#after a long night of tossing and turning i was just drifting off when that quake hit

[mushroomofficial]

well. i am very awake.

[togament]

suo. sakura. umemiya. togame. pt. 1

"...and the biggest fattest one too. How'd it take him so long to figure it out? What did it take for him to finally realize?"

𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, general cute stuff really. There isn't much to warn about :o!!! gn!reader, Togame is tall and awkward and cute and and--, Ume's precious as always!

𝐒𝐔𝐎.

✦ when he’s doting on you way more, putting your wants over everything else.

He's attending to your every need even before you realize you even need it in the first place. Need tissues? He's already pulling them out of his bag. Got a migraine? He's already handing you a water bottle and an ibuprofen. He does it so naturally too like it's second nature to him.

✦ when he uncharacteristically gets heated when someone tries to harm you.

Listen. He's usually so, SO calm even in the most intense situations, always ready to analyze before acting--a real brain over heart typa guy. But when he finds you being cornered at an alleyway? He's sprinting towards you to beat whoever's planning on hurting you without even thinking twice. Someone's bothering you in town? He's shadowing you, protecting and keeping watch.

✦ he catches himself being flustered, blushing and folding at the sight of you.

Suo rarely shows any intense emotions. If anything, it's always just a slight smile and a little teasing remark here and there. But around you though? He's smiling widely, cheeks blushing. It's hard to hide sometimes. Goodness. He needs to keep himself in check, he often thinks. He doesn't want you to find out yet. Not yet.

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𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀.

✦ when he looks for you FIRST whenever he achieves something, whenever he's having a bad day--for literally EVERYTHING.

his immediate thought is you. Every time. When he sees the hybrid tomato plant you both grew from seed blooming, he's immediately sending you photos. When he's having one of those nights, tossing and turning in his sleep, thoughts keeping him awake, the only thing that's tethering him down to earth is you.

✦ when he sees you get along with the family that he built for himself.

Ume is never subtle when it comes to this. My god. He's blushing, tripping over his words, movements ever so stiff--it's very unusual to see Ume in this state. He's just so happy to see you interacting with everybody, loving each member as much as he does. He can't just swoop you off your feet and kiss you right? Not right now. Not when he's been silently pining for you for years.

✦ when he realizes his thoughts about his future always has you in it.

He often talks about his future with others, what his plans are after he graduates, where he wants to go, what restaurants to go to. Everyone notices how his thoughts always seem to gravitate towards you, always easing you into his plans with a pensive little, "Hm. Y'think they'd like to go here too? I heard them talking about the spot a couple times!", "Maaaan I wanna go here with them soon. Should I just book the tickets? Surprise them? Yeah I think I should!" Everyone's just waiting for a confession at this point, really.

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𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐀.

✦ when random things remind him of you.

he could be on their daily patrols, passing by some shops and his mind would drift off to you and how you would look in the shirt he passed by, how your face would probably light up at the taste of the anpan they're selling down the street. Goodness you never leave his mind. Day dreams about it sometimes. Suo and Nirei has caught him multiple times doing so. Always ends with an extremely flustered Sakura.

✦ when he thinks he hears your laughter or your voice, his head snaps towards the direction of the sound.

just like the above! But it's your voice. Nirei thinks Sakura's just on guard by how often he looks around quickly but Suo points out Sakura's reddening cheeks and they immediately know he's thinking about you again. Wants to fish his phone out of his pocket with trembling (and blushing) fingers to ask you where you are. Y'know... Just in case you run into trouble.

✦ when he gave you the other half of his food (he hasn't taken a single bite yet)

Sakura sometimes eats for at least 5 people so to have him offer half of his food to you when you're out eating is saying something. His hands are blushing and trembling as he's trying his best to steady them, slicing a portion of his food to place it on your plate. Of course, you give him the other half of your food too. Of course he's a blushing mess.

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𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄.

✦ finds every excuse possible to be close to you. (Subtly.)

Ever noticed how Togame always seems to bump into you at spots you and your friends frequent? How he so happened to pass by the Furin school after your classes are dismissed? Gosh you're his first real crush so he doesn't know what to do with all these feelings. He wants to see you and see you often. He awkwardly and adorably tries his damndest not to seem too obvious when he's trying to see you more to strike up a conversation but his blushing (and tall frame) doesn't help his case.

✦ when he always talks about you to the old men at the public baths he frequents.

Togame's a quiet guy. He rarely ever yaps, always getting cut off mid-sentence since he talks so.. SO slow. But when it's about you, his normal 0.75x speaking speed goes up to a full 1.0x or even, dare I say, 1.25x. He's smiling ear to ear, voice with an uncharacteristic shine to it while he's playing shogi with one of the old men. They already adore you before they even meet you. They often give Togame advice too--bring you your favorite flowers, they suggest. Take you out for a festival date, they suggest. "Soon," Togame responds, scratching the back of his neck, "M'nervous though. I can pull it off ri--" "Of course you can, kame-kun." he looks at the old men with the softest, most lovestruck eyes they've ever seen. Soon. He'll make his very first move.

✦ has caught himself staring at you from afar, smiling to himself like a damn lovesick puppy.

...on multiple ocassions, might I add. You could be yapping away with the Bofurin members, talking animatedly about the most mundane things, arms flinging to and fro to get your point across, snort laughing and head thrown back. Togame's just sat just outside the group, ever the introvert. Face propped on his hand, heart practically melting. He doesn't realize he's doing this before Choji points it out. Loudly. He's immediately looking in the other direction, blush creeping up his neck as he struggles to keep the smaller Shishitoren member in check. While he's preoccupied, it's your turn to stare back at him, hiding a blush behind your hand. Suo notices this and points it out. Now the both of you are flustered messes.

a/n: tried my hand at a new layout!! eeeee inspired by my favorite perfume house but we're not opening that can of worms right now, lest I yap. ANYWHOSIES thank you, dear reader, for getting this far. I am smooching your forehead tenderly with consent.

[lesservillain]

dream a little dream of me.

sleep demon!eddie munson x afab!reader

cw: SMUT. breeding kink, monster!eddie, readers body is “changed”(I think thats it?)

You’re tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep thanks to the ache between your legs. You already tried getting yourself off to no avail, so sleeping it off was your plan b.

You didn’t know why you’d been so horny lately. All day you’d be thinking about being taken over your work desk or in the coffee shop bathroom. Wet dreams plagued your mind every night of a beautiful man making love to you had left you with wet sheets from how hot and bothered you were getting even in your sleep.

But no matter how much you tried to satisfy yourself, it just wasn’t enough.

Just as you were about to drift off, the mattress dipping caught your attention. You lived alone, besides your cat, so you just assumed it was them joining you in the bed. That was until it continued to dip, pushing down deep indicating that whatever was on your bed was much heavier than your cat.

You froze in fear, trying to regulate your breathing to make it seem like you were still asleep. Your mind raced as you tried to think of what to do.

“I know you’re awake.”

You stopped breathing. You felt your heart pounding on your chest as you panic.

“Don’t be afraid, I’m not here to hurt you,” the voice said, sounding less distorted and more like the voice of…

Slowly you turned to look behind you. Sitting on the edge of your bed was the man of your dreams. His soft eyes met yours, his smile turning toothy when you realized it was him.

Were you dreaming right now? It didn’t feel like it. Maybe you were lucid dreaming?

You didn’t have much more time to think about it as he placed a hand on your cheek. It felt as if he really were touching you, and you felt conflicted with that fact.

“I missed you, sweet girl,” he coos at you. “I hate it when you leave me.”

He leans down, stopping just short of kissing you. His eyes flash for a moment, looking almost red compared to his normal color.

When you don’t protest, he closes the gap between you, letting your lips slot together perfectly in a deep kiss. His mouth moves against yours and you reciprocate, feeling as if its the natural thing to do.

As the kiss deepens you feel his hands slowly start to roam your body. He feels you up, his hands landing on your breasts, squeezing and fondling until you hum against his lips. The man smiles against you.

He pulls away, lidded eyes stating down at you as his lips start to kiss down your jaw, your neck, between your breasts, down, down, down, until he’s positioning himself between your legs.

“Mmm such a pretty sight,” the man says, looking at your pussy with lovesick eyes. “Prettiest I’ve ever seen.”

He runs a finger through your folds, making you gasp at the sudden contact. He takes his finger to his mouth, his tongue wrapping around it to lick off your juices.

“Mmmm, like the divine nectar,” the man hums. You watch in anticipation as he brings his face closer to your pussy. His long tongue darts out again, your hands flying to his hair as he gets to work opening you up.

All of the times he’s spent with you in your dreams gave him plenty of practice to know exactly how you like it. He lets his tongue flick and rub against your clit as his fingers work diligently inside you. You feel your legs start shake as he brings you closer and closer to your peak.

Just as you feel yourself tipping over the edge, his tongue and fingers switch places. The pads of his fingers rub against your clit roughly as he sticks his long, thick tongue inside you. The muscle penetrates you deep, until you feel him hitting against your cervix.

Your vision goes white, little stars dancing behind your eyes as you cum hard on his tongue. In your blissed out state, you almost dont feel the way something is pushed deeper inside of you. It feels like a slight pinch, but almost immediately after your body feels like it’s on fire.

Whatever the man put inside you with his tongue begins to spread over the walls of your womb, coating it in a thick lining. Any arousal you had in your body was turned up to a hundred as you turn into a bitch in heat. Slick begins to pool on your bedsheets as it leaks from your pussy.

The man watches your body’s changes with delight. He licks his lips at the sight of you, his sharp teeth suddenly very noticeable to you.

“How do you feel?” He asks you, eyes still settled on your soaked cunt.

“H-hot?” You stutter, looking up at him with pinched brows. Was he always naked? Or had you not noticed his huge, hard cock until just now?

“That’s normal,” he says softly. He gently places a hand over your womb, his pointes nails grazing your skin. “How do you feel here?”

You look at his hand on your lower stomach. It’s huge when compared to the size of your body.

“Feels fine, maybe a little crampy?”

He coos down at you, leaning in to give you a kiss.

“That will get better once I’m inside,” he assures you. His hand leaves your stomach to cradle your face lovingly. You lean into his touch, nuzzling against his large palm.

“What-what did you do to me?” The last word came out as a squeak as you feel the tip of his cock slid through your folds.

He leans into you, his hot breath on the bare skin of your neck as he rolls his hips. Once he’s satisfied with how wet you’ve gotten his cock, he finds your entrance and slowly begins to push it inside of you. He feels even bigger than he looks, and you start to panic as he continues to stretch you out. You grab at his broad shoulders and he shushes you.

“It’s okay,” he says, “your body will sense my size and adjust accordingly. Give it just a moment.”

There’s a slight strain in his voice that wasn’t there before. You can see his brows pinching together as the head of his cock nestles against your cervix. He pauses, looking down for a moment to observe how little of him your body had yet to take.

Suddenly, you feel a tingle between your legs, and a wave of slick pushes out of you. Your body felt like a raw nerve, becoming sensitive to even the smallest shift that the man makes. You begin to squirm beneath him out of desperation, seeking any bit of friction to give you some relief.

“Oh, fuck me,” the creature moans above you, watching the way you try and fuck yourself on his cock.

“Can I move?” He whines. “I need to fuck you.”

You realize you’d been staring down at where the two of you connected. When you look up to the creature’s face, he looks just about as fucked out as you feel.

His disheveled hair falls around his horns and into his face. His mouth is slack, his long tongue hanging out between his parted lips. He’s staring right at you, waiting.

“Please.”

You realize he must not be able to move unless you give him verbal permission. So when you manage to squeak out a “yes,” the creature lets out a sigh of relief. A devilish grin spreads across his face as he gets himself situated.

He pulls out of you agonizingly slowly, before thrusting sharply back inside of you. Your legs straighten at the sensation, his cock hitting your sensitive spot with ease and sending a shock wave through your body.

Suddenly you were cumming on his cock, never feeling a sensation like that before. He continued to move, fucking you through your orgasm without slowing down.

Dark tendrils of hair clouded your vision as he brought his lips to yours again. His long tongue began to lick into your mouth, filling it until you felt it trying to breach your throat. The size and thickness of it had you sucking on it out of instinct. The creature seemed to enjoy this, moaning into your mouth in response.

It was almost too much to be so full of this monster. The haze of lust made it hard to tell where your body began and his ended. Every thrust felt like a spark of lightning through your body that traveled to your finger tips.

When the creature pulled away from you, you audibly whined at the loss, even while gasping for air. He leaned back, angling his hips in a new way that had you seeing stars. Your back arched off the bed as you began to cum again.

“Dammnit,” the gruff voice of the monster breathes out. “You’re like a vice around me.”

“Feel so good,” you say breathlessly.

“Mmm, told you I would make the pain go away.”

You couldn’t think straight, let alone understand what he was talking about. All you could think of is your monster lover and the way he was moving inside of you.

And cum.

The thought of him cumming inside you became all consuming. The need for him to breed you was overwhelming to the point where you began bucking your hips into him again in a feeble attempt at expediting the process.

“Mmm you’re getting so needy aren’t you?” The monster cooes above you. You nod loosely, head bobbing but your eyes lazily fixed on the creatures deep brown ones, pupils big and wide enough you can see your own reflection in them.

“I never did tell you what I did to you, did I?” He says, still moving at a brutal pace.

“Nuh-uh,” is all you manage to say, gasping again at a particularly sharp thrust.

You look down at where the monster and you meet. For a brief, lucid moment your eyes go wide as you see the monsters cock fully disappearing inside of you, a small bulge pressing against your abdomen with every thrust the monster makes.

“I think you can tell by now that I am not like you,” he says. “But, the only way my kind can reproduce is with humans.” His hands roam your body, almost in awe of your form as he continues to speak.

“The only problem is that your kind,” he places a hand above your womb, “are only compatible if we…make it that way.”

Your cloudy thoughts make small connections between his words and his actions. If you were in a right state of mind, you’d probably have loads of questions you wanted answered. But right now, you only had one goal.

Grabbing the monsters arms, you use all of your strength that you can muster and manage to flip him completely only his back. The confident, sure creature becomes wide eyed and blushing as he stares up at you in a state of shock.

“Wh-what are you—“

“Shhh,” you shush him. “Want you to cum. Please?”

You waste no time as you begin to bounce up and down on his hard cock. He was deeper than you could ever imagine possible, but there was no pain. If anything, you couldn’t hold yourself back from cumming again and again.

“Holy shit,” the creature says, mesmerized at the way you use him for your own pleasure.

“Name.” It doesn’t come out as a question, rather a command.

“Wh-wha-You want to know my name?” The creature stutters.

“Yes, yes, please!”

“Eddie! It’s Eddie!”

“Oh, fuck, Eddiieeeeeeeee!”

That pushed the creature over the edge. His large hands grab at your hips to hold you in place. Hot ropes of thick cum begin to fill you up until you start to feel it leaking out of you.

When you can finally open your eyes, you find the creature—Eddie—tongue out and panting as he catches his breath. Before your eyes you watch as he shifts from his monstrous form back into the man you’ve been seeing in your dreams.

If everything wasn’t so real, you’d almost think you were dreaming after all. But the slow circles that Eddie was rubbing into your hips was confirmation enough that all of this was very real.

“Hi,” Eddie says with a dimpled grin when you land next to him in the bed.

“Hi,” you say, looking at the handsome man next to you.

“You okay?” He asks, caressing your cheek.

“Yeah,” you sigh, turning to fully face him. “I just have a lot of questions.”

thanks for reading!

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 15)

first chapter >> last chapter

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Sleep eludes you. You toss and turn that first night, not used to sleeping on your own. Every sound makes you jump. When the sky goes black and the bushes rustle with the breeze, you have to double check the locks on the doors no less than three times, fastening it with the wooden bolt just to be safe. 

Without John around, the world is twice as loud; crickets chirp raucous melodies, buzzing so loud that sometimes you swear there must be one on the pillow right beside your head, and, in the distance, an owl hoots at an interval so irregular that each screech tugs you back from the brink of sleep. The house groans as it settles into itself; the first time you hear it, you spring upright in bed, heartbeat erratic, certain that it’s the sound of someone coming up the porch steps. 

You collapse back onto the mattress with a huff when you finally recognize the sound for what it is. 

You don’t sleep well that night. Dawn finds you awake before its arrival. The songbirds keep you from drifting off back to sleep when the first wispy rays of sunlight creep over the horizon, and you lie in bed until the possibility of sleep is well behind you. That makes you huff, bitter over the loss. 

Again, the day is slow to come over you. It seems almost reluctant to really get going, the sunlight clear and the air brisk but the day itself slow moving. An early morning chill forces you to don heavier garments than usual. 

After breakfast, you take Buttercup into the paddock to run around, watching her from the edge of the pen, humming to yourself under your breath. 

Most of the morning is spent cleaning and doing chores around the house. You muck the stables, feed the horses, scrub the dirty laundry on the washboard before hanging it up on the line, weed the garden, and promise yourself that next week you’ll work up the energy to boil linseed oil to polish and oil the furniture. As it is, you stagger into the kitchen around midday for lunch, sticky with sweat. 

Kate comes up the path on horseback not too long after that, a large swooped hat perched precariously on her head. She has to hold it in place by the brim to keep it from flying off. You watch her from the window at first, drying your hands from the quick wash you gave them after finishing your lunch.

“I ought to start making new friends,” you quip when she takes a seat next to you on the porch swing. 

“Sick of my company already?” she laughs. 

“Well, a girl’s gotta have options.” 

She snorts at that, tipping her hat lower on her head to shade her eyes from the sun. It has the effect of cutting a wide shadow across her face, leaving only a swath of white teeth exposed. 

Her beauty has always come as an afterthought. Tanned, freckled skin, and hair like golden wheat. But you look now and you see something different than the woman you’re used to seeing, and it dawns on you that what you’re seeing now is a version of Kate divorced from the idea of her that you’d always had in your head. Almost fuller; more robust. 

You tear your eyes away only when she catches you staring and cocks an eyebrow. 

She coaxes you into saddling Buttercup up and accompanying her on a trail ride. Part of you resists initially, still wounded from your last ride, and when Kate presses you for more information, you reluctantly divulge, recounting the events from the weeks prior with a tremble in your voice. She nods only once while you speak, keeping her comments to herself. That she must have already known doesn’t surprise you; she’d insinuated as much only the other week. 

You’d be wise to not keep secrets from Kate in the future, you realize. Best to keep someone as omniscient as her on your side. 

After some encouragement, she talks you into a leisurely stroll and even helps you dress Buttercup in the stables. The dizzying spell of apprehension settles over you like a heavy fog up until you blink and realize that the two of you have been riding beside each other in silence for the better part of a half mile. 

The fear doesn’t entirely evaporate, however. Any sudden dip in the terrain or unexpected noise from Buttercup makes you start. You take several breaks to breathe and walk around. At the top of a hill, you ask Kate in a voice verging on shrill if you can take a break and dismount before she’s even answered you. 

