose curls tightly at the contact. "Will ya' let me eat out this pretty pussy, doll?"

"Please" you let out, breathlessly.

"Love hearin' ya' beg" and he dives in, strong hands holding your thighs on place as he sucks your clit lightly. Your hips buck, his face burying into your cunt to the point his nose touches the warm folds. You moan at the feeling, his tongue now circling against your center.

"J-Joel"

"Feels s'good, right? As good as I feel feastin' on this tight little cunt" and his deep voice sends jolts when it echoes against your walls. You squirm at the sensation, stomach tight with his sucking and licking, misntrations sending you to the edge.

"Joel?"

Barely above a whisper, voice tight.

He looks up to you, pupils blown wide. "Yes?"

"C-Can you finger me, please?"

"Fuck, baby" he whistles. "You really know how'da bring a man to his knees"

And you chuckle at his lame attempt of a joke, not laughing at him but with him.

Joel slides one of his thick, calloused fingers through your soaked folds, feeling the velvet softness of your inner walls clench down on the invading digit, a demonstration of how impatient they were to take his cock. He circles your clit with the pad of his thumb, rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves in tight, slow circles.

"Wanna hear you, y/n" just your name alone on his mouth makes you writhe, and Joel's encouragement as his finger dips lower to tease at your entrance. He slides a second finger into your cunt, pumping in and out of your tight walls in a steady, driving rhythm. You roll against his hand as he curls his fingers. "Fuck yourself on my fingers, baby. Wanna see you ride 'em 'til you come undone. Wanna taste your cum on my tongue as you scream ma' name"

He can feel your body start to tremble, pussy clenching down on his fingers as he fucks you with a relentless pace.

"Shit" he groans, tongue lapping firmly at your clit, "s' fucking tight"

"I-I can't help it" you feel the burning sensation in the corner of your eyes, "I-I feel every inch of you in me"

(Up to your body, head and heart)

"And you ain't even had my cock yet" he's quick to tease. "But I know you'll feel s'good, baby. Takin' my cock like da' good girl y'are"

Tears begin to stream down your face freely, the salty drops hot against your warm skin.

You sniffle, and Joel's movements stop for a bit.

"You cryin'?" but you know damn well he's aroused, by the way he licks his lips absentmindedly as his brown orbs stare back at you, dilatated. You still remember the last time you cried during sex, and how his reaction was practically the same, except this time, it's received with a grateful welcome home. "Fuck, baby- I love when you cry like a lil' cocksleeve over ma' dick"

Despite the lewd words, he's wiping your tears away with his thumb in a soft gentle touch.

"S'okay, baby" he coos, kissing up your throat and onto your chin. Then, you feel a wet sensation on your cheek: but it isn't the tears, yet his tongue, licking the hot stream. "I'll give ya' ma' cock if you want it so much. Now quit your cryin', yeah?"

But you keep sniffling, impossible to close the dam once it's broken.

"My sweet crybaby" Joel mumbles, "I love ya', doll"

"I love you too" each time you said it, a new flower blooming in your heart. It could be. "I do, Joel"

He smiles, the kind of smile that is painful to watch. The kind that says: Is this real? Do I deserve this?

"Y'know I'm bad with words, so lemme show you instead"

He's climbing on top of you as you push yourself into the middle of the bed, lips tangled into a demanding kiss, his tongue dominating your mouth like he wants to tame it. He drops his underwear again, but he's still wearing the goddamn shirt. You whine, and for a second, while over you, he stops.

"What is it, baby?" Joel pants.

"T-take it off" you huff, worked up. You let the tie loose first, starting to unbutton his shirt after. "I want to see you, Joel"

His hand is quick to fly and stop you from taking it off. Even in the dim lit room, you can see the faintest of a blush covering his cheeks.

"Sweetheart..." he mumbles, "I dunno-"

"Please" trying to remove his hand.

"You really wanna?" but behind his teasing smile there's both a hopeful and vulnerable glint to his voice.

You extend your hand, cupping his cheek. He leans into the touch, and for a moment, the world outside ceases to exist, and it's just you, your ragged breaths and the light tickle of his growing beard on your palm.

It could be.

