#again so sorry it's been a while. I probably should have said something but I just didn't have it in me.

[tofics]

🥲 With the way my period went last week, this fic was on my brain constantly. But my god, Bug, I needed time to digest this masterpiece. (I've also saved various of your other works in my drafts to comment on later. I apologize for the reblog spam that is about to happen.)

Kay, now. Let's dive in, shall we? 🥰

Joel wakes up early the next morning and greets you with a kiss pressed to the side of your head. “Fuck off,” you mumble, your voice is still thick with sleep but he knows you mean it so he lets you sleep in a bit while he cleans the bathroom for you. He works as quietly as he can, scrubbing it and mopping it from top to bottom. He empties the trash can and the laundry hamper, he makes sure there’s a fresh bar of soap and a new washrag for you. Joel’s just finishing up and wiping dust from the mirror when you find him in the bathroom. “Mornin’, sunshine,” he says as he kisses the top of your head. “How do you feel?”

What a sweet, sweet, kind man. If I woke up to a freshly cleaned bathroom while on my period, I'd probably cry.

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” you mumble. “The bleach you used makes my head hurt worse.”

🥲 Ma'am. I get it. But. The sweet man.

If looks could fuckin’ kill, Joel thinks. You’re glaring at him. He takes that as his cue to leave. You shrink away from him as he gently brushes your arm when he walks past, then shut the door loudly behind him. Ouch. Joel knows not to take it personally, though. You’re crampy, but you’re also probably hungry. He’ll make you breakfast, something with protein because he knows you need it. 

Sorry, did you say saint??? Saint Joel???

“I didn’t hear ya, sweetheart. Speak up, please.”  “I said yes,” you snap.  Your clipped tone cuts like a knife. Joel bites his inner cheek as he takes your plate from you.

😫 The disrespect. The bitten cheek. (Loved that bit. His annoyance is growing, but he's still keeping his cool. Again, did someone say saint??)

“No. I don’t care,” you interrupt, which hurts Joel’s feelings a little. A lot, actually.

S' OKAY, SWEET BABY. C'MERE. MAMA'S GOT YOU.

“Your glasses broke.”  “Yeah. I see that.”  “I didn’t mean to,” you tell him defensively. “Right.”  “But you really shouldn’t leave your glasses there, Joel.”

Breaking the silence, Joel finally clears his throat and continues his thought, “I’m gonna give you two options,” Joel says. “You can walk the fuck away from me, or you can get on your knees. Whichever you choose, you do so silently. Nod if you understand.” 

“You’ve earned yourself brownie points choosin’ the latter of the two options, but this still ain’t gonna be fun for you,” he says.

S' okay 🥲 I was a bitch 🥲 I deserve it 🥲 Do with me as you please 🥲🥲🥲

He draws out of your mouth entirely only to force his way back in, making you gag and sputter. You attempt to pull away but Joel keeps his hand firm on your head and holds you right where he wants you. “Nuh-uh. I don’t know where you think you’re goin’, hon.”

“Quiet,” he growls. “Heard fuckin’ enough outta you today. You keep quiet.”

🫡 Sir yes, sir.

“Let it be a lesson to ya, then, if it hurts. That mouth ‘a yours has done nothin’ but bitch and moan at me today. S’a punishment, ain’t ‘sposed to feel good.”

I have really bad news for you, then. Ahem.

“Because if I don’t fuck you,” he says, “Then I’m gonna strangle you. So which would you like?”

“I will wash the fucking sheets. We can add it to the list of all the things I’ve done for ya today, hm?”

Ohhh, he's done done. I just *loved* this bit. The frustration, how fed up he is with the reader. Suddenly you're concerned about causing a little bit of work? Oh, hohoho, no no no. Too fucking late.

Joel had assumed sexual frustration had been playing a role in your attitude today. Cramps, headaches, all sorts of things going on with you and a needy, aching pussy to boot. He does feel sorry for you, but he feels sorry for himself too. It’s why he got his first, but now it’s time for you to get yours. An orgasm should set you straight, or two or three. Whatever he feels is necessary. 

😩 Ma'am. Please. I can only take so much. The hotness in just this ONE paragraph. PLEASE. 😩 "An orgasm should set you straight, or two or three. Whatever he feels is necessary." 🥲 I am a puddle on the floor.

Joel takes his free hand and uses it to press down on your lower stomach, intensifying the feeling of it all. You come hard, gushing on his fingers as you whimper his name.

🫠🙃🫠🙃

“Quiet,” he commands. He begins teasing your slit with his cock once more before he speaks, “So this is what we’re gonna do: you’re gonna take what I give you, however much or little it is. You’re not gonna cry or complain ‘cause you’ve done enough of that today. Right?” Joel pauses, “Nod your head.”

“I know, I know, sweetheart,” he coos at you to quiet you down. “You’re all out of sorts today. M’gonna fix it. I always fix it, don’t I?”

*inhales* - *screams*

He fucks you without discipline, no tenderness at all to the action with those sloppy thrusts, but you’re more lost in him than he is in you - he’s focused on your face, watching you make an ‘O’ with your mouth, and he’s focused on your bouncing body, your twitching thighs spread wide. Your moans, your whimpers and your whines, babbling nothing but nonsense. Joel’s brow is furrowed as he breathes heavily through his teeth, his soft body jerking above you as he hits that sweet spot inside you over and over and over… “It’s all ya needed, isn’t it? The whole goddamn time,” he pants. “Didn’t need to go an’ bitch me out all day if you needed lovin’ like this. Woulda been nice f’ya just said so.”

😶 I have died and am now reading this from the depth of hell. Fuuuuck me!

“Always the tears with you, huh?” he taunts. “Always somethin’. Oh, I know. I know.” 

The fucking "I know"s kill me. Like, I didn't know two simple words like that could do the things to me that they're doing. But here we are. Is that a kink? Is there an "I know" kink? I think I have it.

“You’re gonna tell me what you need,” he instructs, “And you’re gonna ask for it. Nicely. So that means usin’ your manners. Please, Joel. Thank you, Joel. Remember those words?”

You’re surprised when he returns to you, pelvis covered in your blood, and scoops you right up in his arms. He helps you to your feet and on shaky legs, guides you to the bathroom. It no longer smells like bleach but instead, lavender. He’s got a candle lit on the sink and the bathtub is filled with warm, bubbly water. “Picked out a bubble bath for you earlier when I went out. Wanna test it out with me?”

😭😭😭 SAY IT WITH ME: JOEL MILLER IS A FUCKING SAINT. A SAINT THAT FUCKS, BUT A SAINT NONETHELESS.

Christ on a cracker, this was delicious from start to finish. I think you have had a lasting impact on how I see (and am trying to write) smut. 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

Thank you indeed. 🙌 A masterpiece!!!!

Seeing Red

“Because if I don’t fuck you,” he says, “Then I’m gonna strangle you. So which would you like?”

Joel’s sorry that your period sucks, but he's reached the end of his rope with your attitude. (6k)

Tags - 18+ smut, brat taming, blow jobs, face fucking, rough period sex, fingering, mating press, overstimulation and multiple orgasms, creampie, aftercare in the form of a shared bubble bath, all things periods and period symptoms so headaches, breast pain, cramps, irritability that reader takes out on Joel. You will feel so bad for being such a cunt to this man but he gets to fill two of your holes with his cum so it all kind of evens out. takes place in jackson Fic help - @beefrobeefcal and @joelsdagger for all of their love and support and eyeballs, @noxturnalpascal and @endlessthxxghts thank you both for being my compass and giving me direction and helping to make this fic perfect. I love you <3 A/N - if you're on your period, i'm sending you a hug <3 if you're not i'm hugging you too

I was reminded of my friend @covetyou's fic "Sleepless" which is a lovely piece of classic literature, just like the rest of her works, and I'd like to credit her for inspo. Thank you Lo 🤎🩷💚

You should have guessed there’d be a bloodstain in your underwear, but despite the headaches, your sore breasts, and your cramping abdomen, you’re surprised when you’re met with rusty red in your panties. Fucking great, you whisper, dripping with sarcasm, this is not what you needed today. You had so many things you wanted to get done and now you were going to be spending the whole day miserable and in pain.

“Joel,” you loudly call out. You wait a beat, nothing. “JOEL,” you yell louder. 

You hear the faint sound of his recliner, the popping of his knees and the creaking of the stairs as he walks up them. His two feet are visible through the space between the floor and the bathroom door and then he knocks, “Whatcha need, darlin’?”

“New underwear,” you answer. “And a pad. Also in the underwear drawer.” 

Joel walks away and returns with what you’ve asked for and slides both items under the door. You change your panties and secure the pad made of old rags and t-shirts with the clothespin attached to it. “You got it?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you reply.

“Guessin’ you just started your cycle, then.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Can I get you anything?”

“Nope,” you answer. “I think I’m just gonna go to bed.” 

“Alright. I’ll join you, then.” 

 You wash your hands and rinse the bloodstain out of your panties with annoyance in the sink, wringing them out before tossing them in the dirty laundry hamper in the bathroom. When you unlock the door and leave the bathroom, Joel’s already asleep in your shared bed. He sleeps curled on his side and yet he still fucking snores - between that and the pain you’re in, you know it won’t be a restful night of sleep. You look at Joel, sleeping peacefully like a baby, and yet you wanna beat the living fucking crap out of him. You curl your body around his, stealing his body heat to soothe your cramps. 

Joel wakes up early the next morning and greets you with a kiss pressed to the side of your head. “Fuck off,” you mumble, your voice is still thick with sleep but he knows you mean it so he lets you sleep in a bit while he cleans the bathroom for you. He works as quietly as he can, scrubbing it and mopping it from top to bottom. He empties the trash can and the laundry hamper, he makes sure there’s a fresh bar of soap and a new washrag for you. Joel’s just finishing up and wiping dust from the mirror when you find him in the bathroom. “Mornin’, sunshine,” he says as he kisses the top of your head. “How do you feel?” 

“Shitty.” You grab at the mirror and Joel’s skin crawls as you touch the glass with your thumb, the smudges left behind from your fingertips clear as day on the freshly cleaned glass. He’ll just touch it up later. You pull out your toothbrush and frown, your nose scrunched in disgust. “It smells like bleach in here,” you complain.

“Well, yeah,” Joel chuckles. “I just cleaned it for ya. ‘Course it smells like bleach.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” you mumble. “The bleach you used makes my head hurt worse.”

“Oh,” Joel scratches the back of his head and frowns. “M’sorry, then. Well, we can let it air out for a while, we’ll leave the fan on. Shouldn’t smell for more than a day or so.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

If looks could fuckin’ kill, Joel thinks. You’re glaring at him. He takes that as his cue to leave. You shrink away from him as he gently brushes your arm when he walks past, then shut the door loudly behind him. Ouch. Joel knows not to take it personally, though. You’re crampy, but you’re also probably hungry. He’ll make you breakfast, something with protein because he knows you need it. 

He cleans the kitchen first. He washes the dirty dishes you must’ve forgotten about last night and wipes crumbs from the table. As you come downstairs dressed in sweats and a shirt you stole from Joel, he’s finishing up making your breakfast. “Sit down, I made your favorite.” 

You sit down at the table with your head in your hands. Joel puts a plate with two slices of perfectly golden brown toast and two over-easy eggs in front of you, then a fork and a knife on either side. He fills a glass with water for you as well. He walks away to clean up the stove, then turns around to check on you. Your face is contorted in disgust and you’re not eating. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t want this,” you grouse.

“But s’your favorite. You love your eggs over easy,” Joel says. “And the toast, that’s fresh bread and butter. Eat up.” 

“Yeah, but I wanted scrambled.” 

Joel stares at you for a moment, dumbfounded. You usually hate scrambled eggs, and he knows this. But you’re not smirking or holding back laughter like you’re fucking with him. So maybe your tastes have changed, who knows. “Okay. Would you like me to make you scrambled eggs instead, then?”

“Yes,” you mumble in a small voice. 

“I didn’t hear ya, sweetheart. Speak up, please.” 

“I said yes,” you snap. 

Your clipped tone cuts like a knife. Joel bites his inner cheek as he takes your plate from you. He quickly scarfs down the perfectly cooked eggs and toast as he makes you a new plate of breakfast, this time with scrambled eggs. He places it in front of you with a little less care than before and waits for you to take a bite. “Better?”

“Just okay.” 

‘Just okay’. Of course you think it’s ‘just okay’, they’re scrambled fucking eggs - which you don’t like. You’re just being - 

Joel needs to cool off. Hopefully once you’ve eaten you’re a little less irritable. “I’m gonna head out an’ do some errands. Be back shortly,” He’s met with no answer from you, which he expected. 

-

He comes back an hour or so later with a few things from the market he’s been needing along with a couple of VHS tapes that he rented from the library. “So,” Joel says, “I picked out some movies for ya.” He lays four tapes down on the coffee table in front of the couch where you lay. “When Harry Met Sally, that’s a good one,” he begins, “Next is How To Lose a Guy In 10 Days, then Blade Runner, and I picked out My Cousin Vinny,” Joel says. He thinks you’re gonna pick out Blade Runner because it stars Harrison Ford, who he knows you have a thing for. “My Cousin Vinny is pretty good, I don’t think we’ve seen that one yet f’ya wanna give that a try.”

“Mmm, no.” 

Shot down. “Okay. How ‘bout Blade Runner, then. S’got Indiana Jones in -”

“No. I don’t care,” you interrupt, which hurts Joel’s feelings a little. A lot, actually. “I wanna watch this one,” you point to How To Lose a Guy In 10 Days. “He’s cute.” 

Of course you picked the Matthew McConaughey movie. God, Joel fucking hated him. He always seemed so skeezy, if there’s anyone who should’ve bit it on Outbreak Day, it should’ve been Matthew McConaughey. “Yeah, okay. Whatever. Do you think he’s dreamy too?”

“Fuck off, Joel.” 

So teasing’s off the table too, he’ll add that to the list of things that have pissed you off today. Joel turns on the TV and puts the tape in the VHS player before he sits back down next to you. At first you rest on his shoulder, then you spread out and lay your head on his lap. It’s not long before you fall asleep on Joel, leaving him to watch this dumb fucking movie all by himself because god forbid he move you and disrupt your nap. He knows better than to do that. 

-

“So fuckin’ stupid,” Joel whispers to himself as the movie plays, though he did find himself enjoying the part where the Kate Hudson sings “You’re So Vain” by Carly Simon. He always did like that song. 

“Mmmm,” you groan, shifting onto your back. Joel’s hand is stroking your hair as you look up at him, but you push it away. “You’re too close to me,” you grumble. 

“What’re you talkin’ about?” 

“You’re crowding me. I feel smothered.” 

Joel scoffs. “Oh, you feel smothered? You’re the one who laid on me.” Once again, your glare is all that you need to say. “Alright then, I’ll move.” Joel concedes. He lifts your head gently and scoots down to the opposite end of the couch. And then he hears you huff. “What?”

“Well, now I don’t have a pillow.” 

Joel sighs as he gets up to grab a throw pillow from the opposite couch. 

“The other one.” 

You’re referring to the other throw pillow that’s absolutely indistinguishable from the one currently in Joel’s hand, but he gets it for you anyway. “Lift your head,” he says softly, putting the pillow under you. He sits back down in the spot you made him move to as you both watch the movie play, but your soft groans interrupt. You’re no doubt in pain from all the cramps right now. “I’ve got somethin’ like a heating pad,” Joel says, looking at you. “S’a big sock filled with rice, I heat it up and use it for neck and back pain. Would that help with them cramps?” You nod without making any effort to meet Joel’s eyes, which he finds a little rude. But still, you’re hurting. He’ll give you grace. 

So, once again, Joel gets up for you. He goes upstairs to get his rice sock from his nightstand, then comes back downstairs and heats it in the microwave for a couple of minutes. He pokes the sock to make sure it’s plenty warm for you and then gives it to you to take. “Here,” he says, “Hold it on your tummy.”

“JESUS,” you yell at him. 

“What?”

“It’s too fucking hot, Joel, why would you make it so hot?” 

 “Just give it a second, sweetheart, you’ll get used to it.” 

“No. It was burning me.” 

“Okay, then let me have it and we’ll let it cool off a minute. Christ almighty.” Joel takes the sock back from you, and he knows his hands are pretty calloused but…it doesn’t feel that hot. When a few minutes have passed, he gives it back to you. “This should be better.” 

You lay the big, warm stuffed sock across your stomach and frown. “It’s not warm enough.” 

“You have gotta be kiddin’ me.” 

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head, giving Joel back his sock like you just assume he’ll heat it up again for you. 

“Just a couple minutes ago you screamed bloody murder about it burnin’ you. And now it’s not hot enough?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” When Joel doesn’t jump immediately to reheat the sock for you, you look at him impatiently. “Joel.” 

“You can ask, you know.” 

But Joel gets the hint and gets up for you a third time to reheat the sock he’s letting you borrow. You don’t say please, and when he returns with the sock reheated, there’s no thank you either. What does he get from you? “It’s too hot.”

“Then tell me how I should rectify that for you, because last time I let it cool off and it wasn’t warm enough for ya after.” 

“I don’t know,” you snap. “You’re just really upsetting me right now. Everything hurts and your voice is grating.”

“I’m upsetting you?” Joel repeats your words back to you. “And my voice is grating.” 

“Yes.” 

He’s about at his wits end. “You know, you–” Joel decides not to finish that sentence. Instead, he sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes out on the count of five. “Two, three, four…You need to drink some water. S’your first issue, you’re probably dehydrated. Did you drink any water?” 

“It’s not your business.”

 Jesus fucking Christ. “Okay, well I’m makin’ it my business.” Joel gets up for the fourth goddamn time and slams the cup cabinet before filling a glass with water from the sink. He marches back to the couch, “Sit up,” he says. “Drink.” 

“I don’t want to,” you whine. 

“It’ll fix your headache. Drink.” 

“It won’t actually, that’s a myth.” 

“Right, what do I know when you’ve got an answer for fuckin’ everything. Drink.” 

You sit up, scowling at Joel as you take a sip. 

“All of it.” 

You drink the rest of it, glaring at him the whole time. He’s so full of shit, as if any of what you’re going through could be fixed by drinking a glass of water. Water won’t fix your cramps, won’t fix your aching and sore back. When you’re done, you slam the glass on the end table next to you and in doing so, break Joel’s reading glasses. Oops. Didn’t see those. The lenses aren’t shattered, but one of the arms is all bent now. When you look at Joel, he’s biting his bottom lip and breathing deeply. “Your glasses broke.” 

“Yeah. I see that.” 

“I didn’t mean to,” you tell him defensively.

“Right.” 

“But you really shouldn’t leave your glasses there, Joel.”

“Yeah, right. Shouldn’t leave my glasses on the end table,” Joel says. “I should leave them where, exactly? Maybe the floor?” 

“Somewhere else.” 

“Right. Somewhere else.” 

He’s hoping that by repeating your words back to you, you start to hear how absolutely ridiculous you sound. But you don’t seem to. Joel turns and walks away before he fucking throttles you. 

“Can you put on the next movie? I wanna watch My Cousin Vinny.”

Now, now you want to watch that movie. And Joel’s gonna miss out, because he can’t stand to be around you for one minute longer. “Are your legs broken?” 

“Yes.” 

Walked into that one. “You’re fuckin’ impossible. Fine. I’ll put it on, then I’m goin’ away for a bit.” 

“Good.”