“She can sense if you’re on edge,” Kate reminds you, nodding to where Buttercup grazes in a nearby patch of grass. 

“Well, I can’t help that much. I am on edge.”

She tips her head back to look at the sky and sighs before looking back at you. “Sit down for a bit then. It’s not a race.”

And you do, for a spell. You sit and rest with your back against the trunk of a tree that branches high above you, the canopy blotting out any sunlight save for the tendril thin strands that sink through like stones in water. 

You’re striking a delicate balance between the needs of the flesh and the needs of the soul. What the soul wants is to push itself beyond the boundaries that formerly enclosed it; after a lifetime of servitude and desires suppressed, even a simple trail ride feels momentous. What the flesh wants, however, is to shade in the shade until the urge to retch wears off. 

The walk takes the two of you by a farm with a large, fenced-in enclosure. A couple houses sit around the enclosure. The smell of the livestock is pungent at first and your nose wrinkles as you approach the farm, but you adjust after a time. 

Recent weeks so far from home have spoiled you; back in the city, the pungent stench of waste and manure was commonplace, the sour cloak of tobacco stinking up the alehouses and alleyways as much as the parlors and lounges. You’d adjusted to it back then as well. 

The grazing cows rumble and low behind the fence. It’s a pleasant bucolic scene, one lifted straight from a painting that you swear you’ve seen before, though the artist’s name escapes you. 

Looking out into antediluvian pastures sets your heart at ease. When the farmer wanders out of the barn to greet the two of you, the two of you join him and his wife for coffee in the big house. 

For a brief period of time, it’s like stepping out of your body; there’s no impetus to get a move on, and inertia doesn’t set in like a rolling fog leaving you stranded in no man’s land. Nothing like the late evenings lying in bed in your aunt and uncle’s apartment, staring up at the pockmarked ceiling and praying for something to change. 

You, simply, have a coffee.

After bidding them farewell, the bulk of the afternoon is spent at Kate’s house, a tiny plot of land just outside of town surrounded by fields of ochre prairie grass. You’re wiped by the end of the ride, sweat running in rivulets down your back. While Kate brings the horses into her little stable to let them rest and eat, you fill up the porcelain bowl in her bathroom with water to wash your face. 

It’s quiet. You help with a few affairs around the house and you learn, to your own internal amusement, that Kate hums through her chores. Soap stops by in the early evening to drop off Kate’s mail and stays for supper, glad for the company. You watch bemusedly as he scarfs down three corned beef sandwiches with ease, mildly nauseated by the way he talks with his mouth full. 

“Can he even breathe?” you hiss to Kate while Soap is busy shoveling food into his gob. 

She nods, unbothered by the display in front of her. “You should see him when he’s actually hungry.”

You pale when he belches, pushing your plate away from you.

“Ye tell yer man when he’s back what a good job I’ve done, Mrs. Price,” he says, licking a leaking trail of sauce off his thumb. 

“Won’t the town still standing be sufficient evidence?”

“Aye, but it’s sweeter comin’ from the missus, ye dinnae think?” 

Incorrigible boy. You shake your head, acquiescing even if only to get him to shut up. That mollifies him, gets him crowing about the raise he’ll get, or the commendation. You think he’ll start going on about lofty aspirations towards sheriffdom, but he never quite gets to that point. You wonder if the rest of your life will be similarly composed of assumptions that fall flat when you look at them too hard.

He takes you home at the end of the night as a favor to Kate, who watches you from the door until she disappears into the faraway. You only have to yell at Soap twice to slow down when he tries to goad you into a faster gallop. 

You sleep better that night, but only just. This time, it’s the empty spot beside you on the bed that bothers you. His pillow is cold when you reach over to touch it. Your hand lingers on the pillow; there’s a passing thought that maybe the warmth of your hand will transfer into the pillow and trick you in sleep. You have another passing thought that maybe somewhere out there, wherever John is, he’ll feel a phantom hand creep across the bed to cup his cheek. 

The blooming flower of daylight comes again to wake you up and the cycle starts anew. 

The chores never end, but there’s some comfort in routine. Regularity breeds familiarity. Any contempt has long been bled out of you, almost without you even noticing.

The days pass slowly. A horse-drawn carriage. A robin nestled in the branches of a pine tree sings at evening twilight. You look up to find it stark against the dark green needles, the fir’s red heart.

A neighbor comes by with fresh strawberries that you eat from the bowl out in the sun, lying down in the grass by the paddock. You suck the juice out of a big one when you bite into it and it drips messy down your chin. When the achenes fleck off, you wipe them off on your dress. 

Though you half expect Kate to come by, she never does. Perhaps she’s busy in town. You remind yourself that the brevity of your friendship can hardly measure up to competing priorities. Minding the shop, for instance, or stopping by to check on other acquaintances. 

And then the waiting ends when you see a dark shadow on the horizon that you recognize all at once as a man on horseback headed towards the house. 

Elation clambers up your throat. You very nearly shout at the sheer sight of him, but at the last second, you manage to reign it in. 

You wave at John from the porch when you can finally make out the face of the man riding up the path. Despite the euphoric wave that washes over you at the sight of him, you feign composure, keeping your butt planted on the porch swing until he dismounts and heads down the path towards you.

There's something striking about watching him from a distance. Like Kate, you see him now from a new angle, an added weight to him. When he lumbers up the porch steps, you don't just see the man that dragged you to the court house and forced you to marry him, but a man in his prime. Square, masculine jaw; thick thighed. Something in your belly stirs when he rolls his shoulders back, accentuating the breadth of them. 

When he reaches you, he grips you under the arms to pull you up, but your arms wind around his neck without any coaxing, meeting him halfway. Every inch of your body presses into his, and he smells and feels exactly as you remembered. 

“Been missing you like hell, sweetheart,” John rasps into your ear. 

“Missed you too,” you mutter, lips smushed into a kiss against his cheek. 

And you did, didn’t you? You can say it for once without worrying that you’ll fall apart. 

The two of you stumble into the house in a daze. Your hands are already trembling well before you fist them into John’s hair to drag him into a kiss. Desperation claws up your throat, need choking you when you go to tell him how much you missed him. You missed him bone deep. 

He pulls away briefly, chuckling when you whine. “Darlin’, can I at least get cleaned up? I’m a mess.”

His beard has grown since you last kissed him, the mutton chops more pronounced now. It scratches your lips and cheeks when you tug him back down for a deeper kiss. He can clean himself later as far as you’re concerned. You’ve gone three days now without your husband and you can’t go a second more. 

You can feel his smile when he breaks the kiss again. “Honey—”

“No,” you cut him off, a whine threading your voice. You tighten your arms around his neck, pushing your bosom into his chest. “Please, John, don’t make me wait; I can’t—”

“Alright, alright,” John sighs, and then hunches slightly to fit his hands under your thighs  and hike you up his body until your legs wind around his waist. “Poor girl. Never seen you this needy before. You missed me that bad?”

“Yes,” you answer succinctly, already pressing kisses into the sweaty skin of his neck and his cheeks. His arms shake when he laughs.

He nearly trips up the stairs when you suck at the salty skin of his neck. 

John smiles amusedly when you whip your dress off, nearly getting tangled in it before letting it pile on the floor by the bed. 

In a different time, your eagerness might embarrass you, but you’re well beyond that now. It’s impossible to hear that distant voice in your head shrieking modesty when your husband watches you indulgently and unbuttons his shirt so slowly that you nearly bark at him to hurry it up. And then you actually do when he goes to fold his shirt instead of simply tossing it to the floor.

He laughs; it sends frissons of heat down your spine. 

It’s unclear who pursues and who is pursued this time. All you know is that you either push him onto the bed or he pulls you down with him, clothes long since stripped and piled onto the floor. Your hands sink into the meat of his chest when you sit astride his lap, wet folds grinding on the hard shaft jutting up between his legs. John hisses through clenched teeth, already worked up, fit to burst. You wonder if he tended to himself at all on his trip, whether he even had time. 

The hands tightening around your waist tell you that, whether or not he did, it’s inconsequential now when faced with the thing he’s been wanting most.

Your instinct is to lift your hips and line his member up with your sopping entrance before sinking down, but John surprises you by shifting up the bed and dragging you with him, not stopping until your pussy is hovering over his mouth. 

It’s easy to panic over that, easy to grow skittish. You start when the flat of his tongue runs up the seam of your cunt, the only thing keeping you from tumbling off the bed altogether being the big hands clamped around your hips.  

“You try to keep your pussy off my face and I’ll give you a licking you won’t like anywhere near as much,” John warns, and then pulls you down onto his face without further ado. 

Your back arches at the first lick, his tongue burrowing into your hole, softened by the slick leaking out of you. His lips and tongue work you over until you’re a shivering, coiled mess on top of his face, hands braced against the wall and toes burrowing into the mattress. 

A stiff tongue stabs up into your hole. The groan he lets out at the taste of you vibrates through you, making you clench around his tongue. 

You’ve never been much of a drinker, but you feel drunk now, grinding on his mouth. Hands running through his hair. Blissed out, sex leaking, throbbing. Shameful noises pouring out of you unbidden, your inhibitions packed up and long gone by now. His upper lip glistens with your juices and when his eyes blink open, they’re nearly black with desire. 

The hands on your bottom holding you over his head grip into you good and tight. He readjusts his hold on you whenever you try to pull off his face, yanking you back down and digging his fingers in harder, the tips wedged between your cheeks. You practically yowl when a finger prods at your back hole, worrying over the puckered flesh. 

The time for gentle words is far beyond him. When you glance down between your legs, his hair is matted with sweat and disheveled, a flush high on his cheekbones. Blue eyes peer out through slits, locked on the dripping mess between your thighs. His nose presses hard into your pubic bone when he pulls you down onto his waiting mouth, lips parting and tongue sawing over your clit. That part you can’t see, but you feel the wet slide of his tongue over your slit. 

You come with a finger lodged knuckle deep in your ass and his tongue rolling over your clit, coaxing it from you. Your whole body pulses and shivers. Chuckling to himself when you go dumb during it, slumped over him and panting hard. Tears dripping down your cheeks that John cleans up himself with his tongue when he drags you back down his chest and rolls the two of you over. 

“God, you look so pretty like this, honey,” he coos when he’s got you under him, pinching your cheeks between his fingers until your lips go plump and pursed. 

When he drags you into a kiss, his tongue still tastes of you. 

He takes you on your back after that, knees over his shoulders and bending you in ways you didn’t think possible. Whatever control he had before is gone now. He thrusts in to the hilt the second he gets you flat on your back, taking three days of frustration out on you, near punching your cervix with the head of his cock. 

“There we go— fuck—” John growls. “C’mon, squeeze me tight, honey; make me come in your pretty fuckin’ pussy.”

You feel like a creature turned inside of itself. All high yips, sharp pangs of pleasure, an ache in your hips that you know instinctively will worsen by morning, and a deep seated, unquenchable need. He mates you like a beast in heat, jaw clenched and brows furrowed; when your eyelids slip shut, he growls at you to keep them open, and you do only to find him staring down at you with that indelible, maddening intensity of his. 

“Nngh, John—John—” you gasp.

“Just a little, darlin’—shh, c’mon, just take it. Like that, yes—that’s it.” 

A dark urge flutters under your skin, blinking its eyes open. You stare up at him through half lidded eyes. “Gonna come in me and give me a baby, John?”

His eyes go black. “I’m gonna fill this tight cunt right up, you keep talking like that.”

You reach up to rake your hands through his hair. "Please give me a baby, John. Give me it, please."

His hips snap forward, knocking the breath out of you. He pounds into you with renewed vigor, lost in it, your nipples tagging his chest with every thrust. 

If you could peel back your skin and tuck him into your ribcage, you would. He’s already in you anyway; everywhere it counts. Leathery musk wafting under your nose, sweat-slicked skin, his spend deep in your cunt and leaking out around his throbbing cock, the heat steaming off him and warming you from the outside in and inside out. His come spurts into you hot and viscous, so deep that you swear you can taste it at the back of your throat. 

In the aftermath, you curl up against his chest and he traces a finger lazily up and down your spine. 

“You’ve been so patient with me.” You don’t know what prompts you to say that, but you know it’s been sitting in your chest and waiting for you to put it to words. 

His fingers pause in their ministrations, his hand resting flat on your back. “Patient?”

“Don’t play dumb, John. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Got some nerve accusing me of playing dumb,” he chuckles softly, leaning down to butt his forehead against yours. 

You nearly go cross eyed. Doe eyed. Treacle tart soft in your chest. You wonder if you’ll look back on this someday in fear and awe, and think that is the very moment when you finally let him in. 

This is how love suffuses into the girl: you wake up gasping to find it staring down at you. 

You’re brave enough now to ask what it is that you need. The world flashes briefly before you: in it, you see every possible version of a girl, how she goes from animal skin to teeth glinting in the night. She is perforated and vibrating; lacunae as the voice drips back into the sea, papyrus crackling hot in the fire. 

Maybe new love flounders again against the rhythms of the old, the song of you now sleeping beneath an alder tree, thickening with lemon and honey.

“I’m going to…—you know I’ll tell you. I just need time.”

“Darlin’, I know. There’s no use for rushing things. It happens when it happens,” John murmurs. He drops a bristly kiss on your forehead. 

“…And if it doesn’t happen?”

He shrugs. “Then it doesn’t happen.”

It’s a shock when love finds you because you don’t expect it. You’d open the door to anything else in a heartbeat, but it’s love that finds you cowering under the stairs. 

Love is not something you’ve ever touched, not even grazed. You recognize the insidious rot of lust or the gnarled grip of possession, but love? That has yet evaded your attempts on it. Not that you’ve ever given it a good go. 

But now, when you think of it, it looks at you through blue eyes. 

You sleep on it. You don’t contemplate when it’ll happen only because you know it’s inevitable. Your lips have already grown loose. When he eats you out in the early morning hours after a good night’s sleep for once since John left, you have to swallow back the wails of I love you, I love you, tell me you love me, please, please. 

Your lips part, lax. Only sinking your mouth down over his turgid length after he’s made you come keeps you from accidentally saying the words. The soft, grunted fuck he lets out at that empties out any thought in your head.

Desperate times, desperate measures. 

If John knows, he jealously guards your secret. Would take it to his grave you think. Just for him and you to know. Any temerity from the night before is squashed in the light of day, and you sit across from him at the table during breakfast wishing that he could hear the words in your head, if only so you didn’t have to say it out loud. 

God bites the lip when you want it most to part. Isn’t that just the nature of life?

John leaves you off at the general store as always, dropping a peck to your lips before heading out on his way, but when you wander inside, you find Miles behind the counter instead of Kate. That dims the excitement in your chest a tad. It’s no fault of his, but you’d hoped to regale Kate with the revelation you’d had the night previous, omitting some of the lewder details. Instead you’ll be forced to wait until she’s back in town. When you ask Miles when abouts that’ll be, he shrugs, unable to give you a definite answer.

“Visiting a friend, she said,” he tells you, and you blink like you don’t know exactly what that means. 

Her absence leaves you in a lurch though, little else to do but wander around the store. You’d leave entirely and try to find something else to occupy your time, but you feel a bit foolish coming in just to leave right away, though you’re sure Miles wouldn’t care either way. Still, you tell yourself you’ll linger for a few minutes before heading out to the library or down the road for a coffee at the inn. 

The bell over the door jingles, but you pay it no mind. 

You linger in the aisle with the fruit preserves and canned fish, gazing into the bottles. Tins with hand-drawn labels, branded packaging. On another shelf, you find oyster crackers, National Biscuit Company on the label. Nabisco. If Kate were minding the shop, you’d pop your head around the aisle to ask her what corned beef brand she used the other day. 

The sound of spurs jangling from behind you makes you frown and turn your head. 

A hand clamps down over your mouth, muffling the yelp that leaps instinctively from your throat, and you go shock cold when the blunt muzzle of a pistol wedges against the small of your back. 

“Bet you thought you were clever gettin’ me out of town, didn’t you, girl?”

Your eyes widen.

[hollandsangel]

2:15 am | c. sturniolo

HI yes im alive who’s surprised (me, i am)

self proclaimed mayor of the ‘chris can’t sleep alone’ club (doing gods work, you’re welcome)

summary: chris cant sleep & you’re the perfect remedy

wc: 834

gif by @hotelstares !

you haven’t been asleep very long. maybe twenty minutes or half an hour.

you’re in the midst of a fuzzy dream when your phone starts to vibrate on your dresser next to your bed. the sound is difficult to recognize at first, getting all mixed up with your dream in your mind. eventually it wakes you up, tugging you away from the soft haze you’d been emersed in.

groggily, you reach over for the device, squinting your eyes to try and read the contact. your eyes are bleary, but you’re able to make out your boyfriends name and contact photo after a brief seceond.

“chris?” you wonder through the line upon answering, voice thick with sleep and hardly above a whisper.

“hey ma,” his voice is smooth, like he hasn’t been asleep yet.

“hi…i think i was dreaming about you,” you say as you let your head fall back against the pillow, rubbing gently at your eyes with your other hand.

“yeah?” he says through a deep breath. the smile your confession elicits from him is audible and contagious.

“yeah, either that or i just spent the last four days with you and my brain hasn’t realized we’re apart yet,” you think he must be able to hear your smile as well.

“my brain hasn’t really realized it either,” he mumbles, getting a little bit shy.

you close your eyes, content being soothed by his voice.

“what time is it?” you ask him, even if you could easily look at your phone screen for the answer. opening your eyes feels like too much work.

chris answers of course, without hesitation, “2:15,”

“it’s pretty late, you okay, bub?” you ask him before answering your own question, “can’t sleep?” you know how he gets, always needing someone close by when he drifts off.

you can imagine it’s a bit difficult tonight, considering you spent the last few nights sharing his bed. you’d found it a little harder than normal too, having gotten used to his arms tucked around you, his face pressed against your shoulder blade.

“i miss you,” he mutters and it makes you blush, “and i don’t wanna crawl into bed with matt or nick, i know it won’t help,” he admits, letting out a long breath.

“you wanna come over?”

“would that be okay?” he seems a little bit embarrassed, like he might be inconveniencing you.

“of course, chris,” you open your eyes now, reaching over to turn on your bedside lamp, “i want cuddles now,” you say sheepishly, face still half pressed against your pillow, muffling the words.

“mmk, i’ll get an uber, be there soon,”

“kay, love you,” you sigh, waiting for him to hang up.

“love you too,” he says first, making you smile even if you’ve heard it a thousand times.

in the twenty minutes it takes for chris to show up, you’re drifting in and out of sleep, trying your hardest to keep the lull of exhaustion at bay as you wait, no matter the difficulty.

soon enough, the sound of a key in the lock sends a small jolt of wakefulness through you, and you anticipate the subtle push of the door as he comes through to your bedroom.