"Because I love you" holding his gaze firmly. "All of you"

"Fuck, baby" Joel starts to get off the shirt, "ya' really made those fuckers downstairs drop their damn mouths when ya' walked in with me. Couldn't believe it, such'a pretty girl could be mine" he snarls, grabbing your face by the chin. "Hell, I'ont believe it either. That you could wanna be with me"

But then you're touching his now naked form before you, fingers slowly tracing through his face to his tense jawline. Then across his broad shoulders to his tummy, feeling the soft swell against your stomach as he leans over your eager form. It's the way you look at him, as if he's the most beautiful man in the world, that makes his breath catch on his throat, staggering.

Your sweet broken voice rings in his head.

It isn't just you. I feel this too.

(Scared. Confused. Happy. Grieving. Loving)

It should be his ego boosted and cock stroked, but when his eyes find yours, it's his heart that feels the fullest.

Fuck, he was too old for this shit.

"Look at 'cha, making lame ol' me a sappy motherfucker" he laughs, the same blush from earlier now more prominent. He leans down to kiss you, his moustache brushing your lips. "If ya' don't stop, I'll take ya' right now and we're gettin' married tonight by summ random Elvis guy"

"What If I wanted that?" you challenge as your mouth presses fluttering kisses to his caging arm, lips stopping on each spot and mole peppered through his thick bicep.

"Then get dressed" you feel him squirm under your insistent lips, "'cause I ain't gettin' married again while naked"

"Where you married, Joel?" you can feel the salt air up your nose of the first night again, asking the same questions. The fact that he's opening to you warms your chest in a pleasant way.

He looks at you absentmindedly, humming as to confirm.

"We were too damn young. Had to, for the baby on the way" he tells. You remember Sarah's aversion to the topic, and given his next words, it makes sense. "Then she left"

I would never leave.

"I'm sorry" you offer instead.

"Don't" the atmosphere is quick to change again as thise words leave his mouth. "Now, where were we?"

You're quick to spread your legs to him, gilstening cunt on full view.

"Good girl" he smirks, lining himself with your warm entrance. "If ya' keep behavin', I might give ya' my cum"

His tip against your clit for a few seconds before pushing down against your hole. Joel groans as his length sinks in your gummy walls, feeling the tightness from before.

"You feel s'good" grunting as he slowly pushes in, letting you adjust to his girth. "Always do" 

He presses a gentle kiss to your sweaty hairline. 

"Tell me how it feels"

"Good" you mewl. "Big"

"Ain't that right" he chuckles.

"Need it all. Please" and you grip his neck tightly, arms around it. His nose brushes against yours as he grunts out a You little minx. "Want it, Joel. I can take it"

He bottoms out. "Then do"

"Fuck" you curse, cunt stretched to adapt to his girth. You breath in painfully, and Joel's eyes lace with concern. "I-It's fine"

"Sure? I can wait"

"I’m okay" you assure him, moved by his care for you. You buck your hips. "You can move"

He starts by setting a slow pace, taking all the space insade your clutching heat. Joel groans at the sensation, your walls gripping him like a vice as he continues to move in a slow motion, pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes. Yet, as his arms cage you by your sides and you look at him with certainty, he picks up a brutal pace, just as you like it, slamming into you over and over again, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filling the small bathroom.

"K-keep going" you grip his left arm. Joel lets out a hiss as your nails dig on his skin. "Feels so good"

"Good'nough for you to cum on m'dick?" he groans huskily in your ear, breath ghosting on your skin like a hot kiss. "Gonna fill you up, doll. I'll mark you as mine, now and for da' rest of y'r life"

The way his voice drips with dominance as he commands you, filled with a rough rich baritone tinted with a possesive hunger, his hips moving faster as he drives into you with force, pistoning harder is enough to set you on edge.

He leans forward, capturing your lips in a kiss. 

"Cum f'me, baby. Let me hear ya' cryin' over my cock"

Tears. Stars. Grunts. Moans. Cum.

Your cry for his name against his lips is how you announce your orgasm, washing over you. Your walls flutter as Joel lets you ride slowly through your climax.

"There ya' go, baby. Go on, ride it" then, he pauses. His face strains. "Hold on tight. I'm gonna- I'm gonna cum. Right there, baby. Stay"

Somewhere along the moans and the writhes of your soft skin against his hard planes and soft belly, Joel asks where you want it. Inside, you hear yourself say, eager to feel all of him again, filling your insides, invading every inch of your body until a part of himself leaks into your heart. He's then blabbering as your walls and heart flutter, about kids and other things you both want but can't have. Tonight, though, as he Joel buries himself deep inside you, his cock throbbing and pulsing as he starts to come, grinding against you, making sure you feel every last spurt, every last bit of his release, you allow yourself to believe.