Oh, he could fucking kill you. This whole day he’s heard nothing but complaints from your mouth, no pleases or thank you’s at all. Everything he’s done today has been for you, and you couldn’t give a flying fuck. 

Joel puts on the movie, grabs his bent glasses from the end table and heads out to the garage without saying a single word to you. You wonder what bug crawled up his ass. 

-

My Cousin Vinny plays just fine until Vinny shows up in his ridiculous suit to the courthouse. The tape begins to skip a whole bunch, the movie barely making sense, and you have no idea how to fix it - not that it’s your job to know, anyway. So you call out the name of the man whose job it is. 

“Joel.” 

No answer. 

“JOELLLL,” you yell. 

Same deal. You sigh as you sit up and get off of the couch, walking to the garage door. There’s finally a break in your cramps and you’re feeling halfway-human for the first time since yesterday. Entering the garage, you find Joel sitting at his workbench, he’s working on bending the frame of his glasses back into shape. “Joel.” 

He doesn’t turn around to look at you and in fact, he heard you calling for him. He had just ignored you. “Looks like your legs are workin’ now,” Joel replies, without looking at you. “S’a miracle. Means you can follow me around now, terrific.”

You choose to ignore his sarcasm. “Whatever. You need to do something for me. The VCR is messing up and you have to fix it.”

“Hm,” he hums.

“What’s hm?” 

“I’ve fixed lotsa things for you today,” he says quietly. “I need some time to fix my glasses that you broke. S’a difficult task on account of the fact I need my glasses to see.”

“You can do me one favor, Joel. It won’t kill you.” 

Joel stops and gently places his broken glasses on his work bench. He turns to his right and glares daggers at you. “One favor,” he scoffs. “Oh, you’re a fuckin’ peach. You wanna try that again?”

“Try what again?” 

You’re fucking with him. You have to be fucking with him. Why are you fucking with him? You’re not antagonistic like this, not usually, so he concludes that you must be looking for a fight. At this point, Joel is too. 

“I’ve done you countless favors today, sweetheart,” Joel gripes.

“Yeah, but-” you begin.

Joel’s large, warm hand suddenly covers the lower half of your face, silencing your argument. “If the next words outta this mouth aren’t thank you, then I don’t wanna hear ‘em. In fact…”

He bites his inner cheek, nodding his head as he thinks. The way he stares at you, his dark eyes piercing through you - you feel the chill deep in your bones. A wave of clarity hits you as you recall some of the details of the day, the way Joel was there at every turn and while you were busy being cranky and achey, he was trying to wait on you hand and foot. Shit. You’ve been a Grade-A bitch to him all day, a total fucking cunt.

Breaking the silence, Joel finally clears his throat and continues his thought, “I’m gonna give you two options,” Joel says. “You can walk the fuck away from me, or you can get on your knees. Whichever you choose, you do so silently. Nod if you understand.” 

It’s like you’re watching a scene from a movie. You hear Joel’s words, but you almost don’t believe they’re real and so they don’t quite register. He pulls his hand away from your face slowly. Your mouth falls open a bit but you don’t say or do anything.

“Nod. If. You. Understand.” You nod quickly. Joel awaits your decision as you look at the garage door and contemplate your clean way out from this situation, “So what’ll it be?” he asks. Despite it all, that uneasy feeling in your gut, you drop to your knees anyway, eyes still lingering on the door before you look up at Joel. You trust him to take care of you and you think you might owe him this obedience after your behavior today. “You’ve earned yourself brownie points choosin’ the latter of the two options, but this still ain’t gonna be fun for you,” he says. It should scare you - and it does - but you’re still thrilled by it, by the way he sighs and his knees crack as he gets off of his barstool, by the cold look in his eyes as he reaches under his thick belly to unbuckle his belt. Standing above you, he pulls out his half-hard cock and pumps it, feeling it grow to full length in his hand. He’s thick, veiny, and generously sized, a pearly white bead of precum sits atop his slit. His cock is just an inch or two away from your mouth as he holds it between his fingers, his thumb on top and middle and forefingers on the underside. With his other hand, he cards his fingers through your hair and pulls you close, the tip of his cock pressing against your lips. “Open.”

You part your lips open and with that, Joel pushes himself into your mouth inch by inch. You smell him first, that musky and heady sort of scent. Next, you taste the saltiness of his skin and his precome on your tongue and for a moment it’s pleasurable, with his cock halfway in your mouth. You wrap your hand around the end of his shaft like you know what he wants but you don’t know, not really - Joel holds your hand in his own and squeezes it so that your knuckles grind against each other a little bit. He pushes himself further and you can’t lick him or savor this like you wanted to, you just feel his cock intruding, sliding into your mouth. Joel’s testing you, making sure that you can handle all of him and if you can’t, you know he’ll make you. 

He draws out of your mouth entirely only to force his way back in, making you gag and sputter. You attempt to pull away but Joel keeps his hand firm on your head and holds you right where he wants you. “Nuh-uh. I don’t know where you think you’re goin’, hon.” 

There’s no gentleness to it, he fucks your mouth heatedly so that you’re drooling and choking on him, your eyes springing with tears as that pressure builds behind them. “Breathe through your nose,” he reminds you. “In and out. You ain’t done jus’ ‘cause you’re cryin’.” Your lips are sore with the repeated action, your jaw is aching. He rolls his hips, his cock is deep down your throat as he relishes in your warm, wet mouth and the way it makes him feel. 

“Mmm,” you moan, you’re not sure if the noise is indicative of your pleasure or discomfort.

“Quiet,” he growls. “Heard fuckin’ enough outta you today. You keep quiet.”

Your nose is buried in that thatch of coarse curls as he rocks his hips over and over, his soft and pillowy tummy bouncing against your forehead. You squirm and whine as his tip teases the back of your throat and your mouth feels so full, uncomfortably so. Joel picks up on that. “Let it be a lesson to ya, then, if it hurts. That mouth ‘a yours has done nothin’ but bitch and moan at me today. S’a punishment, ain’t ‘sposed to feel good.” 

He’s grunting and groaning, eyes screwed shut as he uses you, pumping in and out of your mouth. Your jaw aches with the brutality of the way he fucks your mouth, and just as you think you can’t take anymore, you feel Joel’s cock begin to twitch and pulse. He comes in your mouth without a warning, painting your tongue with his hot spend. It’s salty and bitter and warm on your tongue. Once you’ve swallowed, Joel reaches down and yanks you up by your bicep. He thought fucking your mouth and coming down your throat would make him feel better but honestly, it doesn’t. As he looks at your face, all puffy with tears and swollen lips, he can’t quite find it in himself to let go of his anger. Not yet, at least. “Let’s go,” he grunts as he drags you with him towards the garage door. He marches you though the house and up the stairs. 

“Where are we going?”

“Bedroom,” Joel growls, answering your question like it’s obvious. You suppose it should be, but you figured he was done with you. But he’s not. The regret begins to set in when you realize the retribution you’re about to be met with for the way you’ve treated Joel today. You’d be lying if you said that while wallowing in your pain you didn’t notice how your curt tone got under his skin, hurt his feelings and frustrated him immensely. The dread you feel can’t save you, it’s all too late now. 

 “Because if I don’t fuck you,” he says, “Then I’m gonna strangle you. So which would you like?”

“Fuck me,” you whisper. 

“Exactly.” 

Joel pushes you into the bedroom and locks the door behind himself. “Lie down on your back,” he says. 

You protest, “But the sheets, Joel. The blood–”

“I will wash the fucking sheets. We can add it to the list of all the things I’ve done for ya today, hm?”

When you don’t jump at his request, Joel takes initiative. He pulls off your - his - shirt from your body and then bends you over the end of the neatly made bed, the old and worn comforter feels rough on the skin of your cheek. Joel pulls down your sweatpants and panties in one motion and then flips you over onto your back, your legs hanging off the end of the bed. You feel embarrassed when you catch a glimpse of your bloodied pad and underwear, moreso when you feel yourself making a mess on his bedding and between your legs. 

“You didn’t make yourself come today, did you?”

“Uhh–” you stutter. “I - I…”

“No point in gettin’ bashful now, darlin’. Just gimme an answer.”

“No,” you tell him. It’s been a while. 

“Figures.”

Joel had assumed sexual frustration had been playing a role in your attitude today. Cramps, headaches, all sorts of things going on with you and a needy, aching pussy to boot. He does feel sorry for you, but he feels sorry for himself too. It’s why he got his first, but now it’s time for you to get yours. An orgasm should set you straight, or two or three. Whatever he feels is necessary. 

Joel undresses himself before pushing your thighs apart and hitching your legs around his waist. Slowly, he slides his thumb through your folds and then circles your clit. He knows you’re vulnerable like this - bleeding pussy on display for him as you make a mess of his sheets. But he’s patient, and he massages your clit calmly until you finally let a moan, a little mmm slip. He smirks at that. 

He pushes his middle two fingers inside you, pumping in and out slowly. He then curls his fingers, searching for that sweet spot on a woman he loves so much. “Fuck,” you cry out, legs instinctually closing shut around him, and he knows he’s found it. 

“Don’t fight it,” he says, opening you back up. He curls his fingers and circles your clit in tandem, making all sorts of lewd noises with your cunt. He admires your body all laid out for him like this, your breasts and your pebbled nipples, soft tummy rising and falling with your breathy oh’s and ahh’s, thick curls framing your pretty pussy like a picture just for him. Joel takes his free hand and uses it to press down on your lower stomach, intensifying the feeling of it all. You come hard, gushing on his fingers as you whimper his name. 

Joel pulls his fingers from your core and wipes them haphazardly on his own torso. “Joel,” you gasp when you feel the thick head of his cock at your entrance.

“I am sorry,” he begins, notching his tip inside you and popping it out. He slides the blunt head through your folds and over your clit, then taps the sensitive part of you with himself. “That you’re in pain. It isn’t fair and I know that. But you’ve done nothing but take your hurt out on me.” He presses himself inside you again, “I’ve got a half a mind to take my own hurt out on you, y’know.” His voice is dark and angered, but he speaks calmly in a way that contrasts the darkness but maintains his authority all the same. “And I think I’m gonna.”

“Joel, I– ”

“Quiet,” he commands. He begins teasing your slit with his cock once more before he speaks, “So this is what we’re gonna do: you’re gonna take what I give you, however much or little it is. You’re not gonna cry or complain ‘cause you’ve done enough of that today. Right?” Joel pauses, “Nod your head.” 

 You obey his rule and nod, yes.

He drags his cock up and down your cunt again, the soft skin of your labia rubbing so nicely against his thickness. He notches himself inside you over and over again, pushing in a little bit deeper each time and pulling back out. You whine, rolling your hips in search of more. “I know, I know, sweetheart,” he coos at you to quiet you down. “You’re all out of sorts today. M’gonna fix it. I always fix it, don’t I?”

Yes. You nod again. Quiet.

“S’right,” he says. “Good girl.”

With that, Joel pushes his leaking cock into you entirely, one gradual slide that has you sucking in a breath that comes out in a strained sort of whimper. His hard, warm shaft parting your insides, filling you whole. Joel hears it in the way that you sigh, that this, this is what you needed. He rocks his hips once, twice. Experiments with shallow thrusts, inching his way in and out of you before he draws out of your pussy entirely only to thrust himself right back in, deeper and harder than before. 

With the fullness of Joel inside of you, everything seems to melt away - all that anger, misplaced or not. Joel’s rhythmic thrusting soothes you, sort of. The soreness of your body, the aching cramps in your abdomen are all gone as you focus on the in and out, the in and out. He builds a comfortable pace, but one that borders on too much too soon. His hands on your waist, pulling you towards him as he pushes into you in equal measure. 

He fucks you without discipline, no tenderness at all to the action with those sloppy thrusts, but you’re more lost in him than he is in you - he’s focused on your face, watching you make an ‘O’ with your mouth, and he’s focused on your bouncing body, your twitching thighs spread wide. Your moans, your whimpers and your whines, babbling nothing but nonsense. Joel’s brow is furrowed as he breathes heavily through his teeth, his soft body jerking above you as he hits that sweet spot inside you over and over and over…

“It’s all ya needed, isn’t it? The whole goddamn time,” he pants. “Didn’t need to go an’ bitch me out all day if you needed lovin’ like this. Woulda been nice f’ya just said so.” Joel reaches for your breasts, harshly squeezing the tender, sore flesh. You wince in pain and he loosens his grip, focusing on your nipples instead. He twists and flicks the sensitive buds and your moans become louder, more high pitched. Joel fucking loves it when that happens, you never realized. 

“Oh, Joel,” you moan, “Yeah, fuck.” 

With one hand still teasing your nipples, he brings the other to your pussy. A few strokes of his thumb on your clit is all it takes to send you over the edge a second time, wanton moans and choked sobs spilling from your lips as he fucks you through it. 

And fucks you, and fucks you. 

And keeps fucking you. 

It doesn’t end, he doesn’t slow himself and you never feel that come down, that descent from pleasure. It keeps going, like pressure with nowhere to go and you feel like you might break. “I can’t, I need you to stop, stop, Joel.”

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head, thrusting still. “You can take it, be a good girl. Gonna fuck you good and deep like you need. You brought this on yourself, anyway. Two more.” 

This whole time, he doesn’t stop. It’s so much at once and when you thought it was going to end, it doesn’t. Tears of overstimulation spring in your eyes and flow freely down your cheeks. Joel lets you cry because he knows you need it, he knows the release is good for you. You poor thing, how much you must be feeling right now, both physically and mentally. “It’s too much, Joel, I can’t,” you plead.

 “Always the tears with you, huh?” he taunts. “Always somethin’. Oh, I know. I know.” 

It’s the way you look at Joel that causes him to cave, eyes all wide and tear-stained. You’re spent and he knows it, what with all that your body’s put you through. You’ve had a rough day and though he did too, he can’t help but feel sympathy for you at this moment. “Oh, my sweet girl. What am I gonna do with you, hm?”

“I don’t know,” you sniffle. 

“Know you don’t, ‘n you don’t have to. S’my job,” he soothes. With his clean hand, he traces the side of your face and rubs his thumb over your cheekbone. “How about this, then - what are we gonna do next time you’re not feeling so good?” 

“I’m - I’m–”

“You’re gonna tell me what you need,” he instructs, “And you’re gonna ask for it. Nicely. So that means usin’ your manners. Please, Joel. Thank you, Joel. Remember those words?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “Yeah, I remember.”

 “But you forgot ‘em the whole day today,” Joel says softly. “I think you gotta learn to compromise, too,” he adds. The guilt had begun to set in before, but you really start to feel the burn now. You were unkind to Joel, and he’s been nothing but sweet, doting on every one of your needs. “I think an apology’s in order for the way you treated me today.” 

He’s right, and you know it. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Joel.”

“Oh, I know you are. You just needed the reminder, s’okay,” You hadn’t even noticed how his thrusting had slowed to a still until it picks up again slowly, as he presses kisses to you. Your cheeks first, then your lips. “I’ll compromise too - I’m only gonna make you come one more time, not two. Sound good? Sound fair?”

“I don’t think I can, Joel…”

“Yeah, you can, s’the last one. Take it good for me,” he encourages. “Take it good.” 

That’s what he repeats as his thrusts build again, fucking you deeply. Take it good, take it good for me. He hikes you up further on the bed and joins you so that he’s no longer standing at the floor, he’s got you pressed in half instead, your knees on either side of your chest and your feet above his shoulders. This angle intensifies everything and he knows, oh he knows how much it is for you. You’re tired, sore, overstimulated. But you’ll be done soon, he’ll be done with you soon. He takes your hand and wedges it between your bodies, pressing your own fingers to your clit, “Let go for me, I wanna feel you let go for me,” he says. “Focus right here. You’re gonna come with me, keep your eyes on me…”

You don’t even have to massage your clit, the way Joel angles himself has his body doing all the work, his pubic bone adding pressure to your fingers adding pressure to your clit. It’s intense, all of it - deeply energetic, overwhelming. You can’t quite discern your orgasm as it builds, there’s no definitive start but it’s powerful, devastating almost. Washing over you in waves, you feel it in the base of your spine first. You feel it in your gut, the backs of your thighs all the way to your toes. You hardly register that he’s coming with you, filling you deep with his come. His jaw is clenched tight and he’s groaning, grunting as he milks himself in you.

He leaves you there, whimpering, twitching on the bed. You hear the faint sound of running water, you figure he’s washing himself off. You’re surprised when he returns to you, pelvis covered in your blood, and scoops you right up in his arms. He helps you to your feet and on shaky legs, guides you to the bathroom. It no longer smells like bleach but instead, lavender. He’s got a candle lit on the sink and the bathtub is filled with warm, bubbly water. “Picked out a bubble bath for you earlier when I went out. Wanna test it out with me?” 

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “Yes. Please.” 

Joel sits in the tub first, spreads his legs and welcomes you to sit between them. He washes the blood from your poor, sensitive core and your thighs, washes it from his own body as well. When he’s done, he pulls you back into his chest and his hands find your breasts. “They’re tender, huh,” he murmurs into the side of your head. 

“Super, yeah. Sore.” 

“I’ll bet,” he says. He gently massages the tissue for you, his strong hands working you out in a way you can’t quite do. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

Joel chuckles. “Bout fuckin’ time you thanked me,” he says. “You’re welcome.” 

If you enjoyed, please reblog with thoughts, leave me a comment, or send me an ask! Your words motivate me to keep writing for you all 🩷

Least helpful cats award goes to these two 👇 if you’ve ever wondered what takes me so long to put fics out, it’s this. I try to write and I’m cockblocked by these fuzzballs.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Helo there! What do you think about Harry's and Neville's friendship? And the aspect of both of them possibily being the chosen one?

I like Neville and his dynamic with Harry, even if I don't think they're that close.

Like, Harry is more of a mentor for Neville with the DA rather than a friend who's a peer.

in fact, he barely spoke during D.A. meetings anymore, but worked relentlessly on every new jinx and countercurse Harry taught them, his plump face screwed up in concentration, apparently indifferent to injuries or accidents, working harder than anyone else in the room. He was improving so fast it was quite unnerving and when Harry taught them the Shield Charm, a means of deflecting minor jinxes so that they rebounded upon the attacker, only Hermione mastered the charm faster than Neville.

(OotP)

And I think Neville keeps looking up to him as a symbol and a leader less than as a person.

Nevertheless, his battered visage shone with happiness as he let go of Hermione and said again, “I knew you’d come! Kept telling Seamus it was a matter of time!”

(DH)

Neville kinda idolizes Harry in a way.

That's why I don't think they are particularly close, but they do care about each other. Harry feels a bit sorry for Neville and a little protective over him:

A hatred such as he had never known before was coursing through Harry like poison. He could see Black laughing at him through the darkness, as though somebody had pasted the picture from the album over his eyes. He watched, as though somebody was playing him a piece of film, Sirius Black blasting Peter Pettigrew (who resembled Neville Longbottom) into a thousand pieces.

(PoA)

“Doesn’t matter. They don’t want to spill too much pure blood, so they’ll torture us a bit if we’re mouthy but they won’t actually kill us.” Harry did not know what was worse, the things that Neville was saying or the matter-of-fact tone in which he said them.