“nick or matt’s bed wasn’t good a enough?” you tease, watching him turn a little red as he shuffles into your room.

“i wanted to sleep in your bed,” he mumbles, beanie hanging low and covering his eyebrows, pajama pants hanging lower. he lifts the duvet and crawls in with you, immediately wrapping you in his arms, “nd’ i wanted to sleep with you, not my stinky brothers.”

you laugh, stifling it against the blankets “m glad you’d rather snug with me,”

“you kidding? you’re the best snugger around.”

“i’d say,” you hum, tugging his beanie off and tossing it somewhere on your floor.

he gives you a squeeze before reaching over to turn you so you’re facing him, “thanks for letting me come over,” he mutters, beaming in the low light. he looks so pretty like this, grinning down at you, illuminated by the soft glow of your lamp. he reaches up slightly and brushes your hair from your face.

you have a small moment of realization; he’s admiring you the same way you’re admiring him. you think your heart grows in size, gratitude making it swell up.

“thanks for comin’,” you whisper back, leaning up so your noses touch.

chris closes the gap, giving you a gentle kiss before pulling back and kissing your forehead too.

“night,” he tucks you against him, keeping you close, “i love you,” it’s sweet, how his tone changes. it’s tired now, chalked full of sleep and you can’t help but think it’s because he’s with you now, and that’s what puts him at ease enough to finally relax.

“i love you too,” you whisper into the barely-there space between you, watching as his eyes close and his lashes kiss the tops of his cheeks.

you can’t help yourself, leaning forward just enough to kiss him there too.

.

.

.

.

tags ! @st4rswrld @urfavvev3lyn @mattsturnioloarchive @averysbestyears @its-jennarose @strnilolo @grimholic @tworosesblackthorn @mattscoquette @dazednmatthews @pinkishpearls

[mssalo]

safety - Part: I

Summary: After years of isolation, Joel Miller's life revolves around control and keeping danger at bay, his past as a soldier leaving him constantly on edge. But when a sweet, soft-spoken young woman starts working at the supply store, her innocence stirs something inside him. Despite his efforts to remain detached, Joel becomes obsessed with keeping her safe from the dangers he’s certain are lurking everywhere.

As his protective instincts morph into darker desires, the lines between safeguarding her and possessing her begin to blur.

Warnings will vary by chapter depending on the content.

Warnings: Dark!Joel, 18+ MDNI, Obsession themes, Stalking, Joel has major Trauma/PTSD, Mentions of military past, Manipulation, Power dynamics, Joel needs a hug and therapy. As per usual.

4k

Enjoy!

Part II Part III Part IV Part V

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

Joel Miller wasn’t the type of man who sought peace or ease.

He’d spent too many years living a different kind of life-one built around routines of survival, discipline, and a level of alertness that never quite faded.

Now, back in Texas, he carried that constant vigilance like a second skin.

He’d settled in a small, secluded home just outside of Austin.

The area was quiet, isolated, the kind of place where nobody asked too many questions.

The locals respected boundaries, and Joel had made his clear. He kept to himself, lived a simple life, and preferred things that way.

People complicated things—something he wasn’t interested in anymore.

Most of his days followed a routine that he clung to with the same intensity he had in the service.

Early mornings were spent with coffee and silence, the smell of pine trees drifting through the windows of his old, weathered cabin.

Afterward, he'd take to the woods, either hunting or just walking trails he knew as well as the lines in his hands.

Out there, he could let his mind focus on something tangible—the tracks of a deer, the feel of the rifle in his hand.

There, his senses sharpened again, always on alert.

Joel’s awareness never dulled, not even after all these years.

Every noise, every shift in the wind or crunch of leaves beneath his boots, kept him on edge.

He was always scanning his surroundings, ready to react.

He knew it wasn’t just about the hunt.

It was the way his brain had been wired, after all the years of needing to be ready—whether it was for survival or something worse.

It wasn’t paranoia, just the reality of a mind that had been trained for danger. He told himself.

He didn't see many people. He didn’t want to.

But the thing about always being on edge was that it left little room for rest.

At night, the memories clawed their way in—images he’d rather forget but couldn’t.

Sleep was shallow and rare.

Even when he managed to drift off, he was often jolted awake by some phantom noise or sensation.

And once he was up, it was hard to shake the feeling that something or someone was out there.

He’d get up, check the locks, sometimes even patrol the perimeter of his land just to make sure.

In the quiet of his cabin, with only the crackling of a fire or the hum of the wind for company,

Joel would pour himself a drink.

Whiskey, usually. Something to dull the noise in his head, to take the edge off the constant tension that never quite left him.

But he never drank too much. He couldn’t afford to. He needed to stay sharp, always ready—just in case.

His life wasn’t complicated, and he liked it that way. He didn’t need company or connection, not anymore.

He kept things simple: survival, routine, and the solitude of the Texas wilderness.

It asked nothing of him, and in return, he didn’t have to share the parts of himself he’d buried long ago.

· · ─────

Waking up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat had become part of his routine, and after tossing and turning for hours, Joel would get up, make coffee, and try to focus on the small tasks that anchored him.

The sun was just beginning to rise as Joel Miller pushed the key into the ignition of his truck, the familiar rumble beneath him a small comfort in an otherwise uneasy world.

He had always been an early riser, but lately, the habit had turned into more of a necessity.

Driving out into the quiet Texas morning was one of those tasks.

The roads were mostly empty, and Joel preferred it that way—less to watch for, less noise, fewer things to trust.

He liked things simple.

Routine. Predictable.

After everything, it was easier to stick to what he knew, to keep the world at arm's length.

It was safer.

His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white as his eyes flicked from side to side, scanning the road ahead and the landscape around him.

There was no telling who or what could be out there, even in a sleepy Texas town.

He wasn’t stupid enough to let his guard down, not after everything he'd seen.

Trust was a currency he couldn’t afford to spend, not anymore.

He kept the radio off, preferring the silence. It gave him space to think, to process.

Most of the time, though, it just made him more aware of the quietness around him.

Every little creak or snap of a twig was magnified, every shadow cast by the rising sun something to take note of.

He didn't trust the peaceful exterior of the world anymore.

Too much could change in an instant.

It was exhausting, always being on edge like that, but Joel had learned to live with it.

He couldn’t imagine doing things any other way.

As he drove further down the road toward the camping&outdoor supply store, he caught a glimpse of something moving in the distance—a flicker of motion between the trees.

His heart quickened, and his foot instinctively lifted off the gas pedal.

He slowed down just enough to check the rearview mirror, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the tree line.

Nothing. It could’ve been an animal, but Joel’s mind didn’t let him settle on that.

Even when he convinced himself it was probably just wildlife, he remained alert, tension rippling through his muscles.

"Could be anything," he muttered under his breath, gripping the wheel tighter. "Ain't takin' chances."

The camping store was a bit of a drive, but Joel didn’t mind.

The solitude of the open road helped him clear his head, as much as his thoughts would let him, anyway.

Hunting was something he could still rely on.

He didn't need anyone else for it, and it gave him an excuse to get away from people.

He wasn’t much for conversation these days, always keeping interactions short and transactional.

He liked the supply store too; the guy who ran it knew not to ask too many questions, just handled the sale and let Joel be.

It suited him fine.

As the store came into view, Joel exhaled, his mind already running through what he needed to pick up.

The truck tires crunched against the gravel as he pulled into the lot, parking in a spot that allowed him a clear view of the entrance and the surrounding area.

Old habits.

Joel turned off the ignition and leaned back in the seat, taking a moment to observe the store.

His hand absentmindedly reached toward the glove compartment, where his gun was stashed, just in case. He didn’t need it often, but knowing it was there kept him grounded.

After a few seconds of scanning the area and feeling satisfied that nothing was amiss, he stepped out of the truck.

The supply store wasn’t busy, just a couple of people browsing inside.

As Joel stepped into the store, the familiar scent of leather and canvas greeted him. Country music hummed low in the background, and the quiet atmosphere brought him a sense of calm.

The simplicity of the place was something he appreciated—straightforward, nothing complicated.

Just the way he liked it.

His boots thudded softly on the wooden floor as he made his way toward the back, scanning the shelves for the hunting gear he needed. It was his routine, one he kept to himself.

The sudden crash jolted him like a gunshot.

Joel’s instincts took over, his body reacting before his mind caught up.

His hand flew to his side, fingers brushing the handle of the knife he always kept on him. His eyes darted around the store, scanning for threats, muscles coiled tight and ready.

He felt that old familiar rush of adrenaline—the kind that came from years of having to be on guard every second.

His heart pounded, the edges of his vision sharpening as he prepared for the worst.

But then, he saw her.

Just a girl. Bending over, trying to gather the gear she’d knocked to the floor. No threat. No danger. Just her.

Joel exhaled slowly, the tension easing out of his shoulders as the world settled back into place.

He let go of the knife, though his pulse still hammered in his ears. He hadn’t been expecting someone like her to trigger that reaction. Not here. Not now.

But for some reason, he couldn’t look away.

She was clumsy, but calm—no panic, no rush to fix what she’d done.

It was as if she was used to things slipping from her hands, not bothered in the slightest. That softness, that ease, it drew him in like nothing else had in a long time.

And even though the tension from the noise had faded, he found himself still rooted to the spot, watching her.

His eyes trailed over her, catching the way her long, soft looking, hair tumbled down her back, how her tender fingers fumbled with the items before her.

She was a mess of soft edges, and he hadn’t seen anything that soft in years.

He’s not used to that.

His world had become hard, sharp, filled with things that made sense, with people who didn’t get too close.

People like him, always on edge, always prepared.

She stood up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and for the first time, Joel saw her face.

Young. Too young. Early twenties, maybe.

Her cheeks were flushed a soft pink, her lips parted in what looked like mild embarrassment as she glanced around at the mess she had made.

But it was her eyes that hit him the hardest.

Doe eyed, wide, bright, completely unguarded.

So easy to read.

She looked right at him, her gaze catching his, and Joel’s breath hitched in his chest.

What was this girl doing? Looking at him like that?

She wasn’t supposed to look at him that way—not with that kind of openness, that kind of… trust.

Her blush deepened as her gaze flickered to the ground, but not before Joel saw it creep up her neck, warming her face.

She was blushing because of him.

When was the last time that happened?

“Oh! Sorry,” she said, her voice light, soft, but not the irritating kind of soft.

It was smooth in a way that made something settle in Joel’s chest. Normally, he hated small talk.

People’s voices grated on him. But hers didn’t.

Her voice wrapped around him, warm and gentle, and for reasons he couldn’t explain, Joel didn’t hate it.

“I didn’t see you there,” she continued, letting out a nervous laugh, her hands brushing against the fallen gear.

“I swear, I’m always knocking things over.” She smiled shyly, that blush still clinging to her cheeks, and Joel’s chest tightened again.

She was yapping—just rambling on in a way that would’ve made him turn his back on anyone else. But he couldn’t move.

He was locked in place, listening to her soft, musical voice as if it was something he hadn’t heard in years.

Maybe because it was. Maybe because no one ever talked to him like this anymore.

Most people avoided him.

They saw the hard set of his jaw, the cold glint in his eyes, and they stayed far, far away.

And that was just how he liked it. Less mess, less trouble.

But not her. She was still standing there, babbling about how clumsy she was, her voice a soft hum in his ears.

Joel felt something shift inside him, something he wasn’t sure he liked. He didn’t know her.

Shouldn’t care about her babbling, or the way her scent—something fresh and sweet—drifted toward him, making his head swim.

But here he was, standing there, drinking in her voice, her scent, like he hadn’t been around anyone like her in years.

Which, to be fair, he hadn’t.

Joel cleared his throat, forcing himself to speak, though his voice came out rougher than he’d intended. “Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he muttered, his words gruff, but his feet still rooted to the spot.

Her smile widened, and her eyes lit up.

The warmth in them caught him off guard. He wasn’t prepared for that.

“Thanks for not laughing at me,” she said with a small, bashful laugh, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her jacket. “Most people would’ve.”

Joel’s brow furrowed. “Why would I laugh?”

She shrugged, glancing at the gear still scattered on the floor. “I’m kind of a mess.”

Her words didn’t sit right with him. How could someone like her—someone so soft, so full of light—call herself a mess? He is a mess.

But before he could respond, she smiled again, her lips curving up in that sweet way that made his chest tighten all over again.

And that scent… God, he couldn’t place it, but it clung to her, swirling around him like a warm blanket.

His mind raced, cataloging every little detail about her.

Her soft pretty eyes. The way her smile made the corners of her eyes crinkle just a little. The way she smelled, like fresh air and something sweet. Vanilla?

He was reading her, studying her like he used to study his surroundings, picking up on every detail.

But none of it made sense. She didn’t make sense.

Normally, he’d be long gone by now. His thoughts already moving on.

But she was still talking, still smiling up at him, and instead of walking away, he just… stared.

She cleared her throat again, glancing down at her hands before looking back up at him.

“Do you work around here?” she asked, her voice a little softer now, a little shyer.

Joel blinked, realizing he hadn’t said a damn thing in what felt like minutes.

He shook his head. “Nah, just pickin’ up some things.” His voice sounded foreign to him—rough, cold, not at all the kind of tone that matched the warmth she was giving him.

But she didn’t seem bothered by it. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her lips curving up in that smile again.

“Oh, cool. What are you picking up?”

Joel stared at her, unsure of why she was still talking to him, still smiling at him.

But he found himself answering her anyway. “Just some gear. Hunting stuff.”

Her eyes brightened, her smile widening even more. “Oh, hunting! That’s cool. I’ve never been, but I always thought it seemed kind of… peaceful, you know? Just you and nature.”

Peaceful? Joel had never thought of hunting as peaceful. Necessary, sure. But peaceful? Not in the way she was describing.

He grunted, not sure how to respond, but she just kept smiling, her voice still light, still soft.

“Oh, gosh,” she said, standing up with a bundle of fallen gear in her hands, a sheepish smile on her face. “I could never hurt an animal, though. I don’t know how people do it. Like, I get hunting and all, but... me? No way. I’d be useless out there.”

Joel’s brow furrowed, still caught between the sharp edge of his earlier reaction and the softness of her voice.

“Right,” he muttered, nodding slightly, feeling more awkward than he had in years.

“Well,” Joel grunted, his voice a little rougher than intended, “it ain’t about enjoyin’ it. It’s necessary. You do what you gotta do.”

And for the life of him, Joel couldn’t understand why he didn’t just walk away.

He should’ve. He should’ve grabbed what he needed and left.

But something about her—her scent, her smile, her softness—kept him rooted in place.

He wasn’t good at this. Talking. Interacting. Especially not with someone like her—someone who looked at him like he wasn’t something to be avoided.

But she was smiling at him, her eyes wide and innocent, like she wasn’t aware of how the world really worked.

Before he could say anything else, he saw her blush deepen, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her jacket.

She was nervous, but not in the way people usually got around him.

She wasn’t scared. She wasn’t backing away.

She was blushing because of him.

Hm?

As the awkward silence stretched between them, Joel cleared his throat, the sound rough and abrupt.

He hadn’t realized how long he’d been standing there, just staring at her while she kept talking, her soft voice filling the space between them.

He needed to go.

This whole interaction had lasted far too long, longer than he was comfortable with.

His chest tightened with a mix of confusion and frustration, and he could feel the tension creeping into his limbs, urging him to move, to walk away.

She was still smiling at him, her eyes bright, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside him.

“Right,” Joel muttered, his voice gruffer than he intended.

“I should… get goin’.” He nodded awkwardly toward the hunting gear in his hand, using it as an excuse to leave.

Her smile faltered for just a second, her eyes flickering with a hint of confusion.

“Oh, sure! No problem,” she said quickly, her voice still sweet, but there was something softer in it now, like she wasn’t quite sure what she’d done wrong.

Joel could feel her eyes on him as he turned away, the tension in his shoulders growing with every step he took.

He forced himself to keep walking, not allowing himself to glance back, not letting himself think about the way her scent still lingered in the air around him.

As he pushed open the door of the shop, the cool air hit his face, a stark contrast to the warmth that had been building inside him.

He needed to get out of there. Now.

“Have a good day!” she called after him, her voice still light, still warm.

Joel didn’t respond.

He just kept walking, his boots heavy against the gravel as he made his way to his truck, his mind already trying to shove the whole interaction into the back of his mind.

It shouldn’t have affected him like that.

Joel climbed into his truck, the door creaking as it shut with a heavy thud.

The sun was setting, casting a golden light over the horizon, but his mind was somewhere else entirely.

His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white as he sat there, staring straight ahead.

He let out a slow breath, trying to shake off the strange feeling that had settled deep in his chest.

That girl—he couldn’t get her out of his head. It didn’t make sense.

Her smile. The way her cheeks flushed when she looked at him.

The softness in her voice, the way she smelled—fresh, sweet, and somehow... so pure.

His brow furrowed as the memory tugged at him, gnawing at the edges of his mind like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

He hadn’t felt like this in years—hadn’t felt much of anything, to be honest.

And yet, there it was. Something stirring inside him, something he couldn’t ignore.

With a grunt, he turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life.

He needed to get his mind straight, back to reality, back to the things that actually mattered.

Surviving.

Not some girl in a supply shop.

It couldn’t be because of her.

But as he shifted the truck into gear, his grip on the wheel tightened even more.

He couldn’t deny the physical reaction in his body—the tension building low in his gut, the heat rising through his chest.

Joel shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his breath catching for a moment.

He hadn’t even noticed it before, hadn’t allowed himself to.

But now, as he adjusted himself, the realization hit him with a force that nearly knocked the breath out of his lungs.

He was hard.

His heart pounded in his chest, the weight of it settling low in his gut.

How long had it been?

He couldn’t even remember the last time he felt like this, the last time his body reacted this way.

But it couldn’t be because of the girl in the shop, right?

“Jesus.” He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck tightening as he fought the urge to dwell on it. “There was no way.”

She was just a kid. I mean, a woman sure. But so young, soft, innocent.

Completely the opposite of everything he was—everything he’d become.

Joel’s grip on the steering wheel tightened even further, his mind racing.

This was wrong. He shouldn’t be thinking about her like this, shouldn’t be feeling this way.

But the more he tried to push it down, the more it rose to the surface.

Her voice, the way she’d blushed when she looked at him, the scent of her clinging to the air around her like a warmth he hadn’t known he needed.

Joel shifted again, trying to shake the thoughts from his head. He’d drive home, clear his mind, and forget about it.

Forget about her.

But as he drove down the empty road, the tension in his body only seemed to build. It had been years. Years since anyone, or anything, had made him feel like this.

And the truth gnawed at him, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

It was because of her.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

moodboard:

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

New series incoming!! Thank you for the nice comments, they make me the most motivated to keep writing. :)

[slayfics]

Katsuki asks you to move in with him.