He pumps some shallows thrusts inside of your slick dripping cunt, emptying himself, before pulling out and looking down at you with a tired smile.

"I love you" he says again in fervent whisper, as if by repeating it, he could materialize it. "I love you so fucking much, y/n. And if ya' can't accept that, can't believe in that, then... then I'ont know what the fuck I'm gonna do. 'Cause I can't lose ya', baby. I can't"

"You won't" you don't know why it comes so easy, or why the promise slips as natural as a breath. "I'm here, Joel Miller. You won't lose me"

credits: divider @kodaswrld / gif @loregifs

[milla-frenchy]

7 AM

0k8 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist Summary: Joel fucks you by the window, some guy watches you Warnings: 18+ mdni. Exhibitionism, rough sex, dirty talk, piv, creampie. Mention of somnophilia. Reader’s hair can be pulled.  No age specified, no outbreak a/n: same couple: 5 days collection, but can be read alone @aurorawritestoescape thank you for beta reading 💕🫶 Gif in the mood board @pedropascalsx 🙏

**************

The sun's rays woke you up early, too early for a Sunday. You contemplated going back to sleep, before glancing at Joel. He was snoring softly, lying on his stomach, one leg slightly bent, his face turned towards you. You looked over him, from his tousled curls to his bare back. His arm was hugging the pillow, the sheets were tangled just below his ass. He’d gone out with friends the night before, and had fallen asleep wearing his gray sweatpants.

It was one of the rare nights when he didn’t fuck you before you two went to bed or while you were asleep.

You smiled looking at him and decided to let him rest. You got up and left the bedroom, closing the door behind you. After making yourself some coffee you went to the living room. It  was bathed in light. You walked to the window and saw a few people who were already jogging outside. You put your coffee on the windowsill, waiting for it to cool off.

You felt Joel behind you before you heard him, right before he placed his hands on your hips.

“What are you doin’ here, sweetheart?” he asked, his mustache brushing against your ear.

He pressed his crotch against you before you even had time to respond. His morning wood found its place against the crease of your ass, leaving you breathless.

“Mmm?”, he insisted, leaning more against you.

“I… didn’t wanna wake you up.”

“Is that right?”

You felt him pull down his sweatpants, just below his balls. His hard cock sprang free towards the ceiling before he slid it between your thighs with a firm hand on his shaft. He pushed your panties to the side, and grabbed your breasts under his large t-shirt.

“Mmmm… you smell like me”, he murmured.

“Joel… people could see us.”

“Yeah? Shoulda think about it earlier, sweetheart.”

He pressed on your back to bend you further towards the window, and nestled his cock at your entrance. You held your breath. You always loved it when he fucked you without preparation, whether with his fingers or his tongue. The painful second when he thrust in always gave way to long minutes of pleasure when you  forgot about everything, except for his shaft ruining your pussy.

When he pushed in, you let out a soft “fuck” biting your lip.

“Yeah, take it, just like that. Good girl.”

He bottomed out, growling, his hands tight on your hips and his gaze down on your ass.

“Shit, this pussy’s barely wet. Poor baby...must be harsh to take this big cock without me spreading you first.”

His pace was slow, but so powerful, that your forehead hit the window each time his cock sank between your folds. He grabbed your hair when you didn’t respond, pulling your head back.

“So cockdumb, when I fuck you raw like that. That’s what you wanted, when you woke up?”

He kissed your neck before nibbling on it, pulling you back against his chest. His hand left your hair to grab a breast and he picked up the pace, thrusting in faster. Then he bent you forward again, making your forehead hit the window, one hand firmly gripping your shoulder for leverage. A jogger passing the house glanced up at your window and slowed down when he saw you.

“Joel!!”

But he neither stopped nor slowed down. He pressed down on the back of your neck, holding you against the window, chasing his orgasm. The stranger was almost walking at that point, watching you two. You slipped your hand into your panties, desperately twirling your clit under your finger.

“Fuck… you’re gonna get off while some guy’s watching you being pounded? Oh, baby… didn’t know you were such a bad girl.”