(DH)

And he does trust Neville a lot. Both Harry and Neville have full faith in each other which I really like:

Dumbledore had died knowing that three people still knew about the Horcruxes; now Neville will take Harry’s place. There would still be three in the secret. “Just in case they’re—busy—and you get the chance—” “Kill the snake?” “Kill the snake,” Harry repeated. “All right, Harry, You’re okay, are you?” “I’m fine. Thanks, Neville.” But Neville seized his wrist as Harry made to move on. “We’re all going to keep fighting, Harry. You know that?” “Yeah, I—” The suffocating feeling extinguished the end of the sentence; he could not go on. Neville did not seem to find it strange. He patted Harry on the shoulder, released him, and walked away to look for more bodies.

(DH)

They have a sort of quiet understanding and while their friendship isn't super close, they do care about each other and like each other. They could've probably been good friends if they were given the chance to interact more. (That's another reason why I love DADA professor Harry with Herbology professor Neville to give them that chance)

Their dynamic, if they were to get closer, kinda reminds me of an older brother & a younger brother due to how much Neville looks up to Harry and how Harry is protective over Neville.

As for both of them being the Chosen One, well, they aren't both the Chosen One. Only Harry was Chosen at the end of the day. But, I think that by the end, Neville is a truer Gryffindor than Harry.

In book 7 Harry failed to retrieve the Sword of Gryffindor:

When Ron offered the sword, however, Harry shook his head. “No, you should do it.” “Me?” said Ron, looking shocked. “Why?” “Because you got the sword out of the pool. I think it’s supposed to be you.” He was not being kind or generous. As certainly as he had known that the doe was benign, he knew that Ron had to be the one to wield the sword. Dumbledore had at least taught Harry something about certain kinds of magic, of the incalculable power of certain acts

(DH)

The sword that only appears to a Gryffindor in need:

What was it, Harry asked himself (walking again), that Dumbledore had told him the last time he had retrieved the sword? Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that out of the hat. And what were the qualities that defined a Gryffindor? A small voice inside Harry’s head answered him: Their daring, nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindors apart.

(DH)

rejected Harry, but embraced Neville:

In one swift, fluid motion, Neville broke free of the Body-Bind Curse upon; the flaming hat fell off him and he drew from its depths something silver, with a glittering, rubied handle—

(DH)

Add to that Harry's use of Unforgivables in book 7, and I feel like Harry was supposed to embrace his Slytherin characteristics in this book as a theme of the narrative, you know? Like the rejection from the sword and Harry needing to be more cunning than ever should've been this sort of closure. Of Harry's understanding, not all Slytherins are evil and he himself is a bit of a Slytherin and embracing it. It would've worked so well with Snape's story and the themes of the book, truly a missed opportunity to not make this idea of Harry finally saying "yes Slytherin" instead of "not Slytherin", and embracing the fact he is a bit of a Slytherin while Neville, who was terrified to be in Gryffindor, who asked the hat to place him someplace else, embraced being a Gryffindor fully. They have kind of small parallel barley-there arcs in a way that I found interesting in my current reread of Deathly Hallows. Like, I feel there was an intention there, as Harry does feel he is less of a Gryffindor throughout this book, even though he still is, I'm talking about his feelings on the matter.

I think this idea is there, just not as explored as I would've liked it. It is just interesting that the Sword of Gryffindor chose Neville as the true Gryffindor but rejected Harry who is the Chosen One because he was chosen by the Heir of Slytherin. Idk, I feel like there is something there.

[burningcheese-merchant]

"I'm Sorry" - BurningCheese Short #9

Gonna be traveling somewhere soon, probably won't be back here for a few days. Wanted to leave you all with a story before I go. (I wrote it sometime ago, I've just been waiting for a good time to drop it. I guess now will do haha)

Plan on answering asks and posting BurningCheese kids when I get back (I have almost 100 asks in my inbox and I feel really bad for leaving them there. I'm genuinely sorry to you all, I actually am reading what you send me, I promise I won't leave you hanging forever. I answered a couple today and I'll keep it up soon). In the meantime, eat this short story where we see our favorite couple take an important step together, and Burning Spice take an important step himself

"I'm sorry."

Golden Cheese blinked. "I... Pardon?"

"I'm sorry," Burning Spice said again.

"You're sorry?" she echoed. "Sorry for... what?"

He paused for a long while before he answered. "For Beast-Yeast."

"For Beast-Yeast?" Slowly, she turned to face him, eyeing him critically. "And where is this coming from, exactly?"

"Why does it matter?" Burning Spice asked, keeping his gaze trained on the bustling city far below. "I am sorry. That is all I have to say."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "And... what? You think that means anything? You think one, single apology will change the past? You think it's enough to atone for all of your heinous crimes?"

"No."

"Then what audacity is this? Why even say it?"

"Because I want to," he said. "It's as simple as that."

Another long pause, longer than the last, came and went before Golden Cheese spoke up again. "Why should I even believe you when you say such words?" she asked. "What reason do I have to think you're being sincere?"

"Someone such as I saying it at all ought to be reason enough. You think I'd ever utter something so soft and pathetic to anyone else, for any reason? Even under penalty of death?"

"...Hmph."

A third pause came - shorter than the first two, because Golden Cheese couldn't bring herself to wait any longer than that.

"And what makes you think I forgive you? Or that I would ever even consider doing so?"

"You allowed me into your kingdom," he said, still refusing to look at her. "Into your palace, even. Here we stand together, watching your subjects from afar. You snuck me in so no one would see or notice me. Perhaps you don't forgive me at all... but you've let go enough that you've allowed yourself to do this much. Haven't you?"

"I..."

The fourth pause made itself known, hanging over the two of them as they stared down into the busy streets of the Golden Cheese Kingdom. It showed itself out when, at last, Burning Spice turned to look at Golden Cheese.

"I'm sorry," he told her one more time. His voice was soft. Quiet. In his eyes and on his face were emotions that only he himself would know how to read.

Golden Cheese looked right back at him, her eyebrows knit and mouth set in a slight frown. She said nothing, instead only nodding slowly, tentatively - unsure of how to acknowledge him, but willing to do so nevertheless.

When the fifth pause came, it weighed down on them both terribly, though who felt its burden worse was hard to tell. The silence was thick, tense, awkward. Granting cover to all the words Golden Cheese couldn't bring herself to say. Making up for all the words Burning Spice didn't have left to give.

Everlasting, like the city bathed in gold and neon lights waiting beyond the balcony railing and stretching on endlessly into the horizon.

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

I will let you all decide for yourselves what led to this moment, and what happened afterwards.

[devildom-moss]

April poll story

NSFW - Leviathan (yandere + degradation)

(Leviathan x gn!MC)

(NSFW) (slightly sub!Leviathan / dom!MC) (mutual masturbation; degradation for Levi; underwear stealing; pillow humping; no penetration; voyeurism; exhibitionism; olfactophilia; slight dacryphilia; jealous/possessive; slightly cruel MC) (yandere!Levi - but kinda light on the yandere)

Word Count: +2,600

Leviathan’s social battery had lucked out; he didn’t have any in-person classes to attend. He had some coursework to do online, but Levi had diligently completed it the night before in anticipation of getting to indulge in one of his favorite pastimes when he had the house to himself. And he was certainly in need of indulging himself today.

Usually, Levi was happy to not have to go to school, but the image of you walking to school with Asmo and Belphegor clinging to your arms while Mammon whined about it from close behind burned in his mind. Levi slammed the door shut behind him, seething with jealousy, as you all disappeared down the road.

Maybe his fantasies were too strong. Maybe it was all in his head, but it felt like you were supposed to belong to him – to be all his. No one else should touch you but him. He considered himself a gross shut-in, sure, but that only fed into his fantasies. Maybe he was so disgusting that his touch alone could taint you so that no one else would ever want you. Then, you’d have no choices left. You’d have to be his and his alone.

As the jealousy raged, Levi grew increasingly pent up. He quickly snuck into your room and located your hamper of dirty clothes. Right where it usually is, thank goodness. It was an awful habit of his: sneaking into your bedroom when no one was home and stealing a pair of your dirty underwear. He would always return them to the hamper after he was done with them – often slightly cleaner than when he had taken them – before you would do your laundry, so he had never been caught. Sometimes, when Levi wanted to get carried away, he would sink to his knees at your bedside and sniff your sheets, imagining all the things you might get up to in the middle of the night. Did you touch yourself often? Did you think about him at all when you did? Would you hate it if you knew how much he wanted you to use him to get yourself off? Other times, he would touch your personal items: innocent caresses over your pillows, holding your favorite shirt in his hands, tracing over the spine of the book you were reading last week. When he was feeling especially depraved, he might run his tongue along your toothbrush or grind his hips against your bath towel.

But today, he had only invaded your privacy to steal your underwear. I need this, he growled under his breath as he escaped to his room – too eager to even shut his door behind him. No one was going to be home for hours. Who was going to care?

Leviathan grabbed his body pillow and slipped your underwear onto them before tossing the pillow to the floor. The curve of his pillow was nothing compared to your body, but it would have to do. He sunk to the floor, hovering just over your underwear at the base of his pillow. A low growl left his lips as he picked up your scent. He couldn’t contain himself anymore.

Levi’s long tongue lolled out of his mouth and licked a slow, wet stripe along the crotch of your underwear as if he was trying to taste you. His tongue slipped beneath the fabric, licking and searching for any morsel of you he could get. Saliva coated the crotch on both sides, and Levi had spent nearly an hour and a half just licking and smelling your used underwear before he finally sat up. His jaw was starting to ache and the scent of you mixed with his saliva was intoxicating. He wanted – needed – more.

A stupid grin was plastered on Levi’s face as he bent back over, pressing his cheek to your underwear, and quickly slid his pants down just enough to expose his own underwear. He was hard and aching, with a prominent damp stain.

“Look. Look at what you’re doing to me, MC,” Levi whined against your underwear before placing a kiss over the fabric. He sat up and inched closer until he could rub his clothed cock over your underwear. It was almost as if he was dry humping you – or at least that was what he wanted to imagine. Each thrust of his hips was slow, deliberate, and needy.

Leviathan wasn’t known for his physical stamina, and yet, when he imagined fucking you, he could keep going – anything to savor the fantasy he had spend countless hours building up in his head. He could have easily dry humped that pillow for another half an hour, thinking about all the noises you might make if he was humping you instead. But his desperation was growing, especially as he imagined you enjoying your day without him. He needed to feel like he was claiming you even more, or he was sure he’d go mad with envy. So, he stopped – just long enough to discard his pants and underwear in the general direction of his gaming chair. Levi stared down at your underwear below him, admiring the way his saliva and the precum had managed to make a mess of them. He slid his cock beneath the fabric and started to thrust again.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, over and over as his thrusts picked up pace. He growled and moaned, rolling his head back. “I fucking own you.”

Unfortunately for Leviathan, his leisurely fantasizing was not going to go uninterrupted. You had been dismissed from school early – after your art professor had to cancel classes because “some cheeky bird-man had hell to pay.” Within minutes of the class beginning, every art supply in the room came flying at the professor. He had managed to dodge everything except for an old jar of dirty paint water that someone from a previous class had forgotten to dump out earlier. He was fuming and in desperate need of a change of clothes and an opportunity for revenge, so your class was cut short.

With little else to do at school, you returned home before the others and decided to head upstairs to shower – only to be stopped short at the top of the staircase by strange noises. It took a second to realize it was Levi. He was moaning, and you could hear creaking.

As you approached, you noticed that his door was open ajar. Against your better judgment, you peeked in through the crack to watch. His pillow was on the floor, and Levi was bucking his hips against it furiously, sweat dripping down his chest and the back of his neck. His movements were erratic – a sign of his desperation. You couldn’t tear your eyes away.

“So fucking good. You’re so tight for me. Take it. Take me inside of you, please. Please? Let me cum inside. Let me mark you. I’ll be yours forever. Fuck, MC, please?” Levi moaned.

You gasped at the sound of your name leaving his lips, and it was just enough to startle Levi and ruin his orgasm. He jumped up and covered himself with a nearby blanket. Only then were you able to see the underwear – your underwear, wrapped around his pillow and covered in pre-cum. Levi curled up on the floor, whimpering and hiding his face. This was it. Surely you were going to hate him now.

With a cruelly slow gait, you walked over to him, bent down, and whispered in his ear, “you fucking perverted creep. Were you thinking about cumming inside me? You’re sick.”

“Don’t hate me, please!” Tears pricked the corners of Levi’s eyes as a shiver ran up his spine. He looked up at you, fearful and desperate. Like an animal backed into a corner, he sprang into action, rushing up and slithering around you. He stood between you and the door, shutting and locking it behind him. “P-please hear me out. Listen. I – I’m so sorry. I just got jealous after seeing you with the others this morning. I won’t do it again.”

You had no reason to believe him – which would have been for the best, as he was lying. Still, something about the fear and desire in his eyes was getting to you, and it only made you meaner. You tilted your head and asked, “How many times have you stolen my underwear?”

“What?”

“You heard me: how many times have you done this?”

“I – MC, I . . .” Levi started, wondering if he could bring himself to lie again. A threat of hatred loomed in the air – so terrifying that it forced him towards honesty. He muttered, ashamed, “too many to count.”

“Dirty fucking slut,” you scoffed. “You disgusting shut-in, you can’t even tell me you want to fuck me? You just sneak around – slithering behind my back, stealing my things, and humping your pillow like a bitch in heat? You’re pathetic – lower than any snake in the deepest pits of hell.”

“I’m so sorry,” Leviathan whimpered in a tone aimed to prove your accusation that he was pathetic. He couldn’t even look at you. Instead, he stared down at your stained underwear. As ashamed as he was, he couldn’t help but get excited at how you degraded him. The fear and arousal stirred in his bloodstream, only to be overcome by his intense jealousy – a desperate need to cling to the idea of making you his. “I, uhm – I understand if you hate me, but please. I can’t let you leave until you forgive me.”

“Forgive you?” you laughed – cruel and mocking.

“Yes. I need you to forgive me.” You could see the shame tinting his cheeks a bright pink.

“Who said I was mad?” you laughed again – this time playful and sweet.

Leviathan’s eyes widened – shocked at your forgiving nature. He always knew you were an angel. Tears welled at the corner of his eyes again, and you took a second to admire how pretty he looked, crying and relieved to not be despised by you. Then, you grabbed another pillow from Levi’s tub and tossed it on the floor in front of the body pillow. Levi’s brows knit together in confusion, trying to understand what was happening as you stripped down to your underwear and straddled the pillow.

“Wh-what are you . . .?” He watched on cautiously.

“This is as close as you’re going to get to fucking me today, you sick little pervert. So, go back to what you were doing before.” You glanced between him and the body pillow. He hesitated. “Now, you disgusting creep.”

Levi nodded enthusiastically and quickly joined you on the floor. His movements were slow and nervous; you could tell that he was anxious to have you watch him. Even as he twitched in pleasure and leaked all over your used underwear, he was filled with inhibition. Instead of admitting that he looked adorable, shyly humping his pillow and trying not to stare at you, you aimed to embarrass him even more.

“Tell me what you thought about while you were using my underwear to get off,” you demanded, still rocking your hips into his other pillow.

“Why?” he squeaked out, humiliated. There was no way he could admit anything so embarrassing.

“Because I said so. What? Afraid I’ll find out what a sick, depraved slut you really are?”

Levi’s face flushed pink up to his ears as he mentally conceded. The words fell from him in excited whimpers, “I was – I think about making you mine – just mine. And – and that I could trap you in my room for days, fucking you, letting you use my useless cock for your pleasure until – until I’ve stained you. I-I don’t want anyone else to touch you. Every realm. I want them all to be repulsed by you so that you only have me. Just be mine. Be a shut-in with me forever.”

It was so easy to tell that Leviathan had read and written so many fanfics over the years. He had a mixture of desperation and yearning – as if it was the only thing sustaining his desires. Between his embarrassment and the feeling of grinding on his pillow, even you were starting to make a mess.

“What else did you imagine? Surely that’s not the only thing that horny, needy little head imagined, is it?” You encouraged him.

“No. I – I imagined what it must feel like to be inside you. I licked up your underwear, craving you, thinking about how good my tongue could make you feel. I like to smell it, imagining how hot your skin feels when you get aroused and – and what it would taste like. Please, I-I thought about uhm, kissing your ass and thighs until – ‘til you’re all marked up and staining all your clothes with my cum and not having to wash it out.”

You were getting close, and the submissive little moans that peppered Levi’s confessions only brought you closer. Somehow, Levi could sense it, and it made him jealous of his pillow.

“It’s not fair,” he whined. “Fucking my pillow right in front of me. I-I know I’m useless, but fuck. It makes me so mad and jealous, knowing you’d rather hump a pillow than let me fuck you or use my mouth to please you. Am I really that pathetic?”

“Yes,” you groaned, picking up your pace – half in response to his question and half in response to chasing your orgasm. The sad little whimper that left Levi as he arched his back and pumped his cum all over his pillow and your underwear pushed you over the edge. You continued to grind your hips through your orgasm before coming to a stop.

You were both left panting. After a few seconds, you gathered the strength to stand up. You got completely naked before grabbing your uniform and draping it over your arm. Levi watched you, eyes still glazed over with lust, but cautious, nonetheless.

“Well, I need to shower. Can I leave now?” You glanced over at the locked door, wondering if Levi was actually such a creep that he intended to keep you locked in his room.

“Y-yes. Sorry!” Levi scrambled up to unlock the door for you, stumbling through his first few steps. “Thank you. I’m sorry. Thank you!”

You laughed as Levi stood at the door, holding it open for you, naked and embarrassed, but polite all the same. He looked strangely refreshed in his humiliation, so you decided to push him further. “And just in case I’m wrong about how horny and disgusting you are, don’t wash those pillows tonight. You deserve to sleep with a pillow as dirty as you are.”

Levi’s blush deepened and he tried to hide the smile threatening to form on his lips. “Y-yes, MC. Th-thank you.”

“You fucking pervert.” You handed him your newly soiled underwear on your way out the door. Levi was too stunned to speak as you walked off into the bathroom. Tears formed in his eyes again as he shut the door behind him and brought the new underwear up to his nose. MC came in these. I bet I could taste it. Levi kissed and licked over the wet spot you had left, cleaning it with his mouth. He was already hard again.

But, as if you could read him like a cliché +18 manga, Levi’s phone buzzed. You had sent him a message.

MC: Don’t you dare start touching yourself again. Be good and stay hard all night, and maybe I’ll let you touch me in the morning.

Anticipation grew in Leviathan. He was almost jealous of tomorrow’s version of himself – the one who might get the opportunity to finally fuck you.

tag request: @denpa-dere

A/N: Sorry. It's a little late, but I hope you all will like it. I don't really know how I feel about it, so comments would be nice. I'm sorry I've been gone most of the month. I'll keep trying, but I don't know. I feel like I got my summer depression a little too early this year? Who knows. I'm trying not to force it too much.

That said, I did put up a poll for May. I love Asmo, so hopefully that helps a little. I'm not really sure.

[anthropwashere]

THIS but fucking. MBTI. When I was still in the Air Force my... hell, I don't remember his position name. I'm so happy to realize I've brain dumped so much military minutiae after only three years out. Anyway. My supervisor's supervisor. This Master Sergeant (MSgt) was OBSESSED with MBTI. It was literally the first conversation I had with him when he took the position and was doing the rounds to meet all of us. We were working for a 3-letter agency AND working outside our unit in an almost wholly civilian org on top of that, so thankfully we didn't work in the same office, but good christ he took potshots at ANYBODY he ASSUMED was one flavor of alphabet soup or another that he didn't "agree with."