750 words

Katsuki twisted and readjusted in bed trying to find a comfortable position. Usually, he was able to easily drift off into sleep thanks to his strict sleeping schedule, but today sleep was eluding him.

It wasn’t a new feeling to be up at night with thoughts plaguing his mind, but it wasn’t something that had happened in a long time. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t get the thoughts of you out of his mind.

He knew you were ok, you two had recently texted goodnight. Yet he felt restless worrying about you alone in your place. He didn’t understand it. It wasn’t like you just recently lived alone. You had been in your own apartment for years now. So why tonight could he not rest knowing you were alone?

He huffed flipping over again, the sheets rustling and pillow readjusting to his head. It was still no use. Grunting Katsuki threw the sheet off and swung his legs off the bed. Deciding that his thoughts wouldn’t subside till he was with you. Holding you in his embrace ensuring you were sleeping peacefully.

His nostrils flared at his sharp exhalation as he quickly packed his bag for tomorrow. He’d have to leave your place early to make it to the hero agency, and he was losing out on sleep, but he didn’t care. He figured the lost sleep from commuting to your place was less sleep he’d lose than tossing and turning from not being with you.  

Katsuki threw a hoodie on over his muscle shirt and didn’t bother changing out of his sweats for the ride to your place. Luckily at this time of night there wasn’t any traffic on the way to your place. Pulling into a visitor parking spot he hurriedly grabbed his bag and headed to your door.

The sight he saw caused him to tighten his grip around his duffle bag and his eyebrows to furrow. A fan of yours was placing something outside your door. Your super fans had managed to track down where you stayed, and it was common now for them to leave letters.

Just another factor that kept Katsuki up at night. If your super fans knew where you lived, villains did too. The fanboy dropping the gift-wrapped bag up at your door turned to the sound of someone else approaching. Expecting to see another superfan the boy yelled at the sight of Dynamite.

“Get lost,” Katsuki demanded roughly. Effectively scaring the boy away. Knowing full well this encounter would only deepen the rumors that you and Dynamite were dating. What did Katsuki care at this point. Everyone should know that you were his.

The boy mumbled a weak apology and ran, not wanting to irritate Dynamite any further. Katsuki dropped his bag on the floor, taking notice of the mountain of gifts at your door. He pulled up the gift bag that was freshly left for you and squashed it with a tight grip. He let out an explosion letting his frustration get the best of him, sabotaging every other gift left by your doorstep. It made his skin crawl thinking all these fanboys would openly stroll up to your door.

Katsuki kicked another gift over and jumped when your door opened.

“Katsuki?” You questioned sleepy eyes half lidded trying to understand the situation.

“Hey kitten,” he greeted you, stuffing his hand back in his pockets.

“Come in,” you gestured pulling him by the arm. “What are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he mumbled stepping in and kicking off his shoes. “There always fanboys at your door now?” he asked harshly.

“Relax, they are harmless,” you laughed.

“You don’t know that! You don’t know their intentions! It’s late as hell and one was just out there right leaving you some dumb gift,” Katsuki grumbled. 

“Is that what that explosion was?” You teased, walking back to your bedroom.

Katsuki followed, mumbling and grumbling the whole way. “How am I supposed to sleep when goddamn losers are stalking outside your door.“ 

“I can take care of myself. I am also a pro hero you know,” you retorted as you crawled into bed.

Katsuki pulled off his hoodie, dropping it to the floor, he crawled in after you. He wrapped his arm around you, bringing you into a snuggle. Finally feeling all the irritating thoughts melt away. “I know you can kitten, I just... worry about you,” he explained kissing the top of your head.

His next proposal left you lost for words, “Why don’t you just move in with me?”

sinners: @queenpiranhadon @unofficialsapphire @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle @derangedmango @matchat3a @bakugouswaif @reneinii @peachsukii @pastelbakugou @abadbitchblogs @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @pinkpurpledreams @that-one-fangirl69 @dreamcastgirl99 @jays-adventure3 @bythevay

[sttoru]

♯ 𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊.

⟣ sypnosis. kento has been extremely busy lately, going on business trips and so forth. he decides to surprise you by coming back earlier than expected. that’s how you end up finding your lover on top of you, showering you in his affection at 3 in the morning.

⟣ tags. nanami kento x female reader. fluff, bit of angst, suggestive towards the end. reader gets called 'sweetheart, angel, dear' wc: 1.8k

⟣ note. okayokay finally an adition to my event heheh ive almost forgotten about it but then i saw this prompt & was like . ok nanami , i must write this rnnn no delaying anymore so here i am :3 its also very bad. i hate it sm LOL i hope u at least like it t_t

kento often asks himself why he had returned to the world he despised — the jujutsu society; his old high school. the sprawling curses everywhere are the main cause of his current misery.

he had been sent out on missions left and right, not catching a break in hopes of reducing any more civilian causalities than necessary. kento had even thought that maybe his previous 9-5 job wasn’t as bad as he had considered it.

overtime was every day for the sorcerer now. that wasn’t the worst thing - no - the fact that he was pratically living a long distant relationship with his beloved irritated him most.

a thought he had in his high school days reoccured in a moment of distress: ‘why not leave all those missions to gojo?’

you were still pretty understanding of his situation. kento appreciated that, though the guilt still ate away at him whenever he tried to sleep. an empty bed welcomed him each time he re-entered his hotel room — you saw the exact same scenery when returning home to your shared apartment.

both of you were adults; both knowing that life was unfair. the two of you being unable to see each other from time to time was a part of your life. kento and you still maintained a healthy relationship. that was all that really mattered in the end.

11:49PM. . . tonight wasn’t unlike any other night; you were preparing yourself to go to bed—changing into your pyjamas after showering, snuggling to a pillow under the covers and texting your lover one last message.

‘good luck on your mission as always! stay safe, i love you.’

you stare at your phone screen for a minute longer than intended. even if you tried to be mature about it — you longed for kento’s warmth and undivided attention. you want him with you, his strong arms holding you to his chest as you rest, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine in the best way possible.

you sigh defeatedly and put your phone down on your nightstand. just two days until you could see your partner again. you can hold onto that hope to keep you calm.

despite you trying to stay positive, you tossed and turned in your bed as you thought about kento’s safety. there was always a chance of him not coming home to you — always the possibility of that bed to be empty for the rest of your life.

all you could do was pray for his safety in your head whilst your eyes eventually closed from fatigue, your mind drifting off to a deep slumber.

03:14AM. . . kento opens the door he had wished to have opened way earlier. the door that lead to the place where his heart lays; the person who claimed his heart and soul for eternity. you.

he didn’t think he’d actually do it. kento had originally planned to finish his last job as soon as possible and then get home afterwards, but there seemed to be a change in routine.

the special grade sorcerer simply assigned the mission to ino — the person whom he could trust most to finish the job in one piece. as much as kento dislikes to put his juniors in possible risky situations, there are also situations where it’s fine to depend on them. besides, the mission could easily be done by a grade one sorcerer.

kento sighs. the familiar scent of your home was one he could recognise from miles away. one that could calm his nerves instantly. it was that same distinctive scent you carry; thus why your lover sometimes calls you his home.

‘i can’t wait to be home’ ‘i want to be home’ ‘i’m going home’ — all these sentences, which kento has uttered before in earlier conversations, weren’t referring to a place. rather to a person he held dear.

“oh, my sweetheart.” the blonde man whispers under his breath as his eyes catch the shape of your figure under the blankets. he quietly enters the master bedroom and closes the door behind him, not making a sound as to not interrupt your well-deserved sleep.

kento slowly undoes his dotted tie, along with the upper buttons of his blouse. he probably needs to go take a good shower before he could settle down with you — but that’d risk waking you up.

you look extremely angelic in his eyes. especially with your left cheek squished by the soft pillow your head rests on. you never once fail to convince him that you are indeed the woman of his dreams; the woman kento ever had and will have eyes for. it’s like you get more attractive to him as the days go on.

“mh,” your sudden and soft groan makes him realise just how disturbing his behaviour could be interpreted as. kento’s body was hovering over your sleeping one and he was just. . . staring at you with a soft smile. a smile which he didn’t even notice had permanently found its place on his weary face.

kento sits down on the edge of the mattress, callused hand gently tucking you in properly, putting the blanket over your shoulders to make sure you didn’t get cold. he can’t rest if you’re not comfortable— even if he himself was exhausted to the point his eyes were starting to feel heavy.

yet that exhaustion doesn’t last long. it never does when kento’s able to see you again after a tiring week of countless missions and other jobs. your presence alone grants him the energy to stay awake and take care of you. and himself. you’re the reason he keeps it going.

“i love you so much, my beautiful girl — my angel.”

kento sure was a romantic. even when you’re unaware and asleep.

he couldn’t help it; the feeling stirring inside of him. the feeling of adoration and love for you. you are simply resting, yet kento felt an urge to kiss you all over, show you the unending love he has for you. but. . that’d probably be disturbing your peace. you are sleeping after all. he

not that that would stop kento.

your eyes flutter open due to a sudden presence hovering over you. your entire face and neck area was feeling ticklish, like someone was placing tens of kisses all over the skin.

strands of blonde hair is the first thing showing up in your blurry vision. kento’s face follows afterwards as his head tilts back up, the warmth against your jawline disappearing along with it —

“ah, i’m sorry.” a low and almost guilty chuckle tumbles out of his sore throat. the visible confusion on your face makes him let out another, “shh, shh, it’s just me, sweetheart.”

your arms flew around kento’s torso the second the realisation dawns upon you. your heart went from a slow pace to one that caused your entire body to warm up immediately; the adorable reaction and increase in heart rate not going unnoticed by your lover.

you wordlessly hug him — almost still in shock by the sudden appearance. kento doesn’t fight off your tight embrace, instead, welcomes it with open arms. the delicate kisses on your skin continue, each being placed with precision whilst one of his hands keeps your head tilted a little — rough fingers being a contrast of the gentle grip they had on your jaw.

“i missed you lots,” kento murmurs, eyes closed as he basks in the warmth of your body, his lips refusing to let go of your neck, “i couldn’t wait anymore. i couldn’t be separated from you any longer or i’d lose it.”

his gruff voice sounded even deeper than it usually would. maybe due to the overuse of it during his missions. the lone thought makes you pout — the thought of kento working super hard just to provide for you both.

“i missed you more, love.” you mumble, bottom lip trembling a little as kento’s hug triggers a whole lot of emotions in you. his hugs were special, his muscular arms giving you a sense of comfort you couldn’t find anywhere. no one could hug you like he did, “you did well. you did so well.”

those were all the words kento needed. his lips come to halt right above your collarbone, his breath a bit heavy from how much he's holding himself back from doing more. one hand moves from your cheek to your waist, fingers toying with the fabric of your shirt.

“thank you, dear.” kento says. his words carrying a load of unending affection. your simple words of appreciation and encouragement makes him shiver in delight. this is what he longed for; this is what he did it all for.

it was clear. the answer to his question - of why he had returned to the jujutsu world, to become a teacher at his former high school - it was all for you. to be able to be with you, see you and hold you like this. to have someone like you appreciate all of his efforts.

“may i?” kento asks through a quiet whisper as he gently removes the blanket covering your figure, his eyes darting down towards your cleavage. he's asking for permission to cross that barrier — to cover you in the love you deserve.

you just stare at the blonde man above you for a second. you watch as he climbs onto the bed with you; the bed which was once empty and dull, now suddenly becoming your favourite place to be at. your fingertips graze against kento's sharp cheekbones. a habit you always did when you were appreciating his looks.

“go right ahead.” you answer with a confirming nod.

both of you were touch starved and had been deprived from each other's embrace for way too long. now was the perfect time to make up for all the time lost.

kento wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip past him. he smiles at you, a gentle and handsome smile, whilst a few of his blonde locks fall over his left eye — his hands already prying away the blanket covering your shape. it was time to show you just how much he has longed for you.

“hold on to me, sweetheart. i’m not stopping until you realise just how much i’ve missed all of you.”

[fredwkong]

The Voice in Your Head

Graham was excited about moving into his new apartment. It was in a nice part of town, with good transit access to his job, plus it was pretty spacious for the price. Graham could just picture himself, his plants, maybe a boyfriend, all fitting neatly into the apartment, with its nice hardwood floors and retrofit kitchen.

So, he was quite surprised, on moving day, when the neighbour across the hall grabbed his arm and pulled him aside. “There’s something weird about that unit,” the guy hissed in a low voice.

“What are you talking about?” Graham frowned. This guy looked totally ordinary in every way, in his button-up shirt and neatly parted hair. There was no way he was some crazy conspiracy nut.

“The guys who live in there,” the guy continued, seeming frantic, “they change. Most of them get spooked and move out in a few weeks. I’ve never seen one last longer than two months. That’s why the rent is so low.”

“Bull.” Graham tugged himself free. “What is this, some kind of weird building hazing or something? What a way to greet a neighbour.”

As he marched away to unlock the door for the movers, Graham felt his new neighbour’s eyes on his back.

Even though he did his best to put the strange conversation out of his mind, Graham kept thinking about the guy’s words as he unpacked for the rest of the day. He had seemed way too sincere for a prank.

At one point, one of the movers gave a sudden shudder and dropped a box full of Graham’s work shirts and coat hangers. “Sorry,” he muttered, blinking away the wild look in his eyes as his coworkers stared, “there was a...smell.” Graham noticed that he was one of the first to leave the apartment to go wait in the moving van once everything was carried in.

Left alone after the movers set up the basics—bed, couch, dining table, desk, TV stand—Graham stood in the kitchen, trying to recapture his excitement for the new apartment. He couldn’t help feeling like the sunlight through the big windows of the living room looked a little watery, like it couldn’t fully enter the space. Even though it was nice and warm inside the apartment, Graham felt strangely clammy, and he couldn’t settle down.

In an attempt to use the restless energy, Graham paced to the bedroom and cut open his boxes of work clothes. He had a pretty ordinary cubicle job, so there was a certain standard of professionalism to meet, but Graham also loved business clothes. Getting dressed for work, for Graham, was like putting on a professional person, like he could pretend to be someone else for 8 hours a day. He had dozens of slim-fit button-ups for his skinny body, perfectly chosen to match his pale skin. Matching sets of slacks and blazers quickly filled the closet.

The action was soothing, and pretty soon Graham was unpacking his loafers. He’d cleaned them before putting them in the box, but he decided to give them a quick polish before putting them on the shoe rack. As he went to get a rag, Graham suddenly thought, I bet those won’t fit for long.

He stopped, halfway to the kitchen. The thought had been so out of character and strange. But, it sounded like his internal voice. It was a weird feeling.

Don’t worry about it.

Graham shook his head and resolved not to worry about it, grabbing the rag and putting his shoes away.

That night, Graham had trouble getting to sleep. It was like he couldn’t get warm, even under all the covers. He tossed and turned until, finally, he drifted off.

It was still dark when his eyes opened. Somewhere around 4 AM. Feeling strangely detached from himself, Graham swung out of bed and padded to the bathroom.

Looking into the mirror in the darkness, Graham found himself stripping out of his silk pyjamas to see his own skinny, pale body. His lips moved, and Graham heard himself mumble, “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

As if puppeted by someone else, Graham’s body moved through a series of bodybuilding poses. “There’s potential, though,” he heard himself mumble into the darkness.

He lifted up his arm and stuck his nose into his armpit, frowning. “Don’t worry, dude, you’re in good hands,” Graham’s voice told him. “I’ll go slow so you don’t get spooked.” Then he chuckled to himself. “Heh, spooked.”

The morning sun had Graham blinking awake. He’d had a strange dream, talking to himself in the bathroom. But as he pushed aside the covers, Graham frowned. He was naked, even though he always slept in pyjamas.

The pyjamas were on the bathroom floor, tossed carelessly. Well, Graham thought, maybe he’d overheated…while on the toilet.

Anyway, he’d been too tired to take a shower last night, but he definitely needed one before work today. Graham stepped into the shower and turned the tap, but was disappointed to hear a gurgling somewhere in the pipes. Only a few drops came out.

One more day won’t hurt.

“One more day won’t hurt,” Graham said, vocalising what his inner voice had said. He would email the building manager and get the shower fixed today. In the meantime, he applied a few extra layers of deodorant and fixed his hair as best as he could.

Still, Graham was self-conscious all day. He dreaded any coworker getting close enough to smell him or notice that his skin was a little greasy. By lunch break, he had rehearsed in his head a whole speech about walking to work to explain why he was so gross. It was a relief when the clock hit 5 PM and no one commented.

The repair man was standing outside Graham’s apartment when he got home, and he let them in. Apparently, there was nothing obviously wrong with the shower. It even ran on the repair man’s first try at turning the tap. Still, the man recommended that Graham put aside some tap water in case it kept acting up. At least he could take a sponge bath.

No problem, it’s not an urgent fix.

“No problem, it’s not an urgent fix.” Graham wasn’t sure why he’d said that. It was like someone else had spoken through his lips. It was kind of urgent to have regular showers. But he shook hands with the repair man and smiled as he saw him out. If the shower was just randomly acting up, he’d learn to adapt to it.

The guy across the hall looked out his door while Graham stood there, thinking through the strange thought he’d had. “You okay?” he asked. “Nothing…weird happening in there?”

Nothing to worry about.

“Nothing to worry about.” Graham smiled at his neighbour. Yeah, he was feeling pretty relaxed. With his move done, he really did have nothing to worry about. He was just jittery about his new place. “Graham, by the way.”

“Leo,” said the neighbour, still looking rather nervous. “You sure? Usually, guys go screaming down the hall their first night, yelling about feet and nightmares, like they're being haunted.”

Not this time.

“Not this time.” Maybe Leo really was some kind of conspiracy theorist. Graham still had more unpacking to do. “Nice to meet you.” He closed the door.

First things first, though, Graham wanted to finally get his first shower in his new place. He went and turned the tap.

Nothing.

Graham took a deep breath to calm himself down and went to fill a pot with water from the kitchen sink.

Hahahahaha. Laughter filled his mind. Graham froze in the middle of the kitchen. No matter what, his mental voice laughing at him couldn’t be a good sign, right?

The only thing to do with a problem is laugh.

That logic seemed sound. It wasn’t the way Graham usually dealt with problems, though. He was the kind of guy who tended to panic at the slightest opportunity.

He must be maturing.

Chuckling a bit to himself, Graham went to get his basin of water for a sponge bath.

The sponge baths really weren’t so bad, and by the time the shower started working randomly a few days later, Graham couldn’t find any of his soap or shampoo. He had a vague memory of dreaming that he’d thrown them out, but that was ridiculous. Every time he thought about getting more bathing supplies, he’d have the thought that it was just a lot of effort. He was doing fine with water alone, why complicate it?

One night a week or so after his move, Graham found himself staring at his ceiling late in the night. He must be dreaming again. He felt his lips move. “I think I’m gonna try moving in for real, just a bit. Don’t mind me.”