You couldn’t help but look at the man, now standing in front of the house. There was a smile on your face when the orgasm hit you, your pussy clenching on Joel’s cock. He stopped, buried deep inside your core as his cum spurted over your walls. His eyes were fixed on the man, still watching you.

“Damn it, Joel…”

Once your pussy stopped milking his cock, he grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him, tucking his member back into his sweatpants with the other hand.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re gonna ride my face, right now, in bed. And this time you're gonna cum without looking at a damn stranger. Bet he’s gonna jack off when he’ll get home, thinking about this pussy he can’t have.”

You looked out the window one last time. The man readjusted himself before continuing his run.

Same couple: 5 days collection

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

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@pascalsanctuary @littlemisspascal @survivingandenduring

[queenie-the-court-jester]

that isn't very holy of you :/

Yandere church boy x gn!reader

It came out shittier than I hoped for. Not proofread 🌺 I'll fix this when I have the time

Tw: religious themes, noncon mention, minor cult mention

✝️ you had just arrived in the small town of morning star. Having been needing a break from the city life, you rented a one bedroom cabin close by. Planning on staying here for a month, you quickly headed towards your new home, very eager to start exploring the area

✝️ wandering around the town square, it seemed everyone knew eachother. A family like community perhaps? Maybe that's why they all kept staring at you as passed through, must not be use to new faces

✝️that was until a group of children approached, asking you to come play ball with them. You couldn't say no to their puppy dog eyes, and the adult's judgemental stares so you agreed. And it was fun surprisingly! You noticed none of the children had any phones.. or the grown up's for that matter

✝️your first week there you were unsettled, but you just pushed it off as the townsfolks strange behavior, Focusing on unpacking and enjoying your stsy. Until one of the school teachers, a kindergarten one, knocked on your door on a sunday

"hi there honey! On behalf of the people I'd like to sincerely apologize for the cold welcome. It's just been a hard year for all of us! So to make it up you, won't you come to church with us on this fine morning?"

✝️ whether or not you're religious yourself, she managed to convince you to come along. Chatting the whole walk there. Talking about her husband, her children. She mentioned something about having a son your age but you weren't really paying attention

✝️ walking through the grand double doors of the church house, she sat you on the front row with the pastors family, next to a young man. You were startled as she sat on the other side of you, leaning in to whisper In Your ear as she pointed at the pastor preaching

"that's my hubby right there. He's a handsome fella ain't he?"

✝️david looked at his mother in disbelief, he told her a few a times he found you attractive and now look at her! He could practically see the gears turning in her head. thankfully you seemed preoccupied thinking, so he did his best to seem normal while his poor heart beated 300 mph

✝️after the sermon, david turned to you and have you a sheepish smile

"hi.. my name's David, but you can call me dave.. its.. nice to meet you"

✝️you and David hit it off, unlike all the other people. He didn't constantly talk about praising god and forcing his religion down your throat. He was kind, understanding. Laughing at your jokes and nodding along to your words. He never met someone so.. ethereal

✝️growing up, he had a hard time believing in his small towns "god". Watching them cut up and sacrifice newcomers to their false idols, he felt sick to the pit of his stomach heading their screams. But he could definitely devote his cause to you...

✝️he trapped you in this shitty town when he asked you out on a little date a few days later. Unaware he drugged your food and dragging you into his home, waking up chained to a bed. You couldn't tell how long you've been there, but every time you'd try to escape he'd punish you in bed. Not letting you cum or overstimulating you to the point of tears. Why would you want to leave something that can make you feel so good?

✝️he grew up desensitized to blood and gore, so he's confused when you're screaming and crying. Why are you doing that? Don't you know that this is what happens to bad spouses? What do you mean you're not married either? ofcourse you are. Stop being so difficult...

✝️nobody blinks an eye when he strides into town with you on a collar and leash. And that's when you realized, you should have left earlier. Because the whole town was sick in the head. It wasn't like you could call for help because he fucking destroyed your electronics and the people don't even have phones. Something about wifi signals can brainwash you

✝️ he's whipped for you, that much you can obviously tell. but he's smarter than he looks. Eating dinner with his family is just painful,since all they talk about is God god god. It hurts your ears with how often they just Randomly start singing praises. It's bad enough they force you to watch their cult church activities...

✝️if you give in to his demands, he'll let you off the leash but you have to stay close by at all times. If you don't, he'll have to make his punishments a little more extreme. There's also a possibility he'll force you to help around the town. whether that be looking after the children or just running around doing errands. The shock bracelet on your ankle stops you from running into the woods..