He did, for whatever it's worth, correctly guess my flavor of alphabet soup (I have never ever been able to remember or care what my MBTI is, it's fucking alphabet soup, leave me alone) after a 5-minute conversation. He also, however, failed to notice my far more aggressive and obvious extremely mentally and physically unwell signs thanks to my miserable recent divorce and far more miserable unfolding chronic illnesses that were going to end up with me getting a whole-ass 100% disability rank/pay with Veteran's Affairs and insisted on visiting my shit-ass cubicle EVERY. FUCKING. DAY. to CHAT. USUALLY DISCUSSING FUCKING THE MBTI OF VARIOUS OTHER DUDES IN OUR CHAIN OF COMMAND (COC). THAT I BARELY KNEW THE NAMES OF. NEVER MIND WHAT THEY LOOKED LIKE OR WHO THEY WERE AS LIKE. ACTUAL DUDES. BECAUSE. I MUST STRESS AGAIN. WE WORKED IN A MOSTLY CIVILIAN ORG. SO 90% OF THE MIL FOLK IN OUR COC DIDN'T WORK ANYWHERE NEAR ME. TO THE POINT WHERE I LITERALLY DIDN'T HAVE THE DOOR CODES TO ACCESS WHERE THEY WORKED. AND THE OTHER 10% DID LIKE. ACTUAL INTEL SHIT IN OTHER OFFICES I HAD RARELY ANY REASON TO EVER ENTER. AND THE ONES I DID HAVE REASON TO ENTER WITH MILITARY FOLK IN THEM WERE USUALLY FUCKING INSUFFERABLE. AND I AVOIDED THEM AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE. SO. I DID NOT. FUCKING KNOW. WHO HE WAS. EVER!!! TALKING!!! ABOUT!!!!!

Hngh. This is why I try not to think of those awful fucking 5 years of my life. I get caps-lock-y about it. Sorry.

Anyway, this motherfucker like. Trauma bonded? To me? Because of his also miserable recent divorce? And he wanted to fuck me SO HARD while also endlessly ranting to me about MBTI horseshit 60% of every conversation we had (the other 40% and his otherwise normal behavior did actually meet me compatibly on the Normal Human Scale and we got on well, and also he was my supervisor's supervisor so like, I had to be somewhat respectful of his stupid MSgt rank). It was an exhausting fucking. What. 8 months? A full year? MBTI this. MBTI that. Etc. Etc. Etc. ETC.!!!!!!

Anyway the SECOND I said "asexual" he entirely quit talking to me entirely, so I guess that's something.

Secondary anyway birthstone-obsessed people are wild to me. Us March folks got royally fucked over by boring-ass AQUAMARINE and you expect me to take that stuff seriously? Lol

Thirdly anyway I haven't dealt with any hardcore astrology people since high school, but she was my friend's mom and she and her husband were honestly the best role models in my life at that age? To the point my shit-fucking-terrible mom resented her otherwise a-okay positivity in my life for like? A decade?? Hell, she probably still does. It's wild how many times I had to remind my Chronic Gaslighting Bitch of a mom, "I haven't talked to Betty since I was 18, WHAT are you talking about."

Fourthly anyway shout-out to Civilian Megan (whose spelling variation I can never remember on account of having one of those Normal White American Girl names with 50 spelling variations, even with her full name on a paper name plate) who sat across from me and went out of her way to save me from Awkward Lengthy conversations with MSgt MBTI and SSgt Marvel Movies Nerd every goddamn day, she was a real one and I should probably shoot her a 'hi how are you' message on Steam today

“Bat swinging at wasp nest” post but I cannot be nice about astrology people. No you did not find the one good or cute or quirky way to believe the quality of someone’s character is biologically pre-determined. Just because you found a way to not base it on race or ethnicity or gender does not make judging someone’s character on an innate and uncontrolled attribute suddenly teehee fine.

I’m even more baffled by the people going “it’s just fun!” “It’s just a hobby!!” Sure if it was something harmless. It’s not. We are quite literally talking about how you intend to judge, treat, view, respect, and interact with someone entirely differently based on an inherent trait. How are you not aghast? How are you not embarrassed? Why are you so insistent on needing to operate on a hierarchy of pre-determined character judgement?

[crystalkitty1220]

Man I wonder where the leader of the fear realm could've gone, it's alMOST LIKE NEVIN HAS AN

[bibiana112]

Kinda weird question- do you have any links to people talking about Mira from ZTD and ableist stereotypes? I mentioned that I was uncomfortable with her portrayal but kinda fumbled it and made some other ND people in chat uncomfortable. I searched for various keyword combinations but most of what I'm finding is like "and not to mention the ableism with Mira" and doesn't elaborate lol.

Not weird at all! And uh, you see, there's a recent post I made where what I complain about is the very fact I've never seen anyone post too in-depth about her at all, I'd love to see posts that do elaborate on that but I do not have any that I know of right now, sorry :/ hopefully someone else who sees this can point to one? Okay!! After some tag searches I have found exactly one post who kind of gets into it I like this take still would love to see. more than just one but hooray

And like though I complain I couldn't elaborate much on it myself I don't think, I believe most of the posts people make about Saito from aitsf would apply since it's a different uchikoshi take on the very same trope of "emotionless characters who cannot function without killing others" I guess he's a worse portrayal though since she's at least not stated to get reward brain chemicals when killing people and I guess her case also has the added layer of "femme fatale" to it? Which either makes it less bad or worse depending on where you approach it from As I said I am not doing a good job of being coherent on this oh and also there's her being "redeemed" and "cured" in the epilogue which in on itself is kinda not great to imply it just goes away like that and honestly I personally don't even buy it I think she'd just be like oh okay Akane over here has like a thousand reasons to hate me after all that oh and what's that she's the leader of a super wealthy underground organization who's organized one of these death traps before yeah no I'm better off going to prison I'll be fine there lmao bye

But I'll say as an autistic person with relatively low empathy I usually see a character who just doesn't understand other people's feelings and wants to feel them too and is just trying to survive despite getting no help and I just kinda go hm. yeah. shout-out to roxas kingdom hearts shout out to mary from ib shout out that's why I started hyperfixating on media art helps me with understanding others a great lot and Mira is just in a story too badly executed for me to care or even begin to wrap my head around tbh like god she's so fucking terribly used as a plot device in every conceivable way that it makes it difficult to see past it and into what she could possibly be if it weren't for the stereotype of equalling low empathy with no compassion what's with her killing off screen in ways that wildly deviate from her stated m.o? why or how was she even in cahoots with Zero why was that a thing? Honestly her dynamic with Sean could have been better fleshed out could have done something interesting about robot child and his aspd big sis but we just kind of don't get any attention brought to the subject of emotions and the authenticity there of except for the "reveal"...

YOU KNOW WHAT that's probably one huge reason it feels so fucked up actually! Like the whole fucking game is written so you could experience it in whatever order you want and therefore Mira being a serial killer at all is something that though not very well hidden it also cannot be a topic of discussion or explored Ever ever because the player may not have seen the fragment where that is revealed yet- problem being the menu design of that game sucks so bad and practically everyone gravitates towards the same few more interesting looking thumbnails first and then the rest is kinda just there, I mean that is part of the reason A Lot of characters feel half-baked I think but also I think it definitely does impact perception of her character specifically probably The Most and then there's just the general not being given nuance not being able to see the minutiae of how that disorder manifests in her character aside from the killings about how she acts aside from being overly flirty trying to lure in Eric but that affects pretty much all of the new cast we don't have last names and in her case we barely have any backstory at all like Saito is a harmful stereotype sure but we get So Much Context for him that people still love talking about him and delving into different aspects of his life since we have that very well telegraphed in the narrative meanwhile for Mira all we can do is fill in the blanks guesswork that only highlights the worst aspects of the surface level portrayal we got and ultimately that people just don't care enough to dissect because there isn't much there character wise once you remove it

[nereidprinc3ss]

pretty little things

in which you can't keep hiding your stuffed animals from your boyfriend. spencer would like a formal introduction.

fluff! warnings/tags: gn!reader I think, newish established relationship, they're so cute, reader is still kinda shy around him, I'm really obsessed with this dynamic actually, implied intimacy if you decide to interpret it that way, kissing/maybe mildly suggestive a/n: this is dedicated to my friends @parfaitblogs and @gublersg1rl bc in another universe we are actually just three jellycat plushies on someone's bed which is where the inspo for this little thing came from. and thank u willow for naming your fox. ok bye love u hope u enjoy !! :D

The first time you’d shown Spencer your room, and the handful of times he’s been in it since, you very intentionally hid your stuffed animals underneath the bed. After all, you’re an adult. You have a grown up job. And you don’t need him thinking you’re some kind of freak this early into the relationship. You like him too much. 

Today, however—you didn’t have any warning. He comes over unannounced, which is all well and good, until you bring him to your bedroom so he can sit on the bed while you change from work clothes into something comfier for movie night. As soon as you open the bedroom door, you see them, lined up neatly by your pillow, and you know it’s too late. 

“Uh…”

Spencer runs into your back and takes it as an excuse to settle his hands on your hips as he peers over your shoulder. 

“What?”

You slip out of his easy hold and skitter to your bed, practically throwing yourself on the mattress and sitting unnaturally as the little beaded eyes of your friends dig into your back. Even your brightest smile doesn’t distract Spencer. He’s like a bloodhound for the truth. At least, that’s the sense you’re beginning to get. 

“What are you doing?” He tries again, eyes narrowed and closing the door carefully behind him. 

“Nothing!”

The urgency with which you say it has his eyebrows raising. Obviously delighted by the embarrassing secret he’s sure to uncover, he approaches. You lean back further even as he towers over you until you’re almost on your back and he’s folded over you, menacingly (and dizzyingly) close. This sort of position is still new-ish and has your heart pounding, even if it’s entirely playful and ostensibly innocent. 

“Nothing? Are you sure?”

You nod, still shying away from him into the pile of pillows. Without looking he reaches under you and pulls out your pink bunny. You squeak and hide your face. 

“What is this?” He laughs, and you yank it away, sitting up so he’s forced to give you some breathing room. The bunny is cradled protectively in your arms, though you try to hold it a bit more casually when you notice. 

“I said it’s nothing.”

“What about the other two behind you? The fox and the… what is that? A deer?”

“No—”

“I didn’t even know they made deer stuffed animals—”

“Spencer, stop!”

He does, at the desperate tone of voice and the way you’re still hiding from him. 

“No, no! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to tease you. Don’t be embarrassed. I’m sorry.”

As usual he’s over apologetic, now sitting knee to knee with you on the mattress and leaning down to try and catch your eye. You huff and grant him some eye contact just so he doesn’t go over the edge with worry. 

“But it’s embarrassing.”

“No, it’s really not,” he laughs. “It’s cute. I can’t believe you’ve been—what, hiding them from me? This whole time? That’s like not telling me you have kids.”

“It is not like that.”

“Hm. I don’t know, I think you should probably introduce me.”

You give him a look, letting your head fall to your shoulder. “Spencer.”

“I’m serious. I’m going to be apart of their lives now. You can’t keep shoving them under the bed every time I stay the night.”

This nerd is going to be the death of you. 

Eventually, you groan reluctantly. 

“Fine. Okay, um—this one is… well—her name is Bunny. It’s not… very creative, but it’s—that’s just her name, okay?”

Spencer doesn’t react to your unjustified defensiveness—only grabs your bunny’s round little pink paw and shakes. “Enchanted.”

“Shut up.” Your face is so hot as you bury your smile and set Bunny aside, making sure she’s comfortable against the pillow before bringing out your deer. Spencer doesn’t have the shit-eating grin you were partially expecting when you glance up at him from beneath your lashes—he’s smiling, but it’s so soft. A little twisted, like he’s holding back the full extent of it for your sake. But you wouldn’t mind it at full power. It’s like he’s hiding the sun in a saucepan and the lid’s not on quite right. And he’s looking right at you. Like you’re the source of all his joy. 

A moment passes. You clear your throat and look back down. “Um—this is Bambi. ’Cause—you know.”

“I do,” Spencer agrees genially, nodding as if this were a normal conversation. “Kind of a dark thing to name your deer, though.”

“You’re judging,” you accuse balefully. He chuckles and his hand finds your knee, rubbing apologetically. 

“I’m not, I’m not! I take it back. I retract it. Continue, please.”

For a moment you only pout, but it doesn’t deter him—he simply looks at you expectantly, and now those syrupy eyes come with the added bonus of his hand on your leg. Fine. He wins. But not without a deep, tortured sigh from you while you’re grabbing your fox that makes the corner of his mouth twitch up. 

“This one is…”

The name dies on your tongue, too ridiculous to be said out loud. 

“Tell me,” Spencer pleads in that gentle voice and with those big eyes that you’d consider burning him at the stake for because that look on his face has to be witchcraft. 

“Okay but you can’t laugh,” you insist in one quick breath, giving him a serious look that he can only partially reciprocate. 

“No laughing.”

“It’s… Mr. Cuddles.”Spencer bites the inside of his cheek to keep his promise. You melt inside both from embarrassment and from the way it only further defines an already superbly sculpted bone structure. “Do not.”

Spencer scoffs at your warning. “Don’t what? I’m behaving.”

“Don’t make fun of Mr. Cuddles!”

“Does it look like I’m making fun of him?”

“Her.”

“What?”

“Her. Mr. Cuddles is a girl.”

“I see… can you explain that to me?”

“If a human person said I am a girl and I would like you to call me Mister, would you question that? Would you ask them to explain it to you?”

“I guess not.”

“Exactly. Don’t be rude.”The way Spencer is looking at you now, eyes so clear and still so full of affection, like you’ve got some sort of heavenly spotlight trained on you, lips parted as if to say something but still silent, has you forgetting your momentary confidence. You shrink. “What?”

“I just… you’re amazing.” You throw Mr. Cuddles at his chest and fall into your pile of pillows with a groan. Spencer only continues rubbing your leg. It’s very nice, actually. He’s gentle. And patient. “You don’t believe me?”

“I don’t believe you came to this conclusion just because I introduced you to my stuffed animals.”

“Not solely because of that. There are a lot of contributing factors. I mean, the stuffed animal thing helped.”

“It’s embarrassing,” you insist for the umpteenth time. 

“It’s adorable.”

Spencer pushes pillows aside and lies next to you so you’re eye to eye. It’s nice how his presence isn’t exhausting the way people sometimes are. He’s easy to exist with. He makes you enjoy existing a little more than usual. Even now. 

You raise your eyebrows and speak, cheek squished against fabric. “I’m a serious adult.”

“I know you are,” he assures with a solemn nod. 

Your eyes narrow ever so slightly. 

“Okay… well… don’t go forgetting that. I’m fun but I can also be not fun.”

“I’d love to see that.”

“No you wouldn’t. You would hate it. You’d be so scared.”

Spencer gives up on holding back a smile and moves his hand to tuck hair behind your ear. 

“You’re right. I’m already terrified. The anticipation… it’s killing me, you know?”

You’re giggling as you roll over on top of him and he roots his hand in your hair, pulling you in for a long, smiley kiss like he knew it was coming. Only when he blindly throws your stuffed friends from the bed do you pull away—just by an inch or so. 

“No respect,” you scold playfully. He kisses you again, tangling your legs and hands wandering. 

“Can I apologize later?”

You’re good with that. 

[hailsatanacab]

Family Dinners - dpxdc

"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.

The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.

"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.

"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.

"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."

Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.

Ancients, that's so weird!

The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.

Wait. Family dinners?

He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.

"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.

From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.

"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"

"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"

"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."

"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."

The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.

Come on, Danny, recover!

"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."

"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?

"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."

"Costume? What do you mean?"

Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.

"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!

"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.

"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.

His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.

"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.

Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"

"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"

"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."

"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.

It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.

It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.

Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.

"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."

Once again, the whole table falls into silence.

"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"

"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"

"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."

Danny's grin freezes in place.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."

"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"

Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.

"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.

"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."

An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.

"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.

"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."

"What did happen?"

"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."

"How long in the future was it?"

"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.

Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"

"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."

"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."

"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"

"What?"

"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."

Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.

"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.

"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."

"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"

"Damian, stop—"

"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."

"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."

"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.

"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."

"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."

"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."

"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."

[qingyuns]

— i won’t let you fall down, unless you’re in my arms

alternatively, the 3 times kinich saved you from falling and the 1 time that he was the one who fell

pairing: kinich x gn!reader, wc: 2.8k, two or three swear words, reader has a pyro vision because mualani kinich reader burgeon team is a funny hc i have, ajaw makes 2 brief appearances, fluffy but ig they don’t do that much?? pre-relationship and confessions (does this count as a confession), title from an nct dream song (rains in heaven), pls reblog ty

1) The fall that was Pacha’s fault

You were never one to back down from a challenge, not when your pride was on the line. And presently, it was. It was an unfortunate mistake on your part when you’d been a little too cocky, bragging about your rock climbing skills, and as an even more unfortunate result, a friend of yours from the Scions of the Canopy had decided to dare you to climb an actual cliff near his village.

“I’ve got all the equipment,” Pacha had exclaimed. “If you’re really that good, then this should be no sweat.”

You’d narrowed your eyes at him. You couldn’t tell if his smile was mocking or not.

“No problem.”

But now, as you looked up and tried to find another edge to grasp at, you were wishing you had backed down. Seriously, this cliff was just a flat canvas of orange. What were you supposed to hold onto?

“Stupid Pacha,” you hissed to yourself as you reached for a bump in the cliff face. “Stupid cliff.”

Man, you wished you had a Geo vision. Then you could probably create some kind of ledge to rest on. Or maybe an Anemo one would be more useful. You could make yourself float to the top.

You were also never one to be afraid of heights, but as you glanced down, your heart jolted at the distance between you and the ground. Too high. Much, much too high. Your Pyro vision hung uselessly at your hip.

A second glance told you that Pacha was no longer anywhere to be found, and you cursed him under your breath.

“Okay, don’t panic. Just don’t panic and don’t fall,” you huffed. “Easy enough.”

Your palms were moist, your fingers were suddenly too smooth. And just when you risked a second to wipe your hand dry on your leg….

….the other one slipped, and you were falling.

The organ in your chest seemed to stop. This is it, you thought, I’m dead. You were falling, and falling and falling, until suddenly, while your eyes were squeezed shut and your stomach was leaping like a wild Koholasaurus in water, you were flying.

It took you a second for your brain to orient itself, to realise that you weren’t in fact dead yet, but when it did, you felt an arm wrapped securely around your waist, so tight that it was almost painful. You peeled your eyelids open. In your limited view, your saviour was nothing more than a head of dark hair and a blur of green attire. The surrounding cliffs were reduced to blobs of colour as you were swung through the air, down then up, down then up, until your feet were once again on solid ground.

Your knees almost collapsed once you were, and both of your saviour’s arms moved to steady you. A blink. Two blinks. You waited for your breathing to return to normal, then your eyes flitted up to meet theirs.

A kaleidoscope of green and gold greeted you. Huh, pretty.

Your saviour let out a strangled sound, something between a choke and a grunt, and released you. Oh. Had you said that out loud?

“Uh, sorry,” you coughed awkwardly. You took a step back, fiddling with your fingers. “Thanks for saving me.”

With the bandana that was tied over his forehead, it was difficult to discern his emotions. He gave you a curt nod. “You should be more careful.”

A distant yell made both of your hands turn, and you saw the tiny figure of Pacha rapidly approaching and waving his hand at you. By the time he’d closed the distance, which to his credit only took about eight seconds (so he must have felt at least a little guilty about almost letting you die), the guy beside you had vanished.