Suddenly, Graham’s feet went ice cold, and a strange, wet, slippery sensation slid into his feet. They felt…tight, like they were overfull somehow.

“Yeah, you’re gonna be a tight fit. Don’t worry, I’ll work you in slowly,” said Graham’s mouth.

Still with that strange, distant sensation, as if he wasn’t in control of his body, Graham sat up in bed and swung his feet to the floor. He watched as his toes wriggled and something shifted under the skin. They did look a little bloated. Over several minutes, Graham watched like a passenger while his feet flexed back and forth, looking a little larger with each twist of the arch and ankle. Dark hair began to sprout on his growing toes.

At last, they seemed to stabilise, and Graham’s body lifted his right foot up. A faint, but distinctive, aroma rose from the massive sole. “Mmm, smells like being alive,” said Graham’s mouth with a smirk.

The next morning, Graham laid in bed for a long time. He’d never been a foot guy, so this dream was especially strange. He realised, thinking back on it, that his cock had, in fact, been hard the entire time. There was even a stain in his Calvins—somehow, every night he’d worn pyjamas to bed he’d tossed them off while dreaming—like he’d had a wet dream.

When he got out of bed, he wondered why his feet looked oddly tan against the skin of his legs. And, later, why they felt strangely snug in his loafers. They pinched where they had felt perfectly comfortable before.

When he got home, it was a relief to tear his shoes off, but Graham wrinkled his nose at the sharp aroma emanating from his sweaty socks. That was it, he resolved, he needed to stop procrastinating and wash himself properly again.

But it is sort of hot.

Graham paused as he was about to start making a shopping list. If he really thought about it, the scent was kind of hot. No one had mentioned that Graham wasn’t soaping up his body or deodorizing anymore. The smell from his feet hadn’t bothered anyone. It was like it was his own little dirty secret. Like another role he could play underneath his work role.

And the smell really was sort of attractive.

“New shoes” went on the shopping list.

Some sneakers, too. To get really smelly.

Right, Graham didn’t want to mess up any work shoes as he experimented with this new interest of his. “Sneakers.”

It was like his dream had opened a floodgate. Every night, Graham dreamed of his feet growing erotically, and each day they were just a bit larger, with just a bit more stink built up on them. In his dreams, Graham talked to himself, talking about getting gym equipment, a bunch of new clothes, even about how boring Graham found his job.

More and more, Graham found himself agreeing with his dreaming self. One evening, he put a bunch of gym equipment into his Amazon cart, then turned off his computer. Gym stuff cost a lot of money, he needed to be sure he wanted to buy it. But that night, he dreamed about sitting at his computer to finalise the order, and the equipment arrived a few days later. At that point, it seemed like a waste to return it, so Graham set it up in the spare room, where he had originally planned to have a library.

Books are boring.

Graham had decided books were boring.

Any time he was at home now, Graham kept finding himself thinking, “I should do a few reps.” The results were unbelievable, with muscles thickening all over his body in what seemed like just a few days. It wasn’t long before Graham was outgrowing all of his clothes, quickly wearing out three new pairs of jeans in as many weeks.

Sweats are better anyway.

Graham’s new fitness obsession extended into his dreams, too. The cold, slippery sensation still enveloped his feet every night, but it also covered most of his body now. In his dreams, Graham would feel himself get out of bed and strut to the bathroom to pose and flex as his muscles grew larger and larger, until they bulged off his frame.

Once his muscles had grown thick and tanned dark, Graham’s dreams went in a few different directions. Often, he would watch in the mirror as he sniffed his armpits or feet, jacking the thick, musky foreign cock that had grown in place of his average, cut dick. Sometimes, Graham would hear himself say, “Nah, needs some more,” after sniffing himself. Then, he would go to his home gym and pump out reps until he was coated in sweat.

He always woke up aching and coated in stale sweat after those dreams, with a pungent scent emanating from his armpits and shockingly larger feet.

Every few nights, Graham had a dream where he would run his thick, callused hands over his neck and face, subtly pinching and compressing his face until a handsome stranger looked back at him in the mirror. “There, that’s the real me,” he would say to himself in a deep, smokey voice.

After those dreams, Graham was always surprised to see his normal face in the mirror. And yet, there would be a familiar sharpness to his jaw, or the set of his dark eyebrows, that reminded him of the face in his dreams.

The world outside his apartment felt increasingly strange. It was like a part of his internal voice was missing. He had trouble understanding his own thoughts, now. It was like he was a jumble of two different people. Had he really used to spend most of his free time reading library books? Was he really the kind of guy who didn’t put himself up for a bonus at the end of the year?

The apartment was safe and secure. It was like Graham’s mind was wrapped in calm and good sense as soon as he walked in. His mind spoke louder, which let him make better decisions, like the time that he wore sweats and T-shirt to work. It had made perfect sense when he walked out the door, but then he had stumbled over his words when he tried to explain to his boss why he was dressed appropriately for work.

Long story short, Graham was arriving home early today. He was just unlocking his door when Leo came barrelling up the stairs in running gear. He stopped when he spotted Graham, just stepping over the threshold and into the wonderful calm of his apartment.

“Who are—Graham?” Leo stared at him. “Is that really you?”

Graham looked down at himself, then back over at Leo. “Uh, yeah?”

“No way. You’re so…muscular and tan. I barely recognise your face.”

“Yeah, I had a bit of a growth spurt.” Graham flexed a bicep with a grin.

“A growth spurt powered by anabolics and a talented plastic surgeon, sure,” Leo was frowning at him.

Graham was kind of offended by his rude neighbour. He’d put a lot of hard work into this body!

Yeah, I have. Get him in the apartment.

“Look,” Graham sighed, the words spilling from his lips like in his dreams, “I’ve had a bad day. Just come inside if you want to talk.”

Leo seemed to hesitate, just for an instant. “But that’s the—“

“Either get inside, or get out of my face.” Graham’s voice sounded a bit gruff to his ears, beyond just the depth that it had gained over the months he’d lived here. It was like it was another man’s voice.

Leo shook himself. “Okay.” He steeled himself and followed Graham over the threshold.

Perfect.

“Whew, it’s ripe in here, man,” Leo observed. “Do you ever shower?”

“Just with cold water.” Graham kicked out of his sneakers, freeing his massive, socked feet and stretching them out. More and more, he felt separate from his body, as if he was watching it move. Still, it hadn’t done anything he wouldn’t have done, he thought. He was just playing another role.

“Well, clearly, it’s not…enough…” Graham watched, his mouth held in a strange smile, as Leo seemed to lose his train of thought. The man’s nostrils flared, and he swayed slightly.

“Yeah, not so mighty and judgmental anymore,” said Graham’s voice. “You’ve forced me to move up my schedule a bit, but it’s not a problem.”

Leo licked his lips before answering. “Sorry, sir,” he said thickly.

“You’re the guy who’s been helping my potential bodies escape, aren’t you?”

“I warn them about this apartment…I keep listings for new places they can go…” Leo’s eyes started to clear, and he shook his head. “No, wait, what the fuck—“

In a flash, Graham leapt into action. He didn’t know how he got one of his sneakers in his hand, but he grabbed Leo in a headlock and shoved his face into the putrid interior. “Nuh-uh-uh, no escapes or exorcisms this time,” Graham’s voice whispered, as Leo thrashed in his strong arms. “The more you fight, the more you fall. Isn’t it hot? My sexy, sweaty new body all around you, and the smell and taste of my foot musk all over your face?”

As Graham spoke, Leo’s struggles weakened. Graham watched with amusement as they both slumped to the floor, a rock-hard boner growing in Leo’s running shorts.

Finally, Graham’s grip on the sneaker loosened, even as Leo reached up to hold it himself. “Look, this is all just a misunderstanding,” Graham’s said soothingly. “You’ve thought I was a sexy beast since I moved in, right? You loved my big, musky muscles and my foot stink. That’s why you made up that story about a haunted apartment.”

Leo’s eyes seemed to be rolling uncontrollably in his head, but he nodded.

“Now I’ve finally noticed you and invited you inside. You just couldn’t help yourself, you foot slut. You were gonna tackle me before I gave you that shoe to lick.”

Leo nodded fervently, moaning. A wet spot was forming at his crotch.

“Now we’re gonna go to the bedroom and I’m gonna shove my cheesy uncut cock in that virgin hole of yours, okay bro?”

“Fuck,” Leo gasped, muffled through the shoe. “Fuck yes, Graham.”

“Nah, man,” said Graham’s voice, picking Leo up like he was a doll, “I’d rather you call me Grey.”

As Grey’s thick cock entered Leo, Graham found himself watching as if from outside himself. He could see his own handsome, angular face as he fucked Leo. He could see Grey’s massive, musky feet shift as he gained a better angle to make Leo squeal. He could even watch the dribbles of sweat run over his thick ass as his voice gave short, sharp pants.

“Fuck yeah,” Grey said to himself in a harsh voice, picking up the pace.

“This is my body.”

“This is my fucking musk temple.”

“Made it all by my-fucking-self.”

“Feels fucking good to be alive.”

As Grey buried his thick, musky cock deep in Leo, shaking through his orgasm, Graham found himself back inside his body. Once again, he watched like a passenger as Grey licked his load out of Leo’s asshole, then sent his happy new foot slut on his way with a spare sneaker and instructions to stop using soap and add Grey's contact info to his bank account.

Eventually, Grey lounged on the couch, naked, idly stroking his slimy, still-lubed cock and scrolling through Grindr. “What do you think, Graham?” he said out loud. “Since it's my first night able to leave the apartment, I should go crash some boys’ b-ball game and make some more foot slaves, right?”

Graham couldn’t help but agree. He was just the voice in Grey’s head, after all.

This story is a slightly belated holiday gift for @idesofrevolution! Happy holidays, and here's to a hot and sexy new year ;)

[rootedinrevisions]

Five Years

SUMMARY: Five years of friendship. Years of silent longing. One night that changes everything. When Tyler Owens, a charming, rugged man with a penchant for keeping things casual, finds himself at a crossroads with the woman he's secretly loved for years, he realizes he might have waited too long. After one too many moments where you've been left wanting more, you find yourself torn between the comfort of their deep connection and the pain of being stuck in the friend zone. Tyler has one last shot to show you that he’s not just the man you turn to in the hard moments—but the man who can make you believe in love, again.

A/N: Sorry for all the angsty Tyler lately! It's just been the mood/vibe lately so I've been rolling with it! Thanks to the person who sent this request in! I hope you like it!

PROMPT: "What was he doing back there? Flirting with you like he has a fucking chance?"

WARNINGS/TAGS: Angst.

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

It’s late, the kind of quiet that comes when the night has softened everything into shadows. You and Tyler are back in the motel room, tangled together in bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His arm drapes over you, and you’re curled into his side, your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. The scent of whiskey lingers between you, mingling with the warmth of his skin, and you can still taste him faintly on your lips. Another night, another round of kisses exchanged under the dim motel lights, like something fragile and fleeting.

He stirs, his hand brushing along your back, and you wonder if he’s on the edge of sleep or just drifting in that space in between like you are. For a moment, you’re tempted to ask him the question that’s always on the tip of your tongue: What are we doing?

Instead, you stay silent, breathing in sync with him, wondering if he can feel the way your heart skips each time he holds you like this. He shifts, drawing you a little closer, and you catch a glimpse of something in his expression—something soft, maybe even vulnerable. But it’s gone as quickly as it came.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice low and slightly slurred. “You’re comfortable, right?” His hand rests at the curve of your hip, fingers grazing your skin in a way that sends a shiver through you.

You nod, managing a quiet, “Yeah. Always.” You know he’ll pretend he doesn’t remember this in the morning, brush it off like it’s nothing, and you’ll let him because it’s easier that way. But tonight, you can pretend a little too—that these quiet moments mean the same to him as they do to you.

You close your eyes, listening to his heartbeat beneath your ear, wondering how much longer you can keep pretending before you’re forced to admit the truth—to yourself, if not to him.

Then, out of nowhere, he says, “So… I just found out I’m being inducted into the PBR Hall of Fame.”

You blink, lifting your head from his chest to look at him. A smile lights up your face. “Tyler, that’s amazing! I mean, I knew you were a big deal, but… Hall of Fame?”

He chuckles softly, scratching the back of his head with that familiar modesty. “Yeah, kinda crazy, huh? Guess all those years getting tossed around finally paid off.”

You laugh, knowing he’s downplaying it. You’ve seen some of those old videos, clips of him taking on bulls with more force and heart than anyone you’d ever met. 

“No one deserves it more than you,” you say softly, feeling that familiar warmth in your chest. “I’m so proud of you.”

A faint blush colors his cheeks as he looks away, and then, clearing his throat, he glances back at you. 

“Thanks, means a lot,” he says, his voice softer. Then, after a moment, he adds, “Actually… I get a plus one to the induction ceremony. I was thinking maybe you’d want to come with me?”

Your heart skips at that. He doesn’t even pause to consider anyone else; he’s asking you. For a moment, you feel a surge of excitement that maybe this is more than just a friendly invite. But just as quickly, doubt seeps in. If he had a girlfriend, he’d take her, wouldn’t he? A familiar ache settles in your chest, the quiet reminder that maybe this is just about convenience for him.

“Are you sure?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, and casual. “I mean, you could take anyone.”

He glances at you with a soft smile, his eyes sincere. “Nah. Can’t think of anyone better. You’d come, right?”

The words are on the tip of your tongue—Of course, I’ll go. 

Instead, you hesitate, just for a second, wondering if this is just a placeholder invitation until he finds someone to fill the spot he’s never openly said he wants to be filled. But you can’t bear the thought of missing the moment, so you nod, managing a smile. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

He grins, pulling you back into his chest, and you settle against him, feeling the warmth of his arm around you. But even as you breathe him in, letting the steady beat of his heart calm you, a question begins to take root in your mind. Where do we really stand, Tyler?

It’s a question you keep to yourself, swallowing it down as you close your eyes and listen to the silence settle around you once again.

* * * * *

The ballroom buzzed with energy and anticipation, and you could sense the excitement radiating from Tyler beside you. The event space was elegantly decorated, with every table set with crystal glasses and gleaming silverware. But you hardly noticed any of it; all your focus was on Tyler. This was his night. And you were honored to be here with him, even if you didn’t quite know what that meant for the two of you.

You eventually found your way to your seats near the front of the room, and Tyler’s hand brushed against yours as you sat down. His fingers lingered just a moment, a subtle contact that sent a rush of warmth up your arm. 

Before you could say anything, the lights dimmed as the emcee took to the stage, announcing the start of the ceremony. The audience fell quiet, and Tyler’s hand was warm on your knee, a comforting weight that made your heart race. You glanced down at his hand, then back up to his face, wondering if he even realized the effect he had on you.

A part of you wanted to reach for his hand again, to close the gap between you both once and for all, but you stayed still, holding your breath as the ceremony began.

As the awards were announced one by one, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Tyler. He seemed to sit straighter with each name called, his eyes never leaving the stage. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the emcee announced Tyler’s name, and the room burst into applause. You clapped the loudest, your heart swelling with pride.

You watched as Tyler walked to the stage, his stride steady and confident, shoulders back with that natural charisma he carried wherever he went. When he accepted his award, he stood there with his plaque, his gaze scanning the crowd until it landed on you. The spotlight hit his face, highlighting the small, crooked smile you knew so well. And his eyes—dark, intense, focused on you—seemed to say something unspoken.

You felt your breath catch, frozen under his gaze, and for a second, it was like you were the only two people in the room.

His acceptance speech was simple and heartfelt. He thanked the people who had been there with him through the highs and lows. He spoke of long, hard days, the sacrifices he’d made, and the passion that drove him. But you could’ve sworn that when he mentioned his gratitude for “the people who kept him grounded,” his eyes found you once again.

As Tyler wrapped up his speech and made his way back to his seat, you barely had a chance to process the pride you felt for him, for everything he’d accomplished. But that brief moment when he’d looked at you on stage lingered in your mind, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Could it have meant something more?

He sat back down next to you, and you leaned over, unable to keep the smile from your face. “That was incredible, Ty. I’m so proud of you.”

He looked at you, a soft chuckle escaping as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks. I think I might’ve fumbled a little bit up there.”

“Not even close,” you replied, squeezing his arm. “You were perfect.”

The atmosphere at the afterparty was more relaxed, a contrast to the formality of the ceremony.

The room buzzes with laughter and clinking glasses, everyone here to celebrate the achievements of legends, past and present. You’re standing beside Tyler, trying to blend into the background of the room’s energy. But then, without warning, Tyler reaches for your hand, his fingers brushing yours before intertwining them completely. It’s such a small gesture, but it sends a rush of warmth through you. He glances at you, his eyes searching yours for a brief moment, almost as if he’s silently asking if this is okay, if you’re okay. You squeeze his hand, hoping he’ll understand that, yes, this is more than okay.

“Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet,” he says, his voice low and soft. He leads you through the crowd toward a man with a broad smile and lines etched deep around his eyes—Tyler’s old mentor. Tyler introduces you with a genuine warmth that makes you feel like you belong here, like you’re not just an accessory to his big night but someone he wants by his side.

As they begin chatting, Tyler’s hand drifts to your waist, his fingers pressing lightly into your hip as he pulls you closer, fitting you against his side. You feel a warmth blossom in your chest, and for a moment, the nagging doubts you’d been harboring vanish. His mentor jokes about old times, and Tyler laughs, giving your waist a small squeeze as if to share the moment with you. You let yourself lean into him, letting his warmth melt away the walls you’d tried to build around your heart.

But then, as the conversation comes to a close, he lets go. Just like that, his hand falls from your waist, and he takes a step back, sliding his hands into his pockets, a casual smile on his face. He glances around the room, no longer focused on you, and the sudden distance sends a chill down your spine. You’re standing side by side, but the connection feels fractured, like a missed beat. He begins walking next to you, his attention now elsewhere, no hand-holding, no gentle touches to keep you close.

Half an hour later you’re standing next to Tyler, trying to stay engaged with the conversation he’s having with an old friend he used to ride with, someone who knows a side of him you’ve only heard about in stories. Tyler’s posture is easy, his laugh warm and unguarded in a way that you rarely get to see. You watch him as he reminisces, letting yourself get lost in the sound of his laughter, in the way his eyes light up with a spark of the past. But as they continue to talk, it becomes clear that he’s in his own world, like you’re not even there.

The laughter between them grows, each memory shared drawing them further back into the years before you knew him. You shift your weight, feeling a slight ache in your chest as you realize just how separate you feel from this part of his life. A sense of loneliness creeps in, one you can’t shake, and you find yourself glancing toward the bar. Maybe a drink will help dull the sting.

You start to turn, your heart heavy, but just then, you feel Tyler’s hand reach out, his fingers wrapping gently around yours. The touch is so familiar, so comforting, and for a brief second, that hopeful warmth flickers back to life. 