✝️if you don't, well.. you wouldn't mind if you became permanently handicapped right?

"don't be so difficult sweetie.. just stay still and it'll cut right through okay?'

[savedenji]

… ೀDad!Joel Miller Fanfiction Recommendations !

♡ ྀི༘͏Note: None of these fanfictions are mine. Credits to all their respective authors !

♡ ྀི༘͏Note 2: These contain Mom!Reader, so in some cases, the reader will be pregnant.

💐 = kids

🪷 = pregnancy

🌹= breeding leading to pregnancy 😉

🌶️ = smut

Part 4: Stubborn (one shot) 🪷 🌶️

Summary: Joel sees your baby bump for the first time.

(other parts of the one shot): 🌶️🌹🪷

• Prequel

• Part 1

• Part 2

• Part 3

After all (one shot) 🪷 🌶️

Summary: A morning in Jackson with your husband Joel and his kid Ellie, only ever since you got pregnant he has seemengly become insatiable.

snapshots (masterlist) 🪷💐

Summary: Moments of Joel Miller’s life in Jackson, Wyoming with his girls.

Just to be Sure (one shot) 🌹🌶️

Summary: Your husband Joel is desperate to get you pregnant again.

Bound in Bloom (one shot) 🪷 🌶️

Summary: Joel Miller never thought he’d find peace, not after all the years of running, fighting, and surviving. But here you were, standing in the kitchen of your farmhouse, your belly swollen beneath his favorite sundress on his birthday.

refined taste (one shot) 💐 🌶️

Summary: joel relishes in the taste of you.

request: Imagine no outbreak Joel seeing you doing a million steps nightly skin care routine and just laying under the covers and waiting for you to be done and come to bed already and slowly getting frustrated Maybe a little toddler cuddling in bed with him and Joel fake complaining to them about you “Mommy is taking a long time huh?” 💐

Unexpected Expectings (one shot) 🪷

Summary: It's a horrible idea, even living somewhere as safe as Jackson. But it's all she wants. Will Joel be able to accept her decision? Or will she have to do this alone?

(continuations of the one shot): 🪷💐🌶️

• We'll Be Expecting You,

• Not What You Expected,

• Talking Shop ,

• High Expectations,

• Unmet Expectations,

• Untitled,

• An Unexpected Addition,

• Unexpected Circumstances

Little Lamb (one shot)🌹🌶️

Summary: You and Joel decide on the future of you two when he sees how well you mother the lambs.

Joel Miller x Reader (one shot) 🪷

Summary: Pregnant reader saves Joel from Abby.

Honey-Do (one shot) 🌹🌶️

Summary: It’s Sunday, chore day, and Joel has a honey-do list item of his own: get his girl pregnant.

Hairspray (one shot) 🪷

Summary: Sarah finds Y/N’s hidden pregnancy tests.

request 1: Ps, I just imagine Joel shoving himself so deep that his (fucking massive, overflowing) balls are pressed tight to your labia, his pubes getting wet with how much slick there is, and trying to get as deep as possible so he has the best bet at breeding his sweet lil darlin 🌶️🌹

request 2: UR LAST JOEL BLURB HOLY SHIT omg I - think I just fainted. Anyyyway 🫠 I was wondering if you’d be open to writing a continuation of this where you’re in bed with Joel and he notices that your stomach has a slight bump that you didn’t notice… he goes insane when it’s confirmed that you’re pregnant, bending you over and spending the rest of the day on his knees behind you 🤭 🪷🌶️

A Christmas baby (one shot) 🪷💐

Summary: Joel and you have broken up towards the end of your pregnancy until Sarah convinces you to come to Tommy’s annual Christmas party.

Baby Daddy!Joel thoughts 🪷🌶️

Summary: SFW + NSFW baby daddy Joel thoughts

hiking (one shot) 💐

Summary: as a family, you go on a hike with your daughter.

𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 (drabble) 🪷

request: a joel miller x pregnant reader drabble where the reader wakes up Joel all excitedly because the baby is kicking?🥰

Caring Hand (one shot) 🪷

Summary: You're going on a trip with Joel, which means driving to the destination and it’s hours away… to make matters worse your morning sickness is at its worst. So Joel does his best to look after you.