“Are you okay?” Pacha exclaimed as he skidded to a stop in front of you. You nodded, and he let out a sigh of relief, before looking around curiously. “Was that Kinich?”

2) The fall that was a Tepetlisaurus’ fault

The next time you met Kinich (‘Malipo’ Kinich, a Saurian Hunter who according to Pacha, was transactional, blunt and borderline reclusive), you were on the cliffs by the Children of the Echoes, picking Saurian Claw Succulents as a favour for a new friend of yours, a sweet young girl by the name of Kachina.

And maybe you shouldn’t have been crouching so close to the edge of a cliff, but how you were supposed to know that a Tepetlisaurus burrowing in the earth would come straight for your footing and uproot you, effectively tossing you off the side? Really, it wasn’t your fault! It was just some kind of ninja saurian.

This was only the second time you’d ever fallen off the side of a cliff, but for some reason, you were hardly surprised when the same person came to your rescue this time.

He looked at you blankly as you clutched at the succulent in your hand, eyes darting around to avoid prolonged eye contact. You were sure he probably had an eyebrow raised under his bandana.

“Do you make it a habit to throw yourself off every cliff you come across?”

You flinched. “Well, no.”

His arms crossed over his chest, and you couldn’t help the way your eyes were drawn to the tattoos exposed on his biceps. The teal suited him, you thought absently.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a screeching voice. “Well, what’s your problem, then!”

A flashing myriad of yellow and green flitted into the air. The creature that had popped up from behind Kinich was … strange, to say the least. A strange, blocky thing. It looked strangely flat, like a hundred tiny, flat, square blocks. Were you going insane?

Kinich sent an annoyed glance towards the creature, before looking back at you to see that your mouth was now agape as you stared.

“Oh, right. You haven’t met Ajaw.”

“Oh,” you muttered, suddenly feeling fainter than you had when falling off the cliff, “so this is Ajaw.”

The blocky creature expanded around the middle (you supposed that was the equivalent of puffing out its chest). “Aha! So you’ve heard of the Almighty Dragonlord, K’uhul Ajaw, have you? Tell me, peasant, what have you been told? That I’m ferocious and powerful?”

Kinich sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. You blinked at the creature. You thought back to what Pacha had said – “Ajaw. He’s Kinich’s saurian companion. Really weird little guy. Super annoying.”

“Yeah,” you assented, “something like that.”

“Do you ever shut up?” Kinich sighed. It took you a second to realise that he wasn’t talking to you.

“Maybe you should shut up, Kinich!” Ajaw’s eyes angled themselves into a glare, and he fluttered around agitatedly.

The response he received was a flick of a gloved hand, which sent the Saurian soaring into the sky, until you couldn’t even see him anymore. You were pretty sure you’d never blinked as much in your life as you had in the last five minutes.

Kinich turned to you. “Sorry about him.”

“Um, that’s alright,” you said half-heartedly.

“So how come you’ve fallen off another cliff?”

Yikes. He must have thought you were either insanely insane or tremendously stupid.

“A Saurian knocked me off the side when I was picking succulents,” you muttered, cheeks flushing with heat.

He hummed. You weren’t quite sure what that meant. “And the other time?”

 “Um, my friend dared me to climb the cliff. So I did.” You winced. “But I swear, these are the only times I’ve ever fallen off a cliff.”

It was a sentence you never thought you’d have to say. How embarrassing. You waited for the inevitable scolding or mocking to fall upon your ears, but then—

“Alright,” Kinich nodded easily. “Maybe try to avoid cliffs from now on."

Then he turned around, and started walking away. The sudden departure made you recoil in shock. Was the conversation over? Pacha really wasn't exaggerating when he said Kinich was reclusive.

"Huh? Wait a second!" You weren't sure what came over you in that moment, but you had a startling feeling that you couldn't let him leave here.

He paused, and turned to look at you, head tilted slightly to the side.

"Um, hold on." You thought for a moment. How to make him stay for longer? "Are you free right now? I'd like to treat you to a meal, if possible. You know, to thank you."

Your hands clasped in front of you and you fiddled with your fingers.

Kinich blinked slowly for a moment and stared at you. For a horrible moment, you thought he was going to decline, in which case you would have had to turn tail and flee on the spot, but instead, he nodded.

"I have some time."

You brightened. "Great! I know this place that has the best tatacos!"

There was a light skip in your movements as you began to lead the way, trusting that he was following you. You could only hope he didn't eat too much. You weren't sure your pockets could afford it, and you'd hate to make an even bigger fool of yourself in front of him by being too broke to pay. What a horrible first impression...

“Oh, right!” you paused in your steps for a moment. “I forgot to introduce myself!”

And so you did, and you watched as something that almost looked like a smile twitched at Kinich’s lips. Then, as if testing the way it rolled on his tongue, he repeated your name carefully.

Something fluttered in your stomach as you beamed. Yeah, you sure liked the way that sounded.

3) The fall that was the fault of a slippery rock

“No, guys, trust me. I just discovered it. It’s like, really underground.”

Kinich sighed as Mualani giggled at her own joke. As if on impulse, you laughed along with her, but you even as the sound escaped you, you couldn’t tell if it came from a place of pity or not. Underground, because it was literally in an underground cave. Hilarious. Still, a small smile made its way onto your face. This was nice. As much as you loved your other friends, it sure felt great to hang out with people who didn’t always challenge you to risk your life (fuck you, Pacha), though you suspected Mualani just waiting for a chance to take you Spirit Wave riding, and you weren’t sure you were quite ready for that yet.

Today, however, you were spared. Mualani had promised you and Kinich a relaxing afternoon in a new hot spring she’d found. And so you were following her into an opening in the rock face.

The air was immediately a little cooler than it was outside as you stepped into the darkness. The cave was still illuminated by the sunlight, and you could see more patches of light ahead. It glowed slightly in the reflections of the rock on the ground.

“It’s a little steep here,” your friend warned. “Watch your step.”

No sooner had you nodded to show your understanding than you had placed your foot down on a particularly slippery patch on the floor, and it slid.

A gasp tore out of you, but two arms were already wrapping around you from behind.

“Be careful,” his voice murmured in your ear. You almost gasped again. How glad you were that he was behind you and thus couldn’t see the way you froze up at the feeling of his breath on your skin.

From a little ways ahead of you, Mualani called out. “Hey, you alright?”

Your throat suddenly felt very dry. You cleared it before telling her that you were.

Kinich kept one hand on your waist for the next few steps before removing it after you had found your footing. You found yourself missing his touch upon the removal.

No matter, you assured yourself. Focus on not falling over again. The decline of the slope eased out into a flatter path, and soon the tunnel opened up into an expansive area. The underground spring was much brighter than you had anticipated, thanks to the perfectly round opening at the top. Smooth, round rocks seemed to line the edge, and the water sparkled in the ripples as Mualani crouched down to test it with her hand.

“Oh no!” she exclaimed.

You turned your attention to her. “What is it?”

“It’s cold! It was really toasty last time, though,” she frowned. “It must be because it’s further away. The underground water flow can get unstable and–“

As she rambled on, you crouched by the side of the spring, dipping your hand into the water. It lukewarm at best, but the pool wasn’t as big as most of the one’s above ground. You could work with this. Placing both hands in the not-so-hot spring, the vision at your side pulsed with energy. You let the heat flow through your body to your fingertips, as steam floated just above the surface of the water.

You failed to notice the pair of eyes that were fixed on you as you smiled to yourself.

“Hey, Mualani? Is this better?” Mualani’s eyes widened as she watched the mist rising out of the hot spring.

“Yes, yes, yes!” She squealed. She rushed to your side, squeezing you in a hug, before drawing back immediately. “Ow, hot!”

The girl quickly submerged her arms in the water, sighing in relief. You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped.

You grinned at your friends, stepping into the water yourself. “Shall we swim?”

The pounding of your heart against your chest was hard to ignore when Kinich slid into the spring and settled right beside you.

???) The fall that wasn’t even you

Kinich wasn’t sure what was wrong with him lately. He’d been sleeping the same, his regimented diet was unchanged, but in recent weeks, he’d found himself feeling a lot more strange.

Hunting commissions had been slow lately, so he’d taken the liberty of accepting ordinary bounties and commissions from the Adventurers’ Guild. When you’d heard about it, you’d insisted on joining him. He hadn’t had a problem with that, but since he started taking on these new commissions, Kinich had noticed that something was happening to his health.

He’d been spending a lot of time with you these days, but that couldn’t be it. How could that explain his borderline feverish symptoms? The heat that flushed his head and neck sometimes, and the weird way that his heart flipped, like it did when he went bungee jumping that one time.

And sure, those symptoms only happened when he was with you, but that was just because he was almost always with you. How could fighting a few treasure hoarders in your presence make him ill?

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ajaw growled. “You like them!”

Kinich was too surprised to scoff. “What?”

“You have a big fat crush.”

“No, I don’t.”

The little green dots in Ajaw’s eyes rolled around so hard, Kinich thought they might fall out.

“Fine! Don’t believe me, then! Even though you blush whenever you’re with them, and you stare at them when they’re talking, and you didn’t even complain when they wanted to join your commissions and you’ve been losing half the profit!”

Ajaw’s body doubled in size before he vanished in agitation. Kinich raised a hand to his chin in thought. He needed a second opinion.

“You like them,” Mualani replied simply. “It’s pretty obvious.”

Kinich blanched. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Because it is,” she grinned. “Dude, you’ve fallen hard.”

There was a twist in his stomach. The tips of his ears turned redder than a hot chili pepper.

“Come on, Kinich. You’re a smart guy. Think about the way they make you feel.”

Despite everything, despite the fact that he was, in fact, a smart guy, and he had always been sure to analyse and prepare for every outcome, and he was always weighing the costs of his relationships and seeing right through people and thinking way too much about everything—

—the realisation hit him like a tidal wave.

Oh.

Mualani grinned, satisfied. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts, then.”

Kinich barely registered her departure.

Because of course. Your relationship had never been transactional. All you ever did was give and give, and without even realising it, he’d poured his all into giving back without a moment’s hesitation. He’d never asked anything of you, nor you of him.

And because Kinich was a level-headed man, and ever-so-straightforward, there was no time wasted before he was at your front door.

If there was ever one thing he would ask of you, it was this.

“I like you, and I need to know if you feel the same.”

A grin found its home on your lips. A step forward and you closed some of the distance. The sparkle in your eyes did nothing to shake Kinich’s nerves, but it did make his stomach flip.

“Guess you’re the one falling for me now, huh?”

[hadersversion]

I. i can fix him (no really i can)

“he had a halo of the highest grade, he just hadn’t met me yet.”

pairing: rafe cameron x innocent pogue! reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ minors dni!! language, soft rafe cameron because my boy just needs some love, slow burn!!

mood board!

“hey,” i said, nudging him with my foot. “hey, rafe, i think it’s time for you to get up.”

i look down at the boy who was passed out on the ground of the beach. his shaved head covered in sand as beer bottles surrounded him. his eyes fluttered open at me, staring at me. “w-where the hell am i?” he said, slowly sitting up.

“the beach, it’s 6:30 in the morning.” i sigh, looking at my watch. “i assume you were at a party here last night and got ditched on the beach by your friends.”

i watched as he looked around the empty beach and groaned, covering his face with his hands and yawning. “fuck.” he mumbled to himself. he ran his hands down once before looking back at me. “thanks, for uh-….”

i laugh to myself. “making sure you were alive? don’t mention it.”

he nods with a smirk. “yeah, that.” we stay there in silence. “i’m sorry, w-what’s your name again? i recognize you from your friends i just…”

“y/n y/l/n.” i nod at him.

“y/n y/l/n.” he repeats back at me, not once breaking eye contact with me.

i feel my face heat up, not knowing what i’m feeling in this exact moment. this is rafe fucking cameron, kook prince and sworn enemy to my friends. he’s not a good person. i know who he is and i should hate him, but when his eyes pierce through me like that…like he knows all my secrets….that’s when i start to question reality. “well, i should get going.” i say, pointing awkwardly to the beach.

“it’s 6:30 in the morning, where could you possibly be going?” he asks, pushing his knees up and resting his arms on them.

i sigh and look around, feeling like i’m in the hot seat. “uh…it’s uh…it’s dumb, you wouldn’t wanna know.” i try to dismiss him.

“no, i wanna know, tell me.” he says, sternly.

i bite my lip and sigh. “towatchthedolphins.” i say in a fast whisper.

“what was that?” he asks with a cocky smile, making me blush. “i couldn’t hear ya, could ya speak up?”

“i’m watching the dolphins!” i say more clearer, looking down at him. “i’ve been waking up early and watching the dolphins. this is like their prime time, so i like to sit and watch them while i have my breakfast.” i admit to him.

i wait there, expecting him to laugh or do something heinous that rafe cameron would do to a pogue. but he doesn’t. he just nods. “cool, i didn’t know that was like a thing.”

did i take one of kie’s edibles this morning by accident? did i actually never wake up to my alarm and i’m still tucked away in bed? or did rafe cameron just have a super normal reaction to something i said to him?

“yeah, right now is the best season for it.” i inform him with a shy smile on my face.

he continues to stare at me with those fucking perfect blue eyes. he rakes over my body once and stands up. did he just check me out? “well, y/n, enjoy those dolphins. i should probably get home before my dad has a bitch fit. thanks again.” he waves goodbye to me before staggering away towards the exit of the beach. my body lets out a breathe that i didn’t even know i was holding and i start to feel tingly inside.

what the fuck just happened?

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

after that, i seem to find rafe cameron everywhere. as i ride my bike to work, go to the beach, hang out with the pogues. he’s clouded up my brain and i have no idea what to do. it’s not like i can tell anyone, i’d be marked with a scarlet T for traitor. but my thoughts can’t stop themself from being infiltrated by him.

“yo, y/n, everything cool?” jj asks me, sipping from his beer.

he snaps me from my rafe cameron brain rot, taking me by surprise. “yeah, everything’s alright. sorry, just a little tired.”

a whole group of us hang out by the beach at the boneyard, the usual pogues, some kooks who we invited in to fuck with, and the vacationers. everything was going alright, until i saw him.

“ain’t no fuckin way.” i hear jj spit.

rafe and his friends stroll up to the party, with a few girls scattered around them. i feel my face goes hot as my friends spit their remarks about him.

“what makes this douchebag think it’s okay to just show up here?” i hear kiara say.

“i don’t know but i don’t like it.” john b adds in.

my eyes can’t seem to leave his figure. he looks just as handsome as i remember from the beach. i know i am staring but i just cannot seem to care. but my brain short wires when he looks up, meeting my gaze with a cocky smirk. shit.

i feel my face get darker as i quickly avert my gaze down to my feet. "uh, i'm gonna get a beer. anyone want one?" but before my friends can even answer my question, i quickly make my way over to the coolers. once i know i am out of their sight, i take a well needed deep breathe and try to ground myself. my brain feels fuzzy with thoughts of rafe cameron but i have to push them down.

i bend over to grab a beer from the cooler when i hear a familiar voice behind me. "mind if i grab one?" i quickly turn my head to see rafe, staring into his blue eyes like they were the goddamn eighth wonder of the world.

he's so close yet so far away, i can smell the expensive cologne he has on. my brain gets off of autopilot and screams at me to put space between us, which i attempt to do. but before i can think, i'm tripping over my own feet, almost falling back. but i feel rafe's large hand quickly land on my lower back, saving me from the tumble.

"woah, there, did you already have that much to drink?" he jokes.

i stare at him, my face probably matching the color of a budweiser can. "i...uh...i..um..." i feel myself babbling on, unable to form a single thought as he has his hands on my body. "s-sorry about that. but i...i've only had one beer, i'm just a total klutz sometimes i swear."

he keeps his hand on my back, i can feel him slightly rubbing it, sending goosebumps all over my body. he keeps looking into my eyes, which seems to be his favorite hobby at this point. "well, i'm glad i caught ya." we stand there in silence for what feels like an eternity, until i remember where i am. who i am here with.

my friends.

i frantically look around, making sure they aren't looking at me dying under rafe’s touch. i pull away from him quickly.

"don't worry they aren't looking." he reassures, grabbing my beer and opening it for me. "i assume it's your friends you are looking for." he hands me back the cold beverage, our fingers brushing against each other.

i quickly snap my hand back and look up at him, he has a small smile on his face as he looks down at me. "sorry, but, i mean...you understand, right? my friends don't like you, you don't like them. if they see me talking over here with you...it'll be a whole thing."

"i didn't peg you as someone who cares about what other people thought about them. i don't know, i mean you did admit to me very easily your love for dolphin watching." he smirks as he grabs a can of beer and opens it. "just saying."

i want to hide away forever. "p-please don't mention that to anyone else. please." i beg with an awkward smile.

"i won't, i won't. don't get so freaked out." he takes a long sip of beer. "it's kinda cute." he says so nonchalantly.

did he just call me cute?

this is a prank, this is merely a big joke to him. it has to be.

i can tell i took too long to process what he just said because he nudges me lightly with his elbow. "did i lose you there?"

i shake my head and laugh. "sorry, i'm all good." we stand there, sipping our beers in silence. "why are you here?" i ask with no hesitation, which earns me a wide-eye reaction from rafe. "that was rude but...like for real, why? you never come to pogue parties. i thought we were too beneath you to ever join us."

"i mean, you have a point." he looks down at me with a smirk, which makes me flip him off. he chuckles at me and sips his beer. "honesty?"

"please." i say.

he sighs and looks around. "i'm here to see you."

i choke on the sip of beer i'm taking, too shocked at what he just told me. i watch as he steps forward in concern and tries to put his hand on my back, but i move away quickly. i cough agressively before turning to him. "i-i'm sorry, what?" i almost laugh in his face.

"i'm pretty sure you heard me, y/n. i'm here for you." he admits.

i stare at him, waiting for him to laugh, admit that it was a joke, or even a ploy to mess with the pogues like some kind of goddamn trojan horse. "you're serious?"

"i think you would know if i'm lying." he shrugs.

i stand there, unable to wrap my head around what he just said to me. "you're so full of shit." i blurt out.

he just laughs. "am i now?"

"you're here to see me? the girl whose name you couldn't even remember a few days ago?" i cock my eyebrow at him.

"is it so horrible to believe?" he questions. i look at him, trying to tell if this is real or fake. he waves his hand in front of my face. "i lost you there again."

"i'm sorry, it's just...i'm me...and you're you. we exist on totally different planets...universes." i tell him.

"yet here we are, right next to each other on planet earth." he says.

he got me there.

"y/n!?" i hear kiara yell.

rafe turns his head to the voice calling my name and then back to me. "that's your cue to leave, i think."

i cannot turn away from him, too dumbfounded about the past 5-minute conversation we just had. "you're not slick." i say, starting to walk away backwards so i'm facing him.

"i didn't think i was being slick!" he says, with his hands up in his defence.

"i see through you and your lies, rafe cameron! i really do!" i yell at him as i get further away.

"yeah, i'd like to see you try, y/n y/l/n!" he shouts back, smiling at me.

i crack a smile back to him and flip him off before walking into the crowd, looking for kiara.

she comes up and puts her shoulder around me. "you all good? was he bothering you?" she asks, looking back to where rafe and i were.

i follow her gaze and see rafe still standing there with that same look on his face. "no, he wasn't. i'm all good, i swear." i say honestly. "just having a small talk."