You glance over your shoulder, catching his eye, a hint of something unreadable there.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice quieter, as if trying to break through to you despite the noise around.

You swallow, forcing a smile to cover the twinge of sadness that’s growing in your chest. “Yeah,” you say softly, nodding toward the bar. “Just thirsty. Thought I’d grab a drink.”

He nods, giving your hand a slight squeeze before letting go, turning back to his friend with that easy laugh that now feels like a barrier you can’t quite cross. You turn away, your heart sinking as you walk toward the bar, feeling the absence of his hand like a chill creeping over your skin. You can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment that settles heavy and cold. Just moments ago, he was intertwining your fingers, holding you close with his hand on your waist, like you were more than just a companion for the night.

How did it change so quickly? How did he go from holding you, grounding you with those intimate touches, to leaving you in this limbo of almost but not quite? You realize that, despite how much he means to you, there’s a line between you that he doesn’t seem ready to cross. And that thought hurts more than you want to admit.

You’re leaning against the bar, lost in thought, when a voice breaks through the noise, smooth and warm. “Hey there. You look like you could use some company.”

You glance up to find a guy with a charming grin and a relaxed confidence that’s instantly disarming. He extends a hand. “Eli Vastbinder,” he says. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

For a moment, you’re taken off guard, but you shake his hand and introduce yourself, motioning to where Tyler’s standing in the distance. “I’m here with Tyler Owens.”

At the mention of Tyler’s name, a flicker of something—maybe disappointment, maybe surprise—crosses Eli’s face before he recovers his smile. “Owens, huh? How do you know the Tornado Wrangler?”

You can’t help but laugh at the nickname, feeling some of the tension ease as you explain. “We work together. I help him run his YouTube channel.”

Eli’s gaze shifts from Tyler back to you, a curious glint in his eye as if he’s sizing up the situation. He doesn’t linger on it for long, though, before flashing you a daring smile. “So, just coworkers, huh? In that case, you wouldn’t mind if I bought you a drink?”

The question lingers, sparking a twist of hesitation in your chest. You glance over at Tyler, hoping for some kind of sign, some acknowledgment of what you’re feeling. Your eyes meet his, and he offers you a casual smile before turning his attention back to his friend. The moment leaves you cold—another reminder of all the times he’s pulled you close, only to leave you feeling as if you’re just out of reach.

You turn back to Eli, a decision settling in your mind. Tyler isn’t claiming you. He never has. And he’s had five years to do so.

You give Eli a small smile. “Sure, why not?”

Eli’s grin widens as he orders your drink, leaning in just slightly as he asks about your work with Tyler. He’s charming, effortlessly making you feel seen and appreciated. There’s a warm intensity in his gaze, like he’s genuinely interested in hearing about your life, in learning the pieces of you that Tyler seems to take for granted. You laugh at his jokes, leaning in as he tells stories about the crazy things he’s seen on the road. Every so often, his hand brushes yours, sending a little thrill through you—like something you haven’t allowed yourself to feel in far too long.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel the weight lifting from your shoulders. There’s no ambiguity with Eli; his attention is clear, unburdened by mixed signals or unspoken boundaries. It’s refreshing, exciting, even, to be the center of someone’s focus without second-guessing their intentions.

You glance over at Tyler once more, but he’s still wrapped up in conversation, seemingly unaware of the ache you’ve carried alone. A part of you wants him to notice, to see what’s happening, to finally feel the urgency you’ve held onto for years. But there’s another part of you that’s finished waiting.

As you turn back to Eli, you find yourself smiling, the kind of smile that feels like letting go.

You’re laughing at something Eli just said, a relaxed warmth in your chest that’s been missing around Tyler lately, when you feel a familiar presence behind you. You glance back, and there he is—Tyler, wearing that easy smile that’s disarmed you a hundred times before. He leans close, his hand slipping around your waist, fingers warm and possessive against your hip. “Hey there, darlin’,” he greets, the pet name rolling off his tongue as naturally as the smirk tugging at his lips.

But Tyler doesn’t stop there. His gaze shifts to Eli, assessing him for a beat, and then extends a hand. “I see you’ve met my date,” he says, voice casual but with a certain edge, like a claim staked.

You freeze, glancing up at him, surprised and confused by his sudden assertiveness. Eli’s expression mirrors your own—slightly perplexed, eyebrows lifting as he takes Tyler’s hand and shakes it firmly. His eyes flicker back to you, questioning. “Date? I thought you two were just coworkers,” he remarks, eyes shifting meaningfully to Tyler’s hand, still resting on your hip.

Before you can answer, Tyler lets out a dismissive scoff, as if the notion of you two being “just coworkers” is absurd. “Coworkers?” he echoes, his hand tightening just a fraction. “Yeah, we’re a little closer than that.” He shoots a look at you that’s both playful and possessive.

You feel your blood simmer, heat rising in your chest at the presumption in his tone. As if you’re some claim he can lay when it’s convenient, without any real commitment. You step out of his grip, your voice firm as you say, “We are just coworkers.” The words come out sharper than you intend, but you don’t soften them.

Tyler’s smile falters, his brow furrowing, but you’ve already turned away, excusing yourself quickly to Eli before slipping out toward the exit.

Humiliation washes over you, prickling your skin as you push through the crowd, needing fresh air, needing space. You had been enjoying a perfectly nice conversation with Eli, feeling appreciated and even flattered, until Tyler decided to swoop in and turn the moment into something possessive and confusing.

As you reach the hallway, you feel a sharp sting behind your eyes. Tears blur your vision, and you blink them back, furious with yourself for letting Tyler get to you like this. You’re tired—tired of being in his orbit only when he wants you to be, of being treated as something more only when it suits him. Because heaven forbid another guy notices you.

The hallway is quiet, save for the soft murmur of voices drifting from the ballroom as you stand there, waiting for the elevator. The moment stretches, tense and thick, when you hear his footsteps behind you, his voice calling your name.

You don’t turn around. “Tyler… don’t.” The plea is barely above a whisper, but he ignores it, closing the distance between you, his face etched with frustration.

“What was he doing back there?” he asks, motioning down the hall toward the ballroom, his tone hard, possessive. “Flirting with you like he has a chance?”

Your heart twists painfully at his words. His tone says it all—like he assumes you’re his, like it’s obvious. Like you should know.

But you’re done with the assumptions. The words spill out before you can stop them, thick with months, years, of unspoken hurt. “And why would you care, Tyler?” Your voice cracks, and you feel the first tear slip down your cheek, quickly followed by another. “It’s not like we’re together, right? You said it yourself—we’ll never be anything more than friends. We’re just…” You falter, searching for the right words, but the truth tumbles out, raw and painful. “We’re just really close, and we make out sometimes. Nothing more.”

The weight of it hangs in the air, and you can see the impact of your words in the way his face falls, his expression softening, regretful. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, reaching out, but you shake your head, a mix of anger and sadness bubbling to the surface.

“No, Tyler.” You step back, keeping the space between you. “I’m done. I’m done with this… with you.” Your voice shakes, but the conviction is there, clear and sharp. “I’m done not being good enough. Done being yours only when you want someone on your arm or in your bed. I can’t keep doing this.” You wipe a tear from your cheek, gathering whatever strength you have left. “I’m done with everything. Our friendship. The channel. All of it.”

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open with a quiet chime. You glance back at him one last time, taking in the hurt and confusion in his eyes. 

“Go back to the party, Tyler. It’s your night. You deserve it.”

You step into the elevator, pressing the button as the doors start to close. The last thing you see before they shut is him standing there, looking lost and completely, utterly alone.

Back in the quiet solitude of the hotel room, you feel the emotions from the hallway encounter with Tyler crash over you. It’s almost overwhelming, but you shake your head, determined to focus on the immediate task. You kick off your heels and reach for the zipper at the back of your dress, letting it slide down as the gown falls in a pool around your feet. You step out of it, scooping it up to drape over the chair, and head to your bag, ready to change and leave before you can overthink it.

Digging through your clothes, you pull out the first shirt, but frustration prickles at you when you realize it’s one of Tyler’s. With an annoyed huff, you toss it on the bed. You dig deeper, pulling out another… his again. Why didn’t I pack more of my own clothes? you think bitterly, remembering that his shirts have been your usual comfort, your routine.

Finally, you find one of your own t-shirts and pull it on, then slide into a pair of jeans. You run a hand over your face, taking a deep breath to keep yourself from falling apart, and open your suitcase, methodically folding the rest of your things and stowing them away. As you pack, a plan begins to form, each step sounding clearer in your mind. You’ll finish packing, get a car downstairs to a nearby hotel for the night, and fly back tomorrow. It might be an awkward plane ride home, but you’ll put in headphones, turn away, and then… you’ll walk away from Tyler James Owens for good.

With your bag nearly ready, you look around the room one last time, eyes falling on the small pile of his things on the bed. His shirts, the ones you’ve wrapped yourself in so many times, now just reminders of all the blurred lines that never became anything real. You turn away, inhaling deeply to steady yourself, willing the resolve to carry you through whatever comes next.

You reach for the handle of your suitcase, ready to walk out of Tyler’s life for good, when the hotel room door opens behind you. Your heart races, and for a second you want to pretend you don’t notice him there, but when you turn, his expression says he’s already figured out exactly what’s happening. His eyes drop to the half-packed suitcase, then back to your face. His look of confusion shifts into something desperate.

“Please,” he says, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it, almost raw. “Please, stay. We can talk about this. Just… don’t leave. Not like this.”

You shake your head, fighting the tears that are already building again. “Tyler, I’m done,” you say, your voice trembling. “You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me, either. You keep me close enough to feel like there’s something between us, but it’s never anything more. It’s just not fair anymore.”

You curse under your breath, blinking hard as the tears spill over. You don’t want him to see you like this—vulnerable, broken, hurt. Swallowing back a sob, you start to walk past him, head held high even as you feel yourself shattering. Just as your hand reaches for the door, he says it. Those three words you’ve been waiting for, holding onto, for what feels like forever.

“I love you.”

It stops you cold, and you stand there, hand frozen on the doorknob, not sure if you actually heard him or if it’s just some desperate wish in your mind. But then he speaks again.

“I love you,” he repeats, his voice steady, almost pleading. “And if you love me—if you can still love me—then I’m asking you to stay and just… hear me out. But if you’re done with me, really done, and I’ve already lost you… then go.”

The silence hangs between you, thick and charged. You turn slowly, meeting his gaze, and there’s a look in his eyes you’ve never seen before. Vulnerability, sincerity, something real and unguarded. He’s finally opened himself up, given you the one thing you’ve been longing to hear, but the choice to stay or leave is yours.

Your chest tightens as you search his face, feeling the weight of all the years, the almosts, the near-misses, the longing. He stands there, his hands clenched at his sides, waiting, as if he’s holding his breath.

“You… really love me?” you whisper, the words barely audible.

“Yes,” he breathes, stepping toward you, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’ve loved you for a long time. I just… didn’t know how to show it, and I was afraid if I did, you’d walk away. But losing you… that’s the one thing I’m really afraid of.”

You take a shaky breath, looking into his eyes, feeling every bit of his honesty, and for the first time, he’s offering you everything, without conditions, without holding back. The pain and hurt are still there, but as he waits, the tears in his own eyes now, you feel something else rising to the surface—a glimmer of hope.

The words are out before you can stop them.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

Tyler steps forward, his eyes searching yours as if trying to understand the storm inside you. He reaches up, hesitantly at first, as though unsure if you’ll pull away. But when you don’t, his hands gently cup your face, his touch warm and grounding. His thumbs swipe at the tears still streaking down your cheeks, wiping them away as if he can erase all the pain he’s caused with one simple gesture.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry. For not telling you sooner, for not making a move sooner… for making you feel like you don’t matter. For making you cry. You deserve so much more than that.”

You’re frozen, his words sinking deep into the cracks of your heart that you didn’t even know were there. His thumb brushes along your cheekbone, a silent apology that speaks louder than anything else could.

He takes a deep breath, his voice low but sincere. “I know I’ve messed up, but I’m asking… can you give me another chance? To do it right this time? To take you on a real date, to buy you flowers, to tell the world that you’re mine… to be proud to have you by my side. I want to do this right, with you. Will you give me one more chance?”

The weight of his words hangs between you, and you feel the walls you’ve built around your heart begin to crack. He’s standing there, fully exposed, offering you everything he’s held back for so long. The room feels smaller, the air thicker as you look into his eyes, where you see nothing but vulnerability and hope.

You swallow hard, emotions warring inside you. You’ve wanted this—wanted him—to say it, to fight for you. And now that he is, you’re not sure whether to run or to stay. But as you stand there, feeling the sincerity in his touch and his words, something shifts. The hurt, the confusion, the loneliness—it all starts to unravel, replaced by a flicker of something new: hope.

You take a breath, your voice barely more than a whisper, but clear enough for him to hear. “Last chance, Owens.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, but it’s softer, more relieved than triumphant. He doesn’t say anything else for a moment. Instead, he just pulls you into his arms, wrapping you in a hug that’s full of promise, the kind that says he’s never letting you go. And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe him.

You stand there, still in his arms, the weight of his words sinking in. The tension that had built up over the last few days—hell, the last few years—seems to fade away in that moment. Tyler’s hands are warm on your back, his arms strong around you as if he’s holding on, not just to you, but to everything that was between you two. His breath is steady, the pulse in his chest calming yours. He doesn’t let go, not yet. You don’t want him to.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. There’s no need to. Words were said, the hurt was aired out, and now, the only thing left is the silence between you—a silence that feels like the promise of something better, something real.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze soft, full of regret and hope. His thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away the last of your tears. "I meant every word," he says quietly, his voice steady but raw. "Thank you for giving me this chance."

You nod, feeling something inside you shift, finally able to let go of the heaviness that had been pulling at you for far too long. You offer him a small smile, your fingers brushing his lightly as you give him a gentle squeeze.

He exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Hey…” His voice is quieter now, almost like he's considering his next words carefully. "How about we skip the rest of the party downstairs? We can grab some pizza, put on a movie, just... relax in here."

You glance at him, surprised by the suggestion, but something about the simplicity of it feels perfect. You nod, the corners of your mouth lifting into a genuine smile. “Yeah. That sounds perfect.”

Tyler’s eyes light up, a grin spreading across his face. “Good. Go ahead and get comfortable. I’ll order the pizza. Whatever you want.”

You feel a sudden sense of relief wash over you. It’s not just the break from the chaos of the night, but the quiet, intimate comfort of knowing that it’s just the two of you, no expectations, no pressure. 

Tyler watches you for a moment, his smile softening as he watches you dig through your suitcase for something comfortable. You pull out a pair of sweatpants, replacing your jeans, and as you move to crawl onto the bed, he’s already a step ahead of you.

Before you can sit down, he reaches for the bottom of your t-shirt, pulling it up over your head. You freeze, giving him a confused look, about to protest. "Tyler, I’m really not in the mood—"

He cuts you off with a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Not like that," he says, his voice teasing but warm. "Trust me, I’m not asking for anything like that."

Your brow furrows slightly in confusion, but Tyler doesn’t give you a chance to dwell on it. Instead, he reaches down into your suitcase and pulls out one of the t-shirts you had tossed aside earlier—one of his shirts. He holds it out to you with a playful glint in his eyes. “Here,” he says, “put this one on instead.”

You take the shirt from him, still a little baffled. “What’s wrong with my other shirt?”

Tyler grins, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He steps closer, leaning down slightly as if he’s about to let you in on a secret. 

“Because it’s not your boyfriend’s,” he says, his voice low and almost teasing. “If you’re gonna be my girl, you wear my shirt to bed.”

A smile tugs at your lips, and you can’t help but feel a flutter in your chest. It’s the little things like this—the small gestures, the inside jokes, the way he’s already making you feel like you belong—that make the tension from earlier seem a little less heavy.

You slip the shirt on, and Tyler's eyes soften when he sees you in it, the way it fits just right, the way it looks like it belongs on you. You glance up at him as you finish adjusting it, your voice quieter now, full of warmth. “This better for you, boyfriend?”

"Yes." He grins, clearly pleased with himself. "I think you look pretty damn perfect in it."

You laugh softly, and for a moment, the weight of everything that had happened earlier melts away, leaving you with nothing but the quiet comfort of his presence. You sit down on the bed, pulling the blankets up and patting the spot beside you. "So, pizza and movies?"

Tyler nods, settling in beside you, having traded his tuxedo for sweatpants and a t-shirt. His hand finds its way to yours as he lets out a contented sigh. "Sounds like the perfect way to spend the night."

And for the first time in a long while, it feels like things are exactly where they need to be.

[kaiser1ns]

The after-party was getting dull, and you were exhausted, longing for the comfort of home, the warmth of your bed, and the fluffiest blankets you owned. The soft mattress, the mountain of plushies—some gifted by Itoshi Sae, others by Michael Kaiser—called to you. Sae watched the scene from afar, swirling a champagne glass as he observed you and Kaiser sitting on the cold balcony stairs, sharing a piece of cake. The striker leaned closer, taking small bites as you offered, enjoying your company. The midfielder sighed and eventually joined, sitting beside you, which put you in the middle of them both.

A chilly breeze swept through, and you shivered slightly. Your dress, beautiful but strapless, wasn’t much protection against the cool air, though It was gorgeous, something you’d want to wear every day, but sadly, it was from a fashion house and would have to be returned. Suddenly, warmth settled around your shoulders. Kaiser had wrapped his jacket around you, flashing a soft smile before smirking at Sae. You didn’t notice Sae’s reaction, distracted by the night sky above. So many stars—a constellation not unlike the football stars in the team you worked for, Re Al. The best team in the world, a rare privilege you held, to be close to legendary players like Modric, Kroos, Ronaldo, and Zidane.

And now, the team’s rising stars—the Japanese and German prodigies, both members of the New Generation World XI, each easily affected by the other’s smallest provocation.

"Quick on the field, slow to treat a lady, aren’t you, Sae?” Kaiser teased, raising an eyebrow, and running a tattooed hand through his hair. The midfielder shot him a glare, moments from tossing his drink to wipe the smug grin off his teammate's face, but you interrupted, resting your head on Sae’s shoulder.

“Do you ever wonder… what life would have been like,” you murmured. The two paused their banter, curious. Snuggled in Kaiser’s jacket, you went on, “…if we’d never joined Re Al, or the world of football at all?”

Sae and Kaiser exchanged glances, taken aback. It wasn’t like you to ask questions like this, and you rarely drank that much. But when they looked back at you, your eyes were closed—not asleep, just calm, relaxing for once without making Sae jealous or flirting with Kaiser. For now, you stayed neutral. You knew you loved them both, but the question was—who?

A question for another time, you thought. Reopening your eyes to watch your breath form a small cloud in the cool night air. “Usually, both of you have something to say… so?”