Joel Miller x Reader (one shot) 💐

Summary: Home from the hospital, Joel is over protective after you give birth.

Shooting Stars (one shot) 🪷🌶️

Summary: You give Joel the best Christmas gift he could ever ask for. You make him a daddy.

keep you warm (masterlist) 🪷

Summary: You reveal to Joel that you are carrying his child. He vows to keep you both safe and warm, always.

darlin’ i’d wait for you (one shot) 🪷💐

Summary: “Ten fingers. Ten toes. And even if you had none of them, you’d still be the grandest thing I’ve ever seen.” - Emily Henry, Beach Read aka you and Joel have a baby.

And Then it Happened (one shot) 🌶️🪷

request: Hey, could you do a fic about Joel knocking up the reader, while living in Jackson? He's such a baby daddy and Everytime I read fics that says he pulled out during sex, I always think "hm, someday he's gonna get someone pregnant" since it's a very ineffective birth control hahaha

Slice of Paradise 🪷 & From love and life 🪷💐

Summary: Joel dream of having a farmhouse comes true. What makes it even better is that he's not there alone. He has his own little family to enjoy this little slice of paradise with him.

Short days, long nights (serie masterlist) 🪷🌶️

Summary: Part of a band of travelers, your party is slowly picked off one by one, until there are only two of you left. Finding an abandoned cabin in the woods, you decide to make camp there until you figure out your next move. As the seasons change, the nights get longer and longer…

Christmas Eve (one shot) 🪷

Summary: Christmas Eve with your husband.

The library will be updated over time! Don't forget to give love to the works and their authors !

[quaintii]

Across the Street

Part 1

Summary: It's been a couple weeks since a new family moved in, across the street. You go pay them a visit with an offer.

Warnings: no smut yet... just some build-up. Miguel x f!reader (I got the pic from Twitter, the @ is @kimmy_arts0912!!) also sorry that its hella long, plot ykk (pls read a/n at end!)

Part 2 <-

Part 3 <-

On a Sunday afternoon, you decided to go out with your friends at the mall. You hear a knock on front your door and open it. "Hey! I came here early again, didn't I?" Your friend said "Hey Ash! You motion your hand inside your house.

She takes a seat on the couch, smiling and giggling. "Heyy, why are you like that?" You furrow your eyebrows together with a grin on your face, giving her some juice.

You jolt as she stands up quickly and grips your shoulders.

"Did you see that guy across the street?!" She fans herself with her hand, exaggerating and giggling. You raise your eyebrows, not knowing who she's talking about. "No..., why? You like him?" You nudge her shoulder with yours in return. "A man like that.. can fuck my brains out!" She exclaims.

You quickly slap her thigh in response, getting a groan from her. "Fuck you do that for?!?" "My parents are home! You mumble. In shock, she covered her mouth with her hand. A few seconds later, you hear a ring from the front door.

You open your door to your whole friend group, the 5 of you in total. You greet them all in and spend a couple minutes inside before heading to the car altogether, carpooling.

"Hurry up!" One of your friends yell at the other one. Your eyes avert to what Ashley was talking about earlier, you see a big U-haul truck with multiple men pulling out furniture.

None seemed to be the man your friend described until you see a man from the huge window pane talking and motioning his hands where to place the furniture. Seems like your friend wasn't exaggerating at all. He wore a black button up shirt, some buttons loosened on top. Adjourned with some dark grey work pants that fit between some-what tight and loose.

What really caught your eyes were his glasses, sitting perfectly on his nose bridge. As he looked around his surroundings, he caught your gaze and gave a small grin. You snap out of it and return back to reality and enter the backseat, engine starting and loud booming music playing.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ~

You sit down with your legs crossed over the other, waiting for the waiters to take the group's orders. You rest your chin on your palm, sighing. One of your friends seem to notice.

She touches your shoulder, "Something up?" She asks. You nod your head, resting it on her shoulder. "Yeah... my parents told me I have to start paying rent to stay at the house." You let out another breathy sigh. "I mean I don't even know how I'm going to manage when I'm focusing on paying back my student debt from last year and with my one job not being enough.." You muttered softly.

Your other friends eavesdrop and reassure that it'll be fine and to not pressure yourself into becoming a total workaholic. you let out a small laugh and the waiter finally heads towards your table.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ~

The next morning you wake up with a bad hangover, only remembering your friends' went to a club and its a blur after that.