"with the kook prince? no one ever just has a 'small talk' with rafe cameron, y/n." she says, squeezing me tighter.

"well i guess i'm the first person to ever do so." i shrug and continue to walk back towards the boys, trying to hide the stupid smile rafe cameron put on my face.

[ellastone-olsen]

SWEET FLOWER.

★Pairing: Rio Vidal x reader x Agatha Harkness

★Summary: porn without plot (I’m not sorry)

★Word count: 1.3k

★Warnings: NSFW 18+ dom/sub dynamics if you squint, petnames, orgasm control, some magic use, mommy kink, threesome, bites, aftercare

A/N: I haven't written anything for a VERY LONG time and after such a break this is all that came out. I love Agatha and Rio so much, my sweet buns, but sometimes my brain goes in the wrong direction.

DISCLAIMER: ENGLISH ISNT MY FIRST LANGUAGE

Sitting on Agatha's lap was probably the most pleasant pastime you could imagine. The scent of the older woman's heavy perfume filled everything around you and something inside you broke.

The little teasing had finally crossed the line, or at least her patience had run out. Either way, you didn't mind. Until you felt the green witch's arms around your waist and her nose buried in your hair, inhaling the scent of shampoo.

"Should we torture her?" a voice called from behind you. You were trapped between the bodies of two witches, Agatha's chuckle lost in the skin of your neck as she kissed and bit while Rio settled her hands on your hips. "I don't recall asking you to join," Agatha snapped. Their manner of communication had become so familiar that it was immediately clear that she was not serious.

Then Rio leaned down, forcing you to lie on top of the older woman so that she could reach her lips and unexpectedly pull Agatha into a kiss. As the women moved in tandem, ignoring you, your heart skipped a beat. You would be lying if you said it wasn't the most mesmerizing view of your life. Rio forced your aching center to press against Agatha's stomach and a sigh escaped your lips. The green witch chuckled through the kiss and took you in her arms, doing it again. Your head fell on Agatha's shoulder, and hands tightly gripped the back of the sofa, which you had been holding on to all this time.

“Oh god,” you whispered, which didn’t go unnoticed. Agatha broke the kiss, turning her head towards you and lifting your face up by the chin with two fingers. “What’s up pet? You want both of us? Is that driving you crazy?” Her taunt was driving you crazy, but she was right. You started to turn your head back to look at the green witch, but Agatha pulled you back, grabbing your face. “Answer me.” You tried to gather your thoughts, but instead a hiss came out as Rio’s teeth sank into your neck. “Fuck.” Your eyes closed and another throaty laugh reached your ears. “Such a greedy girl, you think you can take two at once?”

“I…I don’t.” Was all you could say before Rio’s hand found the area between your thighs, pressing through the fabric of your underwear to your entrance. “Sweet little thing, already soaking wet for us.” Another taunt. “Maybe if I do this she’ll talk faster?” That was definitely not the case, because the next thing Rio did was the one that completely destroyed your ability to think clearly. Her fingers pushed your underwear aside and ran through your wet folds, teasing your entrance again. You were clay in their hands, to be molded into anything they wanted.

Your hips moved and sought more contact, but Agatha lifted you higher, so that your breasts were level with her mouth. “Not so fast, baby.” Her lips wrapped around your nipple until her hand reached your swollen clit to rub small circles. “FUCK. Oh my god.” Rio’s lips were on your neck again,then on your shoulders, leaving love bites that were quickly turning red. “But it’s just us, sweetheart.” Another chuckle.

Their hands and lips seemed to be everywhere and your body was vibrating with need. Sobs left your mouth and beads of tears formed in the corners of your eyes from some of the particularly harsh bites both women were giving. “Oh look Agatha, we have too sensitive flower in our hands.” You finally turned your head and met Rio’s brown eyes. Out of nowhere, the flower she always carried appeared in her hand and she placed it behind your ear. Her thumb wiped away your tears and she leaned down to pull you into a slow, gentle kiss that was such a contrast to the bites she had just received. The woman didn’t let go even when your lungs ran out of air, it felt like she had been starving for centuries before connecting your lips.

Agatha's fingers pressed against your sensitive bud again at this time and you moaned into the green witch's mouth. "You never knew how to share." You understood what she was talking about when Agatha's hand turned your head again so that this time another witch could give you a hungry kiss. Hands grabbed and crumpled her jacket. Rio's fingers stroked your stomach, chest, hips, wherever she could reach, she laid her head on your shoulder and, collected your arousal between the folds and pushed two fingers inside, making you see stars. "Such a tight little pussy, huh?" You screamed and threw your head back on Rio's shoulder, Agatha was clearly not happy with the loss of contact and painfully bite your nipple, making you hiss again. "Such impudence will take a long time to work off, pet."

Rio's fingers moved in perfect rhythm, pressing into the soft spot inside each time, while Agatha played with your swollen clit. Your hips moved to their pace, wet sounds of arousal filling the room. "Oh fuck, yes yes please..." The witches looked at each other in silent dialogue, the green witch's other hand buried itself in your hair and pulled, forcing you to arch, and Agatha's mouth found your breast again. "What are you asking for, baby girl? Maybe if you say it right, we'll give it." Rio whispered in your ear, and then licked.

Your breath caught in your throat, panting from the fast pace and the good feeling. You wanted, no, you craved them to take you to the edge and it didn't matter how much you had to beg. These two were worth everything. Rio adjusted the flower that was threatening to fall out from behind your ear.

“We are waiting, pet." Agatha's hoarse voice interrupted your thoughts. Without hesitation, you asked. "Please." A painful bite remained on your collarbone. "Not right, try again." Their movements did’t stop, and you knew that you could not hold out for long. "Please, Agatha? Please, let me." You repeated the word like a broken record. Sharp nails dug into your thigh, lowering you onto the Rio’s fingers. "Wrong, sweet girl. Come on, say it. We know what you have in mind."

A thread of green magic enveloped your head, catching the necessary thought from your consciousness. Your eyes widened. Your misty gaze studied Agatha's face, her lips stretched into a smile and her teeth bit her lower lip. "Come on, pet. Don't upset us." Again a hoarse whisper in your ear. The knot in your stomach tightened with each movement of the women's hands. "Please.. mommy?" You shook your head looking at the women in turn. "Mommy please." You addressed them both. Then Rio made a rougher push. "That's it, darling." Her hand lay on your cheek and turned your head so that you looked only at Agatha. Gray eyes burned with mockery, and the woman said "Let it go" with her lips.

Your thighs tensed and shook, the orgasm covered you in a giant wave, your walls squeezed around Rio's fingers, and Agatha continued to draw circles on your swollen clit, prolonging the pleasure. Pornographic screams came out of your mouth, and you were not ashamed.

When you calmed down, Rio pulled out and brought her hand to your face. Your arousal flowed down her palm. "Mmm, our flower did so well, look, sweetheart." Agatha ran her fingers through your disheveled hair and stroked the top of your head. "Absolutely." There was no trace left of the previous cruelty and both women left small kisses on your body, apologizing for the previous bites. You relaxed and lay completely on Agatha, burying your nose in fluffy hair. "Thank you," Rio plucked the flower from your hair and tucked it behind Agatha's ear. "Honey, don't you think this is the end?”

[seungfl0wer]

*Lee know Calling You Clingy*

Paring: Lee Know x Reader (GN)

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Arguing, Cursing, A sort of happy ending?

This is part of a series find the others here:

Bangchan, Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin

-🩵

Cutting up some veggies as you watched your boyfriend cook dinner, he was always so handsome like this so in his zone. As you got done cutting you brought it over to him. Standing by his side as he went to grab something you would hand it to him, He moved you would move. You thought to yourself how sweet this moment was however that’s not exactly what he was thinking. He was getting frustrated cause as much as he really loved when you helped the kitchen was too small for you both to be doing stuff.

“Y/n can you please give me a little bit of space” he said his tone sounding annoyed. You looked up at him feeling bad for bothering him so you slumped back into the chair. “Why don’t you set the table?” He asked seeing your reaction. You nod feeling a bit upset as you did so. You both sat down to eat finishing the delicious food fast before plopping yourselves down on the couch to watch a movie.

You wanted to make it up to him for bothering him while he was in his element so you wrapped your arms around him snuggling up to him. He let out a small sigh as you did so, you looked up to the man who was trying to focus on the movie. His face stern looking still with a hint of that annoyance from earlier. “Hey babe is everything alright? You seem on edge today?” You said softly trying to read his face. “It’s fine” he said blankly still keeping his attention on the tv.

“Love please, talk to me I can tell something’s up. Is it work? Did I do something?” You went on rambling before he cut you off “y/n please. Can we just watch the damn movie.” He hissed his voice harsher than it was supposed to be “can’t you at least tell me what’s wrong?” You said not wanting to drop it, although you probably should have. “For fuck sakes y/n!” He said turning off the tv and getting up “you have been- been so clingy lately. You have been up my ass since we came back from the US. Why can’t I just get a few minutes of just peace. First you won’t leave me alone while I’m cooking and now I can’t even watch a damn movie without fucking 50 questions!” His voice echoed across the room.

Your heart was pounding trying all you had not to cry “I’m fucking sorry I haven’t seen my boyfriend in almost a month, god fucking forbid me for wanting to spend time with him!” You hissed back. You stood up quickly walking to your room, you grabbed a bag and packed some clothes as Minho continued behind you. “It’s one thing to fucking miss me y/n but it feels like you’d want to sit on my lap while I take a fucking shit cause you “miss me so much” you act like we didn’t talk at all which again had me no fucking time to myself!”

You put your bag over your shoulder “Fine you want alone time so fucking bad! Then be alone Minho!” You said storming towards the front door. Your mind raced as you could feel the tears pulling at the corners. No. No crying he doesn’t get to see that. “Good! That’s exactly what I fucking wanted, I’m happy you get the fucking message now!” He said still yelling behind you. You bit your lip his words cutting deeper each time he spoke. You turned around quickly feeling the tears coming “fuck you Minho! I’m- I’m fucking done!” You spat almost running out the door you could hear him before you were out “me fucking too!”

You had gone to a friend’s house to stay she held you close rubbing your back trying to console you. Everything hurt, your head was spinning, your eyes red from crying cheeks stained with tears. “Want me to get some of that cake you like so much and we can sit and eat it while watching horror movies” she said smiling “why horror movies?” You said smiling a bit “cause at least dumb men die in it” she laughed making you laugh too. She was always such a good friend knowing exactly what to say and do to make you feel better.

After Minho calmed down a bit he sat back down on the couch. He turned the movie back on but quickly turned it off “damnit, even when they’re not here they ruin it.” He said throwing the remote back down to the table. He laid back on the couch looking up at the ceiling he felt a heaviness in his chest “no I wanted alone time” he said shaking his head “I wanted this..” his words trailed off. “But why’s it feel so bad.” He said with a deep sigh.

He looked at his phone wanting to text you but not daring too. He knew he was out of line but he didn’t want to be the first to admit. Your words ringing in his head though “I’m done.” What did you mean? Were you ending the relationship? The thought of this made a lump in Minhos throat. Surly you weren’t serious right? .. Right??

Almost a week had passed with radio silence on both ends. It wasn’t like either of you didn’t wanna message the other but neither of you wanted to do it first.

You had thought about things a lot, you decided about going home and just staying in the guest room. You knew Minho wasn’t home at the moment and all though your friend had a great idea “just move out while he’s not home, give him the ultimate alone time he wants” you couldn’t afford that right now. And quite frankly why does he get to keep the place and you move?

You walked into your apartment thinking of what exactly to do. Your head spinning a bit from thoughts “what the fuck am I even gonna say?” You said to yourself “are we even together anymore?” You sighed loudly you stood there for a good minute or two before making your way to the bedroom. You scrounged up most of your things moving it into the guest room you felt yourself wanting to cry again “fuck you” you said softly. You locked the door, put on some music and just curled up into a ball. You had fallen asleep quickly the feeling of being in your home making you sleep easier.

Minho had come home late walking through the door to see your shoes on the floor. His face looked confused before he heard music playing “did she come home?” He said to himself making his way to what was your shared bedroom. He looked over it seeing you had taken stuff he felt his heart sink. He saw the small light coming from under the guest rooms door making the thoughts of you moving disappear. He walked to the door trying to open it realizing it was locked he was about to knock before stopping himself.

He signed a bit walking to the living room, he slumped into the couch all sorts of emotions whirling in his head. He slowly fell asleep only to be woken up by the sounds of you coming out of the room. You quietly tried sneaking to the door your belly rumbling. He quickly turned his head to meet your eyes locking. You both were still for a second before he let out a soft “leaving?”

You shook your head no “7/11” you said trying to keep it short. You made your way to the door putting your shoes on “I- I can make you something.” His voice barely a whisper at this point. “No thank you” you said before leaving out the door. This is how it stayed for about a week. Minho tried talking to you and you just giving him one word answers. He came home from work you’d slink back into your room. He’d come into the kitchen, you’d leave just as quickly.

He started doing small things for you like leaving you breakfast in the morning, or buying your favorite drink to keep in the fridge. He usually did these things always being thoughtful in these sweet kind of actions. It made your heart hurt more. One of the days he made you your favorite lunch, he didn’t do it often because it meant going about an hour away to the restaurant to pick it up but he did. He did in the morning before he had to be at work driving there and back before his already long day.

When you saw it in the morning you started to bawl like a baby. Minho had come back home after realizing he left his phone on the counter. You were curled up on the couch listening to some of his solo music crying into a pillow. He stood there not wanting to bother you but wanting nothing more than to hold you and make things right. He started making his way towards you before you heard him your head shot up eyes meeting his. Your body moved fast tackling him almost knocking you both down.

“Min I’m sorry- I’m so sorry” you choked out tears streaming down your face ugly crying “I’m sorry for being clingy I’m sorry for being a bother- I’ll change I’ll give you more space I’m sorry I just can’t- I can’t do this anymore I miss you- everything hurts-“ you said between sobs and wiping the snot that was running down. Minho couldn’t help but cry at your words, he really had broken you. “No- y/n please don’t change, this all was because of me I’m the asshole I’m the one that should be apologizing.” He said his chest heaving.

“Don’t change please I’m sorry for calling you clingy please- I miss you, cling to me. Hold onto me for dear life please I need you..” he voice getting stuck in his throat. You’ve never seen him like this, he always kept his emotions under control but he couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Life has no meaning if I can’t spend it with you, if I can’t have you by my side with that shining smile of yours. The smile that I haven’t seen in how long. I ruined everything. I hurt you I ruined us things won’t ever be the same.”

His voice horse crying even harder than you now “you should hate me, you should want me to jump off a bridge. I don’t know- I don’t understand why you’re apologizing.” He was rambling on. You felt your heart just braking again, he was so defeated and part of you wanted nothing more than to tell him this is exactly what he wanted. And you’d be right, but you just wanted him back, wanted things back to how they were.

You pulled Minho down to the couch both of you sobbing trying to calm yourselves. You both cried for almost a full half hour before you spoke “Things.. things will be different either way.. you.. we gotta build that trust back up” you said softly clearing your throat. “Let’s start off slow ok?” You said lifting his head to make eye contact with you.

“Well start small and work on things hmm?” You said repeating yourself. He nodded “can.. can you come back to our room?” He said whipping his nose “eventually, I will let’s start off with just trying to talk through some things ok?” You said kissing his cheek. “I love you Minho but what you said hurt and will still probably hurt in the future. But I really do love you and would rather work on things and hopefully fix it than just to through it away so easily.” You said pulling him into a hug.

“Anything, I’ll do anything to show you how sorry I am.” He said his words muffled by your shoulder. You nod sitting there in silence both of you trying to gather your thoughts and catch your breath.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

[woso-dreamzzz]

Second Time's The Charm

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: You and your kind of ex-wife

Lips smashed against yours before you could even compute what was going on.

They were still as soft as ever and you opened your own so Alexia could slip her tongue inside.

"Hi," She said, pulling away slowly.

"Hi."

You smiled at her.

She looked nearly the same as when you divorced her and left the country. The same cheeks. The same nose. The same eyes. The same awkward little smile on her face.

“I missed you,” She said,” I heard from Alba you were coming home and I couldn’t believe it. I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Ale.”

Her arms were open and you stepped into them. They were just as familiar as they were when you broke up and you melted into them now.

“Sorry,” Someone said,” What the fuck?! Alexia, you’re dating now?!”

Both you and Alexia looked at Mapi in confusion.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“Because you just started snogging her in front of all of us,” Lucy replied, hands shoved into her pockets casually,” I thought we were meant to be meeting the new medic but, no, I guess you were really getting acquainted.”

You laughed, shaking your head fondly as Alexia pouted, her arms tightening around you just like they did years ago when Alba teased you for being mushy.

“She’s my wife,” Alexia insisted, stamping her foot.

“Ex-wife,” You butted in quickly as the team’s mouths fell open in shock. Very few of them had been on the team the same time you and Alexia had been married, childhood sweethearts that eloped the day after you both turned eighteen.

Alexia laughed nervously and you narrowed your eyes.

You recognised that laugh. You’d heard that laugh for years when she pretended to a teacher that her homework was just in her locker and that’s why she hadn’t handed it in or when she promised Eli that she wasn’t the one that broke her favourite glass cabinet and it was really her who had kicked a football right through it.

You knew that laugh very well.

“Alexia,” You said, teeth gritted,” What did you do?”

“Now, amor,” She said,” Just remember that-“

“Alexia, confess!”

“I may have forgotten to file the papers.”

“Alexia!” You snapped before sighing. A bubble of laughter emerged from your throat until you were trapped in an almost hysterical laughing fit. “We signed them together. At the kitchen table. How did you forget?”

“I promise I was going to!” She insisted,” But I had other stuff to do and it just got buried and Mama did some cleaning and she must have shredded them on accident!”

“Alexia, that was years ago! Are you saying that we’re still married?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“On which answer will get me in trouble.”

Fondly, you tugged on her ponytail. “You are so lucky I love you.”

She grinned. “Enough to stay married?”

You shrugged. “Well, it’s a hassle to file the papers and work out the separation of assets again.”

“Oh, thank god.” Alexia fished something out of her pocket and it was only when she slid it onto your finger again that you recognised it as your wedding ring. She was the one that had bought them and while you knew that hers had remained on a chain around her neck, you hadn’t ever wondered what had happened to yours after you returned it.

You just assumed it had been thrown to the bottom of her jewellery box.

“Have you been carrying that around since you found out I was coming home?”

Like a professional, she skirted around your question. “Home! You need to move in again! The clothes you left all got put into a storage locker so we should probably swing by there after work. Your office is practically the same but kind of dusty so I’ll clean it up while you unpack.”

You nodded, mulling over the plan in your head. “You know that if I have back in then so does Mr Stinky.”

Alexia wrinkled her nose in disgust. “You still have him?”

“Yes, Ale! Just because I moved to England doesn’t mean I abandoned my cat!”

She pursed her lips before admitting. “I think there’s still a few of his toys under the sofa. I can never manage to get them all.”

“And I want the left side of the bathroom sink.”

She nodded before freezing. “Hey! Wait, no! That’s my side! That’s always been my side! You can’t just take it!”

You flashed your ring. “You want this to work? I want the left side of the sink.”

“Well…I want…I want…I want the right side of the dresser!”

“Done!”

“Done!”