Sae answered first, setting his glass down and absently twirling a strand of your hair around his finger. “I probably would have had a normal life. A happy one. Maybe my personality wouldn’t have turned out quite like this.” You hummed softly, glancing over at Kaiser, who looked uncharacteristically sad, and … upset. Had your question touched a nerve?

“Do you want to share, Misha?” you asked. He quickly regained his composure, losing his blue tie as he too looked up at the sky

“Probably a criminal, or something,” he shrugged it off quickly, yet the pain lingered behind his eyes. After Kaiser’s answer, a soft silence settled over the three of you. You could sense that this wasn’t the time to dig further; if he wanted to share more, he would. Instead, you shifted, resting your head on Kaiser’s shoulder. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close.

“There’s no salvation in the past,” he murmured, his voice low. “So don’t think about it. Focus on what’s happening now.” But his words drifted past you as sleep tugged at your eyelids. Kaiser noticed, chuckling softly at how peaceful you looked as you began to doze off.

Carefully, he nudged you up, steadying you on your feet. Sae, still sitting, glanced up at the way you seemed exhausted and on the verge of falling asleep right here on the spot as he too thought the same, that you were so cute.

“Might be the last time we have such a peaceful moment like this,” Kaiser said quietly. “Let’s bring her home.”

The two of them helped you down the stairs, keeping you steady. They’d make sure you got home safe and sound and hoped for no paparazzi photos first thing in the morning. Both of them here, looking out for you, felt like a gift from the universe itself—having them not only in your life but in your heart.

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[heavensgxte]

Besieged part II

part one

tw - noncon, forced marriage, pregnancy mentions, breeding kink, blowjobs, naoya being naoya and being an asshole. naoyas shitty excuse of foreplay. not beta read

wc- 2.1k

by clicking read more you are agreeing to consume and read dark content.

a/n- hey…how y’all doin. don’t hate me for posting this over two years later lolol i honestly didn’t think i’d ever get back to this but. i have had been on a writing kick lately. i hope my skills haven’t completely disappeared. thank you for all the love for part one.

You wake up the next morning, covered in dry cum. You feel its presence still very much so stuffed into your cunt. You also feel a warm body draped over yours, looking over at the table you do see a glass of water. You also feel a flaccid cock you must have been warming all night long.

Did he really fuck you until he passed out? You reason he probably did. You look towards the window to find the sun just beginning to rise, not being able to stop the few tears that escape your eyes, a true moment to yourself, sort of. For the last week, the weight of your situation settles, is this really how you’re going to spend the rest of your life?

Eventually, you reckon you had silently cried yourself back to sleep. It was the fact that when you had come to again, your now husband wasn't sprawled out on top of you. But a maid with a worried look on her face gently tapping you awake. Telling you it was time to change the bedding, her skittish voice starting to pull away the curtains of grogginess out of your system.

You make sure to give her a warm smile, nodding and giving a soft thank you. Making a mental note to treat the staff nicely, showing them you are nothing like that vile man you have been legally bound to.

The maid turns away to give you privacy as you move your sore body to plant your feet on the cold floor. Seeing a note laying on your bedside table, picking it up you read it over. “I will be attending my own duties until mid-day, don’t bother me, I shall come find you when I deem it is time. Don’t miss me too much <3” You scoff crumpling the note and tossing it where you found it.

Shivering you pull on the robe nearby, letting the soft fabric hug your frame, giving another smile to the maid, you make your way to the washroom and out of her way. You spot the shower and take a better look at the elegant room. The ofuro and shower separated, traditional yet modern touches adjourning the room. Both bathing options are definitely big enough for two, you mentally note that he had done that on purpose. Looking between the two options, a soak in the ofuro seemed more tempting, something to soothe your aching body from the rough treatment you had taken last night.

Taking a good look in the mirror as you begin to fill up the bath, your eyes widen at the state of your body. Darkened marks adorn your neck and chest, accompanied by bite and scratch marks decorating your thighs and waist. Is he even human? You surely don’t remember the sex being this animalistic, but your fucked out brain probably drifted off after your second or third orgasm you presume.

Hopefully he isn’t this insatiable every night. The thought sends shivers down your spine, keeping yourself distracted by adding salts and herbs you had found sitting out into the steaming water.

Carefully stepping in and letting the warmth consume you, you close your eyes and lean your head back, letting daydreams run through your weary head as you lean it against the edge of the appliance. Near dissociation when.

The brash opening of the door rips you out of your thoughts, you hear his footsteps before you see him round the corner quickly. Ripping you out of your dream-like state, sending your nervous system into fight or flight mode, a shrill gasp emitting from you.

“Ah ha there you are. I was wondering if you were going to wake up or not before the sun went down.” Naoya says as if it was a matter of fact. Cat like eyes trying to peer beneath. “I was looking all over for my little wife.” The man poses with a faux stretch. “I got done with my duties early, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of the evening playing with my new toy.” He begins to shed his daily attire.

Sighing, but not quite in defeat you close your eyes and begin to mutter “well excuse me for trying to take even a bath by my-”

Before you could even finish the sentence, you heard it before you felt it. A smack resounding in the room before your hand flies to your face to soothe the stinging pain. Shocked with wide eyes you avert your profile to him.

You are met with a stern look to his amber eyes, face unreadable. “I will tolerate little from you. I knew choosing you there would be some pushback, a stubborn woman such as yourself. However,  you are smart enough to know and follow expectations regarding being my wife. I do not tolerate back talk. The rumors surrounding my clan are indeed true. We expect traditional wives. You will be absolutely no different.”

Flabbergasted you cannot control your rising emotions as they burst through the seams. “Expectations?! Guidelines?! I didn’t even want this!” No, you will not cry. Not in front of him.

A strong hand grips your face, a force even pulling you from the ofuro. “This. Isn’t. About. You.” Venom laced in his words as he shook your head back and forth. “I don’t care what you want. Surprise wife! You are here for me and me alone. That is your purpose in your pathetic life. Serve me. Warm my bed. Be my personal fuckhole. And bare me an heir. Speaking of fuckholes….” Naoya mumbles. Fumbling around with the cloth on his body. Slipping all of it off, the light illuminating off of his body, accentuated by the steam.

You’d be lying to yourself as to say he did not have a nice body. He did, and a nice cock, 7 and a half inches or so with decent girth and a perfect curve. You would know, the entire night the damn thing was inside of you, you are now very much so used to it.

To add on to his earlier statement, you are being gripped by the nape of the neck, Naoya standing on the stool you use to step into the tub, but he’s not stepping on.

“Open that whore mouth my dear beloved.” How can someone’s words be so venomous yet patronizing?

Taking a moment to process you don’t even see his hand come down to pinch your left nipple, the gasp parting your lips is all he needs to shove it in between your parted lips. Going slow and taking your time is not your dear husband's forte, obviously. As he is instantly gripping the sides of your slippery cheeks and moving his hips to fuck his cock farther and farther down your throat. Your gags, and spluttering echo to and fro through the bathroom, along with the sound of his balls, slapping your chin, pulsing with the need for release.

Though the man above you is groaning, face scrunched up in concentration and pleasure. He protests a moment. “No, no no, fuck, no, need your cunt. Gimme…” Naoya begins to mumble, pulling you up by your arm from the ofuro. “Bend over the edge, yeah, yeah just like that.”

You know it’s futile to argue, and you can’t deny, that he does feel good, is that why your body is betraying you when you arch yourself over the edge of the bathroom appliance? Why you don’t kick and scream when you feel him spread your cheeks to get an adequate view of your cunt glistening with bath water, slightly covered in suds from your attempt of relaxation? Is it that deep down you know that submitting to him is your best option right now? Can you really do this for the rest of your life? In such a compromising position, your thoughts run wild.

All thoughts stop racing through your mind when you feel the head of his cock push in through your tight hole. Shaky trembling hands gripping your hips tightly. Naoya’s head is also whirring in pleasure, just like yours.

“Fuck fuck it’s just as tight as last night.” A sigh emits his mouth. As if his cock in your pussy could melt all his stresses and worries away. Fuck. Is all that he can formulate. Using his hands to bring you back and forth on his erection. A moan threatens to emit from your mouth before you cover it with your hand, no you cannot give him that satisfaction. Biting down on your hand for some semblance of control.

A semi cold hand finds its way to your warm slick breast, a hardy squeeze as he brings up his tempo. “Y-yeah” he groans. “Take it, like you’re meant to. All you’ll ever be good for anyways.” Naoya growls, speeding up his thrusts. Biting down on your shoulder. Angling his hips to hit deep inside your cunt over and over your G-spot. You swear you can feel him in your chest at this point.

Your hand falls to the edge of the tub squeezing the edge in an attempt to ground yourself from the new found angle. You do not want to give him the satisfaction of his use of your body as his own personal fuck-hole, that he could make you cum from the treatment as well.

“Fu- shit. You’re milking me you bitch!” His teeth detach from your shoulder, his hand gathering at the crown of your head to hold onto your hair and bring his body towards him. “Look at me.” The blond demands. Pace never falters. “A fucking mess from a little fucking.” He hisses. “Who owns you?”

As if he can talk, he’s practically panting and drooling like an animal in heat. The latter question sparks a flood of defiance in you, moving your head side to side.

“Tell me who you belong to if you wanna cum. Otherwise, you can just suck me off and I'll finish all over that pretty face. I don’t fucking care.”

You jolt in surprise as you feel his hand on your clit, lithe fingers swirling the bud. Teasingly coming and going each time you tighten around him. The itch that needs to be scratched is becoming a far bigger problem. Your inhibitions going out the window.

I mean, it's four words, it can't hurt right? Just this once you reason.

“I belong to…” You muster the reward of Naoya’s fingers rubbing your bundle slightly faster. The sounds of your moans and his hips slapping yours echoing in the bathroom.

“G-go on I can’t hold out much longer, stupid cunt feels too good.”

“I-I Belong to y-you! Na-Naoya!” You finally snap at the same time your husband increases the pace of both his fingers and thrusts. Your cunt squeezing him so tight he can barely pull out to go back in, your release exiting out of your spent pussy, splashing on Naoya’s pelvis.

“Too tight, too tight SHIT!” The man curses, pushing himself practically against your womb as you hear him growl, squeezing your body to him so tightly not even paper could come between.

You feel the final twitch as you come down from your high. Warm spurts of cum filling you to the brim.

Naoya pulls out slightly wincing as his spent cock falls out. Mesmerized seeing his pearly cum in your thoroughly abused pussy. Two fingers wasting no time to push it deeper. “I-it has to take. You need to be knocked up.” He pants, as you turn your head worried eyes widening. “Need to make sure you can’t leave. Even if you tried.” The latter part of the sentence comes out more dark as the former.

As you sit and lament over what just happened. Naoya steps beside you to drain the tub, leaving half the water before he fills it again with warm water. You look at him quizzically, he pays no mind, checking the water. Adding some salt and soap to the bath.  Before lifting you up and setting you in without a word. “I have one more errand to attend to.” He exclaims redressing himself. “I will be eating dinner with you. Your husband says before leaving the bathroom. Not waiting for a response from you.

Shock leaves your system. Did he just… Do something nice for you? You won’t say it’s the best aftercare, but honestly you thought he was just going to leave you on the cold tiled floor. Warmth creeps up to your heart at the gesture. You shake your head, scolding yourself. You cannot fall for crumbs. Never for him, anyone but him.

You can figure something out, you reason. Find a way to leave and keep your family safe at the same time. Change your names, move out of the country, something! You cannot stay here, if you don’t leave now. You will be stuck under his heel forever.

[binniesbooks]

Ok ok soo lets start with Yeonjun SINCE i think you said unti palang sya sa acc mo SOOOOOOO.. thinking abt teaserdom!yeonjun x sub!reader

Scenario isss, reader is fucking horny, its 3am and shes still awake (she has insomnia like me) she suddenly had a wave of horniness and how did she deal with that??? She masturbates, trying so hard not to make a sound since yeonjun is sleeping so pretty beside her (he's awake and aware LMAO) anddd like its not enough for her so she slowly takes yeonjun's hand and uses it to pleasure herself 👹 ( and we all know what happend after that👀 to be more detailed, yeonjun is a tease and edges reader ahhweibaiw ) the rest is yours to write fayee💓

It may not be the best BUT i thought abt this last night and i just had to request it to someone AFGRHRBRBRBRB

ALSOOO THIS IS WHAT IM IMAGING WHAT YEONJUN LOOKS LIKE IN THIS REQUEST WJSJSJSJSJSJ just change the pants into shorts hehe

• A HELPING HAND

YJ 999 .F25 2024

wc 2.2k

pairings performerbf!Yeonjun x insomniac!reader

warnings teaserdom!Yeonjun, sub!reader, self-relieving, mentions of medication for insomnia, pornographic video clips(?), light somno if you squint, oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected sex, creampie (+ anything I've missed)

faye's note took me so long, mock board wracked my brain. So thankful classes got suspended so I took the chance to write lol. HAHAHAHAHA

special thanks to dear @aduh0308 i love you, hun.

"Goodnight, love, 'm sorry, too sleepy," Yeonjun muttered, lips pouty and voice sleepy.

"Goodnight, Jjunie, sleep tight," you answered, slowly combing your fingers through his hair.

With a low hum, you felt his hot breath against your neck. His little snores hinted that he drifted to sleep already, too tired from practicing all day.

Your eyes were so full of him today too, as you watched him repeatedly practice his dance performance, "Guilty". Yeonjun's figure was so sexy. His toned abs were revealed multiple times as he slid his hand under his shirt to hold his chin and cover his mouth.

Yeonjun is so particular in what he does, he wants everything to be perfect. So he always tries his best to get into the emotion of whatever he is doing. That’s the reason why he looks so extra sexy in the video he filmed for his performance, his white shirt riding off his abs.

Yeonjun nuzzled his face closer to your neck, unconsciously trying to find some warmth from you in your air-conditioned room.

It'd already been 4 hours since he fell asleep, however, you, on the other hand, weren't sleepy even for a bit. These past few days, you haven't had enough sleep, as your insomnia kicks every night. So when Yeonjun tossed and turned around lying flat on his back, you think of an idea to make yourself feel sleepy since your medication hasn't been helping. These past few days, you've been resorting to touching yourself to feel tired and fall asleep. But you thought, maybe tonight you should let it pass since your boyfriend was fast asleep next to you.

As you were scrolling on Yeonjun's phone, trying to find something to watch or read, you suddenly thought of opening his gallery.

You were met with an unfamiliar album entitled "for my pretty girl". The album quickly piques your interest as you open it. Your mouth hung open when you saw it was a compilation of videos where Yeonjun was clearly touching himself.

Your plan to abstain from self-relief for tonight? Revoked.

You opened one of the videos as you listened to his voice in the background.

"Mmhh... ngh... Love... Please, more..." Yeonjun's voice was so whiny, the camera kept on shaking as his abs kept on clenching. His huffs and pants got louder as the tip of his cock leaked. His shaky breath could be heard as he stopped stroking his cock, the full view made you notice how it harshly twitched, eager for touch.

"Fuck, love, I can't wait to feel you around me, I missed you," he huffs.

You opened a few more videos of Yeonjun desperately touching himself and whispering behind the camera how he badly wanted to feel you squeeze him.

Until you found yourself with your hand slowly circling your clothed clit. "Jjun...." you whispered, biting your lip to prevent any loud noise that would come out of your mouth. You placed the phone beside your head as you listened to his voice in the video whimpering and whining.

You slipped off your pajamas, quickly tossing them on the floor as you pressed your head further against your pillow, trying to suppress your moans. Your slender fingers played with your arousal, and your other hand crept under your shirt, pinching your nipples. Your breathing was ragged and shaky as you tried to suppress it once again.

Feeling a little bit needy, you carefully slid your digits inside you, curling and pumping them inside, trying to reach the right spots. Your body shook from pleasure, your lips swollen from how hard you were biting them. The squelching sound made it so filthy as you pushed your fingers in and out. "Yeonjun..." You whispered his name once again, your voice coming out as a croak. You tried your best to stay quiet because you didn't want him to wake up from you trying to relieve yourself.

Suddenly, your slender fingers felt shorter than usual. Still unsatisfied, you grabbed his hand, intertwining his fingers with you first before settling it down on your pussy. You decided to use his pretty fingers to get off. You gasped loudly when you slid his finger inside you. You didn't pay much attention to it, losing the chance to notice that his fingers were a bit stiff as if he were controlling them. Holding his hand, you guide his fingers in and out of you, desperate to cum.

With a few more pumps, a little bit more of biting your lips, and a heart-pounding experience to suppress your moans, you were just about the edge. "A b-bit more," you muttered, bucking your hips up. "'m so close, 'm gonna cum," you huffed, eyes closed, head pressed on the pillow.

Then his hand stopped. No, you didn't get to cum yet. His hand came to a pause from moving, hell, it was even pulled away from you. You whined from the empty feeling until you heard a rustling sound from beside you.

"You're using my hand to get off? How dirty are you, pretty girl?" Yeonjun chuckled, turning to his side and using his elbow to support his body to face you, giving his fingers kitten licks.

Your eyes widened as you pulled the blanket over your body, stuttering your excuses, "N-no! I can explain love, p-please this is.. it's not w-what it looks like!"

"Hmm, fuck, you taste so sweet, love," Yeonjun moaned, still sucking on his slick-covered fingers.

"Yeonjun," you gulped.

Yeonjun laid on his back again, pushing his white shirt up, exposing his toned abs as he ran his hand under it. "Mhh..." he moaned teasingly, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Stop that," you pouted, quietly sliding your hand under the sheets, trying to relieve yourself again. You slipped your finger inside you again, though your silent gasp didn't go past Yeonjun without him noticing it.

"My desperate girlfriend," he cooed as he hovered above you, pulling the sheets away, catching you red-handed. He pulled your hand and sucked on your fingers as his moans vibrated through your skin.

You were too embarrassed to look at him, so you tried covering your eyes.

"What makes you so shy now that you weren't earlier?" he whispered, lowering his head on your tummy. The hem of your shirt was caught between his teeth as he pulled it up. He looked over you with his hooded eyes as he dipped his head down once again, planting a kiss on your upper abdomen.

You couldn't help but tangle your fingers on his hair as you watched him. Yeonjun pressed his tongue flat on your burning skin, licking a long stripe from your navel and up.

His kisses moved down to your waist, giving it a few splotchy red marks. Without tearing his gaze on you, his tongue grazed your clit, making you dig your heels on the bed and arch your back, too desperate to feel him.

Yeonjun held both sides of your waist, his thumb gently massaging your flushed skin, as he continuously teasingly grazed your clit with his tongue.

Just when you thought you could relax for a bit, he suddenly licked a long stripe on your folds, making your body shiver and your grip tighten against his soft locks. You lifted your hips up, trying to meet his lips and tongue again, but he just pushed you down, making you whine.