You get up and change your bed sheets and take a relaxing shower. As your in your bed with your laptop working on your AP classes, your mom barged in.

"Get your ass up and do something! I'll be making you pay rent by the end of the month!" She raised her tone at you, annoying your peace.

"Mom, I'm already busy with paying my student debt from last year with my on-going job right now!" You exclaim back. "I've applied to other places for a job, they keep rejecting me." Your mom gave you nothing but a scoff and a cold glare. "Are you positive you've looked everywhere for a job nearby?!" She stepped into your room further.

You nod your head, annoyed how she always had an attitude with you.

"Well it looks like you didn't look close enough, the new neighbor across the street is looking for a babysitter." She said while touching your posters, eyeing the window.

"How do you know?" You asked. "He posted an obvious sign outside his front yard 3 days ago." Your mom sighed. "Look.. just give that one a try or move somewhere else with your friends." She's finally out of your bubble.

You groan and place your head on your laptop as you closed it. You slip into your shoes and head downstairs and walk across the street. "Seriously, what a nagging bitch.." You mumble under your breath and ring the doorbell.

The door opens sooner than you expected, facing a tall figure towering over you. It's him.

"May I help you, Ms?" He raised his eyebrow, expecting a response from you.

Finally being infront of him hit you like a stone brick, your vocal chords thrown out the window. You clear your throat. "Good morning, I don't mean to be a bother to you but I heard you're wanting a babysitter..?"

"Oh yeah, that reminds me..are you available later in the afternoon? If not, tomorrow if you're not." He gave off a small smile. "For afternoon, yes but if you don't mind me asking what for?"

"Oh sorry," he places one of his hands on his hip, other on the back of his neck. "For an interview, just want to do a small background check, that okay with you?" He tilts his head to the slide, letting a subtle smile stretch across his lips.

You nod and shake his head, heading back home.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ~

You walk up to his door to knock and check your phone. 4:05 p.m. You avert your eyes at him as he opens the door, smiling and greeting you inside. Miguel remains standing while you take a seat. He looks at you, studying your face, your movements, and the way you sit down. Once you make yourself comfortable, he sighs, looking away.

"Can I take a look at that?" He asked and you slide the folder file his way. He nods a couple times as he flips through the papers and starts typing on his computer.

"Do you have any experience with taking care of babies?"

He asks quietly.

"Yeah, I always babysat when I was in highschool."

He nods, seeming satisfied with the answer you gave. Miguel was quiet for a few moments, his mind going over a few things. He eventually speaks, and when he does, his voice sounds almost like a whisper.

"Could I trust you with taking care of my daughter then? With her safety and everything?"

He was quiet again.

"She's... very precious to me. I don't want her to get hurt."

"Yes of course! I would gladly take great care of her for you sir." You responded politely.

"Very well then."

He remains silent, looking at you for a moment longer, thinking about what to say next. The man then nods and starts talking again.

"She's five, and her name is Gabriella. She's a little angel... and she's mine."

Miguel took a breath and sighed, rubbing his face.

"She'll be home in a couple hours; I'll be gone..she's at her mother's house right now. I was planning on telling her that she'll have a babysitter, so she'll be excited."

He starts walking but then stops again. He then looks at you again and nods, as if he was thinking of something.

"Oh, I just need to set some rules and expectations for you to stick by, if you don't mind."

Miguel waits for you to acknowledge his words.

Your face turns a soft red, "Sorry, I was just spacing out but yeah of course." You smile back.

Miguel chuckles when you say you space out, and nods to acknowledge your answer.

"That's completely fine."

"First rule; you're responsible for her safety while I'm gone. No strangers can come in and stay, no party, etc." He seems to be thinking of more rules to add, taking a moment.

"Second; be nice to her. She's young and is easily scared or sad. So be kind."

He nods as if he finished, but then goes silent again.

"Third; no boys allowed without my permission. It's a rule for everyone, honestly." You continuously agree to his terms.

Miguel nods, still looking at you. His eyes seem to take a quick glance down at your clothes, studying you once again. He seemed to stare at your body as his gaze moved across your clothes; he didn't care that he was staring at you.

"I think that's it. Any questions?" "Nope!"

"Very well." Miguel nods, as if he was satisfied with the answer you gave.