“Sorry, no,” Mapi butted in. You’d almost forgotten that you were meant to be introducing yourself to the team. “Not done. Let me get this straight. You two got married, divorced but not really and now you’ve decided to get back together?!”

You shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“But you divorced!” It was clear that she was struggling to wrap her head around this.

“It wasn’t really a breakup though,” Alexia said flippantly,” We still hooked up every time she came home. We only really tried to get a divorce because she was leaving for England. I was clingy when I was younger.”

The whole team pointedly stared at Alexia’s hands on your waist and how they hadn’t moved but to put your ring back on your finger.

“Clingier,” You amended,” And I needed to leave for more money. We decided it would just be easier to get divorced but I guess that didn’t work out.”

“Oh!” Alexia said suddenly,” I need to tell Mama! She’ll be so happy! She’s always talking about you to everyone.”

“Oh, I’m glad. I’ll have to call my Mama too. She’s always telling people that her daughter-in-law is Alexia Putellas. You’ll have to come to Sunday lunch this week. My aunts and uncles will be there.”

“Next week we’ll go to mine then,” Alexia agreed,” Mama will want you to try her paella again. She tweaked the recipe.”

“Oh, great! I love Eli’s paella. My-“

“No!” Mapi said, pointing at both of you in turn,” This is moving so quickly. I’m sorry but what the hell?!”

“Oh,” You said,” I didn’t introduce myself properly. I’m y/n. I’m the new doctor on the team. Alexia’s…well I was going to say ex but apparently we’re still married so I’m Ale’s wife! I look forward to getting to know you all.”

[halfmoonaria]

unanswered II

pairing: tara carpenter & female reader

summary: tara finally comes to her senses.

word count: 6k

author’s note: sorry for the wait guys! might be forgiven tho since i claimed this was 4k words but it ended up with 6k.

i tried to include all your suggestions so i hope you like it

Tara had been blocked.

You had blocked her.

Though, it didn't hit her all at once. The first few minutes, she thought you were just asleep, it had been late when she had texted you after all.

Maybe you needed space after what Tara had said a few nights before, and she couldn't blame you for that.

Yet she still tried texting you, each one more desperate than the last. They were all small messages, apologies wrapped in awkward words that probably didn't mean much for anyone but her.

At first, Tara chalked it up to bad timing, bad service, something.

You had to see her messages eventually, right? So she kept sending them. But there was still no reply. Then, the doubt crept in.

Maybe you were ignoring her.

That thought weighed heavily on her, but she didn't stop.

She was still convinced there had to be an explanation. You always stayed. Even when things were at their worst, when she screwed up time and time again, you stayed.

But something was different this time. She felt it.

Then she noticed the green bubbles. The messages weren't delivering.

Her stomach had dropped. It wasn't bad service. It wasn't bad timing. You had cut her off completely.

Her thumb hovered over your contact, thinking about calling, but she stopped. What was the point? You wouldn't answer.

You were done with her.

She stared at her phone for longer than she should have, as if willing it to change.

But it didn't.

The reality sank in, slow and suffocating. You were gone.

For the first time, she wasn't the one walking away, and the absence of you—your presence, your texts, your warmth—was a hole Tara hadn't even realized she relied on.

It wasn't like she hadn't expected it after everything that had happened.

You always had a way of catching her when she messed up, but things seemed to smooth over eventually.

She never really had to confront her mistakes because you stayed, no matter how many times she got it wrong. Now, though, there was nothing.

Tara wasn't used to this. Sure, she knew she had done something wrong—pushing you away, keeping you in this weird limbo while she figured herself out—but she hadn't thought it would lead to you cutting her off.

Blocking her, even.

That had never happened before. No matter how many times she messed up, you had always been there, willing to pick up the pieces, and things just... worked.

She hadn't even realized how much she relied on your presence until it was gone.

For the first time, she was completely alone. No Amber, no you. Just silence.

———

Tara woke up the next morning with a strange sense of hope. She half expected to see the messages had been delivered, that maybe you'd unblocked her while she was asleep. Maybe it was all just a mistake. You wouldn't really cut her off, not after everything, right?

She grabbed her phone, swiping to the messages she'd sent.

Still green.

Her heart sank, the pit in her stomach deepening as she realized nothing had changed. You were serious. You weren't coming back.

When she got to school, a part of her still thought maybe you'd be there, waiting to talk like you always did, or at least watching from afar. She found herself glancing at the spots where she usually saw you, waiting for that familiar feeling of your eyes on her.

But you weren't there.

But Tara kept walking, her heart heavy as she scanned the hallways. That's when she spotted Amber, standing by her locker, waiting. The familiar feeling of longing tugged at her, but this time it wasn't as comforting as before.

Amber caught her eye and signaled for her to come over, flashing that smile Tara always fell for. Without thinking, Tara did. She walked straight into Amber's arms, letting Amber sling her arm casually around her shoulders as if nothing had changed between them.

For a brief moment, Tara felt like she had what she wanted. Amber was there, holding her close, showing everyone that she was hers—at least for today.

But there was still a heaviness in her chest, something she couldn't shake. It didn't make sense. She was with Amber now, wasn't this enough?

The thought of you crept in, uninvited.

No, it couldn't be that.

She pushed the feeling down, convincing herself that having Amber was enough.

It had to be.

That's what she told herself for the following days, trying to convince herself that Amber was enough, that this was what she wanted.

And for a while, it almost worked. Amber had been good—more attentive, more affectionate than usual—at least during the school week.

The weekends, though, were different. Parties took priority, and Amber's attention drifted.

Yet even when things were good; better than ever if you will, Tara couldn't shake the feeling lodged in her chest, that gut-wrenching discomfort that seemed to cling to her no matter how much she tried to ignore it.

The more she tried to push it down, the more it twisted inside her, leaving her uneasy.

And all of the thoughts led back to you. To Tara's own surprise.

You didn't try to search for her between classes, didn't glance in her direction when you passed her in the hallways. Nothing. Like she didn't even exist.

That was what Tara should've expected, really. After everything she'd done—after the way she'd strung you along, pushed you aside, left you waiting on the sidelines—it made sense. She had no right to expect anything different.

Tara had always been the one to call the shots, to decide when and where things stood between the two of you. Now, for the first time, the power was out of her hands.

She kept telling herself it was temporary. You'd come back—you always did. She just had to wait it out. Maybe this time it would take a little longer, but you'd be there, eventually. You had to be. So she forced herself to get used to it, to the absence, pretending she could handle the emptiness you left behind.

But what really started to get under Tara's skin wasn't just your absence or the way you seemed to move on so easily. It was seeing you with someone else.

She first noticed it during English class. You had been sitting next to some girl—someone Tara vaguely recognized but never really paid attention to before.

At first, she didn't think much of it, but as the days went on, she kept seeing the two of you together. Talking. Laughing. It wasn't just casual conversations either. You looked comfortable. Almost like you were enjoying yourself.

And as the days passed, Tara couldn't help but notice it more.

You hadn't even glanced her way in days, and yet here you were, cozying up to someone else like nothing had happened.

And every time she glanced in your direction during class, there you were, talking to her. Sometimes you'd laugh, or lean in a little closer, your body language relaxed in a way that made Tara's stomach twist.

You weren't just sitting next to each other anymore—you were... comfortable. And it wasn't just in English. She caught sight of you together in the hallways, outside the building after school.

The more she saw the two of you, the more it grated on her nerves. A sharp, simmering anger that built with each passing day.

Every smile, every shared glance between you and this girl made it harder for her to focus on Amber, even when Amber was right beside her, holding her hand or whispering in her ear.

It shouldn't have bothered her like this. It shouldn't have mattered.

You were free to talk to whoever you wanted. For all Tara knew, she was just a classmate, someone you happened to sit next to by chance.

But that didn't stop the ugly feeling from growing inside her, gnawing away at her with every interaction she witnessed.

She told herself it was nothing. That it didn't mean anything. But with every glance, every shared word between you and that girl, her anger simmered, coiling tighter until it was all she could focus on.

It wasn't jealousy, Tara told herself. It couldn't be. She had Amber, after all.

Yet there was no denying the way her chest tightened every time she saw you with her. It wasn't supposed to feel like this. You weren't supposed to matter anymore.

But somehow, you still did. Of course you did.

___

"What's got your panties in a twist?" Amber's voice broke through Tara's thoughts, cutting through the low hum of the campus.

Her tone was sharp, playful in a way that normally would've made Tara grin, but today it grated, pulling her out of the spiral she had been sinking into.

They were sitting outside, perched on one of the weathered wooden benches that lined the quad, the usual bustling energy of lunchtime fading as the crowd thinned.

Chad and Liv had disappeared first, throwing out some half-hearted excuse about "something better to do," Mindy had ditched too—not that Tara blamed her, considering she wasn't exactly Amber's biggest fan. Which left only Amber and Tara behind.

Normally, Tara would've reveled in that—the rare chance to have Amber's full attention, unshared, unchallenged by anyone else. She used to crave these moments when it was just the two of them, when Amber's eyes were only on her.

But now, Tara could barely summon the energy to care. The thrill of it had dulled, smothered under the weight of everything else she couldn't stop thinking about—of everything she couldn't feel.

Your absence hung heavy in the air, even though Amber didn't know it was there. She couldn't know.

She wouldn't have cared if she did.

Amber shifted beside her, more out of impatience than concern. "Seriously, you've been acting weird all week," she pressed, her voice tinged with frustration.

She wasn't used to Tara being so distant, and the idea that something might be slipping out of her control clearly bothered her. "What's your problem?"

Tara blinked, her mind sluggish, trying to catch up. It wasn't like she could explain it—not in any way that made sense.

How could she tell Amber that the cold shoulder she had been getting from you had thrown her completely off balance?

That it was the same cold shoulder she'd given you, over and over again, each time leaving you on the outside while she stayed wrapped up in Amber's world. How could she admit that now, when it was her on the receiving end, it felt like a punch to the gut every single time she saw you?

"I don't know," she mumbled, her voice barely audible. "I'm just tired."

It was the best she could come up with, the easiest excuse, but even as the words left her lips, she knew it wasn't enough.

Amber wasn't the type to let things slide, especially not when it came to Tara. She was used to being the center of attention, the one calling the shots, and when Tara's focus wasn't on her, Amber always took notice.

"Yeah, well, you've been 'tired' for a while now," Amber snapped back, her tone cutting through the brief silence like a whip.

She didn't sound concerned, not really—just annoyed, irritated that something wasn't going her way. "Maybe you should come out with me this weekend, you know? Party with me."

Amber's suggestion hung in the air between them, and Tara hesitated. Normally, Amber didn't bother to ask.

She'd go without her, living up the night on her own, letting Tara watch it all from the sidelines. She'd see it unfold through Amber's and other people's social media—photos and videos of Amber laughing, surrounded by friends, completely absorbed in her own world.

But this time, it felt different. Tara could feel it in the way Amber's eyes lingered on her, waiting, expecting something—expecting Tara to be excited, to jump at the chance like she would've done before.

But the thought of it, the thought of pretending everything was fine, felt suffocating.

She nodded anyway, forcing herself to give Amber the answer she was waiting for, even if it felt hollow. "Yeah. Sure."

But even as the words came out, Tara felt the weight of them, heavy and wrong.

Because the truth was, none of it mattered—not the party, not Amber's fleeting attention. None of it made a dent in the gnawing ache in her chest that had started the moment you stopped looking at her.

She told herself it was fine. She could play along. She had done it before. But deep down, Tara knew that no matter how much she tried to push it down, nothing could fix this disgusting feeling.

She sat in silence for a moment longer, staring at the ground as her mind whirred with thoughts she didn't want to have.

She clenched her jaw, trying to shake the feeling, trying to make herself believe that this—Amber, the party, all of it—would be enough. It definitely would've been before, hadn't it?

But now, the weight of your absence pressed in on her from every angle, heavy and suffocating. It wasn't supposed to feel like this. It wasn't supposed to matter so much.

Amber shifted beside her, sighing loudly. "Whatever, Tara," she muttered, standing up and brushing invisible dust off her jeans. "Don't get all weird on me."

Tara barely registered her leaving. The rush of relief she might have once felt in moments like these—when Amber turned her attention elsewhere—was gone, replaced by an ache she couldn't name.

A week ago, maybe two, Tara would've called after her, almost running to catch up. She would've asked if they could get ready together, spent half an hour agonizing over what she should wear, hoping for Amber's approval.

Her mind would've spun with questions, things she'd never needed to worry about when she was around you.

What should she wear? What did Amber want her to look like? Was her hair okay down, or should she try something new? She would've sent selfies for Amber's opinion, eager for a reaction, any reaction, to reassure her that she was enough.

But now, the questions didn't come. They felt distant, buried under the weight that had settled in her chest and refused to leave. Tara didn't care what Amber thought anymore. She didn't even care what she looked like.

The weekend came sooner than she had expected, almost sneaking up on her while she drifted through the week in a haze.

Throughout the week, Tara had tried to text you. Just one message each day, nothing too desperate, nothing that screamed she was losing her mind over your silence.

But each time, the bubble turned green, and with every little notification, her hope that you might respond twisted into something bitter, something angry.

Were you with her? That girl from your English class, the one she'd seen you walking with down the hallways, laughing, your head bent close to hers like you didn't have a care in the world.

Tara's stomach knotted at the thought, her grip tightening on her phone every time she imagined the two of you together. Were you sharing the jokes you used to save just for her? Did you laugh the same way?

By the time Friday came around, the anger had wrapped itself around her chest, growing heavier each time she looked at her phone, still green, still silent.

It weighed on her as she stood in front of the mirror that night, staring at her reflection like a stranger. She had thrown on whatever was closest, not caring how it looked—not caring how she looked—and now, standing there, she could feel the frustration boiling over.

She looked terrible, and she knew it. The clothes didn't sit right, her hair was a mess, and she didn't even have the energy to fix any of it.

Normally, she'd have texted Amber for advice, asked her what to wear, how to do her makeup. They might've gotten ready together if Amber cared enough, Amber teasing her the whole time but never letting her leave the house unless she looked perfect.

But tonight, none of that mattered. Tara was angry—angry at herself, at you, at the girl you were probably with right now. She felt like she was spinning, her thoughts spiraling into a million catastrophic possibilities, each one worse than the last.

Maybe she just needed to see you in person. Maybe if she could find you, look you in the eye, and tell you how she was feeling right now, you'd understand. Maybe that's what would finally break through this silence.

If she could just get you to listen, maybe if she could tell you all of it—how she didn't know what she was doing, how none of it made sense to her—you'd understand.

But would you even believe her? Would you even want to hear her out?

Without thinking twice, she pulled out her phone and typed out a message to Amber.

can't make it tonight. smth came up.

She didn't even wait for a response before throwing her phone onto the bed, her mind already somewhere else.

Part of her wanted to look you up, track you down, and talk to you face-to-face. Whether you were with someone else or just avoiding her the way she'd been avoiding you —but either way, Tara was done waiting around for you to reach out.

She stood frozen for a moment, feeling ridiculous as the thought of showing up at your house unannounced settled in.

She could already picture how stupid she'd look, standing at your door, trying to explain herself. You'd blocked her—didn't that already say everything she needed to know?

But then that other girl's face flashed in her mind, the way you laughed with her, walked next to her in the halls.

The thought of her taking you away, of her being the one you shared everything with now, twisted Tara's stomach in knots. She couldn't let that happen. Not without at least trying.

She didn't want to be too late.

Tara hated how desperate she felt, how even after everything, after you'd blocked her, she was still running after you. But she couldn't help it.

Even if she had to look you in the eye and hear you say you didn't want her anymore, she needed to know for sure. She needed to fight, because the thought of losing you to someone else was worse than any rejection you could throw at her.

With a deep breath and her hands shaking, she grabbed her jacket and keys.

Feeling stupid the whole way, she headed out the door, her heart pounding with every step she took toward your house.

___

didn't think u were weak enough to back out.

guess i was wrong.

Amber's text lit up her screen, but Tara barely glanced at it.

Normally, Amber's words usually stung, leaving Tara questioning herself, doubting everything. But tonight, they barely registered. She didn't care anymore, not about Amber's opinion or her insults.

The thought of how she'd been stringing you along—pushing and pulling, hot and cold—made her stomach twist in a way Amber's games never had.

Tara had always hated how Amber toyed with her, how she'd be there one day and gone the next, keeping Tara on a leash just long enough to never fully let go. Now, she realized, she was doing the same to you. She'd been selfish, scared, and now it was coming back to haunt her.

Amber had dragged her through the same emotional mess for so long—back and forth, never knowing where they stood—and now she had done the same to you.

It wasn't about Amber anymore. It was about you. And she wasn't going to let you slip away without at least trying.

She made it to your house almost sooner than she'd liked. The sight of your front door tightened the knot in her stomach, something she wasn't used to feeling.

Tara wasn't the nervous type—usually, she could handle herself in any situation, always sure of what she'd say or do. But now, her palms felt damp, her breath catching every time she thought of you opening that door.

She didn't know what she was going to say. Hell, she didn't even know if you'd open the door. But she had to try, even if her nerves were making her feel like a complete idiot for being there.

But she was already here, and she'd come this far—she couldn't just turn back now. She'd fought her way through every doubt to get here, and backing down wasn't an option.

Her feet felt heavy as she took each step up the walkway, the familiar creak of the wooden steps underfoot echoing louder in her ears than it ever had before.

The closer she got, the more every little detail stood out—the chipped paint on your door, the soft glow of light seeping out from the window.

She raised her hand to knock, fingers hovering just inches away, her heart pounding so loudly she wondered if you'd hear it from the other side.

Taking a deep breath, she let her knuckles tap lightly against the door, the sound swallowed almost instantly by the still night air.

It took long enough for you to answer that her thoughts had time to spiral. She knew your parents weren't home; in the little time she'd spent actually getting to know you, she'd learned that they hardly ever were.

You were probably home alone, and the idea haunted her—maybe you'd invited someone else over, maybe you weren't even alone at all, maybe you were with that girl she'd seen you with before.

By the time she heard footsteps approaching, her heart was beating so fast she almost felt sick, every possibility fighting for space in her mind.

Finally, the door swung open, and for a split second, there was a soft smile on your face.

But the moment your eyes landed on her, it vanished, replaced by something unreadable.

It wasn't anger—your expression was calm, almost neutral, yet there was a guardedness to it, like you'd been caught off guard, not entirely prepared to see her standing there.

The warmth in your eyes had dimmed, leaving something harder to read.

Tara couldn't tell if that look meant you were relieved or if she was the last person you wanted to see right now.

For a second, Tara felt so small. She knew she was short, but this was different—she'd never felt this out of place, like she was shrinking right there on your doorstep. Not since Amber.

Her fingers fidgeted, tracing over her knuckles as she tried to read you, to figure out what was going on behind that guarded expression. She barely registered the sound of her name until she heard your voice.

"Tara.. Hi."

The words hung there, making the quiet between you even heavier.

Tara didn't respond right away, too caught up in the questions swirling through her mind.

Had she interrupted something? Were you expecting someone else—someone who actually wanted to be here?

Her mind raced, flashing back to all the times you'd tried reaching out, inviting her over, and all the times she'd ignored you, too wrapped up in the momentary thrill of Amber's attention.

She hadn't let herself think about what that might've felt like for you.

And now, standing here, she couldn't shake the feeling that this was karma—that maybe you'd moved on, found someone else who didn't make you feel like a backup option. What if, after all this, she was too late?

Finally, after a moment, she managed to speak, her voice barely above a whisper, unsteady.