"No no no no, pretty. Have sum' patience," he cooed, landing a slap on your thigh and making you yelp.

Dipping his head down once again, his sharp tongue prodded at your hole. His hum resonated around the four corners of the room as he felt you tug his hair a little bit harder.

"Fuck, Yeonjun, please..." you whined, trying to lift your hips again.

He hoisted your legs on his shoulder, tucking his hand under your thighs as he started to lap on your wet folds.

"S-stop... Ahh!"

Your squirming and trembling figure made him pull you closer to his mouth as he ate you out. Your heels digging onto his back as you feel yourself getting wetter, your fingers clutching the sheets underneath you. The obscene sounds he made makingthe knot in your stomach tighten.

"Close... So close..." you whimpered, trying to grind on his mouth.

But to your disappointment, Yeonjun pulled away, his nose, mouth, and chin glistening with your arousal. "W-what the hell!" you exclaimed, eyes teary.

"You wanna cum that badly, sweetie?" Yeonjun smirked.

"Please, please, please," you pleaded, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as your pussy clenches around nothing.

Yeonjun swiftly removes his thin shirt, grabbing both of your hands and tying his shirt around your wrists. "Only if you become a good girl for me," he said, tightening the makeshift rope.

"I'll be good, love, please. P-please let me cum, l-let me cum," you whined.

"Really?" he taunts. "Even if I do this?" Yeonjun slid his two fingers inside you and immediately withdrew it.

Your thighs were shaking as you yelp, "Wanna cum, wanna cum, please!" you cried loudly.

Yeonjun could only chuckle at you as he watched you rub your thighs together.

"Aren't you too horny, pretty girl? My videos made you this horny? Hm?" His fingers crept up your body, twisting your nipples in the process.

"Fuck fuck fuck! Ahh! More... Hng!" You didn’t even know the words or noises coming out of your mouth, you just desperately wanted to cum right now.

"Look at you, you're such a mess. Still unsatisfied even after using my videos and fingers to get off," he snickered.

"You should be a little patient, darling. Just like this guy in here," he added, palming himself through his black shorts.

"D'you wanna get my dick wet?" he asked, kissing your temple. You nodded frantically, unsure of what you were agreeing to, but you just need him.

Yeonjun rose to his knees between your body, pulling his shorts down a little to expose his hardened cock, kissing his lower abdomen. You bit your lip as you watched him repeatedly pump his cock.

"Mhhmp, this feels nice, fuck," he smirked, closing his eyes as he looks up. His adams apple bobbed u p and down as his mouth opened and closed simultaneously from the pleasure.

"Want to feel you, Jjun," you pouted, rubbing your thighs together again.

"You wanna feel me? Wanna be my cocksleeve, baby?" he smirked. You nodded at him again, biting your lips as you imagined him fucking your brains out like he usually did.

"Patience, pretty," he giggled, pressing the tip of his cock on your swollen lips.

Just when you were about to open your mouth and suck him, he pulled away. "Nah-uh, you're a bad girl, so eager for a mere cock. What are you, a slut?" he frowned, making you feel embarrassed. You covered your face using your tied hands.

"Covering your face? Wanna miss the fun part?"

When you peeked between your fingers, you saw him stroking his cock as his pre-cum shines on the tip of his cock.

"Whenever I'm not with you, I touch myself. I made a compilation just for you to watch how I badly wanna fuck you. Fuck-- " His brows creased, feeling the hair on the back of his head stand up.

"Not wanting anything other than to fuck you when I'm stressed," he muttered, his grip on his cock tightening as you heard him grunt.

"J-junnie, please, wanna cum with you," you whimpered, not being able to watch him any further.

"Sure!" he smirked as he aligned himself against your throbbing core.

You felt the good stretch as you gasped and a guttural moan ripped through him.

Yeonjun started moving inside, strings of curses coming out of his mouth as he felt you clench. He made sure to thrust deep to reach the parts where you and his fingers couldn't. Yeonjun practically pressing his hips on yours just to make you feel full sent you reeling.

You looped your arms around his neck to pull him closer, your fingers tangled on his locks once again as you felt him raw inside you.

"B-bit more... I'm gonna cum--"

Yeonjun still inside you, edging himself at the same as his body trembled from the sudden halt . "Fuck," he whispered.

"No no no no please, please no baby, I'm so close, I'm so close please," you cried out loud.

"H-hah, you're so desperate, pretty girl," he huffed, pressing his hips against you once again.

He then lifted his hips up for a bit. "Fuck yourself on me, show me how desperate you are, " he taunted.

No need for him to say it twice. You started moving your hips, fucking yourself on his cock, and burying him inside you as deep as possible. Until he decided to meet your hips halfway, making you feel him on your throat. The shallow thrusts make you whimper, and your body trembles.

"Gonna fill you up, need to fill you," he muttered through gritted teeth, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.

"Please, please, please!"

With a few more thrusts, your body convulsed, and strings of moans coming from you caused Yeonjun to bust.

"Fucking shit!" he hissed as he let his head fall against your chest. He slowly moved for a little while, letting the two of you ride out your high, draining himself inside you.

His body felt burning hot against your skin as your hearts thumped hard together. Your pants and huffs filled the room, which made it feel steamy even when the air- conditioning is on.

[haveihitanerve]

The idea, surprisingly, came from Batman. “I just…” Clark sighed. “It’s getting harder and harder to keep up my facade. Clark Kent is who I am, but I can’t not be Superman yknow? And well, I’m running out of excuses.” Oliver nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, I get that.” “Why don’t you just tell them.” Batman interrupted. The two heroes looked at him in surprise. “Tell them?” Oliver asked incredulously. Batman nodded, looking at them as though they were daft. “Yes, tell them.” He sighed, running out of patience when they didn’t understand. “It’s the perfect excuse and if you really stress it then no one will believe you.” Oliver made a face. “Yeah sure Batman.” He drawled sarcastically. “Like you actually do that.” Batman stared at him for a few seconds, then snorted, turned, and walked away. “See?” Oliver muttered, victorious. 

“Clark you have that interview now with Bruce Wayne, he’s one of our biggest sponsors- why aren’t you gone yet?!?!”Perry half screamed as Clark half hazardly packed his satchel and made sure he had enough paper, his tape recorder had enough storage and his pens were working. “I know I know.” He muttered back, slinging it over his shoulder. “Sorry, I’ve never had an interview this late.” He half growled, heading out to grab a cab and head over to Wayne Enterprises, their meeting spot. The taxi driver seemed to sense Clark’s anxiety because he most definitely did not follow the speed limit but Clark was too panicked to tell him to slow down and tossed him a few bills before sprinting up the stairs to WE. “Mr. Kent!” Bruce Wayne greeted warmly, opening the door for him. “Hello Mr. Wayne,” Clark greeted politely, taking his offered seat. “Sorry for being late.” Bruce waved him off, pouring himself and Clark a glass before sitting himself. “It’s no matter, really, your payback for my cutting our last interview short eh?” He winked, handing the glass of water to Clark. Clark sipped it in thanks, opening his notebook. “Yeah… why did you by the way?” He asked. Bruce chuckled. “Clark, darling, didn’t you know? I’m Batman, Justice called.” Clark chuckled, clicking on his pen. “Yes, right, of course.” His eyes caught movement from the corner of his eye and he spotted a woman in a beautiful red dress walking past the window. Before he turned his attention back to his interviewer, a light illuminated the sky. Bruce stood. “Sorry to cut it short again, old friend, but duty calls.” He gestured to the light in the sky before rushing out, coincidentally after the woman. Clark rolled his eyes, packing together his things. “Once a playboy always a playboy.” He murmured, slinging the bag over his shoulder, but before he could walk about Bruce arrived again, hair disheveled, and shirt askew. “Sorry about that,” he murmured, rubbing a hand over his face. “Gordon needed some aid but Robin had it handled.” Clark let his eyes drift only a second over Bruce’s appearance before looking away and taking a seat again. “Robin…” he agreed. “Right. Is that her name?” He muttered quietly, smiling to himself as he dug through his satchel for his pen, missing the smug look the playboy sent him. 

“Ollie!!!!” Oliver Queen grinned, turning to face the overly high pitched male voice calling his name. “Brucie!! It’s been too long!” Bruce laughed, falling into his arms in a hug, voice dropping back to his normal baritone. “It really has been, glad to see you.” Oliver smiled warmly. “I am so pleased to see you too, these Galas get so boring.” Bruce chuckled, eyes scanning the crowd of party goers. “Well, you’re always welcome to seek me out at these sorts of things bud, except when I’m working to save the city.” Oliver chuckled, taking a sip of his champagne. “So true.” He agreed. “You’re doing a great job at it too, man.” Bruce smiled wanly. “Thanks. It’s hard work though. Wayne Enterprises in the mornings,” his voice dipped low. “Saving the Gotham citizens as Batman at night.” Oliver choked on his drink, laughing. “Exactly!” Bruce grinned back, almost triumphant. His eye caught some movement at the corner of the dance floor and both men turned, spotting his third oldest son, flicking his wrist in a certain movement. Bruce’s eyes darkened. “Alright Ollie, it was nice catching up, but Justice calls: Gotham needs me.” Oliver chuckled. “Right on.” 

A week later Oliver and Clark once again found themselves chilling in the main den, complaining about the difficulties of keeping their secret identities secret. Batman walked in, listened for two seconds, and promptly groaned. “I told you,” he complained. “Just tell them!” “It’s not that easy! And that defeats the whole purpose of keeping it a secret!” Oliver argued back. Batman looked at him. “I did it. To both of you actually.” Clark snorted. “Yeah right.” Batman turned to him. Suddenly his voice changed pitches. “Mr. Kent! So pleased to see you, sorry to have run out on you earlier, but well! Justice calls, oh, but Robin handled it!” Clark paled. Batman turned to Oliver. His voice went even higher. “Ollie!! It’s been too long my friend, but we’ll have to chat some other time you know how it is, Justice calls!” Oliver turned a strange shade of white. “See?” Batman- no Bruce Wayne said with a smirk. “Easy.” Back at home in the Batcave, the batkids were losing their minds. 

(Yes they placed bets)

[gojosdove]

Satoru Gojo and somno :33 Gojo had assumed you were probably sleeping, I mean its 2am and hes just now getting off of work, he wouldn't want his lovely girlfriend to stay up for him. You had told him you could do it, stay up and wait for him to get home, but alas, sleep occupied your body and you fell asleep in your shared bedroom. When Gojo arrived home he quietly came inside, He locked the door behind him and navigated his way to your bedroom through the dark halls. He turned the knob to your bedroom and when he opened it, all he saw was his sweet girlfriend in a deep sleep. The sight of you wearing only some panties and one of his oversized t-shirts (well oversized for you at least) made his heart jump in his chest. He silently made his way into the bathroom to bathe before bed, he had blood and God knows what else all over him. When he finished he put some sweats on, and layed down with you, rolling over to stare at your peaceful sleepy self. Gojo spooned up behind you and nuzzled into you, but as he's drifting off he finds himself growing quite.....hard. He's not shocked I mean, he's been pent up all day, hard at work, away from his sweet girlfriend. He remembers a late night, post sex conversation about letting him do whatever he wants to you if you're asleep, vice versa, so why not act on that now? He slowly untangles himself from your body and sits up, just looking at you, sleeping so soundly. It's late so he doesn't wait any longer to get started, he grabs your body and slowly moves you onto your back, not wanting to wake you. Gojo, now towering over you, slowly pulls the blanket away from your body, and tosses it somewhere on the ground. He pushes down his sweats and frees his long, veiny throbbing cock and strokes himself before using a finger to push your panties to the side. Using the tip of his cock to spread precum all over your pussy, He very slowly pushes in and groans at the warm feeling of your tight hole engulfing him. You, still asleep, moan so very softly and Gojos heart melts. He bottoms out and sits there for a moment in your hot, wet heat, not wanting to wake you. He slowly pushes in and out, in and out before finding a steady, soft pace, rubbing his thumb over your clit. He pushes up your (his) shirt over your pretty tits so he can massage one with one hand as he stimulates your clit with the other. You start to stir slightly so he slows down, as to not take you away from dream world. His thumb is doing quick concentrated circles on your clit to make you cum, although your sleeping it would ruin his ego to not let you cum first. Your tiny little sleepy moans almost make him release his hot, white load on the spot, but he holds out. You finish on Gojos cock and pulse around him, waking you up slightly. The sight above you is your beloved boyfriend, softly abusing your tight hole to get off, but, you don't mind. Your eyes are lidded and you sleepily smile at Gojo once you two lock eyes. He winks at you and and you close your eyes again to fall asleep <3 He finishes shortly after and stays inside as he comes down from his high. He slowly pulls out making you moan ever so slightly. Gojo gets up to grab a towel and comes back to wipe you off. He does it so sweetly it makes your heart hurt. He pulls your panties back up for you and drapes the blanket over you two as he climbs back in bed, laying your head on his chest. little did you know, round 2 would be in the morning.

"Sweet dreams, baby"

[drabblesandimagines]

Bedtime Tales

Gale of Waterdeep x reader, established relationship

--

You, rather poorly, attempt to bite down on a yawn, and Gale can’t help but frown as he watches you scoop yet another spoon of coffee into your mug.

“Darling?” He asks, tentatively.

“Mm?” You reply over your shoulder from the counter – waiting for the water to boil.  

“I am aware you prefer your coffee on the strong side, but surely four spoons will suffice.”

“Four?” You look down – the mug is half full of grounds - apparently unaware of what you were doing. “Oh. I must’ve lost count.”

“I noticed.” He gets to his feet then to stand behind you and wraps a gentle arm around your waist, pulling you back against his chest before stooping a little so he can rest his chin upon your shoulder. “What’s going on in that sweet mind of yours, hm?”

“Nothing.” Another poorly concealed yawn.

“Did you not sleep well?”

You hesitate for a moment and consider a lie – it would be harmless, wouldn’t it? – but you lack the energy to put in the effort.

“I don’t think I did at all last night – just tossed and turned until dawn.” You’d felt tired, running errands all around Waterdeep the entire day but your mind hadn’t settled, jumping from thought to thought.

“Oh, love...” Gale presses a long kiss against your temple and relishes the feeling of you finally relaxing into his hold. He wished he could whisk you back off to bed, a day of cuddles, wrapped up in blankets but - as the clock chooses that moment to so cruelly chime - he has a cohort of students awaiting his teachings at Blackstaff Academy.

“You should go.” You turn and press a chaste kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

He takes a moment to brush a stray piece of hair from your face, concealing a frown at the dark rings under your eyes – perhaps this was not the first night of poor sleep you’d suffered – and smiles. “I love you more.”

--

You’d been quiet through dinner, despite Gale’s open-ended questions to try and get conversation flowing. He’d suggested the two of you retire earlier tonight than you usually did and you hadn’t protested. After a teasing kiss goodnight, you’d rolled onto your side, chasing sleep…

It’s the sound of a stifled sob that wakes Gale with a start.

“Darling?”

The sound stops with a hiccup, as you press your face deeper into the pillow, hoping he’ll drift back off to sleep.

No such luck though as Gale only murmurs a cantrip to light the lamps surrounding the bed with a soft glow.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” You sniff, rubbing your eyes with the heel of your hand. “I can go sit on the balcony and-“

He grabs your wrist, worried you’ll vanish in front of him. “You will do no such thing – I’d never dream of it. Please, what’s the matter?”

“I don’t know.” You take a deep, exasperated breath. “I’m just… I’m so tired that I’m beyond it. My eyes sting from being open, they sting even when they’re closed, but I just can’t sleep. There’s too many thoughts in my head, it’s worse than the damn tadpole.”

“I could cast sleep-” He reaches for your hand.

“No.” You answer, abruptly, and he’s a little startled by the aggression in your tone. “Sorry. I know you would mean well by it, but from having it cast upon me in the past… it was never a pleasant nor restful experience.”

He frowns, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. There’s so much he needs to learn about you - still a little guarded about events that transpired before him and the nautiloid.

“My apologies, my love. I did not mean to bring up any bad memories.”

“No, I know.” You squeeze his fingers. “I’ll be all right.”

He mulls for a moment, before an idea comes to mind. “I might have a cure. No magic required either.”

You smile, still tired, but gather enough strength to tease. “But you love magic.”

“Whilst I am rather fond of it, there are proven alternatives to such quandaries as this.” He shrugs. “When I was a young boy, trying to read every book known to man, my head too grew busy with thoughts. Though perhaps I was just too excited to sleep, I think we should still give it a go.”

“What is it?” You roll over onto your side, clutching the pillow to your chest.

“My mother used to read to me and, if you’ll permit me, my darling, I would love to do the same for you.”

You squeeze the pillow, casting your eyes down. “Mm, I’ve never been much of a reader before bed.”

“Ah, I have noticed.” How could he not? There was only one side of the bed that had a stack of tomes piled high besides it. “But being read to is quite different, I assure you. Would you care to try?”

You consider the idea for a moment. “All right. There’s nothing to lose, I suppose.”

“And, hopefully, sleep to gain. Hm, what do I have that would suit…?” Gale turns to the side, scans through the pile, before snatching one from the middle with a deft hand - you’re surprised the whole thing doesn’t topple. “Perfect. One of my childhood favourites, in fact.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And you still read it?”

Gale shrugs a shoulder, half-heartedly. “I like to indulge every now and again.”

“What is it?”

He turns the cover towards you – a fine leather tome, purple, with gold lettering. “The very creatively titled Baldurian Tales of Wonder. It’s a collection of short, whimsical stories – happy endings guaranteed.”

He places the tome between the two of you before turning slightly and fluffing up his pillows. Once seemingly satisfied, he sits up a little more and spreads his legs. “Come, get comfy.”

“You want me to…?”

“Mm-hm. You’ll want to see the pictures, naturally.”

“Naturally,” you repeat. “Not anything to do with you wanting me cuddled against your chest.” Gale does not respond, only raises a knee with a gentle click so you can slide over and nestle down against his bare chest.

He slides his knee back down and picks up the tome, resting it on the blanket covering the two of you, and flipping to the first tale.

“Once upon a time-"

“Are you going to do voices?”

He chuckles – it rumbles comfortingly through your back and you unconsciously relax once more into his embrace. “Would you like me to do voices?”

“Did your mother do voices?”

“She… tried her best.”

“Voices, please.”

He presses a kiss to your temple. “Voices it is.”

He begins to read, slowly and softly, being sure not to get too carried away with the characterization of certain characters. His voice is comforting, reassuring, and though your eyes still sting, you try your best to focus on the words and pictures in front of you, your mind finally becoming quiet, your eyes beginning to close…

Gale does not even make it to the end of the first story when he hears your breathing change, though he continues to read it aloud.

Just to be sure you’re truly asleep, that is, not because he wishes to finish the tale.

---

I had a bad day and I wanted some cuddly fluff x