"Then you will begin your babysitting job tonight when Gabi is here..." He pulls his cell phone and looks at the time on the screen before looking back at you.

"...in 2-3 hours. She'll be excited to see you, so make sure to make her smile." Miguel smiles at you and nods once again.

Miguel's eyes go back to your body, his gaze slowly moving across your curves from top to bottom. He then looks away.

"You will also find two numbers on the fridge; mine and the number for our family doctor. They are for emergencies."

Miguel then crosses his arms.

"That's all I have to say. Gabriella will be here in two hours. She'll knock three times before entering, okay?"

"Got that," you noted mentally.

Miguel nods one more time. "Alright, I'll be gone then. Don't worry, Gabriella is very easy to take care of."

He smiles and starts walking to the front door again. Before leaving, he waits to see if you had anything to add.

"See you tomorrow then Ms." You shoot a smile at him and head to the door first, which unexpectedly you stumble over a Barbie doll car. You stop from tripping onto your knees as you feel calloused hands brush over your waist, slightly gripping onto your skin. His hands around your waist made you shiver, the small skin to skin contact emitting some heat to your core.

You regain your posture quickly, embarrassed of yourself. "I'm sorry.." You blurt out. "Its fine really, Gabi tends to leave a trail of her toys around the house", he laughs lightly. "Ah okay...see you tomorrow then Mr.." You wait for his response. "Mr. O'Hara is fine." He says before shutting the door.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

a/n: srry its pretty long, you guys can tell me down in the comments if you want a part 2 or if you'd like this to be a slow burn but somewhat fast? leave any tips!! ty :3

EDIT: PART 2

[lexirosewrites]

I was reading an omegaverse fic, like I do on a sunday, where A!Eddie is taking care of O!Steve in heat, and It made me think about the Ultimate Consent/Good Guy version of the trope.

Through whatever Fanfiction tropes needed, Steve goes into heat around Eddie before there is any kind of conversation about it. They've been flirting, and they're attracted to each other, but no dates, and Steve hadn't even admitted that he IS an omega yet.

Heat starts suddenly, and for plot reasons, Eddie is there only one who can be there. As horny as he is about this situation --- he likes Betas fine, and he likes Steve a lot no matter what, but now Steve + Omega? Yes please --- he knows he needs to get Steve into his room or nest, bring up snacks and water and whatever, and then gtfo.

But Steve clings and begs Eddie to stay, and he is only a man.

Eddie is positively feasting here, deliriously happy, absolutely soaked in Steve. Steve is entirely on board with this. Theyve been at it for more than an hour, and Eddie is finally naked too, about to finally fuck him, when Steve says No.

Worse than 'No, get out.' That would suck, but Eddie could go away and jack himself until his hand cramped.

This is No, but please stay, but also no more sex stuff, but keep holding me, but don't put clothes on I hate it, but I don't want sex.

Heats are long without sex. Two days or more rather than 12 hours.

Heat scent is evolved to make Alphas want to fuck, and to make the omega come. Eddie is hardwired to do the things that Steve doesn't want.

And I just thought of something, that we need a cousin of Rejection sickness for this. That sometimes gets set off if an alpha is around an omega in heat for too long without sex. Which is why asking an Alpha to stay for a heat is kind of a given that its gonna involve sex.

Because Eddie does exactly as Steve asks, takes care of him, keeps him hydrated, holds him, holds him upright so he can use the bathroom, and does it all while consciously knowing he'll crash after its done. That way when the heat breaks and B!Robin comes in to take over for Eddie, we have a way to hurt them.

Eddie goes home, showers again, goes to the urgent care to get the meds that have like, a 20% chance of actually cutting off how sick he's about to be, and obviously, they don't work. So Eddie is laid out flat, sick as hell, and it'll be 4-6 weeks before he's fully better. This isn't all that common, but its socially a valiant thing in the right circles. In the wrong ones, its a sign that Eddie is too pathetic to fuck an omega properly. With good people though, its proof that Eddie cares enough and is strong enough to respect consent during what is measurably the hardest test for an Alpha.

Meanwhile Steve is freaking out because he got scared at the last minute and doesn't remember much of his heat, just that Eddie stayed the whole time while Steve was needy and awful. And after, when he calls to apologize, Wayne passes on the message that Eddie 'is fine, he's not upset, but he needs a little time'

*insert happy ending here*

RIP Eddie Munson

cause of death: blue knot😭