"Were... were you expecting somebody else?" Her words faltered, her gaze fixed on her hands as she twisted her fingers together, almost as if she could hold onto some kind of confidence.

You furrowed your brows just slightly, a small, almost confused smile pulling at the corner of your mouth as you let out a soft, breathy laugh. "No... why would I?"

Tara's mouth opened, but no words came out right away. She hadn't expected you to look so genuinely surprised, and now she felt her cheeks warming, her gaze darting down as she scrambled for something to say. Her fingers twisted together, and she forced herself to meet your eyes again, feeling silly for even bringing it up.

"I... I don't know. I just thought... maybe." Her voice was barely a whisper, and she hated how uncertain it sounded, as if she'd already given away too much. But she couldn't help it—she just had to know.

You tilted your head slightly, still wearing that soft smile, though there was a hint of something knowing in your eyes.

"Is she.. ignoring you again?" you asked, the question so casual yet so pointed that Tara's breath hitched.

She knew you meant Amber—you didn't even need to say her name. And the worst part was, she felt a pang of guilt because, honestly, it wouldn't have been the first time.

She swallowed hard, feeling like her own answer was betraying her. "Actually... no," she said slowly, her voice faltering as she tried to piece together her words. "She, uh, actually invited me to a party."

Your expression shifted, that lightness fading from your eyes, and Tara's stomach twisted painfully when she noticed.

She hadn't expected you to react like that, hadn't anticipated that flicker of hurt crossing your face. And now, standing there in the doorway, she felt a rush of regret wash over her.

Before she could stop herself, she added, her voice barely above a whisper, "But I didn't... I didn't go."

You didn't respond right away, just looked at her, eyebrows raised, silently waiting. Tara shifted under your gaze, feeling smaller by the second, until finally, she started to speak.

"I know you probably... don't want to talk to me right now," she began, her voice a little too fast, like she was rushing to get the words out before she lost her nerve.

She took a shaky breath and continued, "I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. I mean, it's not like I've given you a reason to, you know, feel any different... or... yeah."

Her hand drifted up to her wrist, squeezing it as she fumbled for her next thought. "I... I messed up. And, I've been thinking about it, like, a lot, and it's just—I didn't know what I was doing. I mean, I thought I did, but then I... I didn't. And I didn't mean to make you feel like you weren't... important, or that I didn't care, because I did. I do."

She bit her lip, glancing up at you, unsure if she was making any sense, but she kept going. "I know it's probably too late to say any of this, and you've probably moved on, but I just... I don't know. I didn't want you to think that I... forgot about you. Or... or that you didn't matter."

Her gaze flickering down to the ground, then up to yours again, almost as if she's scared you'll walk away.

"That message where I told you to... that I didn't want anything to do with you..." She shakes her head, struggling for the right words. "I shouldn't have said that. I was... I don't even know what I was thinking. I just... Amber was there, and I felt like if I didn't, she'd—" She stops herself, clenching her fists a little, swallowing hard.

"And all those other messages.. I just kept trying to say sorry, but it was probably just... desperate, I guess. I didn't know how else to say that I... I wanted you, that I didn't mean it. That I still..."

Her words falter, and she sighs, rubbing her forehead as though exhausted with herself. "I know it probably doesn't make up for any of it, but... I swear, I didn't mean it. I never wanted to hurt you."

As soon as she stopped talking, a wave of embarrassment crashed over her, and it was all she could do not to cringe.

She hadn't even planned on saying half of what she'd said, and yet here she was, fumbling through one strained apology after another.

It felt messy, like she was just piling words on top of words, hoping that somehow they'd turn into something that made sense to you, that could somehow make things better.

But in her heart, she knew it sounded like nonsense, just a lot of desperate, pointless excuses that probably made her look even more pathetic.

And you just stood there, looking at her with an expression she couldn't quite read—somewhere between shocked and neutral.

The silence between you seemed to stretch on, making her rambling feel even more pointless, like each second of quiet only added weight to her mess of words.

Tara could feel her face heating up, and all she wanted was to take everything back, to make it sound right somehow—but she didn't even know what "right" would be.

Her fingers tightened around her wrist, her gaze dropping back to her worn out converses as the silence thickened around her. Part of her wanted to shrink back, to stop talking altogether, but she'd already put too much out there to turn back now.

So when you didn't answer, she continued.

"I... I want to do better," she said, each word a little slower, like she was searching for the strength to actually mean it. Her eyes barely lifted to meet yours, as if waiting for something—anything—that might tell her it wasn't too late.

Your hand, which had been holding the door open this whole time, finally slipped away. You clapped both hands against the sides of your thighs, the sound breaking the quiet between you two.

Then, with a tone that was almost unreadable, you asked, "Is that it?"

Tara's face fell slightly when your words cut through the silence. She searched your expression, looking for something—anything—that hinted at forgiveness, but the steady way you looked back at her made her stomach drop.

Her throat tightened, but she forced herself to speak, her voice barely above a whisper.

"So... you don't forgive me?"

Tara looked up at you, her eyes wide and glistening, almost like a puppy's, searching for any hint of understanding. It was a look she hadn't meant to put on, but somehow it found its way back to her face, a reflex from childhood.

She remembered using those same eyes when she'd gotten into trouble with her mom or when Sam wouldn't let her hang out with her friends. Back then, she'd wielded them like a weapon, a last-ditch effort to melt hearts and earn forgiveness.

Now, though, it felt different.

There was no intent behind it, just a genuine plea for empathy that made her feel exposed, and a wave of embarrassment washed over her as she realized how desperate she must look.

You took a breath before responding, your gaze steady but distant. "I do.. but I don't see why that matters because it'll all happen again." You said slowly, weighing each word.

Tara felt her heart sink at your words, the reality of what you said hitting her hard. She knew all too well how it felt to be caught in that cycle—Amber had done the same to her, repeatedly promising change only to slip back into old patterns.

It was frustrating and disheartening, and in that moment, she understood where you were coming from.

She took a shaky breath, trying to find her voice. "It won't... I promise it won't." Her tone was earnest, filled with a desperate need to be believed, to convince you that this time would be different.

Tara searched your expression, and as your words echoed in her mind—you did accept her apology—a flicker of hope ignited within her. It felt like a delicate promise written in cursive, intricate yet fragile, and she couldn't help but cling to it.

She tried to muster a soft smile, though it felt tentative, as if it might shatter under the weight of everything left unsaid.

"Can we... do you think that maybe we can try again?" The words tumbled out, filled with a mixture of uncertainty and determination. It was a fragile request, a chance she hoped wouldn't be met with rejection.

She could see the flicker of thoughts crossing your face. Your brow furrowed slightly, and she sensed the hesitation lingering in the air between you. It was as if you were weighing her words, measuring the sincerity of her apology against the weight of the past.

She couldn't tell if you were considering her request or if doubt still lingered in your mind.

It felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for a sign, desperately hoping that you would choose to leap with her this time.

After a long pause, a small, soft smile crept up on your face, the tension in your shoulders easing just a bit. You finally met her gaze, and the warmth in your eyes hinted at something Tara had been longing to see.

"Sure... yeah, I'd like that," you said, your voice gentle but firm, like a lifeline tossed her way.

Tara let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, her shoulders eased slightly at your response, something softening in her expression as she processed your words. It wasn't a promise, but it felt real enough.

A quiet acknowledgment that maybe this could lead somewhere different.

She looked at you for a moment longer, managing a small, uncertain smile as if not entirely sure this chance would hold but willing to take it anyway.

The silence lingered, weighty but almost comfortable. Tara held your gaze, her expression softening just a bit as she let herself settle into the quiet, not wanting to push any further. When she finally managed a small smile, it was tentative, as if she was holding onto it carefully.

"Guess I'll... see you around?" she asked, her voice a quiet murmur, like she wasn't entirely certain if she should even say it.

You gave a slight nod, already moving to close the door. The subtle acknowledgment was enough to let her feel that maybe, just maybe, things could shift—if only a little.

She shifted slightly, like she wanted to say something more but couldn't quite find the words. A small, unsure smile crossed her face as she looked up at you again, her voice softer.

With that, Tara turned to go, casting one last look back at you before turning around to walk away.

___

The next week, Tara's phone buzzed on her nightstand, pulling her from a the books scattered all over her bed.

She squinted at the screen, hoping to see your name lighting up, a sign that things were finally moving forward between you two.

Maybe it was about the plans you'd casually mentioned — plans that did not include Tara bringing out her frustrations in bed with you.

Instead, her heart sank a little as Amber's name flashed across the screen.

u free this friday?

For the first time, Tara felt a surprising clarity wash over her as she read the message. She didn't hesitate, knowing exactly how she wanted to respond without second-guessing herself.

In the past, she'd tiptoed around her replies, always afraid that Amber would judge her for whatever she said.

But now, after everything with you, she was certain of what she wanted. This time, there was no uncertainty clouding her thoughts. So, after a moment, she typed a quick reply.

im actually busy, sorry

With a breath of relief, she hit send and immediately blocked Amber's number. She felt a weight lift off her shoulders.

This time, she wouldn't be waiting for Amber's text, for promises that never changed anything.

She knew what she had now—this newfound sense of clarity—and what she wanted. And that was enough.

This was how it would stay.

[urhoneycombwitch]

eddie x latebloomer, virgin reader (so not self-projecting...) who isn't innocent or typically what people say is "virginal" (because virginity is a construct!) but still gets super nervous about heavy petting/sex because they've never done it before and don't want to be bad or weird and literally just flees at the confrontation

until that ovulation hits and r! is trying so hard to ignore it, squirming on Eddie's couch/bed and he's like 🤨 you ok? and then it just comes out in a whole word vomit that he's super hot and they're absolutely soaked but don't know what to do and it probably won't be good and they should just go home and eddies like... no big deal, I'll just eat you out, no penetration 🤷🏻

and when they do actually have sex later, I know Eddie talks R through it

ty for suggesting this anon! u got me inspired here's a lil blurb. also dedicated to @wdsara48 who asked for more inexperienced!reader content 🫡

+18 mdni: Eddie’s a bit clueless about the hormone cycle, oral (r receiving), cumming in pants (guess who), ovulation horny (™)

____________

On second thought, it was probably a really bad call to visit your boyfriend when you were this horny.

Which sounds silly, you know it does- who wouldn't want to visit their hot boyfriend at a time like this?- but you've really been enjoying taking it slow this time around. Eddie is the first boy you've dated who has totally and completely earned your trust when it comes to sex- he's never once pressured you to take your heated make-out sessions any further, pulling back and unwinding himself from you with spit-slick lips every so often to gauge your comfort level.

Is this okay? How are you feeling? Wanna take a break?

So kind. So considerate. So far away, in the kitchen, humming to himself while he fixes dinner, hair loose and curling around the shoulders of his tight Metallica tee. Every time he reaches over to stir the pot of chili on the stove, the lean muscles in his upper back and biceps curl and flex.

Hormones are flushing hot through your body, the couch you’re seated on feeling more and more confining by the second; you cross your legs at the ankle in an attempt to stave off the fidgeting, but when this causes the thick denim of your zippered jeans to press into the ache between your legs you are quick to uncross them again.

There’s a low-toned buzz that’s taken up residence in your hearing, like all the raging horniness has no place else to go- which is why you don’t hear Eddie the first time he speaks.

He’s standing at the edge of the living room now, hands on hips, one dark brow raised in your direction- “Earth to angel. You with me?”

“Huh?” You swallow harshly against the dryness in your throat (contrasted with the excess wetness in other places) and shake your head, slipping your hands underneath your thighs to sit on them and ground yourself a bit. “Sorry, I was zoning out. What’d you say?”

“I said you seem antsy tonight,” Eddie repeats, moving in to sit next to you, close enough for your knees to touch. “Had too much coffee or somethin’? Y’know, you really shouldn’t drink that stuff after noon. Not good for ya.”

He’s teasing, all smooth movements with an easy grin as he snakes an arm around your shoulders.

The smoke-sweet smell of his cologne floods your senses- musky and heady and this underlayer of something earthy, wild, that you could swear hits on a primal nerve by the way it makes your clit throb.

When you stiffen under Eddie’s arm, he reads your signal as one of discomfort, tsking at himself underneath his breath before starting to pull away. “Sorry, sweetheart, didn’t mean to make you-”

“No!” Your hand darts out to grab at his over your shoulder, keeping him from leaving, because if the warmth of his body pressed to your side stops you might actually die. “No, it’s not you. I promise. It’s me. I’m…”

Eddie watches you with mild concern as you flounder, mouth opening and shutting a few times before settling on just the truth- “I’m ovulating.”

He blinks. “Um. Shit. Do you need to go to the doctor? ‘Cuz the main office is definitely closed this time ‘a night but the ER is for sure open-”

You bend at the waist, pitching forward with a groan and cutting him off. With hot cheeks buried in your hands, your voice comes out muffled- “Didn’t you take sex ed, like, three times?”

“Sure did. Learned basic anatomy real well.” His palm has slid to your lower back, your shirt ridden up to expose a stripe of skin that his warm hand now rests on. “Help me out, princess. What’s goin’ on?”

With a pounding heart, you manage to sit up, looking down at your hands in your lap as you whisper, “Ovulation makes me, like, super horny.”

At first, you think he didn’t hear you, but after a beat of silence there’s a subtle shift in his posture, spine straightening.

“Oh.” Eddie’s hand on you doesn’t move but his other one smoothes down the line of his jean-clad thigh, clearing his throat before asking, “And do you wanna… do something about that?”

Mustering courage, you swivel slightly to look at him- the joking tone from earlier has drained out of his voice, and this is the shyest you’ve ever seen him: staring unseeing at his own lap, plucking at the knee of his jeans.

“Like what?” You ask, matching the same low tone he’s just used.

When Eddie looks back at you, that’s when you realize your mistake- his lack of eye contact wasn’t due to shyness. The way he’s looking at you now, dark chocolate eyes holding a steady gaze, it’s a wonder he’s been so restrained this whole time. 

“Could eat you out. Only if you wanted, though.”

You shiver. Visibly. 

A slow, half-tilted smile pulls at Eddie’s lips; he brings your free hand to his face and kisses your knuckles, then tugs you up with him to stand.

“C’mon. Let’s go to the bedroom.”

Cast in soft lamplight, Eddie closes the door to his room before cupping your face in his hands, cool rings against your cheeks. He kisses you gently, at first, plush lips notching in steady rhythm against yours; when you tug him in closer by his waist and slip your tongue between his teeth, he groans into your mouth.

He pulls away, wet click of your separating mouths loud in the quiet of the room before giving your hip a light tap. “Up on the bed, angel.”

You’re quick to comply, crawling backwards on the duvet, lust unfurling in your stomach as you rest half-propped on your elbows.

Eddie divests himself of his shirt in one fluid motion without taking his eyes from you. His pale skin gleams in the low light, silver chain and guitar pick necklace swinging as he moves to hover over you.

“You okay?” He asks, dark hair a curtain around both your faces as his bare torso presses against your clothed one. 

When you nod, he ducks to kiss you again before sliding a hand up your shirt. “Good. ‘Cuz I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to.”

You know he’s mostly joking- you and him have a safeword, and he’s always attentive to your body signals- but the pure desire that he’s kissing and touching you with is indicative of a boy who’s waited too long to be able to have you like this.

Eddie laps at your mouth, tongue twining with yours as his hand squeezes and molds the fat of your breast through your bra as both your nipples stiffen in response. When his knee slots between your thighs, you moan, hips jolting up to chase the friction.

“Can I…” you’re panting, forehead crushed to Eddie’s as you search for the words. “I want your mouth, on me- please.”

You’re rarely ever so communicative, usually hidden away behind a wall of reservations that are totally melted away now. Eddie makes a noise like he’s been punched, sucks at a spot behind your ear that causes your hips to rock forward again, then says, “Yeah, sweetheart, yeah. You can have my mouth. Fuck.”

While he kisses down the slope of your neck, between your clothed breasts, your bare stomach where your shirt’s been rucked up, he’s muttering (to himself, to you, hard to say): “‘Course you can have my mouth. Have it wherever you want it. Christ. Should’a asked for it sooner. Give you anything you want.”

Eddie pops the button on your jeans and you lift your hips so he can pull them completely off your body; when he sees the wet patch of arousal darkening your baby blue underwear he chokes out another curse before working the fabric down your hips and tossing them to the ground.

“Gonna let me taste you, baby?” he asks, stretching his lower half out on the mattress and pulling your legs over his shoulders, his mouth inches from your soaked core. Eddie looks up at you, face bracketed by your thighs, pupils blown out with desire, waiting for your go-ahead.

“Please,” you murmur, stretching out a hand to pet at the crown of his head.

His eyes flutter shut for a moment with your touch; when he presses a kiss to the top of your cunt, your hand tightens in his hair, his resulting hum of encouragement vibrating against your clit.

Eddie flattens his tongue and licks a wide stripe up your folds, spreading the wetness from your leaking hole up to mouth sloppily at your clit; when he sucks the bundle of nerves into his mouth, your elbow supporting your half-propped frame gives out and you pitch back against the covers.

“There- ah- shit, there, Eddie…” you sound wrecked already, voice husked with the strain of holding back whines. Normally, you’d be so in your head about the exposing condition you’re in, but at this point you’re too wound up to care, Eddie’s tongue against the beating heart of you coaxing that tightness in your stomach closer and closer to snapping.

His nails bite in where his hands span the width of your thighs, holding you against his mouth even as your legs tremble and hips twist jerkily with each sweep of his tongue; Eddie gives one last suck to your clit then follows the line of your cunt down, down with his tongue to prod at your sodden entrance.

When his tongue slides into you with a wet squelch, obscenely loud in the otherwise quiet room, you both moan in tandem- your hand in his hair tightens to near-brutal, and the bed underneath you both tremors with the jolt of Eddie’s hips rutting into the mattress.

He sets a steady pace with his tongue, fucking it in and out of you as his nose nudges against your clit. That coil in your stomach is starting to make all your muscles tense up, your thighs locking Eddie in place (who seems to only be spurred on with each constriction of your body).

“Gonna come?” The lower half of his face is coated in your slick as he takes a brief pause to kiss at your inner thigh, one hand coming to rest on your tummy, pinning you down. “C’mon, baby. Let me see it.”

Your body obeys, tension snapping as his mouth returns to your cunt, a high whine of “Eddie Eddie Eddie” that you don’t bother to hide this time loosening from your throat as everything around you bursts and crashes into orgasm.

Toes curling against Eddie’s lower back, cunt spasming around his tongue, Eddie fucks you through it and then some, his own hips mindlessly grinding down as your release triggers his own, spilling warm into his boxers while your high spirals out.

When the spams of your pleasure turn over into aftershocks, Eddie comes up for air, pressing one last kiss to your overstimulated cunt before crawling up your body to lie on top with his head in the crook of your neck.

“Fuck,” you say aloud to the ceiling, breathless, arms automatically encircling the boy. “Holy shit.”

“I’ll say.” Eddie’s breath cools over the sticky patch he kissed into your skin, his mouth still wet with your release. He gathers enough energy to plant his elbows on either side of your head, looking down at you, suddenly serious. “So um… how often do you get ovi- ovel… like this? Once a year or somethin’?”

The laugh shakes out of your chest before you can stop it; you reach up to tuck Eddie’s curls behind his ears, your previous bashfulness having been tongue-fucked out of you.

“Eddie Munson, do I have news for you.”